Old Gods/Mysticism/Augur Story
| Roleplay from Fedran the Augur | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Agyr | |
| It was a cold morning, they always were this late in the year, but I wasn't in any mood for it. I was slated to open the Senate this morning because the Auspex had come down ill and I'd drawn the short straw. Such was the nature of duty, it never ended and the pay was never enough but at least it kept me busy.
The wide street from the Temple to the Senate was already busy with scribes and clerks preparing for the ensuing day of debate. Not that most of them would be allowed in of course. Our betters assumed the audience wouldn't appreciate the dance and after seeing a few meetings I was reluctantly forced to agree. Say what you will about their madness, but the Patrician Strata knew how to eviscerate an opponent without spilling a drop of blood. A few lucky souls would be tasked with repeating the performances inside to the delight of any in the Forum. I could never decide if it was the novelty of seeing Patricians work, or a twisted fascination with being permitted to observe that drew in the crowds. Not that it mattered much to me either way since my job was only to make sure that during all the oh so careful attempts not to kill each other with biting words no one used any magic to back up their debate. My musings were cut short by the twin sense of revulsion and tranquility that I, and others like me, always felt in the Forum. The unease was simple enough to trace but that didn't make it any easier to keep away. Right in the centre of the great plaza was the Eternal Flame. A great never-ending pyre of violet flame kindled on the rock itself, the Eternal Flame always set my teeth on edge in the most pleasingly disconcerting way. It's complicated but at least the lesser tongues of flame used as light across the Republic didn't have the same affect. Pulling my attention away from the source I spy the man I was looking for, or at least the man that I knew I'd eventually be looking for. Flagging down the passing scribe I noted his flustered and irritated appearance. Most people who were that thin wouldn't sweat quite so much this cold weather, let alone be red faced and puffing, so unless I missed my guess his lord planned to speak today, probably about something unpleasant. Knowing I only had a moment before he hurried away I pull out a small scroll case from my robe. “Good scribe I know you are busy this day but I assure you, this missive is of key importance to someone very dear to me. All I ask is that you hold onto it until three hours after dusk and then drop it where you stand.” Instructions like that on a day like this did nothing to endear the man to me, but the formal vestments of an Augur of the Old Gods proved compelling enough and soon I watched his retreating form. Pointedly ignoring the Eternal Flame I continue onward. Of course for most people we're diviners of fortune called Augurs because we can tell the future, provided we ask the right questions. This is why I know that, despite no one on the Senate being a mage, I am going to end up in a bit of a scuffle tonight and that scroll will be important. I'm not exactly sure why yet, but in about twenty hours I'll be wishing I didn't hurt so much and I bet some insane mage will be gloating over me too. Well at least something dark and twisted will be near by at that time, which means I get all the fun of serious injury and nausea. Arriving at the Curia I spotted Dame Johanna and Sir William in the vestibule. The pair of Patricians seemed to be having a heated discussion of some form but I couldn't hear what at this range. Something about trade, but it didn't matter, I was needed inside. | |
| Fedran the Augur (Augur of the Old Gods) | |
