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Author Topic: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue  (Read 8739 times)

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Offline Coventinae Fate-Weaver

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[Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« on: March 30, 2014, 06:09:56 AM »
She sat inside the summoning circle, exhausted, perspiration dripping from her brows, and her hair clinging moistly to her facial features. The summoning was the most powerful she had ever attempted, and she had nearly forced the entity through. But at the last minute it had pushed her away, showing an impossible will, a phantasmal strength that nearly killed her. And now she sat alone, abandoned; the connection severed and the brief window when the four planets were aligned was gone for another year.

"Mistress Nebuchadessar! Mistress Nebuchadessar!", a young boy's voice drifted in through the window.

Aeomi rose to her feet, her legs quivering precariously as she got up, and supporting her weight on bookshelves and her desk, she made her way to the window.

"Mistress Nebuchadessar! The Master of the Circle requires your presence! She wants you at Falcon's Dive within the half toll of the belltower!

And with that the robed, frail little apprentice they called Bleed vanished out of sight, and Aeomi was left with her own thoughts of recent failure, and why the Master of the Circle wanted her presence at the top of the cliff known as the Falcon's Dive.

OOC: There is no description of Aeomi in your PC section, so I assumed she had hair

****************

Elquin stalked the shadows. He had followed Hakros for fifteen minutes and now the half-giant had removed a rusted old grate in the floor of the basement of the Reliquary. He pulled a massive chain, and seemed to be pulling something up. For minutes the black plated warrior worked, his breathing heavy, and in the end Elquin saw him pulling up a large cage. A snarling sound sounded from within, but the Spear-Slayer whiped his spear menacingly, and the snarling stopped.

****************

"Who have you summoned, Master?", Vitoriel asked.

"Aeomi has been notified, as have you", the elderly lady replied. Vitoriel studied her features. If she was human, and she looked kind of human, she would have probably been in her eighties. But Vitoriel knew she wasn't human. The two small, curved horns in her forehead was one indication of that, and her milked over eyes another.

"There, Vitoriel! Kill that!", the Master said, and Vitoriel drew her bow and released an arrow. A second later a raven tumbled down into the ravine far below.
"Do not worry, Vitoriel. It was a spy, sent by our enemies", the Master said. Vitoriel raised one eye quizzically.

"Also, I want you to bring Elquin along on this journey. I sent Hakros the Spear-Slayer to fetch both Elquin... and something else.

Vitoriel was stumped. Elquin? Really?

OOC: Leaving room for you all here. You can freely post about going to the edge of the cliff, to join up with Vitoriel and the Master (Aeomi), or about following Hakros to the edge (Elquin). You can also do whatever else you want to do inside the monestary and the small village surrounding the monestary.
« Last Edit: April 06, 2014, 06:19:13 AM by Coventinae Fate-Weaver »

Offline Shadoweagle

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #1 on: March 30, 2014, 07:27:03 AM »
Elquin rubbed his hands together - a nervous habit: the weather was pleasant this night. He had been in this Reliquary basement before, but hadn't thought to explore the grate below. Hearing the animalistic sounds from inside the cage, the Ethenorden man was glad he never had.
"So what's in the box, Hakros?" He asked, keeping a fair distance from the plated half-giant and his Unidentified caged beast. Elquin liked Hakros: a no-nonsense individual, Hakros seemed to speak his mind. Elquin could respect that. He was being frustratingly vague on specifics tonight though: why was he following him?
The half-giant had been spotted by Elquin in the square of the village - he'd been taking a night walk and putting off sleep; the dreams were intense lately. He'd found himself avoiding slumber more and more of late. Hakros was muttering to himself about finding the Ethenorden for The Master and - curiosity piqued - Elquin silently followed. Odd; it was rare for her to ask for him herself. If the Monks needed a job done, it was usually one of the council that approached him.

"Are you nearly done here, Szhalim? I wouldn't want to leave..." Elquin's eyes flickered to a seemingly empty nook of the room, and he paused for a fraction of a second, before continuing, "To leave her waiting." He finished. His eyes remained on the nook for some time, peering intently at the swirling shadows, before reluctantly returning to hakros.

Szhalim: friend.
« Last Edit: March 31, 2014, 04:28:38 AM by Shadoweagle »
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Offline Vitoriel Valthyrianё

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #2 on: March 30, 2014, 08:08:33 AM »
Vitoriel scanned the Master's face for signs and indices of things to come.
Regardless of the seriousness of the matter at hand, the Master used to disclose partial information, leaving a little to be discovered by keen minds - to keep them alert. Less keen minds usually found that acting on incomplete intel was a learning experience of its own.

The presence of Elquin was a wild card, and hinted at an unusual situation - a challenge where the chaos surrounding him would be of benefit.
"The matter is serious enough to call upon Elquin?"
Vitoriel personally had tentatively voiced the opinion that the decline of Elquin Moss was at a stage where he was a danger rather than an asset; still, she deferred to the judgment of those better versed in the lore of the mind and the paths of dreams. The Goddess was silent about the man as well.

"It is good that you chose me, then" the elf added.
Truth be said, she had felt like a panther caged, her dynamic spirit incompatible with the monastery's peace and paced progress. After a period of rest, contemplation and learning, there always came a morning when the wind tasted of sea and woods and distant lands, the musk of strange beasts and the tang of blood, and she knew that she had rested enough.

Vitoriel had spent the night with Malsaniё; hoping to conceive - and wishing for the tension to abate, at least once. His caravan had led another stray elf into the monastery, and was leaving again today. The elf trader had sensed her restlessness and emptiness in a way only a fellow elf can perceive, and she had repayed comfort with raw, thoughtless, driven physicality.
She hoped he would understand and forgive.

Oh, where was the time for year-long courtship, carefully letting emotions ripen and blossom as the layers of the heart unfold?
The exploration and intertwining of the spirits before the bodies would join?
It took three equinoxes before she gave herself to Dances-on-Graves-of-Day's-Last-Shining.
Today's world had little time and understanding for that.
You were right to fear the Elves.
But you should have feared them more.

Offline Aeomi Nebuchadessar

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #3 on: March 30, 2014, 02:44:21 PM »
Aeomi took a moment to prepare in front of the mirror. It was hard to shake the fatigue. Her accompanying ghosts had quieted, now merely whispering just out of range of her hearing. They would return, they always did. She climbed Falcon's dive without complaint, pausing only occasionally to wipe the sweat off her brow and enjoy the view. When she reached the summit and spotted her master, she walked up and kneeled. Something she wouldn't do for anyone else.

"Master..." She offered and waited to be acknowledged.

Offline Coventinae Fate-Weaver

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #4 on: March 30, 2014, 05:29:18 PM »
"The matter is serious enough to call upon Elquin?", Vitoriel asked.

The Master gripped Vitoriel's shoulder assuringly and looked her in the eyes.

"Vitoriel. I believe Elquin is vital in this matter. In the end, I believe it is he who will tip the scales of balance."

The Master left it at that, and she said no more for a while. Instead they stood there, in the silence, listening to the howls of the mountain winds, screaming their fury at these two womenfolk who dared trespass in mountains.

***



Aeomi passed many of the white petaled trees that were scattered on her ascent to the Falcon's Dive, the trees were somehow linked to the monestary she knew, and walking among them had always been one of the master's favorite activities.

As she emerged from the trees and made her last climb to the Falcon's Edge, she noticed the Master and Vitoriel displayed against a stunning vista. In the background she could see the Kiebral Mountain rise towards the heavens, its peak so high it was hidden in the clouds and its perilous passageway blocked by a wall of white snow.

There were other mountains too, covered in white, though they seemed diminished by the gloomy aura of the Kiebral. Aeomi, attuned to spirits and otherworldly essences, could sense the malevolence radiating from the mountain, and as always it made her shiver. She knew she was gazing upon one of the elder evils of this world, and in its presence even the Master seemed like a frail child; a porcelain doll in the path of a bull.

At a gesture of the Master's hand, her thoughts focused upon the present. The Master beamed her a warm smile, the milk in her eyes swirling for a minute, revealing that warm golden light that seemed to seep out when the Master was pleased.

"Aeomi Nebuchadessar, you made it! Thank you very much, Mistress of the Summoning Tower! We are expecting Elquin as well, but he is not one of our resident Masters, so I will begin without him", the Master said, flickering her wrist, making the loose sleeve of her white robe wrap itself around her left wrist; a habit of hers before discussing serious matters.

She turned around and looked out over the valley, and the mountains below.

"For millennia, we have resided here on the P'tuah Plateau, guarding the secrets of this world from forces that should not possess such secrets. We have been amassing lore found in obscure corners of the world, and we have functioned as a vault of knowledge, a bastion of learning"

The Master paused for a second, then sat down in a squat, brushing the grass with the palm of her right hand.

"On top of these sandstone pillars I... We... created the Ketange-Ishatal monestary, and in the ritual we bound our essence to this location, so that all that dwell herein are protected from the malign entities of this world, whether they be spirits or the dead or the zealots of the Kingdom", the Master shot a sidelong glance at Vitoriel as she mentioned the zealots of Silmar, knowing full well the Elven Mistress hatred of their kind.

"Eight months ago, I sent Dieter Sachshoff, the Bringer of Fire, on a mission into the lowlands. You all know Dieter, and his mastery of the flame is supreme. He alone could stand in the face of an army, and at the end of the day the army would be in cinders and Dieter would walk unharmed...", she beamed a brief smile, but the milk in her eyes did not part, and the golden warmth did not shine forth.

"I have not heard of Dieter since..."

She rose to her full height again, and started walking slowly at the edge of the cliff. Ten meters, then she came to a halt, and she turned around, her back to the cliff.

Last night I had a visitor. He spoke to me in my dreams, and when I awoke, the scroll he gave me rested in my left hand.

***

"So what's in the box, Hakros?" Elquin asked. He stood a fair distance from the plated half-giant and his Unidentified caged beast.

Hakros was silent for a few seconds, then he replied in his rumbling, baritone voice.

"That you, Elquin? I can't seem to keep track of you anymore. I pride myself in my keen senses, but you surprise me all the time, Mistwalker... I am glad we call you friend"

With that Hakros pulled a black silken sack over the cage, and the sack fluttered twice, there was a slight plopping sound, then he put the sack in his belt. It shrunk rapidly, and after ten seconds it was no larger than a belt pouch.

"It is something I think we should have kept locked down beneath the Reliquary", the half-giant replied, "but the Master ordered me to get it, and to get you as well, though by your words you already know my assignment. You have kept to the shadow for a little while I assume".

At Elquin's suggestion the pair worked their way up the stairs and out of the building. They walked across the Monestary main square, past the Spire of Flames, and out the gates. The village streets of Ishatal-Town was eerily quiet this evening. There was a troubling silence, as if the world was on the brink of something major. Some grave event yet to happen.

Working their way through the white petaled trees, the duo finally arrived at the Falcon's Dive. Hakros handed a black silken belt pouch to the Master, bowed once, then made his way back down the slope.

***

The Master gave Elquin a most unusual welcome. Rather than bow and acknowledge his presence, she wrapped her white robed arms around him and spoke in soft words.

"Dearest Elquin, my lost, lost child. Welcome!", she said, and the milk in her eyes parted in a marvellous display of golden warmth.

"As I explained to Mistress Vitoriel and Mistress Aeomi, I am sending the three of you on a quest to the lowlands", she kept an arm over Elquin's shoulder, like a protective mother of a bullied child.

"Before you ask any questions... Tonight I had a dream. I dreamt of an oddly featureless man in Golden Robes. He came to me in the Golden City you so often speak about, but none of us have ever seen in our dreams. Not before my dream tonight at least"

The Master removed her protective arms, and slowly opened the parchment scroll for all to see.

"He gave me this scroll... In my dream, Elquin. In my dream! And yet when I awoke, it was there. In my hands. So very real!"

They all looked at the parchment, and they gasped. On it; a perfect charcoal drawing. Master Sachshoff, the Bringer of Fire, crucified. Behind him, flames devouring an entire village.

Milky tears ran from the Master's eyes, and her wrinkled skin seemed to sag more than usual.

"I have known Dieter for over a century, for as you well know, this monestary is hallowed ground, and the ritual has granted us the gift of longevity. I knew Dieter from when he was an inexperienced apprentice, fond of fire and with such raw potential. Yet, this scroll... Somehow I know with all my heart that it is the truth. That is why I am sending you all on a quest to the lowlands. You are going to Treskenmauer, and to find out what happened to Dieter on his last quest.

Offline Vitoriel Valthyrianё

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #5 on: March 30, 2014, 06:44:41 PM »
Vitoriel's eyes narrowed, and the air grew with tension, before the static abated.
"This re-iterates the tale of my loss - and stands as sordid reminder of the fact that, to walk unsoiled in a world of dirt, to stand aside, is a luxury not even we can afford. What is knowledge without a will to power?"

She had cared for Dieter more than she would ever admit; the archmage had seen through her provocative disdain to discover grudging respect. In fact, he was a prime example that one could transcend being human without losing anything essential in the process.
His much admired and hard-learned restraint may have been his undoing though.
"My greatest fear always was that he would be so confident in the potential of his sorcery that he would fail to see the necessity to use it in full."

Then, she noticed Aeomi and mellowed. There was no sense in indulging in wrath before the doe-eyed monk.
"I will take good care of them, Master."
With a pragmatic afterthought, Vitoriel asked: "Do we still have a sympathizers in Treskenmauer? My most recent information still lists the secret chapter as active."
You were right to fear the Elves.
But you should have feared them more.

Offline Elquin Moss

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #6 on: March 30, 2014, 07:39:49 PM »
Following Hakros's lead, the Ethenorden man found himself deposited before three individuals. The pouch containing the caged beast was passed to the master before the Half-giant politely retreated.

Elquin accepted the Master's embrace with a small smile, although somewhat awkwardly. His eyes twitched between the three others who stood near the cliff edge and he shuffled somewhat nervously: Three esteemed Masters of the Monastery stood here. Three Masters and an errand boy - he had never felt more out of place!
Elquin had never truly grasped the concept of the magical arts; it was foreign to him, and the fact that any of the three here could likely turn his flesh into mush with a thought was somewhat unsettling. Nevertheless, he knew that there were no enemies here... Well... Vitoriel was known for her temper, but still!
"Master Vitoriel. Master Aeomi.  Blessings upon you." he greeted humbly, nodding his head into as much of a bow as he could without disturbing the Master's arm around his shoulder.
Elquin listened attentively as The Master spoke, and his eyes widened at the mention of the robed man, and the Golden Palace. With oddly unfocused eyes, he asked the Master, "Do you... Did you hear the hounds call? If you find the palace again in your dreams and you hear a woman's voice, never turn to look unless the mists hang heavy to obscure her." his warning was left at that, with no further explanation, and suddenly he refocused his eyes and carefully stepped back from The Master, gently so as not to offend, and bowed to her, "My heart breaks for your loss - all of you." He knew that all the Masters had a strong bond with one another; surely Vitoriel and Aeomi were as aggrieved over Dieter's fate as the Master. "I did not know him as well as i would have liked."
Elquin studied the image on the scroll; it was not unlike his own scrawlings, except it was more detailed than what he could sketch. "One question aches to be asked; I've not heard of anyone else meeting The Whisperer; I sometimes have wondered if it was not all in my head and I was actually addled," Elquin laughed nervously at this, "Why come to you, now? And - i am sorry - why is Dieter's passing important enough to him, that The Dreamer breaks his silence to show you?"

Elquin peered out to the neighbouring mountain ranges and inwardly smiled; an excuse to get away from the Monastery for a few weeks would be revitalizing - though it was a beautiful place, being cooped up here was enough to make a man go mad!


Offline Coventinae Fate-Weaver

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #7 on: March 31, 2014, 05:00:26 PM »
"Vitoriel. I am at a complete loss for what could possibly have befallen the Bringer of Fire. He was warded by the Ishatal Eye, he had a fire elemental familiar and his raw destructive power was unparallelled", the Master said, her voice raw with emotion.

Vitoriel replied: "I will take good care of them, Master"
With a pragmatic afterthought, Vitoriel asked: "Do we still have a sympathizers in Treskenmauer? My most recent information still lists the secret chapter as active."

The Master turned to face the vista, and stared down at the valley below, where a pine forest covered the hills and fields. They could see a herd of deer graze peacefully in a meadow, and from a village smoke rose from the chimneys.

"It has been over three months since I got a carrier pigeon from the midwife of Treskenmauer", the Master almost whispered. "Her last missive told of Dieter passing through almost half a year earlier, but that he had failed to show up in Treskenmauer. I assumed he had followed another trail, but now we must assume that he was dead already then. More than that I do not know, but when you go there, the Midwife Astrida should prove an ally. And an ally in Silmar is no small thing"

OOC: The Kingdom of Silmar is infamous among magic users for its religious persecution of witches and warlocks.

"Do you... Did you hear the hounds call? If you find the palace again in your dreams and you hear a woman's voice, never turn to look unless the mists hang heavy to obscure her", Elquins words startled them. He was usually not one to speak and Aeomi was about to put him in his place when the Master chuckled softly.

"No, I did... Actually, yes. Now that you mention it... I was in a wild forest in my dreams. A warrior upon a horse rode by me, and at his side a pack of hounds. I think... I think he spoke to me. What did he say? Something about the alignment of forces? No. A converging of forces! He commanded me to show me his prey, and I ran away? I fell... I hurt my ankle as his arrow pierced it. So much happened in just one dream. In just one night."

The Master lifted her white robe, and displayed her left ankle. A fresh wound was there. Elquin's ears picked up the faint baying of hounds, as if from down in the valley.

"We are warded here, but it seems that they can reach us through our dreams, Elquin. I shall contact the maker of wards, and have him research a sigil of protection from these things, and I will surely not look at this woman of who you speak"

"Why come to you, now? And - i am sorry - why is Dieter's passing important enough to him, that The Dreamer breaks his silence to show you?", Elquin Moss asked, his voice thick with worry.

"Elquin, this monestary is the oldest and richest repository of Dreamer Lore in existence. In fact, it is the only place on the continent of Dhargeenas that Dreamer Cultists are not killed as soon as their identities are revealed. If he shows me the death of Dieter Sachshoff, surely he has some interest in it as well!"
« Last Edit: March 31, 2014, 05:04:26 PM by Coventinae Fate-Weaver »

Offline Shadoweagle

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #8 on: March 31, 2014, 05:18:26 PM »
Elquin bowed once more at the Master's words and took a further step back. To stand behind Aeomi and Vitoriel: his rightful place in the Heirachy of those who stood here. He shuddered at the sound of hounds - whether real or imagined - down in the valley and spoke but once more; "I will be ready to leave in the morn, at the will of the masters. If there is no more to be learned here, i respectfully ask permission to take my leave to prepare my belongings." He knew that was likely more to discuss, but it probably involved Dieter and the missiohe had been sent on; information which someone of Elquin's status would not technically be privvy to. Elquin had his own way of learning this information, anyway. It was time to perform his own little due diligence.
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Offline valadaar

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #9 on: March 31, 2014, 06:59:57 PM »
Kuth ChildoftheMountain was late, and it irked him, much as it would irk those who summoned him.  Yet had he arrived on time, it would have certainly have irked them more, for his bloodlust had come to him today in strength he had not felt for some time, not for years.  What omen did it porten?  It had not gone well for Anedan, his sparring partner, for he had been unprepared for the fury of Kuth's onslaught and would now be healing ribs while Kuth undertook his mission.

He arrived just as it appeared conversation had ceased, so he bowed and spoke quietly, though tension could be heard beneath the gentle words.

"I have come, Master, and I seek your forgiveness. My blood called, and I had to release it."

   
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Offline Coventinae Fate-Weaver

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #10 on: April 01, 2014, 04:17:01 PM »
The Master looked up at the towering half-giant that had just arrived. He was almost the size of Hakros, and was  known throughout the monestary as a ferocious shapechanger.

"No worries, Kuth, though I am about to depart. The time of meditation is upon me, and I feel my strength drain from my very bones even as we speak. Let the others be your guide, and go home to prepare. For tomorrow morning a caravan is leaving for Treskenmauer, and you all will get your own carriage. All of you except Elquin, for you Elquin..."

She stopped speaking, for Elquin was not to be seen. He had disappeared whille they greeted the late arrival.

"Very well", the Master said. "Go home and rest, for tomorrow you depart on a Quest to Treskenmauer, to discover what happened to Dieter Sachshoff. I want answers, and I wish to know those responsible for his murder! His mission was to enter the forest of Ardenwald, close to Treskenmauer, and to therein capture two Vampire Faeries, one male and one female."

The Master started to leave, then she paused, picked up a black silken belt pouch and gave it to Vitoriel.

"This pouch is a dimensional container. In it is an elder curse; a Baethaur Creeper. It is a being of power, and it cannot be controlled by anything but force and enchantments of imprisonment. Use it as a last resort, when all else fails. Throw it into the midst of your enemies, and then flee. For you do not wish to be nearby when it has defeated foes that your combined might could not hope to defeat"

And with that she walked down the slope, under the white blossom trees she loved so very much.
« Last Edit: April 01, 2014, 04:18:31 PM by Coventinae Fate-Weaver »

Offline Elquin Moss

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #11 on: April 01, 2014, 07:40:43 PM »
The great Shapechanger Kuth had arrived, the tension in his calm voice reminiscent of an overstrung lyre; calming to the ear, yet simultaneously putting those who listen on edge, as though they knew the strings could snap at any moment. Elquin said not a word; the masters no doubt had much to talk about. Though no eyes were on him, he bowed to the four nonetheless, and silently took his leave.

Beneath the branches of the white blossom trees the Ethenorden man stalked. The careful touch of his soft-soled boots barely disturbed the fallen petals scattered across the ground as he Descended Falcon's Dive. The Monastery was not his destination this time, and indeed he took the beaten path which snaked outside the Monastery walls and led into the Village which surrounded it.

Past homes and shops he walked, feet padding softly on the cobblestones. The few folk still on the streets at this time were greeted by Elquin with a smile and polite words - he was no stranger here. Four times he turned down new streets, drifting past the houses. He chatted with folk shortly, paused to offer a gentle pat to a stray feline and stopped to take off a boot and remove a stone which had snuck inside somehow. Finally, Elquin Moss reached his destination - a humble and tidy building of sandstone - not his own home, but the abode of Dieter Sachshoff.

Elquin studied the exterior of the building for some time. It was a fairly plain building. Simple. Humble. Elquin was surprised - The Fire mastery was not the most subtle of skills, and he had thought that Dieter's house would reflect his personality. Not so!
After checking to see that the streets were empty, Elquin stepped forward confidently - one of the lessons he'd learned years ago, was if you are doing a suspicious act, the last thing you want to do is look suspicious! Act like you belong, and people will dismiss you. Plucking a length of wire and a steel pick from his kit, the Ethenorden man quietly worked the lock on the door.

Hopefully I didn't take too many privileges with my post; I'm torn between wanting to confirm that everything I do is okay, but also moving the game along fluidly! I can't double-check everything because doing so would take days to get a post out :( If what I post is not acceptable, let me know and I'll change things, AG - or feel free to modify the post yourself!
Thievery check:
(11:32:26) Minion: Shadoweagle rolls 1d100 and gets 85. against 100 (110 at night)
Pretty bad for the first roll of the game!

Offline Coventinae Fate-Weaver

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #12 on: April 02, 2014, 01:33:28 PM »
Elquin was inside in a matter of seconds and was instantly greeted by runes on the doorframe. He recognized them from the library, and from the Master's abode. He whispered the ancient word of deactivation, one he had heard the other masters utter on so many occasions, when they thought no one else were there.

"Fueth"

The runes flashed angrily once, then faded. He knew they would be dormant for 5 minutes, allowing him access to the building.

Inside the cottage was simple yet cozy. It had a warm bed, a large desk and over that desk three bookshelves brimming with leatherbound tomes and a heap of parchment scrolls so large it looked like it would collapse on itself any minute.

On his bed a white, longhaired cat cast a look at Elquin with intense blue eyes. A single meow, and it leapt down from the bed and towards the master thief.

It was soon purring and rubbing its back against Elquin's boots
« Last Edit: April 04, 2014, 03:21:42 AM by Coventinae Fate-Weaver »

Offline Vitoriel Valthyrianё

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #13 on: April 02, 2014, 02:14:45 PM »
Vitoriel nodded to Aeomi, and left the Baethaur within her care - after all, she was far better versed in wardings.

The day was dying, daylight travelling towards them with mounting sloth from the setting sun. Akin to a well-aged beauty, voluptuous and experienced, it courted them with warm caresses as a parting gift before the onset of night's reign.
Even what is noble and seemingly unassailable may pass, as she was so sordidly reminded by Dieter's possible death.

She walked besde the summoner briefly, absent-mindedly catching rays of light and weaving them into shapes half-buried in her memory, shapes of elven tradition, the seemingly endless patterns intertwining and flowing into each other, shooth entrancing curves that spoke of feelings rather than solid concepts.
There was a deep longing and desire that she would find hard to put into words, Weltschmerz, and the faint memory of naivety and a Vitoriel that might have been.
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The eve's rays were warm in her hands, and so would the resulting fabric. Absent-mindedly, she gave the gown to a passing acolyte without a word, and continued onwards.

"Will you attend tonight's ceremonies?" she asked plainly, looking towards the many-pillared temple to the Lady of Shadows below.
« Last Edit: April 04, 2014, 08:06:54 AM by Vitoriel Valthyrianё »
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Offline Aeomi Nebuchadessar

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #14 on: April 02, 2014, 03:20:26 PM »
~....nnot leave, too much left to do, we'll perish! ...Destroy Everything.... nice and breezy...borrow your skin?~

Aeomi's eyes opened. "...I might. Any objections?" She smirked and held up the pouch. "...Nasty little critter..." She glanced at Vitoriel. "How thrilled are you at leaving? I wouldn't mind having your longevity for this trip. Was so long ago I entered that perchance I turn into dust the moment I pass the treshold."

She walked on beside Vitoriel, leaning on her staff, not really for support, but more for familiarity.

"Such a beautiful place, yet so... wrong..."
"Y'know the master didn't say anything about who's to lead..." She glanced sideways watching for a reaction.

Offline Shadoweagle

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #15 on: April 02, 2014, 05:35:40 PM »
Elquin padded gently into the building. It was a cozy place, albeit a bit untidy with the amount of paper and books strewn about. A white cat jumped down from Dieter's bed at the thief's arrival and began rubbing against his ankle. "Hello, little one," he murmured and knelt down to offer the critter a scratch behind the ears, "You're looking very healthy, considering your owner has been gone so long." Elquin supposed the cat had found it's own way in and out of the building to feed; or a friend of family member came by from time to time to care for it. Unless the feline was enchanted to not require food! Elquin would not put such a thing past some of the monks to do this.

The Thief spotted a flash of gold - the cat had several gold bracelets circling it's legs - how odd! He considered removing them, but then let them be. Likewise, he left all valuables in the house where they were. "Respect for they who are lost to the Dream..." He spoke quietly to himself. He was not here to loot and pilfer like some common thief: This was the home of one of the respected masters of the Ketange-Ishatal Monastery, and it would not do to dishonor the Masters by taking their posthumous possessions. Once Dieter's death was confirmed, the estate and belongings would no doubt be split amongst friends and family, or otherwise donated to the Monastery itself.

On Dieter's sturdy oak desk, separated from the other mess of papers was a letter, unfolded and with a telltale signs of a personal nature - unless the Monks have started signing their correspondences with bright red lipstick. Elquin browsed the note quickly without touching it; it spoke of longing and sorrow of two loves separated; "For way too long, we have been apart, my love," and "I long for the day we meet again," It was signed with a 'Norah', of 'Regensbad'. Misshapen, dried salty marks on the papers on the desk and the letter itself revealed that Dieter - or whoever read the note - had been brought to tears by it's contents.

There was only one other thing of significance that Elquin noticed: The title of a book that had been pulled down from the bookcase and left on the Dieter's bed; "The Fae Vamphyrae of Ardenwald". It was far too thick and complex a book for Elquin to read on his own, so after wondering about it's significance, he left it there, unread.

Nothing was touched in the room, and the ward would reset itself in the next two minutes after he left, so there would be no sign of his ever being there should he just walk out. But Elquin hesitated... Drawn to the rumble of purring at his feet, he knelt down again and stroked the cat once more, "I fear you will be in for a long wait for the one who lives here. Would you like the chance to chase some mice?" Elquin scooped up the cat and left the house, making sure to close the door securely on the way out.



The next morning greeted Elquin with sunlight filtering onto his eyes from his window. His dreams were plentiful and vivid last night, but thankfully, meaningless this time - they were just dreams. The Ethenorden man gathered his belongings quickly, strapping his Brigandine to his chest and fastening his shortspears to his back. Daggers slid into boots and on his belt, as did his trusty Sword Breaker. Out his door he left - the cat was nowhere to be seen this morning; He had left the feline out on the streets to have it's own freedom, but couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that it had taken advantage of that freedom and left.

With a shrug, the Master thief began the journey to the central square.

I can't in good conscience take the book, since Elquin was not there to hear of Dieter's mission :p
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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #16 on: April 03, 2014, 08:59:35 AM »
Kuth strode away from the meeting - the destination was clear.

He returned to his cabin, where Enthril awaited him.

“Do we leave soon, dearest?” she said, currently adopting a feline form, though doubtless she would tire of it quickly. She always did.

“Yes. Tomorrow we leave for Treskenmauer.  I assume Caldu is still out?”

“Of course, but he will be back on the ‘morrow. “

Kuth nodded.  Caldu was nearly Kuth’s opposite, a small being - also a shapeshifter - who detested enclosed places and would sleep under the stars in a hurricane.  What race or species he started out as, Kuth had no recollection, and Caldu had never said. 

“Does it have to be Treskenmauer?” whined Enthril, “I’ll have to hold a form the whole time were are there - it will be absolutely dreadful.”

“Come to bed, “ she said, now taking for the form of a somewhat small half-giantess.

....

The next morning came, and true to form, Caldu,  was sprawled in front of the door, apparently comatose.  Kuth nudged him with a foot, nearly lifting him off the ground.

“Wake up Caldu! We ride.”

Caldu, in a wolvish form, snapped once at Kuths leg, but came well short of actually biting the half-giant. 

The three climbed on the heavy wagon that served as Kuth’s carriage, a team of draft horses hitched to the front.
   
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Offline Vitoriel Valthyrianё

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #17 on: April 03, 2014, 05:57:44 PM »
"I am willing to lead, fear not dear Aeomi" Vitoriel replied with neither haste nor hesitation, in a comforting tone, and a slight bow of her head.
Leadership was a burden, but one she would take upon her shoulders; she owed this much to the others.

"But now, come, you may deposit that lovely pouch in the temple's care - for tonight we celebrate life, liberty, and the enless possibilities that arise when the world is not constrained by the shackles of knowing."

Pillars rose high, natural and man-made, bent and intertwined, to ensure shadow and light would forever embrace in the structure benneath. Mirrors bent into surreal shapes were arranged throughout, scattering the dancing glow of flames across their faces.

"We may walk towards a possible death tomorrow, but some wish to walk towards a joined life together today."
Before Aeomi could answer, a chant emanating from the temple caught her ears.

When the Lord made night to lay to rest
the world's tired wonder-smitten minds
lullabies sung and closed the blinds
to renew vigor, refresh zest...
A sonnet umbral broke her binds
Pranced forth, untamed and fey, possessed.


"They have started" Vitoriel smiled, and swiftly strode onwards, shedding her clothes and and taking her priest's robes - shade and starlight and little substance.

When the moon yearned, bashful, for a chance
to feel lips unlit sway its light
to find its dusky opposite
and revel in stygian romance
you sang of bliss it witness might
in your - dusk's velvet! - night-born hands.


Vitoriel was more girl-like than Aeomi had ever seen - certainly, she had had better things to do than sing to the fickle Goddess of the night.
Somehow a glass of sweet fruit wine found its way into Aeomi's hand, accompanied by *someone's- kiss on her cheek.
Alas, the elf joined in amongst the revelers, the crowd parting, then closing against her; glances and caresses were exchanged. and she joined the culminating song.

When night was cleaved apart in twine,
one part cloaks lovers, makes life seem,
far more enchanting, the other - scream
The choicest strands of dark stayed thine
Most salubrious must I deem
The forces that our fates entwine.

And though I walk - where hope's distant memory
On raven wings - you enliven all who free
Thrice guardian night - vigor, courage, solaces' seed
Within your soul - there's the sole compass I need

For...
You're the holiest kind of midnight,
the saintliest sort of dark,
how ever cursed the waters, you'll be my blessed ark.


Then Vitoriel caught a girl's eyes with her deep gaze, and fished the half-elven damsel, from the crowd and wreather her in fragrant lilac. "Behold the bride!"
The center of attention shifted to the blushing girl as she was guided to a piedestal, disrobed, and coated in oils and musk, glistening surreally in the fires' light.
The young man fared similarly, then their hands were tied with a silken sash; in the temple's strange air, both seemed to be the epitome of charm and sensuality, wrapped in the beauty of youth in full bloom.
The crowd erupted into a frantic dance, rows of dancers circling in structured chaos around the piedestal, and Vitoriel kissed the husband and bride, then guided them from the elevated platform towards the temple's back amongst much clamor and cheers, then returned, smiling.
The crystal wall behind them hinted on occasion at the couple's passion, the fickle light and fey facets sometimes conveying a passionate glance, a hint of a curve, a hand's brush against a cheek.

The revelry brought Vitoriel and Aeomi together again, and the elf smiled conspiratively: "Whatever you think you can't or should not, this evening you may."
"She blesses you as well, as all of the free." Then, she was off, dissolved in the frolicking throngs.
And indeed, Aeomi felt free, strangely light and yet so clear.

***

The morning brought the old Vitoriel back; no-nonsense and sharp; luckily, the apprentices knew her well, and the belonging were meticulously packed, her travelling clothes prepared, the bath ready.
They stood in a row, and each of them received a task of no small difficulty handed to him on a scroll. Dangerous? Yes. Possible? Likely. Let them squirm and keep busy.
"You do not know when I will return - but your success or failure will then become clear."

***

The summoners far calmer, still tended to their mistress, and the gifts of her beloved charges filled one of the chests in the carriage - creative writings, sweets and potions, even a scarf, all spoke of their admiration.

"Kuth! Well met! I hope your anger is strong. We shall need it."
The elf gave the monastery a last parting glance, then looked towards the world ahead. She had been saving up anger, and could imagine a few good uses for it.
« Last Edit: April 04, 2014, 08:06:33 AM by Vitoriel Valthyrianё »
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Offline Coventinae Fate-Weaver

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #18 on: April 04, 2014, 03:21:02 AM »
Aeomi's Story
The Temple Dance was not her natural element, and for a while the Master of the Summoners was about to leave. Then she felt something stir inside, and with dread she realized that Greta had awakened. Many, many years ago she attempted a summoning divination, and she called upon the Ghost of one of the most powerful witches to ever have walked the lands of Silmar. Greta was her name, Greta Krutl, and in retrospect Aeomi had realized that Greta had toyed with her during the summoning. Appearing as bewildered and confused as the other ghosts she often called, Greta had lured Aeomi close enough that she disrupted the warding pentagram, and during the briefest of windows Greta had slipped through and possessed her.

And now she stirred within, for the first time in many, many years.

Vitoriel danced with wild abandon, frolicking in the shadows and lights of the temple, in the bluish shades of evening and night. Then she heard a wild cackling laughter, and she turned around to see Aeomi, raving with ecstacy, dancing spasmatically, ritualistic, all her clothes discarded, revealing a surprisingly supple body.

And thus passed the night, with Aeomi taking the spotlight from Vitoriel for half an hour, until Vitoriel regained her bearings and started dancing with the surprising summoner once again.

*******

Elquin's Story
Dreams came easily for Elquin, a sweet bliss for a short while, then he found that he was playing in the Golden City once again.

"Come here, Elquin! Quick, hide with me!", the white haired girl whispered from an alley. Elquin ran to her side, and just in the nick of time, for eight Golden Legionnaires ran by the next minute.

"Come, take my hand", the beauty said, and they ran off, in a wild chase through the streets.

Five minutes later they emerged in a strange courtyard. In the center of the courtyard a crucifix was still burning, and on it a man screaming horribly.

"My poor, poor master", the girl purred, her eyes shining like a bright flame.

She pointed, and Elquin was made aware of several figures watching his torment.

One was a regal figure, with gleaming, polished, gold lacqurered full plate mail and a flowing white cape. He was holding a silvery leash, and on that leash a squatting human being, naked, his wiry body tense, his ravaged, haunted features looking around for signs of danger, like a wild animal.

At the opposite side of the fire was a shadowy figure, tall and regal and dressed in the rune-covered robe of a true Master of the Ketange-Ishatal monestary. The shadows were so deep, that Elquin could not distinguish who it was. By it's side was a woman, a woman in a white noblewoman's ball gown, made of silk and laced with the petals of a golden rose. Her face was hidden behind a white veil.

In the sky above a huge red dragon swirled, watching the spectacle below.

Then Elquin got a shiver down his spine, and on instinct he looked to his right, and lo and behold; there in the corner, hidden in the mouth of another alley, was a figure he knew all to well. An oddly featureless man in yellow robes, contorting his body in wicked, unnatural ways, spying on the gathered assembly.

"Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaseeeee! Meeeeeeeerccyyyyyyyy! Meeeeeeeeeeeeercyyyyyy!", the man on the burning crucifix screamed, his voice grinding and haunted.

The hidden man in the yellow robe covered his ears, sat down in a squat and rocked back and forth, like he was trying to keep the voice out.

And the naked leashed man laid his head back, touching his backside, and sniffed. And suddenly he howled, a guttural, alien howl, and the Regal figure in golden plate mail turned around.

The white haired beauty screamed: "We must run, Elquin! We must run!"

The air was suddenly full of the barking of tracking dogs.

Elquin had awoken with a start, and a white, long haired cat licking his face, purring and rubbing it's back against his face. In his chest, his heart was racing.

******

Kuth's Story
Kuth dove over the edge of Falcon's Dive, and he let his gigantic body free fall for half a minute before he uttered the incantation that allowed him to change his form, and suddenly he was a Falcon himself, and he continued his dive till he was just above the trees, and he swooped over the woods, his uncanny vision seeing all.

In the end he had eaten a lot of prey; weasels, mice, squirrels, even a sparrow had fallen to his claws. Content Kuth rested on a branch in Falcon form, when two Ugeroth tribesmen covered in their swirling tattoos walked beneath.

They spoke in their guttural language, and Kuth did not understand a word of what they said, but he was curious. What was the Ugeroth doing here, in the valley nesting between the Sandstone Pillars of Ketange-Ishatal and the ferocious mountain known as the Kiebral?

He followed them for a while, he even switched to the form of a fox, and he slinked after them, hid in trees and brushes, ducking into small streams and sometimes burrowing into the few patches of snow that still existed in the valley.

And he came upon a clearing, hidden from view from the monestary, and it was full of clansmen of the Ugeroth tribes. They had their war tents, and he recognized their vermillion clay idols portraying Gracklo, the Horned Warrior! The Chaos God of Slaughter and Carnage.

Kuth took to the skies, and he landed on his windowsill. It took a while before he calmed down and managed to fall asleep.

*******

Vitoriel's Story
The Temple Dance took the evening, and the night. Aeomi revealed a side to herself that Vitoriel never knew existed. She had never known Aeomi to be this fun.

And as the hours turned day into evening, and evening into night, she danced carelessly, freely.

Drunk on sweet monestary nectar, love and happiness, no one noticed as roses grew wilder, more thorny, and bushes started to creep up the pillars, while trees grew darker, larger and the air was heavy with the presence of the fae.

After all, they had danced with Vitoriel before

***********

Five weeks later
It was long since they said their farewells, and shared warnings of dangers both near and distant. Elquin's sleep had grown more peaceful since his departure, and Kuth and his apprentices played in the forest, hunting as a pack. Vitoriel loved the woods, and she walked amidst the trees, tracing the outline of the bark with her delicate fingers. Even Aeomi was at peace, though at times she picked up ingredients she did not know of, merely on intuition, and carried them back to camp where she threw them on the fire with a cackle. "For protection" was her only explanation, yet when others asked her about it later, she could not recall much. It was as if her memories were covered by a haze.

They were in Silmar now, on the Kingdom's very borders, and Treskenmauer was but four days away. Looking back they saw the majestic peaks of the Cyllerean Mountains, still somewhat close, but growing ever more distant.

They had traveled the highway and camp had been set.

OOC: If no one edits their charrie sheet, I will assume that Kuth is the only one who brought his entourage along. If any of the other two masters (Vitoriel and Aeomi) wants a carriage and an entourage, they better update their char sheets)
« Last Edit: April 04, 2014, 03:23:35 AM by Coventinae Fate-Weaver »

Offline Shadoweagle

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #19 on: April 04, 2014, 05:11:53 AM »
Elquin was sitting quietly before the campfire. He had not shared his dream with his traveling companions as yet, although it was obvious for the first few days that he was troubled. He knew what people thought of him. He has heard the whispers in the halls; the fears that he is losing his mind. It was his job to listen.
The fact that he had caught glimpses of Dieter's white feline companion more than once during the journey was troubling, also. The cat surely could not have kept pace with the party, yet constantly he caught a glimpse of white hair moving through the bushes, and the flashing of gold bracelets in the sunlight which disappeared before Elquin could focus on them.

That dream... things rarely meant exactly what they appeared to represent within the sleeping world; if indeed they meant anything! He longed for the younger years, where the Golden Palace seemed so much more peaceful. Comforted by the mists, enveloped in the serene silence, it was his true home. Yet lately it felt as though his home had turned into a battlefield of hostility and fear. The clattering of mail, the yowling of hounds. The clashing of weapons and the crackle of fire accompanied the place more often than not, now. The Golden Palace had the feeling of preparation and ill-portent, as though calamity had been whipped up in the last few years and the world now stood on the edge of a precipice, just waiting for the final push to plummet off the edge.

The figure who owned the leashed human in his dream... He was Silmar - of higher standing too. The Insignia emblazoned on his cape told Elquin that much. He had been sent on more than one mission to Silmar and that insignia was of Royal denotation. It suggested servitude or affiliation with the Silmar Government.
The Shadow-blanketed figure? One of the esteemed masters, undoubtedly. But what did it mean?
And there was so much more, too: The Dragon; The Yellow-Robed man agonizing in the corner, the white-haired girl... She was new. Dreams and portents were second nature to Elquin, but that girl seemed strangely real in a world outside of reality. Pretty, too...

With a heavy and audible sigh, Elquin allowed himself to stop thinking. He had learned early on that the greatest virtue one can have when touched by the dreamer is the serenity to accept that which was shown without obsession. What will come, will come and trying to analyze these portents does nothing but cause undue stress. All one can do is prepare and be aware.



Elquin had been traveling by foot, either ahead of the caravans to scout, or walking alongside them. He didn't mind, truly. The fresh air was invigorating and he had always felt more comfortable forging his own path physically rather than being carried around. He was a man of far simpler pleasures than his esteemed Masters.

This eve, he was resting his feet. a sleeve of paper was drawn along his thigh and his fingers were blackened with charcoal as he patiently etched lines and shadings along the paper. He was attempting to draw from memory the figure of that regal man in his dreams. He remembered the golden plate... the white cape with the insignia... He remembered the man turn around at the call of it's leashed pet... that face - this was what he wished to draw...

Attempting to draw the figure from his dreams using craft
Lazarus Lightward, Elite Diabolist of the Brotherhood - Level 3 Occultist
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Offline Coventinae Fate-Weaver

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #20 on: April 04, 2014, 06:24:53 AM »
OOC: That requires a craft roll. You can do it with /roll 1d100 in the full chat. You need your skill percentage or below. If you get under 1/5th of your skill (i.e. 12 or below if you have 60 skill), it is a special success and you get a lot of detail. If it is under 1/20th of your skill (i.e. 3 or below on your 60 skill), you draw him with perfect detail.

Any craft skill success is a go.

Also, craft can indeed be used for cooking, flaying and other skill too. It is a "handyman of all trades" sorta skill.
Survival is used for foraging, tracking prey, riding, swimming, climbing, etc (thief can be used for climbing too, whichever is highest).

Offline Shadoweagle

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #21 on: April 04, 2014, 06:33:45 AM »
(22:30:54) Minion: Shadoweagle rolls 1d100 and gets 15.
Craft skill: 60 (or 70 if nighttime). Either way it's just a couple points above special success
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Offline Aeomi Nebuchadessar

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #22 on: April 04, 2014, 02:54:13 PM »
Quote
"I am willing to lead, fear not dear Aeomi"

Aeomi raised an eyebrow, it hadn't exactly been her intention to forfeit leadership. This was gonna be a long trip. Just then her entourage caught up with her and offered to carry her. "If I can't even walk on my own, I hardly deserve to be carried." Aeomi said and walked past them.
-
As the festivities raged all around her, she merely sat and watched, with the occasional shaking of her head. "Elves..." She mumbled, but she was enjoying herself, a little company and merriment was a nice change of pace from her usual lonesome vigil. And so she was caught unprepared, it felt like drowning, drowning in another mind, a blood red mind. Afterwards she couldn't remember much, but the fact that she found her clothes laying in a pile on the floor didn't bode very well. She didn't blush, but she could feel her face heat up with rage, so much for cultivating an awe-inspiring and respected image, naked she looked around, daring anyone to look at her with reproach. She got dressed and retreated to her tower.

5 Weeks Later

All attempts at excorcising Greta had failed so far, the memory gaps were annoying and sometimes startling. Worst of all, they made her look old and forgetful. Aeomi contemplated whether or not she should tell anyone, but she wasn't exactly keen to tell people she could not be trusted in her current state. 'Rage' could feel her distress and annoyance, feeding on it, growing stronger, unlike Greta he was an instrument Aeomi was fully in control of, but his thoughts could be...unsavory. She sat down crosslegged at the campfire, inhaled and attempted a seance with Greta, a warding circle was pointless as she was already inside her.

(21:43:27) Minion: Gossamer rolls 1d100 and gets 92. Magic 75 +25 Spiritcaller

("Alright Greta, let's bargain. What will it take for you to leave my body alone? ...Or at the very least to knock first...") She directed her thoughts inward.

Offline Coventinae Fate-Weaver

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Re: [Coldforged - 1423] Prologue
« Reply #23 on: April 05, 2014, 04:48:35 AM »
Elquin's hands moved expertly, the charcoal edging the outlines, his fingers smudging the shading. Regal cape, full plate, it all fell into places, one by one, and then in the end came the face. A hawkish nose, a trimmed black beard, and then he did not remember more.

Elquin exhaled and lifted the drawing up, studying it closer. The face did not have as many details as he would have liked, but that nose certainly was discerning. A beard could come and go, but it might be enough for someone to recognize him.



Aeomi directed her thoughts inward, attempting a bargain with the possessing ghost. After a short while she heard a cackling laughter, mischievous and laced with malice.

<Aeomi, Aeomi, Aeomi. Proud and mighty, with a lifespan that I had to work so hard to achieve>

Aeomi's inner vision changed, and she saw a screaming young virgin, drugged from poisoned wine, being hauled by a middle aged beauty into a small hut in the deep forest.

<That was Sieghild, a young girl from the village of Glebruck, a day's walk away from the Nebelwald. She was 15 when I drank her life's blood. She gave me 16 years of being 34, and that way I kept somewhat young. At the expense of young virgins. A more grisly affair than what you had, don't you agree?>

Aeomi's vision changed back, and looking into her own hands, Aeomi realized she had walked away from camp, and was now holding mandrake root and a strange cone in her hands.

<Mandrake root and Spyder Cone, the base ingredients in the Shievren spell of warding. This forest is cursed, you see, and an elder demon stalks it, always in a new host. The last time I was here, it was a little boy. Merely 7 years old. We sewed his eyes, nose and mouth shut, and buried the child in an earthen pit. Yet I sense it now, free again, and I try to keep it from sensing me, hidden away in here>

Aeomi blinked and she was at the outskirts of a village. People were trading at the square, and children were playing in the fields. Then Aeomi noticed a shadow, sliding across the city. A menacing, dark shadow.

<So you want me to leave you be? If you really mean that, throw mandrake root and spyder cone on the fireplace each time you make camp. Keep doing it until you are out of the forest and close to Treskenmauer>

Aeomi opened her eyes just in time to see the Spyder Cone flare up into bluish flames, and hear the mandrake root's horrid scream as it burnt on the fire.

The other's seemed to be asleep, their shapes huddled around the fireplace.
« Last Edit: April 06, 2014, 06:19:48 AM by Coventinae Fate-Weaver »