The Legion Immortalis: The Bulwark of Heaven (Part 2)

[Faidth]

@Fenwick:

   You wonder whether or not Cleo is taking your words to heart, but her expression betrays little.

   You can practically feel Cardack sneering as he witnesses the exchange from the confines of the tome. “You aren’t very smooth, you know that? She’s going to burn both of us to cinders now!” He communicates these sentiments to you telepathically in his typical wet-blanket manner. This guy is certainly a buzzkill!

    Cleo is silent for several moments, but the thoughtful expression present on her consistently unreadable visage rewards you with a smile of regard. It is weak in its constitution, but nevertheless, you find her response a bit encouraging. After all, she is LISTENING to you, and that’s a start. Up until this point, she has been so clouded by her own guilt that she has refused to acknowledge the plaintive entreaties of her brethren. While she has dismissed their worries and concerns for her, she seems comforted by your words.

   “You’re right, you know,” she says softly. “I know that my people hold nothing but the highest regard for me. I know they’re worried. I guess I never realized how much my own burdens were burdening them. They have enough to worry about without me wallowing in my own self-pity. And then there’s you, Wicky.”

   Her smile broadens and she leans her head upon your shoulder.

   “See?” grumbles Cardack. “She’s obviously going in for the kill! These are woman-tricks! Lulling you into a false sense of security then WHAM! Zappy-thing!”

   But there is no zappy thing. Cleo does not seem to be cross with you for bringing up the past, and rather, seems significantly more hopeful.

   “Hmph!” mutters Cardack. “That’s disappointing. I would have enjoyed seeing you zapped. I always wondered how she did that thing. Wouldn’t mind studying it a bit. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to irritate her so I might get a better look at it… You know… when it isn’t being used on ME.”

   Cleo’s hand rests upon yours. “I’m sure you’ve undergone quite a bit yourself. I think we all have. It does not benefit the future if one is so entangled by their past. Perhaps it’s time I let this go.” She sighs heavily and runs a slender hand through her beautiful, blonde locks.

   She looks up at you with sparkling blue eyes, and you notice a glimmer of happiness that was not present there before. It appears you have finally gotten through to her. That is a rather considerable accomplishment as you have managed to do what so many of her brethren could not. You can feel deep inside that this will only increase her regard for you.

   “Thank you, Wicky… sincerely. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you have come back… and how much you have managed to do for me in such a short amount of time. You see? I told you that you were… special.”

   You become painfully aware of the proximity of her lips to yours.


@Sembas

   Besnik and Faile politely decline your offering of worms and disappear through the window again.

   Archer, paused in the door, shakes her head. “I don’t know if I like the two of them being in cahoots. Singularly, they are each a force to be reckoned with… But together… I’m fairly certain they’re unstoppable. Perhaps we should warn the worms and fish. I should like to keep MY trousers free of unwanted guests.”

   She steers you to the dining area where Dennan has seated himself. He looks longingly at the fresh honeycomb before him, and it is at this point that you notice his constant companion, Fensten, is mimicking the yearning expression of his master.

   “Go on, you two!” laughs Archer.

   Both Dennan and Fensten begin to dig into the food with gusto. Archer seats herself beside you and hands you plate after plate, each simply burgeoning with inordinate amounts of food. As you watch the General’s son and his friend gorge upon the spread before them, you realize why Archer prepared so much. It had appeared to be more than anyone could ever rationally eat, but these two are up to their elbows in food and seem to have no intention of stopping.

   “So, Sembas,” begins Archer as she takes a sip from her mug of cool, spring water.  “I’ve asked Bran to invite everyone to the falcon race. It will be held this evening at sundown, if that is to your liking.”

[Kitharsis]

After cleaning up the worms and fish in his pants Sembas follwos Archer towards the dining area.  Shaking his head at Faile and Besnik he sighs.

"I think I'll be steering clear of Calming's tavern for a while."  He says as he sits down heavily next to Archer.

"And I fear those two will be giving us all kinds of trouble.  Perhaps we should team up just to keep them under check!"  He says with a wink.

He takes a bite of toast and nods at Archer as she mentions the race.  "I imagine you have some sort of course for them to fly though?  I'm very interested to see how Faile matches up.  Sundown works well for me, gives me time to work of this damn hangover...  Maybe some practice with the weapons Smith gave me yesterday, if I'm not too woozy..."

He finishes his toast and grabs a mug of spring water.  "Boy, those two sure can put it away..."

[john greymore]

Fenwick struggles to concentrate on Cleo. With his new found companion however, things weren't doing so well. Cardack's voice was constantly buzzing around in his head. At this point however, it sounded more like sandpaper on skin or cracking your bone against something. It just really hurt.

But everytime Cleo looked at him, Cardack's voice seemed to dull more and more. The ironic thing was that Cardack was right. There was a zappy-thing, but it was an emotional one. She was picking herself up, finally releasing all that burden... and it felt really really good.

Her face close to his, she speaks again. “Thank you, Wicky… sincerely. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you have come back… and how much you have managed to do for me in such a short amount of time. You see? I told you that you were… special.”

He can somewhat register the words, but all he could hear was music, what he could see was pure beauty, pure as the universe was at a time long long ago. It was alive and still breathing within the Soothsayer's eyes.

Then she stopped. Then a different feeling took over... he wasn't sure what it was... it was as if he was him but he was not him at the same time. He knew the cause though, for he found that his lips were touching Cleo's, kissing her. Had he moved? Did she initiate it? It didn't really matter.

She sure could kiss for one so lonely for so long.

[Faidth]

@Depheir:

   As per your request, you are allowed to pass back through the headquarters of The Bulwark of Heaven. The gate guard, who introduces himself as the General’s son, Corvus Virtue, informs you that his mother is in the courtyard discussing strategy with Lieutenant Fierce, of The Fierce Legion and will gladly see you as soon as they have finished attending to their matters.

   You are shown to the grand reception hall until you can be seen. You do not have to wait long when a fair, red-headed woman, who introduces herself as Muse, tells you that the General will see you. She bids you to follow her into the courtyard where General Fury is seated at a table with a large, well-muscled man with gray hair that falls over his shoulders. His eyes are an unusual, striking shade of blue and he glances at you impassively as you enter. He strokes his salt and pepper goatee, and you can see that his attention is firmly focused on the woman in front of him.   

   “Ah… Depheir.” Fury stands to greet you. “This is Lieutenant Cedric Fierce of The Fierce Legion. He is one of the finest commanders in The Bulwark of Heaven. Cedric, this is Depheir Kogthar, one of our newest recruits.”

   Lieutenant Fierce gives a low grunt to acknowledge your presence, but this seems to be all he is willing to grant you.

   Fury crosses her arms over her chest. “So... What can I do for you?”


@Sembas:

   After breakfast, Archer leads you outside and shows you the free-floating hoops that the falcons will attempt to dive and race through during the anticipated race later in the evening. These, fine golden hoops levitate in mid-air, and Archer tells you that they were a gift from Dethys that she often used when she trained Besnik. There are many of them spread throughout the east side of the city, and you can see the entirety of the course before you.

   Despite her falcon’s familiarity with them, Archer also tells you that these are set at far more difficult areas that he is typically used to, hence he should not have an edge over Faile.

   Though Faile asserts to you that she knows exactly what to do, Dennan insists that he demonstrate the proper technique for the sake of the two participants. He shifts into his falcon form and easily navigates through all two dozen hoops before landing upon Archer’s outstretched gauntlet.

   “Feel free to get some practice runs in, if you wish,” suggests Archer. “Besnik cleared me out of fish this morning, and after that little prank he pulled, I think I’m going to make him work off his mischief. We’ll be down by the lake if you need anything.”

   Dennan shifts back into his human form and gives you a firm clap on the back before he and Fensten head back towards their cottage, leaving you and Faile to work on your art.


@Fenwick:

   Fenwick wakes the next morning. His thoughts are scattered and his head aches slightly. He remembers fervently kissing the Seer, and he recalls that she eagerly returned his affections. As he moves, he realizes that he is quite stiff and his body aches considerably, reprimanding him for his interactions the night before.

   Most curiously perhaps, is what he finds when he opens his eyes. There is a Cleo nestled beside him on his right side. Her head rests upon his shoulder and her eyes are still closed; she looks quite at peace. This, in itself, is not all that irregular. Most men certainly would not mind waking beside a beautiful woman. But then you realize there is another woman resting on top of you, her blonde hair haphazardly scattered across your bare chest. This, too, is Cleo. There is stirring to your left, and much to your surprise, you find a third Cleo.

   All three of them appear very comfortable… and very naked. No wonder your body aches so badly!

   “It’s about time you woke up!” A fourth Cleo enters the bedroom and you realize that she is carrying a tray of delicious breakfast foods. The tray is absolutely laden with all manner of meats, tarts, spreads, and breads. There are mugs of fresh juice, accompanied by a pitcher of hot tea.

   The Cleo to your right wriggles as she smells the food. “Oooohhhh. I’m famished.”

   “Me, too!” exclaims the one to your left.

   The Cleo upon your chest stirs and looks to her counterparts. “Now, now. You’ve had your fun.”

   “Oh come on!” exclaims Right Cleo.

   “Yeah!” agrees Left Cleo. She looks up at you with sparkling blue eyes and gently runs her hand through your hair. “He looks like he is ready for another round!”

   The Cleo on top of you glances at the one carrying the breakfast tray and motions for her to place it upon the bed. The Cleo carrying the tray nods obediently as “Chest Cleo” snaps her fingers. The extraneous Cleos disappear, leaving only the one who is resting upon your chest.

   She rolls to her side and wraps her arms around you. “Good morning,” she says as she grants you a light kiss upon the lips.

   “Hmm… You look tired. I probably should have warned you before… you know… When two Ageless do… well… it’s incomparable to anything you’ve ever felt before. However… when two Ageless do it, who are also magic-users, things become a bit more complicated. Last night, not only were both of our needs sated, but you also inherited a bit of my power.”

   She gestures to the pale, red rune present on your chest, just over your heart. It looks as if someone has tattooed this odd symbol into your skin, but you feel no pain there. Cleo gently touches the spot with an outstretched finger. “It’s a Sigil of Summoning. That will let you summon me to your side, should you desire to see me. Use it sparingly though. I do have to attend to keeping the gates clear. I’ll be able to send at least a part of myself to aid you, should you require my assistance.”

[Faran Beshral]

I walked away from the tavern, my mind set on my goal. My life of wandering was over and my life of war was begun. I was going to have to be good. I was going to have to be good without the help of anyone here. That meant watching. Watching and copying and practicing. Lots of practicing. I had to watch these Ageless and do what they do, move how they move. And practice it. The Song I'd have to work out on my own. I'd seen many wonders of magic since coming to Avalon. Perhaps I can find my own way to duplicate the effects.

I marched down the paved street, the afternoon sun sinking toward the horizon. A street over I saw Sembas with a burly, bald man with a short beard. Probably heading to the tavern I just left. Good to see the others making new friends. I needed space. Enough space to not hurt anybody. Enough space to avoid people. Shouldn't be too hard. This was a very large city for only having a hundred people in it. Almost seemed lonely in a way. Avalon needed more people.

I strode through the empty streets toward what appeared to be a wooded area. A large wooded area. This was inside the city walls? I couldn't even see the walls from here. It seemed as good a place as any. The afternoon sun made bars of golden light that slanted through the treetops, creating a patchwork of light and dark on the forest floor. Nearby I saw what appeared to be a house set up in a tree in the fashion of a ranger.

I continued to walk deeper into this overly large forest inside the city. After a few minutes of walking I happened upon small clearing, the forest floor covered with lush ferns. The earth here was good, black soil, like that you might find in old growth forests. Everything had the clean smell of wet earth and wood.

I dropped my bag and listened. I had adapted a Song effect from my travels to grant me some shelter from the rain and snow. I Sang to the Song in the air which allowed me to make physical things out of the air. I Sang and a cube appeared on the forest floor. The cube was about chest high on me, about the same size in all dimensions and looked like it had been carved out of pure mist or fog. Now the hard part. I altered the pitch of my Singing. A small hollow appeared in one side of the cube and continued back, widening and hollowing out the cube. What stood before me now was my “air tent”, a hollow cube with a “door” in the side. Sweat began to bead on my forehead at the end. Maybe with more time this would get easier. At any rate the tent would last me until the morning, when it would dissipate into mist.

The sun was setting now so I tried to work quickly. I gathered what little firewood I could and Sang to the pile of it. A few seconds later sparks burst from it and flames leaped up. The fire would provide me with heat and light for the last few evening hours. A stream nearby, (how was there a stream in this city?)  gave me a chance to bathe. Being out in the desert for a week had really done a number on me. I was pretty sure I was sun burnt in a few areas. Scrubbing told me this.

Night had fallen when I was finally finished with my chores and had eaten what was left of the food in my pack. I had eaten what was polite while in the Seer's tent. There wasn't any point in being more rude than I had been. All I had left was a bit of stale loaf and some hard cheese, the usual travel rations. I mused as I sat and ate. The firelight cast strange shapes and phantoms at the trees around the clearing. They may have seemed ominous or frightening to people not used to them. These were my traveling companions. They came with me everywhere I went. The same with the Song. But the shadows said nothing and that was fine.

Depending on how much time I was afforded here I could spend some time growing plants into a more permanent shelter. I'd need to do lots of training to gain that level of control. I could grow trees into supports and leaves into a roof. Might as well try, it seemed like I was going to be living here a while, or at least using Avalon as a base of operations. When everything was said and done, it could just go back to being part of the forest. Hopefully erasing the fact that I was here.

I stood and dabbed the last very crumbs of dinner into my mouth. No sense wasting good food. I stood apart from the fire and Sang. A ways off in the shadows, around 40 years off, a block of the same material my tent was made of appeared and sat on the forest floor. While rectangular, it was about the height, width and depth of a man. There was a Song in the fireplace, a few different ones but I chose one in particular. I Sang to the Light and a beam of light the thickness of a hair appeared between the fire and the block of mist. A minute passed. Two. I was thankful I didn't have to keep Singing to maintain an effect. Three minutes. Finally at about five minutes smoke began to form in the block of mist. A few more minutes passed and the beam of light had passed completely through the block. That was the easy part. Now I Sang again and the beam tracked slowly upward, bisecting the block. Slowly the block split over the course of a half of an hour. Finally the block evaporated from too much damage and I let the beam vanish.

I sighed. I had my benchmark I guess. The Song of Light was everywhere. It was a reliable weapon when another Song was far away. I pictured being able to spear enemies with sunlight with a word. Maybe there was more I could do with it. I wondered if I could make solid objects out of light. Light had a flashiness I appreciated, and it was everywhere. Other uses for my power had been popping into my head. Armor made out of hardened air. Using plants to grab my enemies. Making a man weightless enough his own footsteps could launch him into the sky.

I Sang again and another block of solid air appeared where the last one had evaporated. I began again, hoping to be faster this time. Hours went by and the night deepened. Once or twice I thought I heard the sounds of footsteps in the forest in the direction of the creek I had bathed in. A heavy set of footsteps and the light sound of someone VERY woodcrafty. Some Ageless out for a moonlight stroll? Doesn't concern me. When I had gone through eight blocks I stopped, exhausted. I could get it going a little faster now. But not fast enough for combat. If I had the time, days maybe, I could possibly get it to burn through a man in a second, hopefully less than a second. I could use the sun or a torch as my weapon.

I knelt on the forest floor. Time for bed. The moon shone full overhead. What stars I could see shone undimmed through the canopy above. My fire was starting to die and the crickets had gone to sleep. I made sure my fire wouldn't spread to anything during the night and I climbed into my cube. I was going to make this thing look better dammit. Another thing on my “to-do” list. I stripped off my clothes and got into my bedroll. Sleep found me quickly despite getting comfortable with those ear muffs on.

I'm glad I can never fully remember my dreams. What I can remember usually has me waking in a sweat. Sometimes this is the case, but most time my Air Tent serves its dual purpose as an alarm clock. I was dropped a good four inches onto the forest floor when the tent finally gave out and dispersed into mist. I sat up blinking blearily and waving my arms around to clear the remaining mist. The morning was cool and dewy. A light thin fog clung to the forest floor and played among the ferns. The sky was a light blue, the sunlight was in the treetops but hadn't come down to the floor yet. Morning birds sang in the trees. This place was fairly peaceful. A contrast to the dreams I had.

There was a darkness in the shape of a man. I was running and he was chasing me. Fairly generic stuff, but I remember being seized with dread and cold. It was all freezing me and making me slower. Slowly killing me. Avalon stood in the distance, radiating warmth, but I saw that a cage waited for me in Avalon too. The cage was flanked by Sembas and Fenwick wearing guard uniforms. I turned away from Avalon to find another way. Still the darkness pursued me. I saw people all around me on the ground. They were being strangled by tendrils of black fog. I tried to loosen the fog around their necks but they shouted at me and pointed toward the cage. I don't remember much after that.

Maybe that one was more vivid than most. My dreams had been different since becoming and immortal. Well, virtual immortal anyway. I stepped out of my bedroll and stretched. I found my faded red shirt and grey pants where I had hung them on a stick planted in the ground the night before and put them on after a shake to evict any insects who decided to take up residence inside them.

I stretched some more, concentrating on my legs now. I Sang a certain Song quickly and felt myself get slightly heavier. I limbered up under the new weight and then set off at a run. As I ran through the brush I heard the small song of Momentum I had trained myself to hear. I quickly reached the stream and jumped. A quick note to the Song of Momentum increased my movement through the air, carrying me further than my jump could alone, clearing the stream with ease. I jogged on, jumping over obstacles and rolling under others. I broke the through the forest and saw that odd tree house again. As I looked, two large birds took to wing out of a window. They spiraled together across the treetops and passed out of my sight. The air around the tree house carried the scent of breakfast cooking. My stomach rumbled but it would have to wait.

I entered the city proper and jogged through the streets. I sought out obstacles where I could, jumping crates and barrels using my own power as much as I could, pushing myself hard. I wasn't going to get any breaks from the Forsaken. I think I may have surprised some of the Ageless in town. I doubted these people expected to see me jogging though town at this hour. I veered away from restricted areas and tried to hug the walls as much as possible. If I had a choice I'd jog on top of the walls, but I didn't want ruffle any feathers. I circumnavigated Avalon and came back to the forest. I was winded but I figured I could do it again. And so I did.

Upon my second return I saw Sembas out in front of the tree house with an enormous BEAR and an Ageless I recognized from yesterday. Archer, I think her name was. That must be her house in the trees. They were watching three of those large birds fly a course through some golden rings floating in the air. One of the birds flew down and transformed into that hulking man, Dennan. He slapped Sembas on the back and took off with that bear into the woods. Welcome to Avalon, where the weird is normal. I had seen a lot of Sembas, I wondered where Fenwick has gotten to.

I ran to the stream where I flopped onto the ground. I dunked my head and drank deeply. The water was cold and sweet. I sat to regain my breath. The sun had climbed to mid morning and my stomach was insisting that water wasn't going to be enough. I sighed. This wasn't going to be fun. I had to head in to town and ask for food. I had to ASK for food, not BUY it. This was going to be the worst part of my day, but I had the feeling I'd get over it. I had to play ball here to survive.

Once I had cooled down enough, I Sang and released the extra weight from myself. I strode toward town and decided to follow my nose. I found myself outside the best smelling shop I ever smelled. A few Ageless were floating out with pastries in their hands and either their noses buried in a book or in deep conversation with each other. I walked in like a mouse heading into a trap to get some cheese. It looked like this place was mostly serving Ageless who didn't want to take the time to cook or conjure food for themselves. Everything looked and smelled mouth watering. I tried to keep from drooling. I looked around quickly for something that looked low quality and spied some simple looking rolls on the bottom shelf of a display case.

“E-excuse me?” I said to the person who was tending to some delicious looking confections, “Um.. ahem.. could I get a few of those?” I said pointing at the simple rolls.

[Faidth]

@Faran:

   The man tending the cart is a massive gourmand with a dark complexion and a pleasant disposition. Unlike many of the other people in the city, he makes no attempt to converse with you. You get the feeling it is not due to unfriendliness, but rather, because he senses that you want to be left alone.

   Another Ageless appears beside you as the hulking gentleman wordlessly hands you the rolls. You recognize the man beside you as Calming, the barkeeper.

   “Morning, Philosophy,” greets Calming. “Could I get a basket of those rolls? Some of my patrons are reeling from last night. Smith was carousing last night with that Sembas fellow and all parties involved seem to have had an excellent time. There are a few blokes in there who are STILL having a fantastic time, and I think they’d benefit from something in their stomachs.”

   The vendor, Philosophy, laughs and his enormous sides shake. He reaches into his cart and produces a basket of warm rolls. “Here you are, Calming.”

   “Thanks, Jonas,” Calming replies. “Come by later for a pint, will ya? I don’t see enough of you.”

   Philosophy’s laughter is rich and rumbling. “I can’t fathom how you don’t see enough of me. There’s plenty here not to miss!” he chuckles, gesturing to his own gargantuan form.

   Calming turns to leave. He glances at you and narrows his eyes, as if looking for something. He glances towards Philosophy who merely shrugs in reply. Neither attempts to converse with you; Calming departs for his bar and Philosophy continues to tend to his offerings.

[john greymore]

Fenwick awoke to the mixed scent of sweat and perfume and a lot of headaches. The sight of three Cleos brings back the memories of last night and he mentally smiles at the thought.

Breakfast is brought in by... Cleo, who is ordered to put it down by... Cleo. His ego and Manhood is praised by... hey! Two Cleos!!!

Then One Cleo snaps her hand and Cleo joins together with Cleo again.

Cleo. What a name.

He lets out a small groan as she kisses him, as if released from something. He shifts into a more comfortable position and hugs her.

She mentions something about sharing magic and looks down to where she points. A red sigil glows and he realises that it resonates with the blue sigil on his forehead, which glows along with the red one.

"How often will be often?" He asks in response to her statement. It was never a crime to be sure of things. "Oh! That means I got everything from you and you didn't get anything back from me? Do you have a sigil on your chest?" His eyes dart down to her cleavage just as they had when they had first met. Seeing no difference (Wait... was that a slight bruise?), he frowns slightly, before grinning and shrugging, obviously joking and not expecting anything different with her.

Somewhere among the pile of clothes, a muffled voice seems to call out. "Get-----out----- here!!!"

Cardack.

[Kitharsis]

Sembas watches in awe as Dennan turns into a falcon and flies through the rings.  He imagines what its like, finding himself wiggling his fingers under his crossed arms.  Upon Archer's mention of getting some practice in Sembas nods.

"Yes, we haven't had time to train since we left for our journey to Avalon.  I think it would do us both good to go through some exercises."

As Dennan claps him on the shoulder Sembas chuckles at the large man.  "You must show me how you do that!"

His new friends depart, leaving Sembas and Faile to themselves.  The falconer tightens the gauntlet on his arm and deposits his spear and bow and arrows at the base of a nearby tree.  He had left his old militia issue weapons in Archer's house for safe keeping until he has a place of his own.  The Blue Steel and the diamonds sparkle in the morning sun.  His hunter's knife, or course stays strapped to his hip.  He adjusts his cloak about his shoulders and flips the hood up over his head. 

Faile, who was circling overhead as he was preparing, lands softly on his outstretched arm.  She looks at him expectantly.  The two stare into each others eyes for a moment, their minds connecting on a deeper level than usual.

Sembas thrusts his arm upwards and Faile takes off into the sky.  He chants under his breath for a moment before taking off in a run.  Faile begins to grow in size as she swoops down behind him.  At the last moment he leaps high into the air and lands on her back.  Crouching low and holding on with one hand, Sembas cheers as she lifts higher into the air.

"Lets do a lap, girl.  I'd like to see Avalon from your point of view."

The two streak through the sky, Sembas's green cloak flaps in the wind behind him.  He spots the lake where Archer and Besnik were going through their own exercises.  A mischevious grin spreads across his face as he pats Faile on the back.

"Lets see how they like our cannon ball, eh girl?"

They circle the lake once, before Sembas leaps off Faile's back from seemingly too high in the air.  But due to his great athletics prowess he merely rolls as he hits the ground and springs up.  He is a little dusty, but unscathed nonetheless.

Waving at Archer and Besnik from the other side of the lake, he begins to chant under his breath.  Moments later a large rock solid Faile spashes into the water like a boulder falling from the sky.  Water splashes out of the lake and catches Archer under the spray.

Sembas laughs uproariously as Faile springs out of the water, surrounded by a faint glimmering shield.  She quickly snatches him up with her talons.  Grasping onto the back of his armor and cloak she lifts off into the air.  He sticks his tongue out at Archer and Besnik and waves as he is carried away. 

She lets go when they are over a clearing and he flips to the ground landing in a crouch, his leather armor groaning in protest from the impact.

Faile shrinks back to normal size and does flips and acrobatics in the air.  Sembas tosses rocks at her for her to dodge.  In an instant she is careening towards him and in a flash he quickly dodges out of the way.  The two look like they are dancing as one ducks and the other weaves out of each others talons or rocks.

Their dance goes on for quite some time before Sembas takes off into the forest surrounding them in a sprint, leaping over stumps and fallen branches and weaving through the tall trees.  Faile follows, dodging tree branches and leaves above him.

Finding another clearing, Sembas collapses on the ground breathing heavily.  Faile comes to land on his chest, breathing heavily throuh her open beak.

"You're getting slow, girl.  Too many of Archer's honeycakes, eh?"  He says to her as he ruffles her feathers.

"You're one to talk!  I don't remember you weighing quite so much last time I gave you a ride...  Your armor's fitting a little tighter than usual, eh big boy?"

The two share a laugh as Sembas stands up, Faile perched on his shoulder.

"I think we're going to need to step up our training, girl.  Tossing rocks and running through the forest won't cut it anymore.  We're not going to be dealing with foolish bandits or stubborn animals anymore.  More like that night we almost..."

Faile nods deeply, all too aware of the scars on her body from the magic arrow.  Sembas rubs his ribs, feeling the memory of the pain as well.

"Come on, lets go see if Archer has dried off yet..."

Faile grows again and Sembas leaps onto her back as she takes off.  He collects his spear and bow and arrows and straps them to his back before they lift off again in search of Archer and Besnik.  As they fly though the air Sembas imagines spreading his own wings and flying next to Faile.  He lets out a sigh as she banks to the left and he is jolted back to reality.

[Depheir Kogthar]

Depheir arrived the grand reception hall, where he had to wait until General Fury ended discussing strategy with Lieutenant Fierce. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long, because a fair, red-headed human came to him and told him to follow her. She introduced her as Muse.

"Nice to meet you, Muse. I am Depheir Kothgar, but you can simply call me by name."

 She leaded Depheir into the courtyard where General Fury was seated at a table with a large, well-muscled man with gray hair that fell over his shoulders. His eyes were an unusual, striking shade of blue and he glanced at you impassively as you enter.

“Ah… Depheir.” Fury stood to greet him. “This is Lieutenant Cedric Fierce of The Fierce Legion. He is one of the finest commanders in The Bulwark of Heaven. Cedric, this is Depheir Kogthar, one of our newest recruits. So... What can I do for you?”

"Hmm... There are other things to do besides asking for that Cardack.", he thought to himself and few seconds later, he said to them.
"I have already planned that I will become a spy for the Legion. Thanks to that I am newly recruited, The Forsaken may not recognize me as their enemy, and my reports may result in immense tactical advantages. I have already told my plan to Dethys and he is creating a spell to aid me in my task."

[Faidth]

@Fenwick:

   Cleo grins up at you as her index finger lazily dances across the middle of your chest before skimming upwards and poking you gently on the nose.

   “Use your best discretion. Call when you need me most. As I’ve said, I do have my duties here to tend to, but should you find yourself in danger or in need of me, do not hesitate to use it.”

   You notice that there is no mark on her chest to display any exchange of power, and you correctly surmise that you have likely benefitted more from this exchange of the arcane arts than she has. However, she does not seem to mind in the least and seems perfectly content to remain at your side and dote upon you.

   From your position on Cleo’s bed, you see an unusual light spark to life somewhere in the main area of this massive tent. You immediately recall that this distinct light seems to be the same pattern that was emitted from the orb.

   “Mistress Cleo?” calls a male voice.

   Cleo raises an eyebrow, but soon, recognition dawns upon her face. She snaps her fingers and both of you are instantly dressed. She grabs you by the hand and leads you into the main area where you find yourself greeted by Bran Thane, General Fury’s youngest son. Noting your disheveled hair and Cleo’s glowing disposition, he immediately begins to blush and stammers an apology.

   “I-I’m sorry, Mistress Cleo… I did not know you were… uh… entertaining company,” speaks Bran. He avoids looking at both of you and his gaze is firmly upon the floor.

   “Oh, Bran! It’s alright, dear! Wicky and I were just sitting down to breakfast! What can I do for you, sweetheart?” She speaks to him lovingly, like a doting older sister might regard her little brother. This is not surprising to you as Cleo has already mentioned how much she esteems her kindred.

   “Mistress Archer asked me to invite all of our people to a display of falcon athletic prowess and great feats of dexterity,” explains Bran. “She and Master Sembas would very much like for everyone to attend. It will be held on the east side of town, near the great tree, at sunset. Will you be coming?” His expression is hopeful, and you gather that he has likely made similar invitations to her, but has left with little more than a negative response.

   Cleo glances up at you and she squeezes your hand tightly. “Yes… I do believe that would be most agreeable.”

   “Okay… I understand… I…” Bran moves to leave, but suddenly turns toward her, his eyes wide with excitement. “You will?! That… that’s excellent! I’ll let her know!” Bran gives a quick wave before hurrying back through the portal.

   She watches as the portal closes behind him, then returns her attention to you. “I can leave myself in charge while I’m gone. She snaps her fingers and Cleo #2 appears in the corner of the room next to the orb. “Do you hear that? I’ll be stepping out with Wicky tonight.”

   Cleo #2 crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. “But what about me?”

   “Bah! Don’t pretend like you want to go. “You and #3 can fight over who is better at chess again!” Cleo snaps her fingers and Cleo #3 appears beside #2.

   “Hmph! I look forward to beating you again!” gloats #2.

   “So you think!” refutes #3.

   Cleo smiles up at you. “Now… where were we?” She snaps her fingers again and you find yourself disrobed in front of the three women.

   Cleo takes you by the hand and leads you back to her bedroom.

   “What about us?” calls Cleo #2.

   “Yeah! It’s not cheating if we’re all you!” chimes in Cleo #3.

   But Cleos #2 and #3 receive no answer save for the closing of the heavy curtains that lead to the bedroom, and the plethora of pleasurable noises that follow.

   “Well… that stinks!” grumbles Cleo #2.

   “Chess?” asks Cleo #3.

   “Indeed!” agrees Cleo #2.


@Sembas:

   You walk back to the area where you left Besnik and a sopping wet Archer, but find that the two have since moved on. Perhaps they have concluded their training for the day and…

   A loud screech pierces like an arrow through the morning sky as Besnik swoops down and seizes you with his talons.

   “Think you’re clever, eh?” grins Archer from her place upon Besnik’s back. “Well, if I must endure wet leathers, so shall you!”

   Besnik swoops over the top of the lake and you descend like a rock as he drops you from his grasp and unceremoniously dumps you into the lake. As your body hits the water you find that it is the perfect temperature. It is cool and refreshing, but as you make your way towards the shore, you are reminded of the irritation of wet leathers. The joints of your armor creak audibly and this just makes Archer and Besnik laugh harder. Even Faile is having a pleasant laugh at your expense… until Besnik dips his beak into the water and proceeds to shoot a stream of it towards your unsuspecting companion.

   Faile looks at him disdainfully and begins to preen her feathers.

   Archer lithely dismounts from Besnik’s back and you notice that her sopping clothes have made her armor cling to her body even more so than usual, thus revealing her curved hips and lean, athletic form.

   She takes you by the arm. “Come now, my mischief-maker. Let us put on something drier, shall we?”

   She hooks her arm through yours and leads you back to her treetop abode. She bids you follow her to her bedroom to go in search of dry garments. She kneels at a chest near the foot of her bed and begins to rummage through the contents before finding something suitable.

   “Here… they’re rather old, but VERY comfortable.” She hands you a white, long-sleeved shirt that is soft to the touch and has a rather silky feel, a pair of dark brown pants, a pair of dark brown leather boots, and a brown, quilted doublet.

   “Those should do it… Now… Take off your clothes.” It dawns on her how that must have sounded and she clamps a hand over her mouth. “I mean… uh… oh dear.” She is terribly flustered and blushes a deep crimson. “Your leathers… I’ll see that they are oiled and hang them out to dry.”


@Rethagos:

   General Fury and Lieutenant Fierce exchange glances.

   “Dethys is intending to what?!” exclaims Lt. Fierce. “Fantastic! That man has finally lost what little remnants of his mind that he had left! And now he’s convincing Childer Immortalis to partake in his insanity.”

   “Cedric,” speaks Fury gently. “Dethys knows what he’s doing. It seems that Depheir has agreed upon his own volition, and at this point, I’d be willing to try just about anything to find out what Severan’s up to.”

   “But what if he is caught?!” demands Lt. Fierce.

   Fury sighs heavily. “That must be a chance he is willing to take. Cedric, Dethys is a very powerful man, and I do not doubt he can come up with something suitable. A spell to mask Depheir’s motivations should be able to…”

   “But they have powerful mages on their side! Not to mention, Fortuna is still unaccounted for! I have no doubt she is working with the Forsaken, and someone like that devil-witch would certainly be able to see through a spell like that, even if cast by the formidable Dethys Night!” argues Lt. Fierce.

   Fury is silent. She crosses her arms over her chest and appears to be contemplating something. “Cedric… Severan knows us… None of us would ever be able to pull of this ruse. But you know that he has been heavily recruiting from newly-made Immortalis, and Depheir might be able to give us the break he is looking for.”

   “Deya!” exclaims Lt. Fierce. “Surely you are not considering this madness!”

   “We’ve had Severan and his ilk on the defensive for centuries… but now the tide is starting to turn. You’ve been on the front lines! I don’t think I need to tell you all this. Every day, the Adversary’s power grows. We cannot continue to allow Severan and his people to aid in furthering their master’s agenda. Something must be done, Cedric.” There is a certain finality in Fury’s voice, and in hearing this, the disbelieving Lt. Fierce quickly succumbs to silence.

   He nods numbly. “As you will it, Deya. After all you have done for me, I would never disagree with your decisions. If you believe this may work, than that is good enough for me.”

   “Thank you, Cedric.” Fury puts her hand on her companion’s shoulder. “I am in agreement with Dethys’s decision to facilitate this plan, Depheir. However, you should bear in mind that he is easily distracted. Let me send someone with you to keep him on task.”

   Muse is sent with a message and moments later, a striking woman with brown hair and gray eyes appears in the room. She is wearing a suit of chainmail and has a stern authority in her expression that nearly chills your blood. If she did not look so unapproachable, you are certain that she would be quite beautiful.

   “Blood…” says Fury to the new arrival. “Dethys is working on a spell for Depheir. Could you please ensure that he remains on task.”

   Blood grins wickedly. “My pleasure.”

   “Blood…” speaks Fury warningly. “You are not to harm a hair on his head. No submission holds, no hiding his books, no calling him an egghead, none of that.”

   Blood sighs. “Very well. Then what am I supposed to do to ensure he does what he needs to?!”

   “I have faith in you… you’ll think of something,” Fury replies simply. “Now, Cedric and I have some matters of business to attend to. I expect we will see both of you at the Falcon Race tonight. Please remind Dethys to make an appearance, Blood.”

   Blood nods obediently. “Yes, General Fury.”

   “Thank you for making me aware of your intentions Depheir. You seem quite anxious to carry out this task, so we will do our best to ensure that Dethys remains on task for you.” The General shakes your hand and bids you farewell.

   Blood leads you back out of the building that houses The Bulwark of Heaven and the two of you begin to make your way towards the unusual home of Dethys Night.

   She is silent for some time, and seems to prefer it that way, but Blood eventually speaks to you. “Dethys is a very intelligent man, but he is easily distracted,” she explains. “He was supposed to work on an item for the Archon, and proceeded to teach his potted plants how to speak some useless language. Then there was the time he was to work on a temporary invulnerability spell for Lt. Fierce and instead figured out how to make pies into bombs that explode on impact. Then there was the time I asked him if he could enchant my armor and he turned it into a home for orphaned mice who had lost parents to his EXPERIMENTS.”

        She shakes her head and sighs. “So you understand the need to keep an eye on him when something important must be done?”

[Depheir Kogthar]

“Dethys is intending to what?! Fantastic! That man has finally lost what little remnants of his mind that he had left! And now he’s convincing Childer Immortalis to partake in his insanity.”

Exclamation of Lt. Fierce surprised Depheir a bit.

"What did he... ah yes. Creating new spells may be very unstable, but why does Lieutenant panic so much?"

Depheir listened to conversationo between Fury and Fierce and he became more scared every second as he reminded every danger that may occur in his task.
Several minutes later, Fury told him:

“I am in agreement with Dethys’s decision to facilitate this plan, Depheir. However, you should bear in mind that he is easily distracted."

Depheir , scared a little when Fury told that, thought to himself:
"So, we will have a problem here. Creating spells needs very much concentration. He CANNOT be distracted."

"Let me send someone with you to keep him on task.”

Muse was sent with a message and moments later, a striking woman with brown hair and gray eyes and wearing a suit of chainmail, appeared in the room.

“Blood... Dethys is working on a spell for Depheir. Could you please ensure that he remains on task.”

Blood grinned wickedly. “My pleasure.”

Depheir was a bit interested with woman that came. She looked very good, but she looked so unapproachable...

“Thank you for making me aware of your intentions Depheir. You seem quite anxious to carry out this task, so we will do our best to ensure that Dethys remains on task for you.” The General shook his hand and bid him farewell.

Blood lead him back out of the building that houses The Bulwark of Heaven and they begun to make their way towards the unusual home of Dethys Night.

   She was silent for some time, and seemed to prefer it that way, but Blood eventually spoke to him. “Dethys is a very intelligent man, but he is easily distracted,” she explains. “He was supposed to work on an item for the Archon, and proceeded to teach his potted plants how to speak some useless language."

"Oh my...", Depheir thought to himself. "Distraction can lead to very strange things, but I've never heard about that before."

"Then there was the time he was to work on a temporary invulnerability spell for Lt. Fierce and instead figured out how to make pies into bombs that explode on impact. Then there was the time I asked him if he could enchant my armor and he turned it into a home for orphaned mice who had lost parents to his EXPERIMENTS.”

Depheir chuckled. These histories were funny, but dangerous, as he thaught a moment later.
NO DISTRACTION, when there is something important to do.

“So you understand the need to keep an eye on him when something important must be done?”

"Heh, yes. Let's go to his house."

[Faidth]

   All of you received the word-of-mouth invitation to the Falcon Race from General Fury’s youngest son, Bran Thane, and are aware that the bout between the falcons will occur at dusk.

   However, as each of you draws near the location, it is unlikely that any of you could have fathomed what an enormous draw the Falcon Race would be. The Ageless spend the majority of their time protecting cities and people in the human realm or fighting the Forsaken on the front lines, thus, when there is cause for celebration, they tend to go above and beyond. What was intended to be a simple race has been transformed into an elaborate public spectacle.

   The typically peaceful streets of the city’s east side are lined with nearly half of the Ageless population. Everyone is in high spirits and thanks to Calming’s preparations, many of them also HAVE high spirits in hand. Philosophy, too, has helped to enhance the grandeur of this affair by preparing a smorgasbord at the far end of the street. The immense table is laden with all manner of fresh meats (recently hunted by Dennan and Fensten,) soft rolls, scrumptious vegetables and juicy fruits (care of Hestia’s gardens,) succulent soups, delectable desserts, and small fountains, filled to the brim with ciders, sparkling spring water, and honeymeade. 

   All of the Ageless that you have met so far, and many more that you haven’t, are in attendance. General Fury and her sons are near the starting line. The boys are laughing and joking around, and even their grim parent manages to crack a smile at their gleeful antics.

   Armen Smith has his arm draped around Aloysius Keeper and the two friends appear to have already indulged in the honeymeade. Smith whoops at intervals in support of his new friend, Sembas, shouting encouragement to the falconer at the starting line.

   Muse and Hestia are within the large crowd. Muse speaks animatedly while Hestia nods and offers advice as the younger woman questions her about garden plants and their response to music. Serenity and her brother, Constancy are nearby, squabbling over some task that Dethys has appointed to them.

   Lieutenant Fierce, still clad in his heavy battle armor, is surrounded by a large collection of women of varying ages. They range from their late teens to their late 60’s, and each of them smiles up at Lieutenant Fierce, elated to have him home.

   This race serves as a pleasant distraction for the Ageless, and each and every one of them are delighted to share each other’s company and make merry in the streets of Avalon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   The noise is simply overwhelming, and even with the “Magical Earmuffs” that adorn Faran’s head, the magic-user may be a bit unnerved by the intermittent crescendos of the Song that surround him.

   As Faran makes his way through the streets, he spots Muse who offers a wave and a smile. Hestia, happy to see her patient about and quite recovered, gives a nod of acknowledgment.

   These greetings are quickly lost upon Faran as he sees the hulking form of Jonas Philosophy lumbering toward him with purposeful stride. Philosophy’s eyes are firmly locked on his, and the lack of expression on the gargantuan man’s face is quite intimidating. Jonas stops in front of Faran and slowly reaches to the unusual satchel strapped to his side and utters one word as he removes something from the opening.

   “Kabob?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Depheir has spent the better part of his afternoon in the company of Blood and Dethys. The former has the latter by the shoulder and is strategically steering him through the crowd.

   “Come on, Adia!” insists Dethys. “Just a few more minor alterations and I think I can figure out how to make potted plants fly.”

   “I can, too,” replies Blood drily. “It’s called throwing them. The only reason I even let you entertain that ridiculous experiment was because you told me it would help you with Depheir’s spell.”

   “It did,” responds Dethys. “If I turn Depheir into a potted plant, I can make him fly.”

   “Stop stalling. We’re eager to see if this harebrained scheme of yours will actually work. Would it kill you to put a bit more effort into it?” asks Blood.

   “Ugh…” groans Dethys. “I’ve been at that blasted spell all day… It’s just not working! Do you have any idea how difficult it’s going to mask Depheir’s intentions? Severan and that bastard Cauter can see through just about everything. They could scent my alterations a mile away.”

   “I’d be more concerned about Fortuna,” mutters Blood. “That witch has always had your number.”

   Dethys pales considerably at the mention of this new name. “I would appreciate it if you would never mention that name again. That woman is the most evil, vile, malicious creature to ever walk the earth.” He quickly changes the subject. “Anyway… I’m trying… I just don’t know if it can be done.”

   “Adia is right, dear,” agrees Dethys’s wife, Carina. She is holding their young son, Laertan, and looks up at Dethys with hopeful eyes. “If anyone can manage it, it’s you, Dethys. I know you can. You simply have to apply yourself more.”

   Dethys wraps his arm around his loving wife’s shoulders and looks down upon her with adoration in his eyes. “Well, my dear… if you think so, then it must be true.” Dethys tenderly kisses his wife while Blood feigns disgust.

   “Get a room, will you?” mutters Blood.

   “Don’t be jealous, Adia. I’m sure that you will one day find a marvelous ogre to cavort with yourself,” retorts Dethys with a smirk.

   Blood ignores him and changes the subject. She spots Lieutenant Fierce in the crowd and points him out to Depheir. “There is Lieutenant Fierce. He was speaking with the General when you arrived at the Bulwark Headquarters earlier. See all those women? There are twelve of them. They’re Fierce’s daughters. He has a soft spot for mortal women and has been married several times. The gray-haired one is his eldest, Emina, and that girl in her late teens is his youngest, Aella.”

   “Fierce is one hell of a warrior,” speaks Blood. “When he was a mortal, he was known as Cedric Alexei. He was the king of all the barbarian tribes in North Vighardur. His personal army was comprised of berserkers, men who were driven to frenzy in battle. The Fierce Legion, his company, fights in much the same way.”

   She then turns to Depheir. “So… Are you enjoying Avalon so far, Depheir?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Fenwick and Cleo make their way through the throng of people. The Seer has her arm hooked through yours and appears quite comfortable in your company. She leans her head against your shoulder as you walk, and this openly friendly gesture draws quite a bit of attention from her kindred, all of whom are ecstatic to see her out and about again.

   As you pass by Hestia, she gives Cleo a hug and whispers something in her ear. Dennan, too, graces your lovely lady with a hug of his own, while his brother Corvus claps you on the back and offers you a knowing wink. The twins are in the company of their younger brother, Bran, and are joined by their mother who happily welcomes Cleo back to Avalon.

   The General then pulls you aside and heartily shakes your hand. “Thank you for your help, Fenwick. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have Cleo back with us… and happier than ever at that.”

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   The race course is suspended overhead, and these self-sustaining, hovering hoops whirl, move and dance about at intervals to make the course more difficult for the participants. Archer and Sembas stand at the starting line, their respective falcons upon their training gauntlets.

   It is nearly time for the race to begin and Archer glances over at Sembas, offering him a gentle smile.

   “I know the crowd must be rather daunting, but any respite from the ardors of war are a cause for celebration. There are fewer and fewer reasons to celebrate these days.” Archer’s expression is tainted with sorrow, but she quickly dispels this unhappy thought back to the recesses of her mind. “Well, we shall not disappoint them then.”

   Both falconers stand ready as Dennan, who will judge the race, makes his way towards them. He gives a slight bow to both participants, then proceeds to pat both falcons upon their feathery heads.

   “I’ll be following behind you,” Dennan informs Faile and Besnik. “Easier to determine the winner this way.” He raises one arm into the air and everyone in the crowd turns to face him, their attention firmly directed towards the proceedings of the race.

   Dennan’s low, rumbling voice announces the start of the race. “On your marks… Get set…”

   Both Faile and Besnik drop into their starting stances and prepare to take flight.

   “GO!”

   Dennan stretches his arms out to his sides and the entirety of his form erupts in a flash of golden light as he assumes the form of a falcon, so that he may better follow the race.

   Faile and Besnik explode in simultaneous action, propelling themselves forward and towards the 1st ring. It is difficult to determine which one has the advantage early on, as they appear to be neck and neck. Their handlers follow behind them, reminding them of the correct motions and cheering on their charges.

   The crowd begins to shout encouragement and both falcons seem to respond to the urging, pushing themselves faster and farther than either has ever managed before. The 5th ring requires a quick vertical ascent, and it is here that Besnik manages to overtake Faile. The male falcon careens by his opponent, which only causes Faile’s determination to increase.

   Faile desperately attempts to gain an advantage over Besnik, but the latter is unwilling to allow her to pass him. The 8th ring is a steep descent, followed by a quick turn through the ninth ring. Though Faile gains ground, she is still unable to overtake her rival.

   Besnik voices a shrill cry of joy in response to his current position, and Faile retorts with a reply of her own. Besnik seems amused by this, as he has managed to increase his distance ahead of her. The two birds make their way towards the 12th ring and both Sembas and Archer raise their bows. Each of them releases a flurry of six arrows for their charges to catch. Besnik manages to catch all of Archer’s arrows, but Faile struggles to field Sembas’s as her master’s arrows are considerably less accurate.

   Down through the 13th hoop, the two birds complete for control of the race. Both drop their arrows into the awaiting baskets below before beginning the climb towards the next hoop. Besnik playfully taunts his opponent and Faile shrieks in defiance. Her wings propel her further towards the hoop, and as Besnik passes through, he finds that his lead is quickly decreasing.

   By the 18th hoop, Faile has managed to close the gap. As they rocket through the nineteenth hoop, near Archer’s tree, Faile explodes past Besnik, leaving her rival to cry out in shock as he attempts to regain his lead.

   There are only five hoops left, and Faile is determined to best Besnik yet again. However, Besnik has grown stronger and faster in Faile’s absence from Avalon, and at the 20th hoop, regains the lead. Faile, not to be outdone, manages to overtake him at the 21st, but her lead is short-lived as Besnik reasserts his dominance at the 22nd. Faile refuses to relent to Besnik and shoots past him at the 23rd ring, but the 24th and final ring promises to be the most challenging. This ring sits atop the lake, and even a minor miscalculation can result in the falcons careening into the drink.

   As they near the last ring, Besnik and Faile are on even ground, and the crowd watches in anticipation as the falcons glance towards each other, shouting one final challenge, as they make their way towards the 24th ring. 

[john greymore]

Fenwick sighs, content. Cries of 'Check!' and 'Checkmate!' had rung throughout the tent during their second session, but it did nothing to douse the passion between the two.

Sunset was coming, so said the sundial outside (being in a desert did have its advantages!). After reluctantly putting on his robes again, he tidied his hair up and ensured that Cardack was somewhere within.

*Had a lot of fun didn't you? I stopped caring after a while!* Cardack had cried with dignity right after being picked up. *Only have half a body. Oh I miss the days.* He sighs at the thought.

Cleo snaps her finger and one of the clones disappears, leaving the second clone behind to guard the gates. Satisfied, she opens the portal once more. Except that this time, she followed behind Fenwick...

...And came out right next to the great tree.

The change was defeaning. From a quiet tent to one of cheers of anticipation and gay laughter. A few lightweights giggle and hiccup, but it is obvious that nothing would fully distract them from the race at hand.

In the distance, he sees Sembas and quickly waves a 'hello!' to him, after which he moves to join the crowd, not wanting to distract his friend.

Cleo's arm was hooked through his with her head on his shoulder. She was strangely quiet, but when Fenwick looked to check if she was fine, he saw a gentle smile on her face, as if she was simply allowing everything to flow around and into her. Yet, when she was waved at, she would respond by widening her smile, occasionally coming some by name. Fenwick, being new, can do nothing but smile and be silent.

He looks around and can just barely spot Faran, wit a huge man walking... lumbering towards him. Yet he cannot see what happens after as Ageless continuously walk across his line of sight.

Not that this was a bad thing of course. Moments later, they meet up with Muse conversing with Hestia. Hestia gives a slight gasp as she sees the couple before giving Cleo a big bear hug, which is returned in kind. Something is whispered into Cleo's ear, which Cleo replies to. But their catching up is cut short by Dennan, who also hugs Cleo. As Fenwick watches this, Corvus claps him on the back and winks at him. Fenwick rewards this with a blush and his smile tightens, giving perhaps a little too much away.

He is then yanked away by the general, who shakes his hand and thanks him for bringing Cleo back.

"Oh, it was nothing... I mean, it's not a problem." Being thanked like that by someone with so much authority throws him off track and he is unable to continue.

He is however, saved by a sudden hush over the crowd. Fingers point and whispers propogate among the crowd. The race course has presented itself in its entirety at last. Dennan stands somewhere below those rings ith the two falcons (How'd he get there so fast!?!).

*Get me out, I want to see what's going on!!*

Obligingly, he pulls the tome out and lays it on his head and Cardack's ghostly image rises out. Yet moments later, Fenwick feels a tiny pop and pulls the book down. 'What happened?' He asks the ghost.

*Hestia...* is the reply.

Although wanting to help their relationship, he knows now is not the time. He hugs the book gently with his right arm as he always had, while Cleo rejoins him and takes her position on his left.

A thunderous 'GO!' is heard and three falcons take flight. Confusion reigns on his face for a while until he realises and remembers that Dennan could shapeshift. He was probably the judge of the race.

Fenwick watches eagerly as the birds fly through hoop by hoop. Rooting for Faile, he grits his teeth in anticipation as his abdominals tense up, willing her to catch up as she falls behind. Arrows suddenly shoot up and while the other falcon, Besnik, catches his arrows without any effort whatsoever, Faile struggles a little and this costs her a little more time.

Fenwick looks away, as if he had failed somehow. But a slight nudge from Cleo entices him to watch again.

Somehow or another, she manages to catch up with her opponent. The earlier screeches and taunts have died down as the two competitors struggle to win. In his eyes, both the birds were subtly dancing with each other and his jaw drops slightly at the sight.

*Here it comes!!* Cardack whisper-shouts in his mind. Apparentely he was watching it too... somehow.

And as they pass through the 23rd hoop, time seems to slow as Fenwick anticipates the final dive...

[Kitharsis]

Sembas throws his bow on the ground in frustration.  He just couldn't match Archer's skill with directing an arrow.  Against his nature, he had thrown his hood back in such a large crowd in order to aim better for the volley, but it didn't help him too much.  His hood bounces against his back as he runs below the two falcons, keeping stride with Archer.

"Keep flat!"

"Don't push against the wind, use it!"

"You can dive faster than that!  Dive, Dive!"

He yells from below.  Through the bond he could feel Faile's determination.  There wasn't a speck of nervousness or fear coming from her at all.  Atta' girl...  He couldn't help but marvel at her strength and grace.  Once again he was reminded of the magnificance of his companion.  He glances at Archer.  Faile was matching a falcon trained by an Ageless.  The pride he felt from this was overwhelming.  But he didn't just want them to match Archer and Besnik, he wanted to win!  Even though this was just a friendly competition, Sembas and Faile would never give less than their best.  Their pride and determination was pushing them on, driving them forward.

He can practically feel the wind on her feathers.  The ring is sitting precariously atop the lake.  One wrong move and she would be taking a swim.  He wills her on.  If he knew how to give Faile some of his energy through the bond, he would be doing so right now.  He wanted to push her, to give her the strength to win this competition.  The strength to be better.  He sprints ahead of Archer, cheering Faile on feverently.

Besnik was right next to her, she cries out in challenge at him.  Memories of their old races flash through her mind.  Memories of beating him.  She would not allow him to beat her after all these years.

Faile could feel Sembas's feelings coming through the bond in waves.  His faith in her and his determination was pushing her that much harder.  She could almost feel his hands at her back pushing her faster.  Feeding off his emotions, she pushes herself harder than she has before.  With a loud cry she pushes faster, quicker.

The last ring was mere meters in front of her.  She could smell the fresh water of the lake.  Her trajectory was perfect.  The crowd was gone, the cheers might have been miles away.  Avalon was all but a memory.  All that she saw was the ring, suspended in the air.  Sembas's and her thoughts were practically as one.  His muscles strained as he ran along the shore of the lake.  Her body was tense and straining against the wind on her descent.

The ring was right in front of her, she was nearly there.  Sembas's thoughts were coming through like a torrent.  With inches left she cries out in determination, the world a blur around her as she speeds through the air.

[Faidth]

   As the falcons thunder towards the final ring, Sembas can hear Archer, barely audible above the roar of the crowd. Her whispered encouragement for Besnik, though hushed, is accented by a hint of excitement.

   “Come on, Besi… You can do this.”

   It appears that Besnik has taken the lead again. His form begins to pass through the ring, just ahead of the determined Faile. However, a slight miscalculation on his part results in him careening towards the ring at an awkward angle. There is an audible crunch as Besnik’s right wing connects with the side of the ring. Archer gasps as a sharp cry cuts through the air, silencing every onlooker in the vicinity.

   “Besnik!” Archer cries out to her fallen companion and begins to race towards the surface of the lake as the fowl lands hard in the water, sending a wave splashing upwards.

   Sembas feels Faile’s fright; though she and Besnik are rivals, you can feel that she is deeply concerned for his well-being. You see your beloved companion rapidly change her trajectory. She manages to pass through the ring, but swoops low, seizing the injured Besnik in her talons. She pulls away from the water and flaps valiantly, carrying the weight of Besnik, who cries out miserably for Archer.

   To everyone’s surprise, Faile continues on her course, directly towards the finish line. The red, breakaway paper is severed in two as Faile and Besnik cross the line simultaneously. Faile gently places Besnik upon the ground, and you can hear her vocalizing her encouragement and attempting to comfort him as both you and Archer arrive on the scene.

   “Besi!” Archer scoops Besnik up into her arms. “Are you alright?” She examines him from beak to talons and glances down in dismay as she realizes that his wing is broken. “Oh, Besi.”

   She cradles him to her chest as Hestia arrives at her side. Dennan, who has reassumed his human form, looks on with concern.

   “Let me see him, dear,” says Hestia gently.

   Archer nods and places her companion in Hestia’s waiting arms.

   Hestia silently examines her patient and offers Archer a reassuring smile. “It’s a clean break. I can fix this right up and he’ll be back to himself in no time.”

   She holds Besnik with one arm as the fingers on her opposite hand are enveloped in a soft amber glow. Besnik ceases his pitiful cries as Hestia sets the bones and aids him with a magical mend. You can see the bones fuse back together, and Archer strokes the feathers upon Besnik’s head to comfort him.

   “There,” speaks Hestia. “Right as rain. It might be a little tender for the next few days, but I can guarantee that this race won’t be his last.” She winks at Faile who cries out in agreement.

   Hestia hands Besnik back to Archer, but the falcon refuses to stay put. He expresses his wish to be put down and struts over to where Faile is standing. He presses his beak to the back of her neck and begins to preen her feathers in a gesture of thanks.

   Faile seems quite pleased by this gesture, but jests at the recovering Besnik.

   Her words are inaudible to all but Sembas and Archer. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this. I demand a rematch.”

   “Granted,” comes Besnik’s simple reply.

   After a few moments, Faile flaps upward, landing upon Sembas’s shoulder. The crowd has been silent, each and every Ageless watching the scene unfold, but as Besnik vocalizes his appreciation for Faile’s deed with a raucous call, the crowd erupts in cheers and applause.
   

[john greymore]

Silence.

Then, a sickening crunch.

Several Ageless wince, others breathe in sharply, while more still cover their gaping mouths in shock.

Fenwick did none of those. The crunch seemed nothing but distant, and all he could register was Faile diving straight down...

...and through the ring.

Time resumes, along with the meaning of the crunch. Fenwick gasps, startling Cleo a little. In his mind, a quick *ooooh* is heard from Cardack. Soon after, a huge splash is heard.

But the race is not over. There is still the finish line. Unfazed, Faile swoops in and picks Besnik up with her talons, straining a little from the extra weight, but clearly making quick progress towards the finish line.

Then, the paper is broken.

Yet, the crowd remains silent. Concern had, not surprisingly, shifted from questions of who was to win to those of whether Besnik was fine. Dennan returns into his human form and can only look while Hestia does something. There is a small glow and Besnik quietens from his cries.

Besnik is returned to Archer, but he appears determined to strut over to Faile and, once reaching her, prunes her. Cleo's grip tightens slightly around Fenwick at the sight and her head leans harder on his shoulder.

A call from Besnik, along with a few flapping of wings.

And the crowd goes wild!! Cheers, applauses, and whistles are heard. Fenwick rejoices too, not only in the victory, but in the display of sports-bird-ship.

A few memories of him playing with his friends flash through his mind.

But they do not seem to dampen the mood as he grabs Cleo by the hand and twirls her around before taking both her hands and jumping around in something that appeared to be a dance.

Cardack falls to the ground with a thwack and is shortly picked up by a huffing Fenwick.

*Do that again and I'll...* He trails off, realising that he cannot do anything.

'Sorry about that. Hope you enjoy the race though!' Fenwick replies.

He puts the tome back in his robes and extends his arm to reach Cleo's shoulders, holding her close to him.

[Faran Beshral]

I took the skewered snack of steak from the enormous man's meaty hand. I hadn't seen it's like before. The little cubes of meat looked like they had been run through with a straight bit of wood and cooked over an open fire. It was so simple and smelled good. Food and fun. I took a bit of the spicy meat off the end. It was delicious. My eyes widened involuntarily. I looked at the man who towered another foot above me and nodded my respect and thanks. Someone who could cook this well commanded my respect above any general.

I meandered through the crowd, fascinated by this different side of the Ageless. The entire party was on the green near Archer's tree house. I found a nearby tree and with a quick note to the Song I leaped up into one of the sturdier low branches. I munched thoughtfully on the... “kebab” and observed the crowd of Ageless below. The way they had all gathered, it seemed like any festival gathering you could find in any common village in the world. Everyone milling about socially, laughing, eating and drinking.

No. Not quite like one. One thing was missing: children. Yes, General Fury's own boys were up to young men's antics, but they had all seen combat. In a normal village setting around half of those in attendance would be youngsters under fifteen summers. Children's happy, carefree, innocent laughter was something people take for granted in normal life. It's background noise people ignore, but register subconsciously. Now when you're expecting it and don't hear it, you miss it. It helped to underscore the underlying sadness that surrounded the Ageless, who normally cannot bear children, and drove home the fact that they... we, were at war.

The start of the race brought me out of my reverie. As was “par for the course” in Avalon the falcon race was like nothing I had seen. They were using those odd suspended rings I saw before and the falcons were flying through them in some sort of sequential order. More than a race it seemed to be a sort of dance in the sky. They caught arrows too. These birds were either very well trained... or somehow supernatural... super-falcons. I couldn't really tell who's bird was who's, so I simply watched the spectacle. I winced with the rest of the crowd at the audible crack when one of the bird took one of the rings wrong, and was impressed when the other bird caught the injured one and carried it across the finish hoop. Tricks were one thing, but sportsmanship elevated these animals higher. Almost human in fact.

I watched the outpouring of sympathy for the injured bird. It had only been a full 24 hours since arriving in this city and in that time all of my perceptions of the Ageless had been turned around. I had been greeted with paranoia and pain when entering the city, but now I had seen a full range of emotions from these people and for the most part they had been welcoming. Why did they have to demand an immediate answer of me when they asked if I would join them or not? How could I make a decision that could effect the rest of my existence based on a first impression? Couldn't I have taken some time to get to know them? To trust them before making my choice? I didn't like military or government organizations, but the Ageless didn't operate like them. Maybe if I had known these things I could have made a different decision. Maybe.

I picked my teeth with the sharpened end of the stick. Listen to yourself Faran, worrying over “what might have been” and “what if”. You did the best you could have with what you had been given. Walk your road, man. Besides, I had heard Dethys's comment about turning someone into a flying potted plant. The man was clearly insane, despite what he claims.

[Faidth]

@Fenwick:

   Cleo looks quite comfortable in your embrace and you notice that she hasn’t stopped smiling since she came back to Avalon. Though much of that may be attributed to her reunion with her kindred, and her return to the only true home she has known in centuries, you get the suspicion that a good portion of her elation is due to your kind intervention.

   Across the street, you can see Hestia make her way towards you and Cleo. Someone else notices this as well, and you know that if Cardack still had access to his mortal heart, it would be thundering in his chest.

   “What is she doing? Why is she coming over here? What if she notices me? Maybe I should let her notice me… Oh Divine, no! She’d stick me on a pyre and leave me there to burn! Or maybe she’ll just tear my pages and use them for toilet paper! Oh for the love of all that is good and holy, Fenwick! Don’t let her know that I’m here!”

   “That was quite a race!” remarks Hestia, as she stands beside of Cleo.

   “How is Besnik? He will be okay, won’t he?” asks Cleo with concern in her voice.

    “He’ll be just fine, dearie, just fine.” Hestia clasps Cleo’s hand in hers. “Cleo, I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am that you’ve returned. Your home is just as you left it! I’ve been looking after it for you! You won’t believe how enormous those white rose bushes are!”

   They begin to talk about some alterations that Hestia made to the little garden at Cleo’s home, but you can scarcely hear the conversation as Cardack is still screaming within your mind.

   “AHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!! She’s right here! Right next to me! What a fool I was! How could I have ever left a creature as miraculous as she? Do you see the way those pretty robes cling to her body?”

   You are reminded that Hestia is one of the kindest old ladies you have ever met, but she is quite old in every sense of the word. Not just chronologically, but physically as well. She might have been a looker in her day, but now she looks more like someone’s grandmother.

   “You would not BELIEVE how well-preserved she is for her age! And boy, could she go all night! I’d stumble out of her house feeling like I’d tilled an entire field! I’d be tuckered for weeks!”

   This conversation has just taken a turn for the awkward.

   “I left that gorgeous woman and now she will NEVER forgive me! AND ALL FOR THIS STUPID, STUPID, STUPID BOOK! DETHYS WAS RIGHT! I SHOULD HAVE JUST BEEN MORE PATIENT! BUT NO! I WAS ALL ‘I’M CARDACK AND I’M A BIG, STUPID GIT! I’M GOING TO DO EVERYTHING BY MYSELF AND DAMN THE CONSEQUENCES!’ DAMN, DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!!!!”

   Cardack’s voice explodes in a fit of obscenities. Luckily, you're the only one that can hear him right now. You can tell that he is VERY agitated and one can’t help but pity him for the remorse he is showing right now.

[Kitharsis]

As much as he wanted to win.  As much as he wanted to prove the skill of Faile and himself, he didn't want this to be the result.  As focused as he was on Faile, the folly by Besnik resounded deeply within his heart. 

He immediately stopped running.  A cloud of dirt sprung up from the ground as he dug his heels in.  Faile's fright mixed with his shock at Besnik's poor broken wing.  Without a thought he knew what Faile was going to do.  As much of a rival as Besnik was, he was still a friend.  Glancing over at Archer, his heart went out to her.  It was terrible to see your closest friend in pain.

He was right behind Archer as she scooped Besnik up in her arms.  Muttering words of encouragement he watched helplessly as she cradled him in her arms.  He thought of trying to use his mending technique that he uses on Faile, but he was unsure it would be of any use.

Thankfully Hestia was able to use her healing to fix his broken wing.  Knowing from his own methods, Besnik would be tender for a few days.  But the worst was over.

He beams with pride as Faile flaps over and lands on his shoulder.  No words are passed between the two of them.  His emotions were enough to convey his feelings.  The exchange between the two falcons brings a huge grin to his face.

"May you have a swift recovery, Besnik.  It would be a shame to have a fine bird such as yourself grounded.  It seems both Faile and I have a thing or two to learn from you and Archer, as much as I hate to admit it.  I look forward to our next competition."  He finishes his statement with a grin towards Archer. 

The crowd erupts in cheers as Besnik makes his appreciation towards Faile known.  Sembas finally realizes the focus on he and Faile and quickly flips his hood up to hide a deep blush.  He pats Faile on the head and she leans into his hand.  The two share a moment together before they turn back to Archer and Besnik.

"The bond between falcon and human, Ageless or not, is a wonderful thing.  I'm glad to see that you share such commitment and love with Besnik that Faile and I have with each other."  He walks over and places his hand on Archer's shoulder.  "As much as I hate crowds, I fear that we're in for a long night."  With a shrug he throws his hood back, his golden eyes full of admiration towards a fellow falconer.  A beautiful, amazing, fellow falconer...

[Faidth]

@Sembas:

   Archer smiles up at Sembas, allowing him to see the mixture of emotions upon her face. There is relief over Besnik’s current condition, but it is tainted with traces of worry for him. She seems gratified by the reactions of her kindred to an exceptionally exciting race, but perhaps, a slight bit disappointed by the outcome. The competitive streak in her would have loved for Besnik to finally emerge as a victor after all these years, but she was more concerned for his well-being than his pride.

   Her heart is still racing in her chest and the adrenaline still courses in her veins with nowhere to go. It is at times like these that people make impulsive, if not unusual decisions. She reaches out her hand to shake yours, in recognition of a well-done race, but as her fingers clasp yours, she pulls you forward and moments later, you can feel her lips pressing against yours.