The Legion Immortalis: The Bulwark of Heaven (Part 4)

[john greymore]

Her hand, soft and gentle, is a contrast to the harsh situation that they were in right now. She still trusted him, or at least had an inkling of trust left. If there was one that could understand, it was her. She could. Maybe. Mustering his courage, he gave words to the thoughts that had been plaguing him since their mission. They pour out with scarcely a pause.

"I'm scared! I'm scared of the Forsaken! I'm scared of the Shadow Lady! I'm scared of the Immortalis! I'm scared of my allies! I don't want to die!!! When I, along with the others, did our sparring, I did nothing! Could DO nothing!!!"

His hands flail about. Fear and madness wild, once buried within him, now burst forth clear as the day within eyes that dart now here, now there.

"I panicked then!!!! And that was just a SPAR! A PRACTICE!!!!!! Cael... He... He killed Constancy as if he were a fly! And he had others with him. Sig could do nothing. Blood could do nothing. And they have lived ages and ages!!!"

Thus was his internal steam vented, replaced slowly, part by part, with numbing apathy that searched his soul and found it wanting. Then apathy clashed with remnant passion and fused together as one and demanded release. This monster he gave life to with voice soft like a babe's.

"I felt alone. So alone. I have you and I have the others, but it felt so... ineffective. I don't know why I helped her. It was logical not to."

He does not know whether to continue. It could be dangerous. It would be dangerous.

But by all that is he had already crossed so many lines both obvious and invisible; what, then, was danger?

"Part of me wanted to see her die. I know it sounds evil, heartless. I don't know why... No. I do. It was some... sick and twisted desire for confirmation of our- of my helplessness. That part of me gave order and reasoned that her death would serve us better... It would have given us information, if set up correctly. And if all fails, well... I have already died once anyway."

He found himself on the floor, his breathing haggard and inconsistent, like a rabbit that knows it is about to die.

"Cleo. I have met you but for a few short days and already your power is apparent. Yet, I am not the powerful mage you see in your future... I am not worthy of your love..."

To him who had never felt romantic love, her love did seem so absurd, so unreal. But he knew about gratitude and thanks.

"Though you little know me and have seen the consequences of my actions, you have listened to me... Know that whatever you wish to do either for me or against me, I am grateful. And... and again, for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry."

In his mind, he puts himself on trial with his girlfriend as judge, jury, and, if necessary, executioner.

[Radobe]

Siron was stunned by the shock of his hand and pommel passing through the man’s head. It is only after seeing his opponent’s laughing visage that he regains his composure.

“Wow! You should see your face, Siron! Good one, huh? Drives my brother Dennan crazy! He hates it!” Corvus wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. “Maybe I’ll have to show you that one sometime.”

The young knight gives out a frustrated smile and a nod of agreement. “Yes you do that” Siron takes a deep breath “and when the time is right,” With a grin on his face he charges Corvus once more (STRENGTH: ATHLETICS).  “I will teach you the skill of falling on your ass!” Siron runs at him full throttle. When he closes in, he jumps and with his sword high above his head, he slams it down full force as he falls. The thought that he might hurt his ally does not even occur to him anymore. Though he realized there is no way for him win an exchange of any kind, it was fun to fight with all he had against the Ageless.

[Faidth]

@Fenwick:

Cleo appears aghast at the idea that you would be so willingly to sacrifice Serenity to the altar of knowledge. A vast array of expressions affect her face as your dizzying speech serves as both apology and confession. In her silence, her eyes betray anger, fear, sadness, and worry. When finally you decide to put your fate into her hands, she is silent for a moment, contemplative. Her expression changes again, this time to one of understanding and acceptance. Despite all you have done in the short time you arrived back in Avalon, and all the foolish decisions you have made, she cannot bring herself to judge you. Cleo, once Cleominae Kharis in her mortal life, had been robbed of her future by those who were so quick to pass judgment on her for matters beyond her control. The scars of their hatred and condemnation could still be seen upon her body in the passing shadows of the moonlight. You know in your heart she could never do the same to you.

She seats herself beside you and pulls her legs up to her chest, much like a child might do to comfort itself. She gently rocks back and forth in silence, choosing her words carefully, then abandoning any sense of forethought for purely speaking what is in her heart.

“The road you find yourself on now can only lead to darkness, Fenwick. It will only lead to tragedy. You were so quick to cast the lives of both Serenity and yourself aside for the sake of knowledge that can be obtained in other ways. I know not why you would so willingly waste the gifts the Divine has given you. We will find a way to defeat our enemies, but enough lives are lost on the front lines that throwing ourselves at death’s door will accomplish nothing. If anything ever happened to you… I would never forgive myself. And you… You were so quick to cast Serenity aside for your own gain. What if a greater sacrificed had been required for you to gain your knowledge? Would you have cast others into the flames? Your companions? Your friends? Even… me?”

“You treat your life as a curse! The Divine gave you a second chance! Don’t you see that? It’s because he saw something in you, the same thing that I saw the moment I met you. I knew right away that I would be an honored observer to the great man you will one day become. You’re not there yet, but you’ll find your way. One day you will realize just what you are capable of. You are both warrior and sage in the same vessel! Yet, if you cannot believe in yourself, how can you expect your brethren to? You must be stronger than this, Fenwick.”

“The Adversary and his ilk seem so strong, but really, they are wrought with weakness. They have such difficulty conquering us, so they seek to do so through our minds. All your fear, doubts, and insecurities, they are tools of the Adversary. He is attempting to sway you from the righteousness of the Divine.”

Cleo scoots closer to you, laying her head upon your shoulder. “I wish for the world I could take away all the pain and fear you feel. This is all new and frightening for you, and that’s okay, Wicky. It’s okay to be afraid. I have felt as you do, it is by good fortune and the will of the Divine that I am here. I should have perished in those flames! There have even been days, where I wish I had… Perhaps then I would be with my family. Yet, I know in my heart it is the will of the Divine that I serve some greater purpose. Had I died hundreds of years ago, then I would never have met you, and never would have loved as I do.”

“In the few short weeks I have known you, you have completely changed my life. I, too, had given into grief. I let my own guilt absorb me until there was very little Cleo left. It was only through you I was able to live and breathe again. Before, I was little more than a walking corpse, going through the motions of each day, stuck in some self-inflicted purgatory of my own sorrow. I do not wish for you to suffer the same.”

She reaches up her hand to gently brush the hair from your forehead. “I promise you, that this too shall pass. I do not know what darkens your faith. I cannot restore that to you… but I know someone who can help. You must just be patient, Fenwick. All will be revealed to you in time, that I assure you, and until then, you must take these unfortunate events, and learn from them.”

[Faidth]

@Siron:

Corvus’s eyes widen at as your barrel towards him and he has only moments to react to the onslaught you intend to unleash upon him.

“Yikes!” He quickly manages to dodge out of your path (DEXTERITY: Dodge) but you have managed to surprise him with your tenacity. Unable to collect himself fast enough to react with his weapon, he lashes out with a mighty kick towards your torso, connecting with your chest. It causes you to stumble backwards, but you are able to maintain enough balance that you do not fall to the ground.

“Well, I’ve got to give it to you, Siron. You have a whole lot of power bottled up in there. As for teaching me to fall on my ass, you haven’t met my brother yet, have you? Believe me! I’ve been bested by him in just about any form he can muster! He once even managed to best me as a squirrel if you can believe that!”

A voice calls out from near the fence that surrounds the training yard. “Corvus!”

You can see a young man, likely in his early teens. His shaggy black hair falls over his piercing blue eyes and he is dressed in black pants, finely made boots, and a black doublet. You notice they have very similar features. Brothers, perhaps?

“Corvus!” he calls again.

Corvus glances towards him, but never fully takes his eyes off you, in case you attempt a surprise attack. “Yes, Bran?”

The young man leans on the fence. “Mother sent me to get you. She says you should come home for dinner. You and Dennan are both late.”

“Tell her 10 more minutes!” pleads Corvus.

The young man, Bran, shakes his head. “Unh-unh. I’m not telling her anything. You want to stay out here and mess around you tell her yourself,” he replies firmly.

“Fine,” Corvus sighs in exasperation. He turns his attention back to you. “You don’t say no to the General. Well, I suppose you could but… it usually doesn’t end very pleasant. It’s family tradition. Even now that we’re grown we still have dinner with our mother once a week. I don’t suppose you’d want to come with, would you, Siron? You were kind enough to spar with me. It’s the least I can do.” Corvus looks back to Bran for confirmation.

Bran nods in agreement. “Mom won’t mind. You’re welcome to come. There’s always room for more.”

[Kitharsis]

Sembas chuckles along with Dennan while the mice carry on and bicker between themselves.

"Lets go and pay Merchant a visit."  He motions for them to join Chico on his shoulder.  Luckily his leather shoulder pad is wide enough to accommodate 4 excited mice.

"We'll raid your pantry on the way back, Dennan.  No sense carrying mountains of food with us through the town square."  Sembas says with a wink to his shoulder dwelling company.

"Mountains made out of food?"  Paolo exclaims.  Even Boris can't hold in his excitement at the thought.

"Lets get this bed business out of the way so we can tend to these larders, eh?  Chop chop!"  He claps his paws together with authority.

[Radobe]

“Tch!” Siron exclaims, as his sword hits the ground beneath Corvus’s feet. He takes a quick glance, while tightening his grip and getting ready to follow up his attack. Instead, however, he gets a powerful kick in the chest. It was a good thing that the knight didn’t have time to stand up, otherwise rather than stumbling backwards a few steps, he would have found himself in a nasty predicament. Though he could endure the damage of a lot of blows, the very thought of getting one to the groin brings a tear to the eye.

“Yikes!”… “He once even managed to best me as a squirrel if you can believe that!”

The image of Corvus Virtue, with his golden hair, jumping around in his armor and trying to get rid of a squirrel, which is going up and down his body, makes the young knight shake with laughter.  “Ha-ha-ha! That I have to see!”

“Corvus!”

A sudden voice is heard and for a split second draws Siron’s attention away. After which he quickly turns towards Corvus, hoping to get another opportunity to jump the man unexpected, but alas his opponent does not take his eyes off from the knight again. The unfamiliar voice comes from the back of the surrounding fence. The young man at the fence holds remarkable resemblance to Virtue.

“Corvus!”… “You were kind enough to spar with me. It’s the least I can do.”

Though most of the time he spent with his father, was during his childhood, he had learned quite a lot from him. One of the things he learned was to not refuse a chance to get acquainted with the higher echelons of society. Though until now he did not know, that the boy was the general’s son, he knew he was not just anybody.

“I would be honored to accept your invitation, if you would have me at your table.” Says Siron with a slight bow. “Though I am not certain if I should notify captain Honor of my absence before we depart.  After all, it is my first night in Avalon, perhaps he shall be worried if I am nowhere to be found.”

After they depart Siron ask the brothers a question.

“During our travel here, captain Honor mentioned the general. Though he did not speak at length I was left with the impression that she is a remarkable person and yet” Siron looks at them both before continuing. “I haven’t heard much at all about the Archon. If it isn’t too rude and personnel of me to ask, do you mind telling me what kind of a man your father is?” His voice has changed, from the erratic and fun having tone he had during the spar, to a more monotone one, devoid of emotion and full of respect.

[Cameron]

Sigurd thinks back to his audience with the All-father as Blood trails off.

"Now don't get me wrong, lass. It's not like we're all off havin a pint with dear old dad every day. He's got a very busy schedule. Constantly building and inventing new things when he's not busy makin more of us. That's how all of us are. We build and create and mine... well, 'cept for me. I can make things fine... better at it drunk than sober, but my real gift is my music. The father loves my music so much that he channels his power through it when I play. That's why everyone was dancin that time we were sparring. And that's why he took time out of his busy schedule to talk to me personally."

Sig had produced his lute while he as speaking and now idly strums a few chords on it. He (and probably Blood) can feel the power building in even those few random chords.

"And that's why he sent me here, lass. I am not just an ambassador of my people. I am an extension of the will of Alviss himself. And I plan on makin him proud."

[Faidth]

@Siron:

Bran shakes his head in bewilderment. “You even have to ask? What kind of a man is Dad? He’s the… uh… best kind!” Despite the awkwardness of his comment, his words come out in an almost reverent tone. You can tell that there is certainly some hero worship as far as his father is concerned.

On the other hand, Corvus simply shrugs dismissively. “Enh… He’s okay.”

Bran’s face immediately reddens and he appears as if he is about to say something he may regret.

Corvus raises his hands in defense. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Nah, Dad’s great. But that’s just it. Growing up, I never really knew my Dad was so important… to Avalon, to all the Ageless, to our society as a whole. It’s as if all of our people draw strength and hope from him. I was probably about five when it hit me that he was really something special. Until then, he was just Dad.”

“It’s hard not having him here all the time,” adds Bran.

Corvus nods in agreement. “It’s been like that for the past couple decades now. Ever since the Forsaken began to gain strength. It’s been even worse this past year. It’s kind of the rule of things. The three of us have grown accustomed to how it works. Mom and Dad are easily the two most powerful Ageless the Divine ever created. Makes sense because they were the first two to ever exist. But, to ensure the Forsaken don’t manage to gain ground, one of them is always here in Avalon to protect the city, and one is always on the front lines. We get to see the two of them together for a few days at a time, but rarely more than that. It was different when we were kids. They both had the chance to be home with us. Now it seems it is either or.”

“It’s got to be hard for them,” says Bran. “Being away from each other like that. Has to be hard to be parted from the person you love.”

Corvus’s entire expression changes and you can see his typically jovial attitude dissipate into a cloud of grief and sorrow.

Bran immediately regrets his comment, but does not elaborate. He merely puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “The Archon is everything the Ageless stand for. He is just and honorable. He is compassionate, yet fierce in battle. He shows mercy, yet he has the power to fell Forsaken and their creatures of darkness with ease. Not to mention, he is one of the sole people the Divine will speak to directly.”

“Yeah, Divine isn’t exactly a chatty fellow.” You can see Corvus’s smile has returned. “He doesn’t speak to his children much directly, but when he needs to, it is usually Dad he calls upon. Mom, too, when the occasion warrants it.”

Bran continues. “Dad tells us we have to protect those weaker than us, so we’re often sent to help in the human realm.”

“That is really the whole point of the Ageless,” comments Corvus. “If you ask Dad, we’re here to protect mortals. If the Adversary were to be able to get his army through the front lines, a living nightmare would fall upon the Earth. It is the actions of the Ageless on the frontlines that ensure the Adversary cannot come through. The Adversary can’t get through on his own. That’s why he needs his soldiers: the Forsaken, the Carnis, the Lykaon, all these awful beings that are bent on destroying what is good in the world.”

“It won’t happen, though,” assures Bran. “Dad would never let it happen.”

[john greymore]

Would he sacrifice Cleo? Would he? That was a question for which he had no answers. Frightening images of her screaming as she died because of some action he had done imprinted his mind and molded it with fear.

But that was not reality. For now, Cleo's head was on his shoulder. It was a physical weight that he could feel and comprehend instantly. Perhaps she would also be the one to hold him down in spirit.

This fact allays his fears, but does not vanquish it completely. Still... Cleo... Cleo needed him. The danger, while visible, still remained in the distance. Still...

"I...I don't know what to do. I'm scared, but I'll continue on as it is. Still, I am bound to Avalon."

Again, that was both a problem and a relief. The problem of choice, to choose whether to join his friends and risk dying again or staying here, had been removed. Now he had to find a way to proceed from his station, disadvantaged as he was.

"I'm sorry Cleo. Solitude has guided your steps through your years and has worn you down. I need some of that solitude now to gather my thoughts. Again... Thank you."

He tries to move away, to make his way towards the library, hoping to maybe find more information on either the Forsaken or the Shadow Lady. To anyone looking, however, it is evident that he is about to physically collapse.

[Radobe]

Siron walked silently and listened. He was absorbing the information they were giving him. His question was motivated by his desire to know who those that lead the Bulwark of Heaven are. It was true that he did not expect anything but praise from his sons, but still they were the one who knew him best, so he listened carefully.

“You even have to ask? What kind of a man is Dad?... Dad would never let it happen.”

“From what I hear, I gather that your father and mother are the ones holding this city together.” he waits a second to see an approving look in their eyes. “I see that you know him very well and that you hold him in very high regard.” He gives a warm smile as he speaks. His emotionless and respectful voice begins to change, to one filled with warmth and something akin to joy. “Then again, he does sound like a man everyone would admire.” He give both of them a small bow. “Thank you for telling me all this. Perhaps someday I would have the opportunity to see the Archon on the front lines myself.”

Protecting those weaker than yourself is truly a noble goal, one Siron can stand behind. Even though he had heard plenty about the Bulwark of Heaven and had made his mind to join it, he was still confused with all that had happened. Though he said he will move on in the pub, as soon as something familiar happened, his thoughts still drifted to his mortal life. The admiration the brothers had for their father reminded him, how little he knew about his. He loved his father a lot, but he was never part of his affairs. Thinking on that made the knight rather sad. His face remained the same, though his smile now was not so convincing.

“We should hurry, we don’t want to make the general wait.” Said Siron with smooth voice.

[Faidth]

@Sembas:

Merchant’s shop is easy enough to find being not far from the city square. The storefront has a single large window to display a few of his wares. There is a large, brown, stuffed bear, so intricately constructed in its detail that it looks as if it could come alive at any moment. There are flowers sculpted from glass and crystal, gorgeous gold filigree rings, jeweled pendants, and a small tin insect that would move if the crank was turned. Above the doorway is a large brown sign with gold writing proclaiming the place to be Merchant’s Curiosities and General Goods.

As you enter the store, you find the name is apropos: it is a wild mix of the mundane and magnificent. The shopkeeper, presumably Merchant himself, is bent over a crafting table on the right side of the store. Despite the fact when you entered it triggered a little bell to alert him of your presence, he does not look up from his work. Bronze-colored goggles with seemingly opaque black lenses hide his eyes from view, and little sparks erupt from the tool in his hands. It is apparent his attention is consumed by his work, but after several minutes he looks up as if noticing you for the first time.

“Ah! Hello!” He removes the goggles from his head, revealing dark brown eyes. His soot black hair is short and unkempt, and there is a certain wildness and excitement in his expression. He quickly notices your tiny companions. “Mice! Mice!” He rushes forward, scoops up Cosette and holds her at eye level.

“Perfect! Perfect! I have this teeny tiny gear that for the life of me I just can’t keep in place. You’ll do just fine!” He carries Cosette over to the table and shows her how to hold the gear in place. He then crosses to a box of minute tools, extracts one, and attaches the gear in place.

“What is it?” questions Cosette, tilting her head from side to side.

“Ah! It’s a horse! A little horse that can walk with but a press of this button!” He turns the horse over and presses the button to demonstrate it. You realize that if he can speak to the animals then he, too, must possess some knowledge of Shapeshifting.

“You can understand us?” asks Boris.

“An acquired feat. As a child, mice were my best friends! Much friendlier than the rats that lived in the sewers of Onostaal. Very good company. Very good,” says Merchant agreeably. So he’s not a shapeshifter… just… crazy.

You have heard of the near legendary kingdom of Onostaal. However, you also know that Onostaal has not existed for at least 200 years. It was destroyed by the Aglicans, from the neighboring country of Aglica. The people of Onostaal had been far from militant. They had not even had an army!  The war had been an absolute massacre, and by the end of it, very few inhabitants of the peaceful city of Onostaal remained. What had once been the kingdom of Onostaal was not controlled by the Aglicans.

“Ooooh!” responds Cosette in awe. “I love it! It’s brilliant!”

“Why thank you, my dear! Here. You can give it a go!” He picks up Cosette and places her on the horse. “Just hit the button, little one. Oh! Let’s get you on to the floor, though. It would be a nasty fall if you’d go galloping off this counter.” He sets Cosette and the tiny horse upon the floor, allowing the little mouse to race laps around the entire store.

“Come on, Cosette! Let us try!” pleads Paolo.

“Pshaw! I’m not getting on that thing!” cries Boris. “I can barely trust my own two feet, let alone some miniature steed!”

Merchant turns his attention to you. “So… What can I do for you, good sir?”



@Siron:

   You follow the brothers toward their family home, located on the north side of the town. On the way there, you see a man harboring a cluster of tiny field mice as he makes his way to a place called Merchant’s Curiosities and General Goods.

   When you finally arrive at the home of the Archon and the General, you are greeted with a sight unlike any you have ever seen before. You have heard of homes like these in distant lands, but nowhere you have ever ventured. Every aspect of the place is accented in brilliant golds, deep crimson reds, and onyx black. As you draw nearer to the abode, in the distance you can see a beautiful waterfall that feeds into a pond where large fish swim. They are magnificent creatures in vibrant hues of orange, gold, silver, white and black. Small, red-leafed trees can be seen throughout the property, and on the path that leads to the front door, two, large, pink cherry blossom trees flank either side. Two intricately carved guardians, something between dragons and large cats, diligently stand watch just before entrance to the porch, and tiny, potted trees rest upon the banisters.

   You follow Corvus and Bran through the front doors and are greeted with the vast amount of weapons, armor, and décor that line the hallways. Having studied the art of the knight, you realize that this is not the plate or chain armor you would find in these parts of the world. There are sets that look much like fish scales bound together, and a very impressive crimson set of armor constructed from connected plates and a chestpiece of an obsidian-colored steel. The helmet has a fearsome demon-like appearance, and horns adorn the top.

   There are several swords upon the wall, all very unique from the typical swords that had been found in your kingdom. These blades are slender with a noticeable curve and appear to be sharpened on only one side. You have heard of warriors that would wear such armor and wield these weapons: Saburau. They were much like many of the knights you have met, adhering to a strict code of discipline and honor.

   “Dad had all this sent here from Mom’s country. She says it reminds her of home,” explains Corvus.

   You follow Corvus and Bran through the house and to a large dining room in the east wing. There is a massive table on the floor, but you quickly notice it does not seem to be the right height. The chairs that surround it have no legs and rest firmly on the floor, and interspersed between these seats are large, comfortable pillows.

   General Fury can be heard in another room, speaking with another Ageless.

   “Sounds like Uncle is here,” speaks Bran.

   Corvus and Bran seat themselves at the table, and Corvus gestures for you to sit next to him.

   Fury enters the dining room and she looks vastly different than your last encounter. You get the impression she is a woman who is rarely seen without her armor, which makes her appearance all the more intriguing. She is dressed in a plain, black, full-length robe made of silk. Her dark brown hair cascades over her shoulders, and her remaining eye passes from each of her children to you. In this more casual attire, you realize that the General is exceedingly beautiful. It is no wonder that the Archon chose her for his bride. Despite her beauty, there is still a certain aura of intimidation in her presence. You have seen the man beside her before, at the funeral in fact. He has long, pale, blonde hair and piercing green eyes. He is dressed in long sage and cream-colored mage's robes.

   “Hi, Uncle Dethys,” greets Corvus.

   “Are you staying for dinner?” asks Bran hopefully.

   “Oh, hello boys,” Dethys responds, returning their greeting. “I’m afraid it has been a rather stressful day, so I won’t be joining you all for dinner this evening. I fear one of our new Childer Immortalis, Fenwick, has landed himself in quite a mess. His behavior this evening has me at an absolute loss for words.”

   “You’re never at a loss for words, Uncle,” jests Corvus.

   “Ha! Right you are,” says Dethys, clapping him on the shoulder. “But I must be going. Have a pleasant evening boys, and you as well, Siron.” He winks at you. Strange that he should know who you are, but then you recall Honor had mentioned him by name. In fact, had he not been the one who had sent Honor to fetch you? “I’m supposing Honor might not know where you are. I’ll let him know you are here. Good night, Deya.”

   “Good night, Dethys,” responds Fury as he disappears out the door.

   She seats herself at the table and frowns as her gaze falls upon her sons. “I told you… No weapons and armor at the table.”

   “Yes, mother,” resonds her sons simultaneously.

Corvus and Bran vanish into other rooms in the house, and when they return they are both dressed in far simpler attire. Corvus wears a fine, white, linen shirt and trousers, and Bran is dressed identically, except for his shirt is black instead of white.

“What about Siron?” asks Corvus. “He’s wearing armor.”

“He is a guest and can wear whatever he pleases,” replies Fury.

The doors burst open and three massive dire wolves bound into the room. The one at the front of the pack stops at the end of the table while the other two, a large black wolf and an even bigger white wolf, run into the kitchen. Seconds later, you watch as the dire wolf at the table transforms into a massive Ageless. He is nearly seven feet tall and his skin is adorned with thick, black tribal tattoos. He wears a simple cotton shirt with a piece of leather fastening the top together, brown trousers, and a brown, leather doublet. He crosses the room and seats himself to the left of General Fury. He kisses her upon the cheek and sets his gaze at the empty plate in front of him.

“I’m not late, am I, mother?” he asks. “Tell me Bran hasn’t cleaned us out of dumplings.”

“No, Denny, you’re right on time,” replies Corvus.

“Good!” responds Dennan with a grin. His gaze falls to you. “One of the Childer?” he asks Corvus.

Corvus nods. “Siron of the House of Entrima.”

Dennan’s expression becomes somber. “My condolences on the passing of your father,” offers Dennan. “I met him once while I was traveling with my own father and Captain Honor. He seemed a great man.”

Fury nods in agreement. “He was, indeed. He was a great friend to the Ageless of Avalon, and it is my hope that we will be able to return his kindness to his son. I am sorry we did not have a chance to speak at more length. Unfortunately there were extenuating circumstances.”

“Has anyone talked to Serenity yet?” questions Bran. “I hope she is doing okay.”

“I’ll pop over there after dinner. Go check in on her,” offers Corvus.

“I think that would be a good gesture,” agrees Fury. “You boys must be famished. Good thing Jonas cooked more than necessary.”

Right on cue, a massive man with dark brown skin enters the dining room. He looks more like a warrior than a chef, but as your gaze falls upon his belt that holds an enormous butcher’s blade and a large knife, it is not inconceivable that he is both. His arms are overflowing with plates of food and pitchers of drinks. He quickly arranges everything on the table.

Bran begins to heap food upon his plate. “Thank you so much, Jonas! Your cooking is always a special treat!”

General Fury pours herself a cup of tea. “Yes, thank you Philosophy.”

“The pleasure is mine,” replies Jonas. “Now, I must be getting back to my apprentice. I just had him practice dicing the smallest peppers I could find. It’s a precision exercise. Knowing Faran, he has likely done an excellent job… or accidentally hacked into his thumb again. It’s really hit or miss with that young man. Good evening to you all.” Jonas quickly excuses himself.    

Everyone at the table begins to select from the numerous plates in front of them. There are marinated bits of chicken and beef, long, brown noodles in some kind of sauce, white rice, a plate of raw, pink fish. All of it looks and smells delicious.

“So, Siron, what do you aim to do now that you have another chance at life?” asks Corvus.

“Yes… What do you intend to do?” wonders Fury.



@Sig:

   “And what exactly brings glory to Alviss?” questions Blood. “Truth be told, we know so little about him. Tell me of Adalstein, Sig. What’s it like? No mortal or Immortalis has ever been invited in its halls.”



@Fenwick:

   The streets are beginning to quiet down as Ageless find their way from the tavern back to their homes. The gilded roads of Avalon are empty, save for Muse and Lurien Honor who walk arm and arm away from the tavern. There is still plenty of carousing going on within Calming’s establishment, but it seems it is far less crowded than it had been earlier. You continue on your way towards the library. There is only one other Ageless present, a man you recognize as Aloysius Keeper. He is seated at a table with a stack of books arranged in front of him. He gives you a nod of acknowledgment as you enter, but does not redirect his focus from the book he is reading.

   At first, you’re not really sure where to start. The library is massive and it is difficult to ascertain the arrangement of the shelves. Searching for information on the Lady of Shadows is like searching for a needle in a haystack. However, after wandering around for a bit, you locate a tome dedicated to some explanation of the Forsaken. By looking at the cover, you realize that you know the author, Jonas Philosophy. The book contains a great deal of general information about the Forsaken. It details a few of the high-ranking members of their society, Severan Deceit, being chief among them. You are reminded that he was not always called Deceit. In fact, the Archon, so sure that Severan could be swayed from his fate, had been given the heart’s name Severan Victor. Was Severan’s fate truly predetermined? Or was his turn to evil a matter of choice? Even Cleo had not been able to confirm the event would be static? Had Severan remained an Ageless, so much pain could have been avoided.

   You realize that while the book does not give you as much information as you would like, one of the best resources on the Forsaken is in this very city: Jonas Philosophy. Was he not a Forsaken at one point? He would have intimate knowledge of the inner-workings of the Forsaken.



@Fjorin:

Lai seems uneasy at first. You can tell that worry burdens her mind. Her experiences with both the Forsaken and the Lady of Shadows obviously had great effect on the spirit, yet she brightens considerably when you assure her of your trust, and the promise of your friendship.

“Fjorin… I am a bit nervous to have to speak with the General tomorrow. Promise you won’t let her send me away. I don’t want to leave. I can’t.”

A woman’s voice replies to Lai’s fears. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Gladia Archer appears behind you. “There is much knowledge to be gained from a Carnis… uh… from you, Lai. Though I must admit, these are very unusual circumstances. For one of your kind to even be allowed into Avalon is unprecedented.”

“I think if more of us were, you would see less of us on the field of battle,” responds Lai. “I have encountered others of my kind before, but only briefly. The Forsaken go to great lengths to ensure we do not have much time to discourse among ourselves. Perhaps they fear if we did, we would strive harder to change our situations. No… They prey upon our fear, and that is enough to keep us under their command. They inflict pain upon us, and since we cannot truly die, it is a pain that, should they will it, may never end.”

Archer considers this for a moment. “So you see yourselves as victims?”

Lai shrugs. “We do not choose to join the Forsaken. If we do things you perceive as wrong, it is only to spare ourselves agony. We are not simply born and decide to ruthlessly attack Ageless. That is not our true nature. If it were up to us, we would simply float about the earth taking in the sights and sounds, content to float along wherever the winds take us. If there was but a way to liberate my people from the clutches of the Forsaken, I am sure the majority of us would choose freedom over domination.”

[john greymore]

Fenwick stares into, and through, the tome before him. He had taken it down after realising that Jonas Philosophy was the author.

It was no use right now. He was both mentally and physically exhausted from what had happened and he needed to stop. Making a mental note of Jonas Philosophy's involvement, Fenwick grumbles a little as he tries to make what little sense he can from the tome as he fights sleep off for as long as he can.

[Radobe]

The rest of the walk to the general’s house is uneventful, for the exception of the short encounter of a man carrying mice to what seemed to be a general store.
Siron is surprised by the estate and the weapons and armors collection of the general. He had only heard of such houses and he had seen smithies that didn’t have even half as much gear as the hallways. At that point the young knight though there is nothing else to surprise him, but he was sorely mistaken. The general he had seen earlier, the fierce warrior he heard about, one of Avalon’s finest, was an astoundingly beautiful woman. The final surprise, for the time being, was the pack of dire wolfs and more precisely, the leading wolf’s transformation into Dennan. The man was easily one of the biggest humans Siron had ever seen. Remembering his recent conversation with Corvus, he looks at the blond man and gives a nod of understanding. That must have been one huge squirrel he faced.

“My condolences on the passing of your father,” ...  „Unfortunately there were extenuating circumstances.”

Siron nods in agreement, he witnessed himself the extenuating circumstances she was talking about.

“Has anyone talked to Serenity yet?” … “Yes… What do you intend to do?” wonders Fury.

Siron was in the middle of mixing together some of the pink fish and the white rice into his plate and took his time to finish before answering.

“At first” he begins slowly. “I wanted revenge. I hated and loathed my brothers, for what they did to my father, for betraying the House of Entrima, but most of all… for what they did to me.” He takes a short pause and thinks on what he is about to say. “A part of me wanted to cry and forget, but another part of me…” His eyes widened and his breath became slightly erratic. “It wanted me to slaughter them, to take the weapons and armor I was given, find them and kill them as they plead for mercy…”  The knight takes in a deep breath. “That part was… strong. I believe it was thanks to Captain Honor that I managed to overcome it. “His eyes begin to light up with excitement as he continues. “When I was at my academy, I could never truly become a knight. There it was a profession. The time I spent with Lurien and all he told me of, it rekindled my desires once more. The story of the Bulwark of Heaven and The Forsaken, The Divine who has given us a second chance and a few words about the brave General Fury. I felt like a small child watching as knights strode through our hallways.” With determination in his eyes and a smile on his face, Siron continues. “Until now I only studied how to be a knight, but in this conflict between Ageless and Forsaken, I intend to truly become a knight and prove that I am one!”

[Kitharsis]

A mechanical horse so tiny that it takes mouse hands to complete.  Sembas watches with great amusement as Cosette gallops through the shop.

It seems this Merchant fellow is yet another oddity of Avalon.  Speaking to the mice is second nature to him, something he picked up in... Onostaal?

The tragedy of Onostaal is one Sembas was taught when he first joined his town's militia.  The peaceful kingdom of Onostaal fell with barely a sword raised in defense.  A fate the militia would not allow to happen to their hometown.  The falconer takes a moment to consider the shopkeep's comment about the sewers paired with the fall of the kingdom.  A rough life.  No wonder he spends his time tinkering and making beautiful things.

Merchant turns his attention to Sembas. “So… What can I do for you, good sir?”

Sembas returns his question with a warm grin.  "I wager you are the one called Merchant."  He states while offering a handshake in greeting.  "I am Sembas Filden, one of the younger occupants of Avalon.  I owe these mice the promise of a new bed for their home in the woods, and Dennan said you were the man for the job.  Do you have a bit of fluff lying around that they could take back with them?"

With another smile he adds, "And if there is anything I can do for you in return, please do let me know."

[Archdemon Stu]

Fjorin was relieved that one of the Ageless - though clearly with her doubts - decided to speak with Lai, and learn from her.  Lai spoke of the true nature of the carnis; that they are not beings of inherent evil.  How they are captured and forced into servitude.

Once again, Fjorin repeated the names Lai had given him in his head... as the spirit spoke of liberation, his thoughts traveled to Darastae, and Fortuna.  If she was the one who had captured Lai, there was a good chance that seeking more information on "Fortuna" would reveal more important information on the carnis and their slavery.

Now was not the time, however.  He stood up to address the Ageless.  He recognized her from the Lady of Shadow's lair.

When Fiorin speaks, he draws the attention of all the Immortalis around him. Dennan sniffs the air and glances towards Archer.
   “A whelp,” says the mountainous man.
   Archer moves towards Fjorin with a cautious glance to Dennan. “A Childer Immortalis? Are you sure Dennan?”
   Dennan grunts in reply.
   Archer shakes her head in confusion “Then why is he-”

"I am Fjorin of the Ebonmane.  It is regretful we had to meet under such circumstances." Fjorin seemed thoughtful for a moment, and continued, "Yourself, and Dennan seemed confused by my presence.  I know little of this world and its laws... what was it that troubled you?"


_______________________________________________________________


As the night winded down, and the mead settled, Fjorin refused the comfort of a room.  The warmth of a bed is not home to a man who spends his life in the field.  He sought an area of isolation... a high rooftop, a field, a garden... it mattered little, as long as the sky was open above him, and the breeze combed gently through his hair.  As of this night, he had learned that his body's guest, Lai, may enjoy such a thing as well. 

Having found a satisfactory spot, he took his sword, and embedded it firmly into the ground beneath him.  He gazed upward at the stars, and wondered if his kin was with the Valkyries.  Perhaps it was they who died the honorable deaths; perhaps he was given a second chance to do so, and follow his brethren to the worlds beyond.

He lowered his eyes, and gazed upon Avalon... it was truly a wondrous place, and a sight to behold.

Satisfied, he wrapped his elbow around the hilt of his sword, and lowered his head.  His eyes closed, and his breath slowed, where he entered some state of battle meditation.  Even at rest, all he saw were swords and war.  Visions of people he had fought, and had yet to fight... predicting their movements, reacting, failing, and reevaluating his own movements... this was what brought him peace, and what rocked his mind gently to sleep night by night.  "Cauter... Fortuna... Severan... Cauter... Fortuna... Severan..."

There was one more name that came to mind... one that stifled his rest:  The Lady of Shadows.  She was up to something, and whatever it was, Fjorin could not inform the Ageless - their movements would adjust, and she would become aware, though he knew not how. 

For now, he would have to trust in Lai's judgement, and occupy his mind elsewhere, lest he act suspiciously.

With that, his mind calmed, and his head bowed further into a light slumber...

[Faidth]

@Kitharsis:

Merchant gladly shakes your hand, then at the mention of your question, thoughtfully rubs his stubbled chin. It is strange for a man to look both exhilarated and exhausted at the same time, but Merchant wears it well. His eyes light up and he crosses the room towards a tiny dollhouse. “Dennan told you right. Fluff I have in spades. Yet, are such creatures as this, little mousey mouse, worthy of but a bit of fluff, or might they be better served with one of these exquisite beds?”
Within the dollhouse are several miniature beds, made for dolls but quite suitable for headstrong little mice. They are elaborately carved from carefully crafted pieces of mahogany, and inlaid with what appears to be gold.

“They are pretty,” observes Paolo.

Before you can answer if you would like them or not, Boris calls out from beneath the tiny covers. “We’ll take ‘em.” He lets out a big yawn, turns over, and begins to snore loudly.

“So much for being wild animals,” mutters Paolo. “Big old layabout.”

“Maybe staying here in Avalon would not be so bad,” ponders Cosette aloud.

“Well you can’t all have Sembas. He’s mine!” squeaks Chico. “Get your own big people!”

“Well…” Merchant runs a hand through his dark, unkempt hair. “I am in need of an apprentice or two… or three, I suppose. Little mice, you have seen the beautiful things I make, but I think I could make them much better and faster if I had but a bit of help. You are welcome to stay. I will see to your food and lodging if you will but help me in my tasks. What do you say?”

Paolo and Cosette exchange glances.

“I like it here,” says Cosette.

Paolo nods. “I would like to take a ride on that horse, too,” mentions Paolo. He hops onto the back of the tiny mechanical horse behind Cosette.

“Boris! What do you think?” asks Cosette.

Boris is startled awake. “Mrmrhrm. Being wild is for flying chickens. Beds are for mice. Nice, cozy…” Boris quickly falls asleep again.

Cosette crosses her hands over her chest. “Well, I guess that settles it. We’ll stay here… at least for now.”

“Wonderful! Wonderful!” Merchant extends his index finger for Cosette to shake. “You have a deal. I must thank you for my new apprentices, Sembas. Please, please! Let me give you something in return.” Merchant crosses the room again and collects a dusty old book from the back of the room. “There might be something useful in here for you.”


@Fenwick:

   Though Ageless do not tire nearly as quickly as humans, the stress of the recent hardships you have borne witness to eventually lead you to a table in the library where you soon drift off to sleep. However, it seems you are not destined to remain there. In the middle of the night you are awoken by a soft touch upon your forehead, and you find yourself in the home of Cleo Seer. She has somehow, through magic or muscle, likely the former, transported you to her home. She pulls the blankets up over your shoulder and places a gentle kiss upon your cheek. She slips into the bed beside you and soon is met with sleep. 


@Fjorin:

Archer nods. “Yes… I must admit that your presence was a bit unnerving. Not you specifically, but rather that you were with the Lady of Shadows. Tales of her go back thousands of years, even before the Archon’s time. Yet, so little is known about her. As you are a Childer Immortalis, Dethys should have been able to locate you with his book. He would have known of your creation, and hopefully, how to find you. Yet, there was no mention of you before our meeting. I doubt Dethys would have overlooked such a thing, so we were simply surprised that you had somehow escaped our notice, and that the Lady had personally collected you. It was very… unusual… to say the least.”

When you leave the tavern, Lai seems content to remain in her insubstantial, yet very human form. She stretches out beside you on the grass, gazing up at the stars. She says nothing, perfectly happy to take in the sights and silence around her, and when a slight chill has seized the evening air, she curls up next to you, her hand passing through your chest. It feels cold, and tingly, as if some charge is coursing through your veins. Though spirits have no need to sleep, it is obvious Lai does not mind the prospect of rest, and she closes her eyes as your thoughts race through your head. Eventually, sleep, or something resembling it, affects you both.


@Siron:

General Fury appears thoughtful for a moment. She leans forward in her chair and rests her elbow upon the table, her head pressed against her hand. “I was not always General Fury. Many, many years ago, over 1,500 years in fact, I was Deya Akeldama, daughter of Lord Haemon Akeldama.”

In your research of knights, and your fleeting glimpses of text on the saburau, or known more commonly as samurai, the name Akeldama was exceedingly renowned. They were a noble family who had a rather expansive estate near the Kin Ocean, very far from where you had grown up. In fact, you can recall a small bit of text that referenced “the Holy Ancestor,” a female deity called Deya Akeldama who was revered as a god in her culture. The Akeldama worshiped their ancestors and continued to pay respects to her through celebrations and martial feats held every year on the date of her “ascension.” Yet now it is obvious, Deya Akeldama was not a god, at least not in the traditional sense, and her ascension had not been to the afterlife, but to Avalon, where she served as the General of the Bulwark of Heaven.

“I watched as my elder brother, Taro, fell victim to the sweet whispers of the Droaqa, the Adversary. He gave into his own greed and vanity. He was possessed by something unholy, something terribly evil, and it drove him to madness. He insulted my father and attempted to entice him into striking at him. My father was a good and honorable man… He would not dare harm his eldest son. So Taro gutted him… murdered him in cold blood. He led beings of darkness against our people, and when I defied him…” Her hand moves to the armor-plated eyepatch that covers her left eye. “He shoved a sword through my skull. I should have died then and there, but the Divine gave me a second chance.”

Though her children have probably heard this story before, all three are silent, almost reverent, and their attention is rapt.

“I achieved the vengeance I sought. In one blow, I severed his head from his body. Yet… there was no honor in my victory. In his final moments, the cloud of hatred that had consumed him dissipated, and the last look upon his face was one of sorrow, pain, and regret. He had been possessed by a Carnis and in those days, we knew very little of such creatures. If I knew then what I know now, I may have even been able to help him… to cast the spirit out. I should have captured him and sought more knowledge, but I was consumed by my own sorrow and want for justice.”

“My brother’s will was weak, which is why he fell victim to the Droaqa… He was an unwitting pawn in the Adversary’s much greater plan. It is so very tempting to seek a path of fury and revenge, but takes a much stronger warrior to learn honor and civility. Your brothers will one day be judged for their crimes, but it must be the Divine examines their hearts. It is too great a task for mortals, or even Ageless to bear. The path of vengeance is the way of the Forsaken… the path of redemption is what the Ageless seek.” 

[Cameron]

Sig is silent for a moment, lost in thought. He reaches under his shirt and pulls out a chain, which is run through a piece of stone. The stone feels warm under his fingers as he examines it.

"Adalstein. Words cannot truly describe it property. It is a fantastic city of stone, carved from the living rock. Just as we are. Huge caverns. beautiful buildings. Miles upon miles of mines to support our creations, as well as the All-father's creations. Some of our structures are so tall that you can stand at the bottom of them and be unable to see the top. Special floating platforms are needed just to get up and down! And deep below everything else, the great forges. Fueled by rivers of magma that flow from deep beneath the mountain. Wondrous creations are forged there. It is... you'd have to see it for yourself. I can't do it justice."

Sig stows the stone on the chain back under his shirt and takes another swig of drink.

"Maybe someday I can take you there, and you can see the works of the All-father for yourself."

[Radobe]

“I was not always General Fury. Many, many years ago, over 1,500 years in fact, I was Deya Akeldama, daughter of Lord Haemon Akeldama.”

Siron recognizes the name immediately. The samurais from Akeldama were legendary and if his memory was correct Deya Akeldama was revered as a god. The general was a living legend. For a few brief seconds, his thoughts wondered and his imagination jumped into full throttle. He imagined the general wearing the red armor he saw earlier in the corridor, without an eye patch, sitting in a seiza position. Her sword laying bare in front of her knees and behind the demonic helmet a burning gaze ready to strike at any time. A few drops of cold sweat, could be seen on the young knight's face, thanks to the few seconds in which his imagination flared. The female warrior standing before him was an enigma yes, but one thing was certain, she was incredibly powerful.

“I watched as my elder brother... the path of redemption is what the Ageless seek.”

There is a moment of silence before Siron responds. “I understand... even justice can be blind.” After a quick glance around the table, he continues. “However, I will still seek it. I will not stand idly imprisoned by fear of failure. I will act when I must and I will live with the consequences of my actions!” Siron pauses and lowers his tone “Just like you, who have lived with the consequences of yours.” He glares at Fury for a few seconds. “And I will do that not as Siron Entrima from the House of Entrima, but as a knight who stands for justice. I cannot promise that I will forgive my brothers, but I will neither seek vengeance, nor hold a grudge. When the time is right and the situation allows it, I will ask for your help in apprehending them, not for revenge, but for justice.”

[Kitharsis]

Sembas chuckles as Chico lay's claim to him again.  It seems Boris has already settled in, and Paolo and Cosette are coming around as well.  These little mice are a hoot.  He is glad to be able to call them his friends.

They make their decision, and Merchant is ecstatic.  Grateful for his new apprentices, Merchant gives Sembas an old dusty book.  The falconer flips through the pages, his golden eyes lighting up as he realizes what is held within.

"Very useful!  Thank you Merchant!  I will definitely be able to put this to good use."  He gives the man another hearty handshake.  "I am glad my new friends have all found a place here.  They helped me out a great deal... Long story, you see..."

Quickly changing the subject, Sembas continues, "I will stop by and visit when I can, you three.  I'm sure Chico wouldn't mind a visit on occasion," he says with a wink to his shoulder mouse.  "Now, I would love to stay, but I have a nest and a few eggs to visit.  Thank you again, Merchant."

After exchanging goodbyes with Merchant and the three mice Sembas steps outside.  He is barely out the door before an agitated falcon lands the opposite shoulder from Chico.

"You dawdle too much!  Besnik has been in a fit cleaning up the nest ever since he heard that you were going to stop by.  He's nearly driving me mad!"  She squawks.

"I'm sorry, Faile.  I owed our new friends for the help that they gave me.  Now that its done, lets head over to your nest.  I can't wait to see your eggs!"

He thinks for a moment, "Do you think we have time for Dennan to teach me how be a falcon?  Or would you like to give Chico and I a ride?"

[Faidth]

   The night of the wake, you all eventually find your way to rest. When Fenwick awakes, he finds himself in the calming embrace of the omnipotent Cleo Seer. Fjorin and Lai find themselves in fields of rustling, purple heather with the sounds of a brook babbling somewhere nearby. Siron, who spent his evening enjoying a fine meal and all manner of questions from Bran about the mortal realm and his kingdom, awakes in one of the large guestrooms in the home of General Fury. Sembas, after leading his rodent fan club to gainful employment, eventually retires to Archer’s home, after having promised to visit Faile’s nest the following day. Blood eventually drinks herself into a stupor, and Sig, ever the gentleman, dumps her into her bed before retiring in one of the spare rooms. It is there he awakes the following morning.


@Fenwick:

   Fenwick has scarcely opened his eyes when a knock came upon the front door of Cleo’s abode.

   “I’ll get it,” says Cleo. She wears a loose, sheer white gown which leaves very little to the imagination. She crosses to her wardrobe and fetches a robe, which she wraps around her tightly before vanishing out of the bedroom door.

   You hear conversation downstairs, and when Cleo returns, she informs you that you have been summoned to the Bulwark Headquarters.


@Fjorin:

   When you wake, you find an enormous male form standing above you, his well-muscled arms crossed over his chest. You recognize the young man from the Lady’s lair. It is the same, powerful being that somehow managed to repel Lai.

   His voice is deep and resounding. “Fjorin. You have been summoned by General Fury to the Bulwark of Heaven. Come. You and your… friend… may follow me.”


@Siron:

   When you leave your comfortable lodgings, you find heaping piles of breakfast laid out upon the table. There is fresh squeezed juice, piles of sausage, bacon, and ham, a bowl of eggs, sweet rolls, and a tray of breads and cheeses.

   Bran has already tucked in and is shoveling spoonfuls of eggs and bacon into his mouth. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve when he notices you and quickly swallows his food.

   “Ah! Siron! You’re up! Mom says you are to meet her at the Bulwark Headquarters. Grab something to eat and when you’re done, I’ll take you there.”


@Sembas:

   When you open your eyes, you find that Archer is nestled against you, her head resting upon your shoulder. As you roll to your back, you feel a weight drop upon your chest and as your eyes focus, you find Besnik sitting upon your chest. Over the years, you have come to recognize the subtle changes in the facial expressions of falcons. His seems to be one of annoyance.

   He begins to squawk at you, but since the Shapeshifting lessons you received from Dennan, you find that you can easily make out what he’s saying.
   “Come on you, lout. Stop laying about and get out of bed! And while you’re at it, you’re welcome to take your hands off my mistress!”

   Besnik is obviously not a morning falcon. “Faile is seeing to the young ones. She said you promised you would come by later today, but first, you have business with the Bulwark. General Fury asked that I fetch you. So come on! Up, up, up! Let’s go. Go splash your face in some water and put on those ridiculous pieces of cloth that cover all your fleshy bits. Honestly! I don’t see why you humans bother! Don’t they make you less aerodynamic? Then again, I suppose you have little need for flight speed when what should be wings are those long, wormy looking appendages that hang out of your torso. Come, come!”

   Archer rubs her eyes. “Besi, don’t be such a grouch. Give Sembas a chance to wake up.”

   “Oh! You’re awake! I am so very sorry, mistress. I did not mean to wake you,” apologizes Besnik.

   “Where’s my apology!” squeaks Chico from the bedside table. Despite your offer to give him more comfortable lodgings, he emerges from the top of your boot and looks quite well-rested.

   “You don’t get one,” shoots Besnik. “You should be thanking me for not eating you.”

   “I’d like to see you try!” challenges Chico. “My friend Sembas would shake you about your scrawny little bird neck if you tried it!”

   “Now listen here you-” begins Besnik.

   “Boy! Enough!” demands Archer. “Besi, thank you for the message. Now, I am sure that you have other matters to tend to. Chico, why don’t you help me get some breakfast together.” She plucks him from your boot and allows him to ride upon her shoulder to the kitchen.

   Once you’ve finished breakfast, Archer and Chico accompany you to the Bulwark Headquarters.


@Sig:

   You are roused from your slumber by a knock upon the front door. You make your way to Blood’s room to let her know someone is knocking, but it is obvious she is still sound asleep and has no intention of moving. You decide to see who it is and find Bran and the new Childer Immortalis at the door.

   “Mum wants to see you,” says Bran. “Up at the Headquarters. Where’s Blood?” he asks glancing from side to side.

   “I’m right here,” comes the reply. Blood has managed to become coherent enough to quickly dress herself in a pair of black pants, a long-sleeved cotton shirt, and a black doublet. Her boots she attempts to pull onto her feet as she hops down the stairs, and in the process, nearly falls over the railing.


@All:

   You all find your way to the headquarters of the Bulwark of Heaven. You are greeted at the main gates by Corvus who guides you to the General’s offices in the Blood-Warden base. Several of you have been here before, but for those of you who have not, the grandeur within the building is quite jarring, especially given the rather unremarkable and mundane stone structure of the outside.

The Blood-Warden base is an impressive structure, every inch elaborately decorated in deep crimson, glittering gold, and onyx black. As you enter the reception room, you see the Blood-Warden flag is suspended over the entrance. It 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. Those of you who are already members of the Bulwark are asked to wait in the reception room while the newest of the Childer Immortalis are directed upstairs by Bran.


@Fjorin and Siron:

You are led up to General Fury’s office at the top of the staircase, and you find the veteran leader leaning against a large obsidian desk. The walls are adorned with all manner of retired weaponry, and a black orb rests in the corner of the room. Your feet click against the glossy, black, marble tiles as you make your way towards her.

Lai’s hand rests upon Fjorin’s arm and it is obvious she is very uncomfortable to be here. “Fjorin… I’m scared,” whispers Lai.

“You have nothing to fear of me, Lai of the Carnis,” speaks General Fury. “Please… Sit.”

There are three chairs in front of the desk, each one plush and comfortable. Lai waits for Fjorin to pull hers out before she attempts to seat herself.

Fury glances from Fjorin to Siron. “You two are strangers right now, but little do you know that your fates are inextricably interwoven. Both of you have already lost much to the Forsaken. You have lost your homes… you have lost your fathers.” Fury’s typically hardened expression is one of sadness and sympathy. “You have paid a great cost in a terrible war beyond your comprehension, one that has been waged for ages between the people of Avalon and the Forsaken of Darastae.”

Fury turns to face the once and future king of the noble Ebonmane Clan. “Fjorin, you have shown great strength despite your youth. Though you were once lost to our gaze, your past has been shown to us upon the pages of the sacred tome. The man you called the Thunder Caller was a servant of the Adversary, and as any great Ageless could hope to do, you dispatched him. To match the strength of a veteran in your youth shows exceptional aptitude and martial prowess, and it is my hope that you may lend your sword and your loyalty to the cause of the Ageless… to ensure that those such as monster you have slain cannot cause harm in the mortal realm. This is the duty of the Ageless, and the calling of the Bulwark of Heaven. I would be honored to have a great warrior such as yourself as a brother in our cause.”

“As for you, Lai of the Carnis…” General Fury rests her hand upon Lai’s shoulder. A soft, golden glow affects the General’s palm and spreads outward through Lai’s form, as if the spirit is a conduit of the emanating light. Lai shivers, and as she clutches your arm tighter, you realize that her grasp upon you is no longer a suggestion, but a solid and very tangible touch.

“What have… what is this?” questions Lai, her eyes wild with confusion.

“I will not lie… your presence in Avalon was not an easy thing for me to accept,” admits Fury. “Your kind have always been used as a plague upon my people and the mortals we protect. Yet, late last night, Gladia Archer came to call upon me. She expressed to me all you said in the tavern, and your desire to know freedom… your desire to break away from the yoke that the Forsaken have pressed upon you.”

“I went to the cathedral and asked the Divine for wisdom and discernment, and he told me that the Carnis were not intended to be creatures of darkness, but guardian spirits of the mortal realm, protectors of nature itself. He quieted my concerns and assured me that your birth at the hands of the Adversary did not go unnoticed by his eyes. It is not the Adversary that creates the Carnis, it is simply that he corrupts their will. The Carnis come from something far more primal in this world, beyond even my comprehension. They are the rise and fall of the breath of the earth.”

“I will not condemn you if you desire redemption, and you will be allowed to remain in Avalon. But know this, should you stray from the path of righteousness, if you come to harm any of my people, I will have you banished to the darkest depths of the world imaginable. Is that clear?”

Lai nods. “Yes… yes, General Fury! I promise you won’t regret this! You have my word!”

“There is one more thing I require from you, Lai. I must know all that you can tell me about the Lady of Shadows and her purpose regarding the Otaktay.”

Lai appears immensely uncomfortable. “If I tell… then the Lady will hurt Aras. She won’t give him his soul back!”

Fury’s eyes narrow. “I feared as much. Then it is true… Aras is now longer an Ageless… He has given his soul to the Lady of Shadows. Lai…” Fury kneels beside the Carnis. “I know this is difficult, but you must tell me… what does the Lady want? Why did she need Aras’s soul? Do not fear her vengeance. You are beyond her hand here, and as for Aras…” Fury shakes her head in sorrow. “If the Lady truly means to keep his soul, she will. No actions on your part will be able to change her mind.”

Lai whimpers and tears begin to well in her eyes. “The Otaktay… Bayard Cael was meant to preserve the balance. They are neither friend of the Ageless nor the Forsaken. The Lady made a deal with him. She said it was obvious the Ageless would soon destroy the Forsaken, but if either side won the ancient war, the world itself would be torn asunder. The balance needed to be preserved. If he would do her bidding and help to preserve the balance between the Ageless and the Forsaken, she would grant him immortality. He would be neither Ageless nor Forsaken, but would still be granted eternal life. But Cael… he had no intention of doing the Lady’s bidding. He began to seek out all of the Immortalis, and since they mistook him for a mere mortal, he slaughtered all he encountered.”

“So Cael is an Immortalis, but neither of the Adversary nor the Divine. Why did the Lady not dispatch simply dispatch him?” questions Fury.

“She made a mistake by interfering in the first place. She feared if she destroyed him it would upset the balance even worse!” explains Lai.

Fury shakes her head, obviously finding the logic of the Lady of Shadows simply ludicrous. “And what of Aras?”

“The Lady told him that his beloved was fated to die at the hands of Severan Deceit,” answers Lai.

Fury’s eyes widen. “Archer?”

Lai nods. “She said that if he pledged his loyalty to her, if he agreed to serve her, she would see that no harm came to Archer. To do so, Aras needed to forsake the touch of the Divine. He would have to give up his soul. He would be like Cael, neither Ageless nor Forsaken. Instead, his immortality would be gifted from the Lady.”

“No wonder we had such difficulty locating Aras… He is no longer a child of the Divine,” Fury’s tone is one of great disappointment. “So in attempting to preserve the balance, she, herself, tipped the scales. It is obvious that Cael must be dispatched."

"Yes," agrees Lai. "That's what the Lady said, too. Cael has to be killed. But he is very powerful. Since Aras now belongs to the Lady, he can't kill Cael. The children of the Lady are unable to dispatch their own. But an Ageless! An Ageless could kill Cael. She needed someone really strong, so she found Fjorin. She said fate had shown her he would be the one to kill Cael, but he would need to be stronger, and for that to happen, I needed to see he got to Avalon. She told me to help him however I could!"

"You have done very well in your task, Lai," commends the General.

Lai beams, quite proud of herself.

"Thank you, Lai. Do not worry. We will see that Aras has his soul returned to him. Even if I have to hunt the Lady down myself to ensure she returns it to him,” assures Fury. “In return for your honesty, the Divine has asked that I gift you with the touch of the Ageless. You shall be a Carnis no longer, but one of his own. However, it comes with a price. No longer shall you know the life of a Carnis. You will live as an Ageless, in this vessel, and you will aid us in our fight against the Forsaken.  If you choose to do so, I promise that I will do all I can to ensure your people are freed.”

Lai flexes her fingers as she considers this offer. She touches her hair, able to feel it for the first time. She touches her lips, feeling the breath escape from her lungs, and gasps slightly at the sensation. She reaches out her hand and touches the side of Fjorin’s face, drawing back her fingers quickly. “I may no longer float about as a spirit, as was my initial wish… yet, I feel that this form will be suitable. I can still come and go as I please. Perhaps, even more so, because no Forsaken can bind me to its will. I shall do as the Divine has so generously offered. But an Ageless… an Ageless may still die at the hands of the Forsaken.”

Fury nods solemnly. “Yes, an Ageless can die, but you have no wound. No Immortalis, Ageless, Forsaken or being of the Lady can kill you, unless it is willed of the Divine. You are only the third creature to have such a power. The other two are my own sons.”

“Thank… thank you, General. I am very sorry for any pain I may have caused your people, but I promise I will make it up to you,” assures Lai.

Fury turns her attention to the last heir of the Entrima. “Siron. I knew your father since he was a child, and your grandfather, and his father before him. The name Entrima is one that the Ageless respect, as they may have been mere mortals, but they had the strength and wisdom of the Ageless. Now, you, have joined the ranks of an Immortalis, and it is only fitting that we honor your father’s legacy by allowing you to prove yourself in the Bulwark of Heaven. In the short time you have been here, your wisdom has already grown. You have abandoned your foolish quest for vengeance in place of one of justice, and your brethren would be honored to aid you in such a task.”

“I feel there is far more at work here than what you may see. The souls of mortals are easily corrupted, and it would not surprise me in the slightest if your brothers made a bargain for the opportunity to rid themselves of you and your father. Your father was a wise man. If treason had been in their hearts for long, I would believe he would have seen it. And why now? Why of all times? Your father was ageing. In another few years, he would have passed on his throne. Custom dictates it would have even been to your oldest brother. Why did your brothers force their hands faster, and soil them with the blood of their own father? Why not simply wait, and if the need came, dispatch you then? Some cruel hatred seized them to go to such lengths, and while we cannot seek vengeance, we will bring them to justice. Join us, Siron, and I can assure you that your father’s spirit may rest with the knowledge his son returned honor to the name Entrima.”