|
|
| Line 5: |
Line 5: |
| | |} | | |} |
| | | | |
| | + | {| class="infobox" style="margin: auto;" border="2" cellpadding="4" |
| | | | |
| − | <center>{{Message2 | + | |- |
| − | |Width=80% | + | ! A week later |
| | + | |- |
| | + | |
| | + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| | + | |Width=100% |
| | |Type=Roleplay | | |Type=Roleplay |
| − | |Sender=Ryosuke Guile | + | |Sender=Wren the Watcher |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]] | + | |Recipients=Climbing the mountains of Jedinchel |
| − | |Content=Standing on the foredeck of the Dawn Rider, Ryosuke Guile stands with his hands clasped behind his back, his white hair blowing gently in the pre-dawn stillness. Wearing a heavy cloak over his black and green robes, he has more the aura of a scholar than a battle-hardened cavalier. Looking forward, he sees the imposing cliffs and towering silhouette of Agyr City’s Imperial Palace looming on the horizon. Whistles and cries abound across the ship as the sailors begin preparations for final approach, using their signal lanterns in a codified way to notify the Agyrian Harbourmaster that they come in peace, and for non-mercantile purposes. | + | |Content=The mottled brown cloak flutters. The mountain wind is cold, but friend Nerta doesn't mind. She shed her cloak the moment they reach the mountains and the higher they climb, the straighter she stands. |
| | | | |
| − | The vessel he is aboard is the private Beluaterran carrack of House Guile, the thick planks visibly scarred with the signs of battle against humankind and Daimons, some even before the Age of Ruin. The sailors on board are well-versed in port etiquette and the practices of all major ports in the North, and they dutifully fulfill their obligations on approach as a deputy harbour-master is sent out to verify their claims and give them final access to the docks themselves.
| + | Brave. But she is. They had spoken after the others left. Spoken of the secret things. Of the Totems and the Grafts. Of hiding. Of running. Of danger. Of loneliness. |
| | | | |
| − | Things proceed smoothly and without delay, the Baron of Gihalcert’s ship being ushered into one of the two larger berths just inside the mouth of the Golden River. Giving a quick nod to Captain Phineas as he disembarks, Ryosuke finds himself strolling along a boulevard in the Plebeian’s District with his attendant rushing to keep up. Taking a left at the first major intersection, a gate looms in the distance with several sharply dressed guards inspecting those passing through into the Equite’s District.
| + | But now we go home. To friend Nerta’s home and she is happy, but… the blinking eyes see her fidget. Hands clenching. Eyes scanning the peaks. She is happy, but nervous. |
| | | | |
| − | Flashing the jade token on his waist, the guards on duty look shocked momentarily and then immediately usher the young man through. Briskly passing the famous Flying Needle tailor shop, Ryosuke’s broken rainbow eyes are locked ahead as though possessed, his feet faltering not once as he maneuvers through the growing morning crowds towards his goal.
| + | “You worry.” That chirping trill sees Nerta jump, and the whispers on the wind laugh. “Why?” |
| | | | |
| − | The broad avenue of the trading district of Agyr has wares of all kinds, and qualities that the young baron had not seen in his life so far. But none of the things on the side of the road could catch his eye as he doggedly moved forward, the calling that had haunted him for so long becoming increasingly pronounced as he walks.
| + | Nerta sighs and smooths down her shirt. “I’m not supposed to return until I’m rid of the Old Man. That his fool quest brings me back only months later might be seen as a convenient excuse by the Huntmaster.” |
| | | | |
| − | Soon enough, Ryosuke stands at the base of the Eternal Flame with his eyes closed in deep contemplation. The pressure on his mind has released some, but also shifted a small distance away. Snapping his head to the East, the pull carries him out of the Imperial District and into the Patrician’s District.
| + | Curious. Huntmaster. Huntmaster. Huntmaster. Wren cycles through the variations of inflection and tone, noting how her companion fidelity with the last. ‘Master’ bothers her. She does not like it. “Huntmaster not happy you go, or you back?” |
| | | | |
| − | The expansive streets here are far less populated, and much more grandly decorated, showing the wealth of gold and history that has accumulated in the Jewel of the North. The old Noble Estates lie behind ornate stonework and steelwork fences, hidden behind delicately maintained gardens designed to stimulate the sense and stymie the eyes from piercing what secrets lie within. Yet again, the young baron has his eyes set solely forward as he finally feels a sense of relief rising within him as he approaches the Agyrian Academy.
| + | Glancing away, Nerta, spear raps on the path with a ring. “He’s never happy, be I coming or going.” |
| − | |Title= Baron of Gihalcert | + | |
| | + | Wren hums to herself, strutting along the path past Nerta, pondering. Never happy. Master. Curious. Curious. |
| | + | |
| | + | Quite clearly trying to change the subject, Nerta clears her throat. “What about you, Wren? Happy to visit another tribe, or nervous about the mountain folks?” |
| | + | |
| | + | Big round eyes blink and then again before the tittering laugh calls. “Nervous? No. Friend Nerta, friend tribe.” |
| | + | |
| | + | A gruff voice cuts in. “We’ll see about that.” |
| | + | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| | }}</center> | | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
| | + | |
| | + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| | + | |Width=100% |
| | + | |Type=Roleplay |
| | + | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver |
| | + | |Recipients=Climbing the mountains of Jedinchel |
| | + | |Content=The more flighty Wren may have jumped at the interruption, but Nerta seems more bemused than anything. “Really Caden, forget me already? You really are thick-headed.” |
| | | | |
| | + | “Funny Nerta. Real funny.” The sunkissed young man has a bow in hand. It isn’t aimed at anyone, but it sits ready to do exactly that. “What are you doing back?” |
| | + | |
| | + | Spreading all of her hands, Nerta sighs. “I’m going to have to answer that question about a dozen times the moment we’re back in the village, so why don’t you just wait until then?” |
| | + | |
| | + | He shrugs and nods. “Fair enough. What’s the story with her?” The bow wavers toward Wren, who pulls back on reflex. |
| | + | |
| | + | “That,” a finger jabs toward Caden, “That is a friend. A sister from the southern forest. Bird-totem. So stop being all billygoat gruff and get down here to greet us properly.” |
| | + | |
| | + | The young man breaks into a grin and rises from his perch. “Properly, or properly?” |
| | + | |
| | + | Nerta rolls her eyes as Caden clops down off the small lookout tower with his usual sure footing. “Properly. We have a guest and I’m not just here for you.” |
| | + | |
| | + | Hooves kick up a bit of gravel as he lands from a jump. “Oh? Maybe I should have shot you then, make you appreciate me more.” |
| | + | |
| | + | “Appreciate how bad your aim is maybe.” Bantering as she approaches the goat-totem Caden, Nerta wraps an arm or two around his and drags him further up the hill. “Come on.” |
| | + | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| | + | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
| | | | |
| − | <center>{{Message2 | + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| − | |Width=80% | + | |Width=100% |
| | |Type=Roleplay | | |Type=Roleplay |
| − | |Sender=Ryosuke Guile | + | |Sender=Wren the Watcher |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]] | + | |Recipients=Nerta's tribe in Jedinchel |
| − | |Content=Waking from his stupor in front of the elaborate gates leading into the Academy complex, Ryosuke finds himself tremoring slightly as he catches his breath. A small age seemed to pass before his eyes as he gazes across the grounds, seeing things in the nighttime mists that befuddle and confuse him. Shaking his head to clear the phantoms from his vision, Ryosuke draws the small black buckler that hangs on his back and places it on his left arm. As soon as he finds his grip within the enarmes, the mists around him seem to dissolve and a clear trail is lined up ahead of him. | + | |Content=Curious. Curious. Wren preens at her belly under the cloak. Her turn to fidget. Such a strange tribe. So busy. Village full of life. Little ones running. Wren’s head whips around as a small flock break around her to mob Nerta. Running. But old houses, carved in rock. |
| | + | |
| | + | Wren has lots of time to look around. Nerta’s the main attraction and as word spreads that she’s back more and more people come running. Eventually it left Wren in the company of Caden, though she shys away from the gruff man. |
| | + | |
| | + | “Nerta, you look tired!” The literally whisker-sporting greybeard scowls. “Is all that time in the lowlands making you soft?” |
| | + | |
| | + | “That’s a new spear. What happened to your old one? I made that for you special.” A woman with a cold button-nose barks. “Ungrateful girl, you had best have lost it in battle.” |
| | + | |
| | + | “Forget the spear, she’s back.” Hisses a serpentine man. “We’ve got to get you to fix a bunch of clothes. I mean don’t get me wrong, Gavin tries but he can’t weave silk.” |
| | + | |
| | + | Talons scratch at the dust. “You’re all being ridiculous, she needs a hot meal and to visit with her grandmother.” |
| | + | |
| | + | The babble of voices are curious, but the hulking figure seated at a table across the square seems less than pleased. Not happy. Hairy. Big… |
| | + | |
| | + | “Enough of that. Come here, girl.” |
| | + | |
| | + | … Roars. Bear-totem. |
| | | | |
| − | Weaving through the complicated network of buildings, gardens, and pathways that make up the colossal Academy, none stop him on his progress…as none seem to see the smattering of starlight that crosses the ground in his place.
| + | The others don’t seem worried. Many roll their eyes. A few cross their arms. Caden especially steps in the way. But Nerta takes a deep breath and waves the small crowd aside. Wren pivots to watch as the slender girl steps into the shadow of the seated man. He has brown eyes and holds a ram’s horn in one hand as though it is a delicate thing. |
| | | | |
| − | Nearing an ancient and archaic reliquary, deep within the complex, Ryosuke suddenly finds himself stopped cold in his tracks. Having been rushing ahead at full speed, the young Guile smacks his face square into a barrier that he cannot see, knocking himself silly and sprawled out in an unbecoming fashion on the ground outside. A soft chuckle can be heard from just within the entrance to the reliquary, as a librarian of considerable age steps out and stares at Ryosuke with a glint in his eye.
| + | “Huntmaster Cormac, I’m glad to see you’re well.” |
| | | | |
| − | Thinking himself to still be in the realm of stars and shadows, and thereby not visible to average men, Ryosuke slowly gathers himself up and starts poking and prodding at the barrier in front of him. The old librarian doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t give any indication that he can see the young man, but merely chuckles every time Ryosuke fails to make any progress.
| + | He stares for a time. It makes Wren fidget with her cloak. Finally he spoke, his voice like the rumble of a cart. |
| | | | |
| − | Realising that something odd is afoot, Ryosuke releases the forward enarme of his shield and steps out from the patch of shining stars that had obscured his form. Having watched the whole process, the old librarian merely smiles knowingly and begins grilling the embarrassed youngster on his purpose. Getting quickly flustered by the content of the questions, Ryosuke flashes the jade token on his waist at the venerable elder and raises his eyebrows in response.
| + | “That's all you have to say for yourself, girl?” |
| | | | |
| − | With shock written all over his face, the nervous librarian steps back and bows low to the ground before heading into the reliquary. Passing by arcane artefacts, timeless tomes of knowledge, scrolls of such might that they seem to warp space around them, and countless other priceless items, the librarian stops to gather up a mirror and suddenly turns to Ryosuke and speaks, “Further within, there are others who have heard the call, your Lordship. I’ve left them waiting too long as it is. If you wish to be known, follow me. If you wish to wait, put your Buckler of the Stars back on and follow anyway. You’ve come this far already.” Having finished his piece, the librarian heads further into the depths ahead of Ryosuke.
| + | ‘No. But the last time I said anything for myself, you threw me out.” |
| | | | |
| − | With a few seconds pondering, Ryosuke grasps his shield fully and disappears into a few motes of light drifting down the passageway after the librarian-turned-guide.
| + | “Humph.” The bear doesn't take the bait. “You threw yourself out.” |
| | | | |
| − | Soon the librarian stood before a massive stone table littered with the discarded books and pages of chaotic research, alongside several others in the room. The scene was lit with braziers of violet flame that flickered and cast deep shadows along with their pale light.
| + | “Well.” Nerta clenches her hands. “You’ll be happy to know that I’m not dead, though the lowlanders have tried. Apparently the old temples are gone, along with a lot of other things. It’s chaos down there.” |
| − | |Title= Baron of Gihalcert | + | |
| | + | His frown and shrug end with a meaty slap on his thigh. “Not our problem. You getting fight practice?” |
| | + | |
| | + | Nerta exhales slowly. “Yes.” |
| | + | |
| | + | This earns a frown and a nod. “Good.” |
| | + | |
| | + | The silent staring contest is only possible because Cormac is sitting down, but that doesn’t seem to worry Nerta. It worries Wren. Everything about this worries Wren. She could feel it. Feel how the man put her friend on edge. How she seems transfixed between fight and flight. Normally Nerta was only fight so this… this is new. |
| | + | |
| | + | “Go.” The big hand waves. “See your seanmháthair. We’ll talk later.” |
| | + | |
| | + | Nerta’s eyes narrow and Wren’s blink-widen. Not happy. Master. Bear. Scared. Father? |
| | + | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| | }}</center> | | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
| | | | |
| − | | + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| − | <center>{{Message2 | + | |Width=100% |
| − | |Width=80% | |
| | |Type=Roleplay | | |Type=Roleplay |
| | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver | | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]] | + | |Recipients=Visiting Nerta's Grandmother |
| − | |Content=Magic<br> | + | |Content=Nerta stops once the pair got out of sight and leans against a wall. Shivering in a way that has nothing to do with the crisp air she avoids meeting Wren’s gaze. “So… That’s Huntmaster Cormac.” |
| − | The fabled stone table dominated the small reliquary, dividing the group from the new arrival. As the flames gutter and dance the Old Man arches a brow while Nerta twists about and slips her spear into her hand to eye the fading twilight. Finding the darkness to become a man she tenses, “Who are you stranger?”
| + | |
| − | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
| + | “Yes.” Wren hops closer. “Scary man.” |
| − | }}</center>
| |
| | | | |
| | + | “Yeah.” Shallowing hard, Nerta scrubs at her chin and makes a show of smiling. “Come on. I want you to meet Maimeó Maeve.” |
| | | | |
| − | <center>{{Message2
| + | The pair wind their way through the village, earning happy calls and cheers from very nearly everyone. Eventually they make their way up a steep set of steps to a rather dark cavern of a home, though it has a beautiful garden out front. Inside smells of dye thanks to the big vat that bubbles atop a fire. The rugs and clothes hanging all about seem to make a web, trapping the heat so that Wren almost itches to shed her cloak. |
| − | |Width=80%
| |
| − | |Type=Roleplay
| |
| − | |Sender=Ryosuke Guile
| |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]]
| |
| − | |Content=Slipping his hand free of his buckler, Ryosuke takes a single half-step forward and places his right fist against his open left palm as he bows before the assembled people in the room. The light from the nearby flames revealing a white haired man, clean shaven, and wearing a heavy black cloak over green and black silk robes, with a heavy golden chain pinned with silver fox-heads clasping his cloak at his neck. Putting his shield away quickly, he speaks to the woman who had addressed him.
| |
| | | | |
| − | ”Apologies, for the attempted intrusion. I am Ryosuke, of House Guile. A humble Baron of Irondale, and keeper of House Guile’s reliquary. I have come here following the pull of the Cold Flame... and this seems to be the right place...” he says as he glances at Aldo’s mirror, and the individuals that are visible in the immediate vicinity.
| + | “Emperor’s-Fortune.” A pair of eyes glitter in the gloom in a familiar way. “Gariníon is that you?” The raspy voice sounds old and the figure slowly approaches hobbling on a cane. “Oh Nerta, so good of you to visit. And you brought a fly into my parlour?” Backlit by the fire the silhouette of the old woman seems strange. Something about her face… “Welcome my dear, please do not be alarmed. Spider-totem you know, and not all of us get the extra arms of this little scamp.” |
| | | | |
| − | “And who might I be addressing? Courtesy dictates a return of cordiality.” The young Baron says softly, his shattered rainbow coloured eyes locked onto the spear-wielding woman’s eyes in front of him.
| + | “Maimeó, stop trying to scare her!” Nerta laughs and gives her grandmother a playful shove, only to earn a lightning fast smack of her own. |
| − | |Title= Baron of Gihalcert
| |
| − | }}</center>
| |
| | | | |
| | + | “I will play with whoever I want, as well you know. Why I always thought you were sweet on that Caden lad, but this one seems nice.” Something clicks in the dark. “Juicy.” |
| | | | |
| − | <center>{{Message2
| + | Nerta’s nose wrinkles and she rubs her head. “This is Wren, a sister from the south. Forest tribe.” |
| − | |Width=80%
| |
| − | |Type=Roleplay
| |
| − | |Sender=Wren the Watcher
| |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]]
| |
| − | |Content=The slight, birdlike woman stretches up on tiptoe to see the newcomer, her small pointed face appearing over Nerta's shoulder. Her round eyes widen at the Baron's splendidly-dressed appearance, and habitual suspicion creeps into her expression. She glances around at the collected adventuring party, all watching the new arrival with various surprised reactions, and attempts to find Aldo in the mirror. The Old Man, too, is quietly pondering the arrival. They would find out soon enough what this man's true intent was. Without guidance from the others, and feeling impatient to get along with their terrifying quest, Wren decides to move.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Leaving the heavy tome resting on a chair, Wren steps to one side to be more visible, and approximates a curtsey (more of a crouch-bow) with mottled brown cloak spread out behind. Her melodious voice pitched quiet, she says, "I am the Wren."
| + | “Oh the Great Forest? I’ve not been there in ages. Tell me little one, how’s Vixen? She always got me in so much trouble…” She sighs, a hand waving about. “Oh but where are my manners, do come in, do come in. I’ll put on some fermented ichor and we can talk all about your little adventure.” |
| | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] | | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| | }}</center> | | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
| | + | |
| | + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| | + | |Width=100% |
| | + | |Type=Roleplay |
| | + | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver |
| | + | |Recipients=Visiting Nerta's Grandmother |
| | + | |Content=Wren perches atop a small chair with a warm cup of fermented monster blood. Maimeó Maeve had retrieved a silken head wrap along with the drinks, and taken a seat by the fire while Nerta regaled her with everything that had happened. Such a tale. |
| | | | |
| | + | “My my.” The elderly spider sips at her drink. “An actual quest to save the world. What a fool’s errand, and I know the fool.” The chill wind rustles a few hanging clothes leaving Maeve to raise her chin imperiously. “Yes, I know you can hear me, Aldo. You’d best start taking better care of my Gariníon. None of this, ‘almost cut up by Factorium lunatics’ and ‘running around half naked in the snow’. Honestly just because you did it doesn’t mean everyone has to.” |
| | | | |
| − | <center>{{Message2
| + | Wren blink blinks. Half naked old Aldo? Before she can ask the old woman cackles. “Oh I know, he puts on such a show of pompous charm. But he’s still a lowlander, when he came up here on his fool’s quest he got lost. Hypothermia set in, he thought he was cooking in his shirt, and put on a bit of a show. He was in fine form in those days…” |
| − | |Width=80%
| |
| − | |Type=Roleplay
| |
| − | |Sender=Ryosuke Guile
| |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]]
| |
| − | |Content=“Well met! Should I call you ‘Wren’, or would you prefer ‘the Wren’? It is a fascinating sobriquet, and one with quite a tale I imagine.” Ryosuke says in his lilting voice as he bows slightly to the curtsying woman with the birdlike appearance.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Standing straight and not fearing the appraising glances coming his way, he continues speaking, not knowing if the group in front of him would accept him, his words, or his dao.
| + | Nerta stares at her Maimeó for a few heartbeats, chin in one hand, cup in another, while a third gropes for a pillow to throw at her teasing elder. “Uh huh. let me guess, he’s my estranged grandfather because you two hit it off after you saved him.” |
| | | | |
| − | ”I followed my heart here to Agyr, nay... to this very room...to all of you.” He says, frankly.
| + | Wren jerks back around. Old Aldo and Nerta, related? But the old woman just laughs, with that odd clicking sound. “Oh no, no no. You’ve spent too much time listening to bards, Gariníon. A puffed up patrician like him, with me? Oh please. First of all it takes a brave man to spend time with a spider-totem, especially one with my permanent Graft. Second, he was an unwavering gentleman,” she pauses and preens, “Even when I offered.” |
| | | | |
| − | “I assume that each of you has felt the shakings of the ‘web’ that lies across Beluaterra? My guardian, the rogue magus Woelfen, was delving into the deepest recesses of Jedinchel when he took the region from the rogues, and for a small age after. He found... many things, in the deeps...” Ryosuke says softly, shaking his head as he recalls the sleepless nights inside the Arcane Labyrinth underneath Guile’s Hollow.
| + | The round eyes of Wren dart between the two. They are, serious. In a way. Yet not? This is a game. A game to see who will blink first… |
| | | | |
| − | Deciding to not go down that painful road, he begins telling those assembled a tale that not many outside of the ancestral Kin of Thalmar would ever know of.
| + | “Oh yes I can see it now, you in your best silks, him turning you down and then,” the pillow finally gets tossed, “my dear Maimeó going off to sulk.” |
| | | | |
| − | “I once stood alongside my guardian in his laboratorium in Jedinchel, as he stood alongside his father Jaeger, the First Noble Warlock of the North, in his laboratoriums in Sandefur. House Guile holds texts and relics from Ages long past, many of our own design. Not least amongst our treasures is a scale. It is made of xuan metal, and hung from the highest arch in the ceiling of Nuzanki’s topmost throne room... the birthplace of the legacy I seek to follow.”
| + | Maeve scowls and catches the fluffy cushion. She seems to alternate between frail old woman and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed. “Oh, your Móraí told you that one did he.” |
| | | | |
| − | “This scale shows those with sight... the very state of the world. On one side, the weight of humanity bears down like a million steel hammers. On the other... a force that I do not seek to name, as it needs no aid in its growth. In order to keep the Soulscale operating, it is kept directly above a brazier of Cold Flame... but mine own Cold Flame... went out recently.” Ryosuke says, dropping his eyes in shame, feeling personally responsible for failing the generations of Guile Scions that had taken up the post of Flamekeeper.
| + | “No, I just know you sulk when you lose.” Nerta grins. “We’ve played enough games of Tigers & Goats for me to know that.” |
| | | | |
| − | “It was this tragedy that caused an insatiable pull in my heart to come to Agyr, the only other place left with any of the Arcane Flames, to seek...” trailing off, Ryosuke pauses and draws a breath, trying to formulate the clearest way to speak.
| + | The old woman gives off a radiant warmth then, somehow conveying the smile even though only her glittering dark eyes are visible. “Oh Gariníon, I’ve missed you.” The smile falters. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess. Fighting. Saving the world. If I’d known you’d end up like this when that patrician stumbled into my web I’d have killed him.” The chill breeze blusters again leaving Maeve to scowl. “He’s not used to being ignored is he? I imagine he’s talking your ear off. Sorry dear.” She raises her voice. “I’ll leave you alone then, Old Ghost, just know you got lucky you walked out of here.” |
| | | | |
| − | “Now that the Heralds of Obeah have returned to the North, the balance of our world is broken to the point of excess. I have been selected from a group of my fellow patricians to lead a group South, in order to rectify this imbalance. Our realm-to-be, Prisma Noctis, seeks allies... and more importantly: information...truth.” Looking directly at the mirror with the visage of Aldo in it as he finishes speaking, Ryosuke bows so that his torso is parallel to the ground.
| + | “The Old Man is annoying but,” Nerta inhales slowly, “it’s not his fault, and,” she turns to consider an empty patch of air, “he’s lost everything.” |
| − | |Title= Baron of Gihalcert
| |
| − | }}</center>
| |
| | | | |
| | + | “Hmmm maybe, but he’s also stolen my Gariníon from me so why should I care about his Crystal-Cursed damnation?” |
| | | | |
| − | <center>{{Message2
| + | This musing earned one of Nerta’s glowers and an apology. “Oh fine. I’m sorry Aldo, I just miss my Nerta and while I know you’re a good man, sometimes you get wrapped up in your work. You might be dead already but don’t drag her to the Dark Mistress too. Please.” |
| − | |Width=80%
| |
| − | |Type=Roleplay
| |
| − | |Sender=Jacinda the Driven
| |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]]
| |
| − | |Content=A tall, brawny woman with the gear of a seasoned fighter pushed off the pillar she had been leaning against.
| |
| | | | |
| − | "I am Jacinda, sir. I think we're all looking for information. But how did you know to find us here of all places?"
| + | There’s a brief window of silence as the breeze responds, but the speculating Maeve fills it soon after. “You find satisfaction in helping the people, don’t you?” |
| | | | |
| − | Her hands were not, quite, near her weapons.
| + | “Yeah.” Nerta’s smile is wry, her many hands spreading wide. “Sometimes it’s even worth the trouble.” |
| − | |Title= Adventurer
| |
| − | }}</center>
| |
| | | | |
| | + | “Ah your stubborn father always wanted you to fight, but for selfish reasons. ‘No daughter of mine is going to be a weaver.’ As if tending the hearth were beneath you or something. What your mother saw in him…” Trailing off the old woman pushes the line of thought aside. “Nevermind that. Point is, you were never going to fight for yourself, but for someone else? Then, maybe.” |
| | | | |
| | + | A sip of the ichor sees attention pivot to Wren. It’s a bit unnerving how the eyes stare. “I’m sorry my dear, here we are talking circles around you. Why don’t we talk about you now. I’d love to learn more about all the companions on this quest.” |
| | | | |
| − | <center>{{Message2
| + | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| − | |Width=80% | |
| − | |Type=Roleplay
| |
| − | |Sender=Ryosuke Guile
| |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]]
| |
| − | |Content=Raising one eyebrow questioningly at the muscular and heavily-armed woman as she speaks, Ryosuke nods his head gently to her question, setting his white locks tumbling around his face.
| |
| − | ”I did not know I would find anyone here, Good Jacinda. Nor was I particularly looking for anyone to be here beyond the docents and book-keepers. Such places have usually been abandoned to my fellow scholars and the scribes, in my experiences... the Gods know that the libraries of Irondale are empty of people these days... As to how I came by this particular place, it veritably shines like a beacon to those who have the luxury of excessive study. I went through every tome in Firbalt, Heen, and Gethsemene... none could explain, nor begin to touch on the matter of the Arcane ‘web’.” Ryosuke explains, calmly holding his hands together behind his back and making eye contact with each person in the room as he speaks.
| |
| − | “That left me with only two options.... come to the Agyrian Academy to look for information or travel to the nexus points myself and see if, and possibly how, they have been tampered with. That is my plan after I leave Agyr, anyway. But upon arriving at the Eternal Flame and seeing its wavering strength, it was as though I had been roped and dragged to this particular reliquary. I know not the how of it, and imagine a geas has been placed upon me...” he trails off, thinking back to the imperative that overtook him when he entered the city of Agyr itself.
| |
| − | “Enough of me. What of you all? Be you friends or foes of the Arcane? What brought you to this holding place of legends, lore, and dangerous information? For all I know, you have ill intent and intend to rob the Academy. I have answered your questions, repeatedly and amicably, and courtesy dictates a return in kind.” Ryosuke says, the gentleness in his voice fading and turning to a frigid and perilous tone. His eyes begin to show the colour scarlet taking over in large quantities, smothering the wisps of other colours in his broken-iris eyes.
| |
| − | |Title= Baron of Gihalcert
| |
| | }}</center> | | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
| | | | |
| − | | + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| − | <center>{{Message2 | + | |Width=100% |
| − | |Width=80% | |
| | |Type=Roleplay | | |Type=Roleplay |
| − | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver | + | |Sender=Wren the Watcher |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]] | + | |Recipients=Next Morning |
| − | |Content=The Old Man’s enigmatic expression remains difficult to read all throughout the exchange. There is clearly a sense of mirth to it but there is something more as well, perhaps a familiar sadness? | + | |Content=Sunlight hurt. Moving hurt. Thinking hurt. Everything hurt? Yes. Yes everything. |
| − | As the stranger puffs up his chest the ethereal words call from the mirror, “A fine show sir, you are fit for the stage. But herein is the puzzle: Are you the last samurai assembled for the quest, or a sinister sorcerer on the hunt for power. I have my guess…” Trailing off the specter chuckles, “But as to your question: you’re late to the party, I just explained this.”
| |
| | | | |
| − | Nerta casts a sharp glance to the specter and cuts in, “Look Baron. You seem to know something about what is wrong with the world and if you want to involve yourself in this mess that’s your call; though it makes you a fool. At least you’re a well travelled fool so maybe you can brave Wudenkin to find its locus.”
| + | Wren slowly sits up, wincing as her head pounds. Maimeó Maeve had kept them up late sharing stories about their adventures, and some of her own. They probably drank two bottles of the ichor. Stars dance before her eyes. Maybe four. |
| | | | |
| − | The specter rubs his chin, “Aye, better him than one of you, no doubt that cursed city will hold many dangers even for a man of means.”
| + | Stepping out to tend to her morning routine, Wren found the old woman in the garden. She looks so much smaller in the light of day. Even bundled up against the chill. |
| | | | |
| − | Drifting in and out of frame Aldo selects another set of books for Nerta to fetch, the woman rolling her eyes as she does so, “The Vault of Silantin might be your first stop. That old ruin houses many secrets and it may be that the corrupted wellspring of the web is in one of those twisting halls. Be wary though, there are traps a plenty and guardians beside. These journals may have some clues to help you survive the old terrors, but your wits will have to armour you against the new.”
| + | “Hello little bird, you look a bit rough. Not used to a drink?” She seems no worse for wear and gestures with her trowel. “You can do your business down that way, and there’s some food by the fire.” |
| | | | |
| − | Nerta sighs and shakes her head, “Once we’ve found the loci then we’ll begin the task of strengthening them. That will take some work and maybe your fancy magic studies will help Baron.”
| + | Wren nods, regrets it, and shuffles off. Coming back, the food really helps. It’s good. Warm. Filling. Tasty too. She eats and helps in the garden. Talking a bit more about Maeve’s old friend Vixen. |
| | | | |
| − | The shade smiles faintly, “An extra pair of hands are always useful, wouldn’t you say Nerta?”
| + | A fox-totem from her tribe. A healer and hunter. Wren knew of her, but not much else. She’s part of the roaving band that wanders from village to village. Helping those in need and, if Maeve is to be believed, kidnapping naughty children. |
| | | | |
| − | The woman pointedly ignores the laughing shade.
| + | “Vixen loved playing tricks on people. Never to hurt them, you understand, just to add a bit of spice.” Cutting a few herbs from the garden she sighs. “I spoke with the Old Ghost last night after you went to bed. Us old people don’t need as much sleep and the dead even less.” She pulls up some unfamiliar root vegetable and dusts off the dirt. “He told me about the quest and I’m happy you’re helping Nerta. I know, we’ve only just met, but with Nerta’s brash compassion, your cautious insight and this Jacinda’s determined violence, you might just be able to pull it off.” |
| | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] | | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| | }}</center> | | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
| | | | |
| | + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| | + | |Width=100% |
| | + | |Type=Roleplay |
| | + | |Sender=Wren the Watcher |
| | + | |Recipients=Climbing the mountains of Jedinchel |
| | + | |Content= |
| | + | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| | + | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
| | | | |
| − | <center>{{Message2 | + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| − | |Width=80% | + | |Width=100% |
| | |Type=Roleplay | | |Type=Roleplay |
| − | |Sender=Ryosuke Guile | + | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver |
| − | |Recipients=Everyone in the [[Agyr/Patricians/Academy|Agyrian Academy]] | + | |Recipients=Climbing the mountains of Jedinchel |
| − | |Content=Listening intently to the spectre in the looking glass, Ryosuke keeps his expression neutral as he absorbs the words offered. | + | |Content= |
| | + | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| | + | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
| | | | |
| − | When Nerta calls him a fool, a soft smile crosses his face briefly and then vanishes into the stillness of his tranquil visage. When the journals are offered to him, he accepts them quietly and sets them on a nearby side table.
| + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| | + | |Width=100% |
| | + | |Type=Roleplay |
| | + | |Sender=Wren the Watcher |
| | + | |Recipients=Climbing the mountains of Jedinchel |
| | + | |Content= |
| | + | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| | + | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
| | | | |
| − | “I am sure I shall have an easier time manoeuvring through the city, the Vizier of Vordul has personally invited me to stay as long as I wish. I intend to scour the city, yet things such as traps are well beyond my experience.” Ryosuke says, softly shaking his head. “I can offer aid in the rituals and in easing passage through the world of men, but I shall certainly need your help if there are obstructions on the way, such as you speak of...”
| + | |<center>{{Message2 |
| − | | + | |Width=100% |
| − | “We could easily work together if you desire. Travel to Wudenkin with me, as part of my retinue, and we can work through this together. Leave at any time, with no drawbacks. Or not, the decision is up to you. I realise that we don’t know each other, but I shall uphold my oath to sever Beluaterra from the Outworlds until my final breath. I feel that all of you, having gathered here... at this precise time? This has the markings of the Eternal... it must be that we were meant to meet. I shall wait at the port, at my ship. I sail to Fronepu to make an announcement of my presence, and then overland to Wudenkin.”
| + | |Type=Roleplay |
| − | | + | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver |
| − | Picking up the journals he has been trusted with, Ryosuke waits to listen to any further replies before departing back the way he came, continuing down the road on his pilgrimage.
| + | |Recipients=Climbing the mountains of Jedinchel |
| − | |Title= Baron of Gihalcert | + | |Content= |
| | + | |Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] |
| | }}</center> | | }}</center> |
| | + | |- |
