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The Wilderness of Machafuko(Chaos)



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Tue Mar 17, 2015 12:50 am
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StupidSoup says...



Morn

The assassin hated Xavier, at least the other one had shown strength, this man simply negotiated the conversation. Besides, it was obvious there was a problem with the Callitrix, other wise he would be talking to Aaron.

Sighing, Morn strode out of the Hall, the boys specifications had irritated him, half because he knew he'd done a shabby job and half because no one criticized Morn, those who did were dead.

He would get back somehow.

The Exile village was nothing special, not much more than a large town ringed by wooden spikes. In the east corner lay the market place, were the merchants boasted their wares. The Empire had banned trade here, but it hardly stopped the constant flow of traders. To the west, the Exiles built their homes, a large cluster of strong stone and wooden houses, built to weather the frequent blizzards. Finally, there was the Hall, accompanied by a scattering of Taverns and Inns, this served as the meeting place and residency of the Exile politicians for indeed the Exiles needed a political presence, more so now than ever.

Morn swept into a nearby Inn, somewhat eager to get out of the cold. Xavier said he would have a job for him, well, he couldn't wait, Morn had relatively nothing to do in the village other than visit the traveling brawlers, often taking part in the competition. Sadly, the brawlers had just left, leaving Morn to sit in the Taverns, watching, listening.

It was going to be a long day.
Last edited by StupidSoup on Tue Mar 31, 2015 11:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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ThePatchworkPilgrims says...



The Arch-Observer

"It seems that She-snake has learned that one can attain unity through sacrifice. Yet the She-snake must beware, for the Blood Priest has his attention locked on her."

"What can be done to ensure that She-snake fulfills her purpose?"

"Do not fret, my Brother, for with the waning moon will the Orderkeepers arrive, and with their help, the Blood Queen can be stopped."

"But Brother, you have forgot about the Shadow Twister..."


At that moment, a loud bang echoed through the Room of Thought.

"Well, well. It seems we have company," the Arch-Observer said, raising from his stool, "I believe we should go and welcome them. Shall we?"

* * * *
Jeremiah

The shot rang through the forest as the black beast fell dead on the grassy floor of the basin. Jeremiah, Thomas and Lander rushed over to Kaliska, who was checking if the beast was dead.
"Excellent shot," Thomas said,closing his field journal with a snap, "What is it?"
"I am not entirely sure," Jeremiah said, "There haven't been any expeditions this far into the Wilderness for nearly a decade. Who knows what abominations are out here."
Somewhere to Jeremiah's left the red-leaf trees rustled, making him raise his musket in that direction, only then realizing that it wasn't loaded.
"What was that?" Lander asked.
"Whatever it is, it most likely isn't friendly," with that, Jeremiah threw down his musket and drew his sword and a pistol in his other hand.
All the trees around the edge of the basin (all red-leafed and black-barked) had began to rustle wildly,yet none following the same wind. They all seemed to blow inwards, howling as it circled the pale tower.
"What's happening?" Jeremiah wasn't sure whose voice he heard, in fact, it seemed as if the light was darkening in the basin as well. Strange shapes started forming in the confusion; appearing for no more than a glimpse before vanishing again.
"Get closer together!" Jeremiah shouted, his voice sounding distant. He could feel the rest of the party shuffle against his back, and together they stood facing the invisible threats.
"Come here!" a soft, rasping voice sounded in the party's ears.
"The jungle is playing tricks on us!" Lander exclaimed.
"There has to be a logical reason for this!" Kaliska shouted.
"Come! Quickly!" the voice sounded agitated now.
Somewhere in the confusion a light source formed, and Jeremiah realized that it was coming from the Observatory.
"To that door!" he shouted, slowly starting to move towards the light.
When they got close enough to start making out the shape of the door, a human figure obscured the light, holding out its hand. Jeremiah reached out to it, and felt himself get pulled into the Observatory.
He quickly stood up and started pulling in the other party members. Just as he pulled Thomas in, he saw several dark figures in the storm, before an old man closed and bolted the door, blocking out all of the chaotic sounds.
"The Wilderness is angry,' he muttered to himself, "The stars are not happy!"
The interior of the Observatory was much larger than it originally seemed. There was bookshelf upon bookshelf around the walls, and there was hundreds of scrolls, parchments and ledgers scattered across the room. A large, peridot decorated chandelier hang from the roof, and old candles flickered dimly on various table surfaces.
The old man seemed to blend in with the surroundings. He had a long, peridot colored cloak on over his moss-green and brown garments, and thick brown-grey hair. His eyes were also green, yet of a darker shade than his cloak. He walked with a cane of the same wood as the redleaf trees around the basin, with a pair of spectacles dangling from the top of the cane.
"Welcome to the Observatory," the old man said, looking each of them up and down in turn.
"The what?" Jeremiah asked.
"The Observatory, young boy! This is the headquarters for the ancient Observer's Guild."
"Why have I never read about this place before?"
"We like to, 'distance', ourselves from society. Would you like something to drink? Some Wild Frostbush tea, perhaps?"
"No thank you," Jeremiah replied.
"I would like some," Lander gasped, nearly toppling over a stack of books near the door.
"Wild Frostbush, you say?" Thomas said, scribbling in his notebook again, "may I have a cup.To examine, of course."
While the old man disappeared from view for a few minutes (presumably to make the tea), the party set about examining the room.
Thomas found several strange mechanisms standing in a corner close to the spiral staircase, and was frantically taking them up in his notebook. Kaliska was helping Lander maneuver piles of books and papers out of the way to make a place to sit, while Jermiah was feeling the bolt of the door, and reloading his musket.
A long whistle came down the hallway into which the old man had disappeared, and soon afterwards he appeared carrying a tray with five cups and a strange looking teapot. The liquid he poured was a light yellow color, and the smell reminded Jeremiah of the gardens of the Emperor's Palace, which he only visited twice.
"And it seems that the one can only find serenity in the company of four pillars," the Arch-Observer said as he sat down on a unstable-looking chair.
"What was that?" Jeremiah asked.
"I only hope the She-snake can beware of the Blood Priest," the Observer didn't seem to noticed that Jeremiah had spoken.
"What happened out there?" Kaliska asked.
The Observer looked up at Kaliska, somewhat annoyed at his thoughts being interrupted. "The Chaos is becoming unsettled," he said, "The stars are all moving too fast."
"Speak sensibly, please!" Jeremiah said, irritated.
"Even the Trueborn cannot rush Time," the Observer said, standing up, "You can't go outside for now. Let me show you to your quarters."
"How do we know we can trust you," Jeremiah asked suspiciously.
"I am with the Lieutenant," Thomas said, "We know nothing about you or this Guild of yours."
The Observer turned to look Thomas in the eye. "Then follow me, and I'll explain."
Jeremiah was about to protest, when Kaliska grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear.
"Very well," Jeremiah said, "My dear companion Kaliska here just told me to let you explain what we need to know, before we take our leave."
"As you wish." The Observer picked up a strange mechanism, and started speaking into it. "Pleas prepare four quarters near the wing of Vision."
"But..."
The Observer held up his hand. "Hush now! You speak too much and think too little. Follow me."
The Observer led them up the spiraling staircase, and started explaining the adventurers about his Guild.
"The Observers are an ancient and timeless Guild, which has existed when the Empire was but still the Thirteen Tribes which are now known as the Circle of Thirteen. We were assigned to watch over all the races from the great Skeleton to the White Scorpion.
"There was originally Four Arch-Observers; Thought, Vision, Nature and Chaos. Together, we brought balance to the Sky, and ensured that darkness was kept at bay.
"But as the years progressed, and the Thirteen Heads came together to form the multi-headed beast, our powers waned. The first to falter was Chaos. The world was a slab of stone, and he the mason.
"Next was Vision. As Chaos crafted the Sky, Vision slowly weakened. When Vision finally was lost, the Heart of the Blood Queen was lost as well.
"Nature tried to reason with Chaos, but the world was beyond repair. Thus, to stop Chaos from completing his masterpiece, Nature had the great snake take them both. That is why only Thought remains to try and lead the world back on its course."
"Extraordinary!" Thomas said, and Jeremiah could see he had written down every word.
"What does this have to do with your Guild?" Lander asked.
"There were many who served the Four, and they thus formed the Guild of the Observers," the Observer said, "many of these followers faded away with the Three who no longer exist, but some still devoutly serve Thought. Those of the Peridot serve Thought, and those of the Topaz serve Vision. Those with the Azure served Nature, and the Crimson men served Chaos."
"So, you are Thought then?" Lander asked again.
"We have reached your quarters," The Arch-Observer ignored Lander's question. All along the walls yellow and golden banner and tapestries hang. "This, is the Vision Wing of the Observatory. Rest well."
As the Observer was about to take his leave, he turned around and spoke in an authoritative voice.
"I must warn you that the following areas are not to be entered. The Room of Thought, the Dome of Vision, the Chamber of Nature and the Hall of Chaos; these are the Four Rooms not to be entered."
And with that, he walked down the a hallway and disappeared from view.
"I presume we stay here then," Kaliska said, and opened the door to their quarters in the Vision Wing.

* * * *

Commander Carlyle

The commander was dining with some of his main officers when a young page came running in, carrying a note. After taking the note and waiting for the boy to leave, Carlyle read it to the interest of the onlooking officers.
"Well," he said, putting down the note, "It seems the Circle doesn't trust the 'recruits' we sent out to find Lieutenant Hudson and his 'expedition party'."
Some of the officers laughed, but fell silent in Carlyle's gaze.
"They want me to send out an officer, with the necessary skills to find Hudson, and take care of him."
"His father must be extremely displeased," one of the officers said, to the laughter of many others, including the Commander.
"Yes, he must be. Because it seems that Lieutenant Hudson's days are numbered. You all know exactly who I have in mind for this objective, don't you?"
The officers were all silent, some shifting uneasily in their chairs.
"Yes, I shall require each of your best troops. A champion of sorts," the Commander said, "Because I am assigning as leader of this hunting party one that weaker soldiers fear. The leader will be the Viper..."
Former incarnations have been:
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Tue Mar 31, 2015 10:19 pm
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BrumalHunter says...



Thiander

At first, the water was still and tranquil as a lake, its mirror-like appearance perfectly maintained by, while perfectly reflecting, the meditative mind that was nearby. Then, a ripple. A single thought.

Suddenly, but without a sound, the water gathered and rose in a column. Like a tree in a barren wasteland, it sprouted impossible branches which gracefully morphed into a serene a figure, a beautiful visage. Callypsis.

"Bravo!"

The Calliarus clapped, allowing Thiander to deposit the water in the bowl. With a relieved sigh and a satisfied smile, he turned towards his uncle.

"Well done, my nephew. I can think of a great many high-ranking celebrants who cannot even hope to accomplish such a feat of magic."

He beamed. "I do have the best teacher in the world."

Driazar ruffled his nephew's hair and strode to the balcony outside his living quarters. The entire top floor of the Calliptra was dedicated to its two rulers, but it was the Calliarus' room that had the best view of the waterfall.

"There is no doubt that you will pass tomorrow," he said, drinking in the vista before him. "Instead, we must focus our attention on what your role in society will be after you have. Celebrants are the most cunning, ruthless and manipulative of the three castes, so we must be on our guard. There is no telling to what lengths your competitors will go to ensure your downfall."

"Even if I am the Calliarus' nephew."

Driazar turned to face Thiander. "Especially because you are the Calliarus' nephew. You have wealth, influence, talent, intelligence, physical attractiveness - everything that others envy." He walked over to his nephew and put his hands on his shoulders. "They will try to take that away from you, but we shall not let them."

Uncle and nephew embraced, but quickly separated when the door burst open. Naturally, the High Priestess was the one who entered.

"Siana." The Calliarus spoke the word as if it was poison on his tongue.

"Driazar, I knew I'd find you here." She spoke in tones of mock innocence and pretended not see Thiander.

"Leave the games for children," the Calliarus snapped. "What do you want?"

"You think I want something from you?" The High Priestess laughed mirthlessly. "You cannot possibly have anything that would interest me - it's that golden-eyed freak that wants your attention."

The Calliarus glared at her, but he patted his nephew on the shoulder and left nevertheless.

"Run along now," the priestess muttered. She made to close the door and leave, but 'noticed' Thiander still standing next to the table with the bowl on it. "Oh, I didn't see you there. Good luck with your trial tomorrow, boy - we woudln't want anything funny happening, now would we?"

Laughing, she spun on her heel and strode out the door, conjuring a gust of wind to slam them behind her. Her fanatical laughs continuing to echo through the living quarters for a moment longer, Thiander chuckled.

Maybe she really was a hag.
But the Fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.
— Paul the Apostle

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Rydia says...



Abel Capello Braum

When the summons reached him, The Viper was doing what he liked best. Or what he liked best next to a killing a man anyways. He was kissing one. The look of wide-eyed surprise in the man's sky coloured eyes made Abel laugh as he shoved him against the wall and stepped away.

"I told you I'd have my prize," Abel said. His men were giving him a wide berth and a few wore grins on their faces but most were sensible enough to not watch the scene unfold. Instead their heads were in their drinks or on their dice games and Lieutenant Rushfield was sweeping the coins into his Captain's bag.

"Leave them!" Abel commanded. "I said I'd have my prize and so I have." He gave the sky eyed man a teasing grin and then strode to the door of the tavern, past the messenger boy whose mouth was hanging open.

Captain Rushfield dropped the coins and followed and soldiers peeled themselves away from their chairs and threw ale down their mouths and serving wenches onto the floor. Nobody kept The Viper waiting.

"Sir, sir!" The boy ran after the company and skidded to a halt outside. He found that he'd come face to face with a large, brutish horse tied in front of the tavern as The Viper mounted up. "Sir, wait!" the boy cried out.

"I am waiting," Abel declared imperiously. "Waiting for you to get a move on and hand me the summons so I know where the wind blows me next."

Around him some of the men guffawed but most climbed silently into the saddle and tried to avoid meeting The Viper's eye. Abel reflected sadly that there had been days when men might have punched him on the shoulder for such wit, but now they feared him too much. He thought about killing one to punish them but he'd had a good day.

"Commander Carlyle has summoned you." The boy held up a scroll and then fell back as the horse tried to bite him on the shoulder. But the boy fell back empty handed and already the scroll and the horses were tearing away in a storm of dust.

...

"These are the men you're giving me?" Abel was not best pleased to be parted from the soldiers he knew, or to be told that the officers of the Empire were each lending him a champion of their own. Lending him. Abel didn't miss the implication of the words: he would be expected to return with them all alive.

"They will go with you," Commander Carlyle agreed. "And you will bring back Lieutenant Hudson, preferably alive but dead if you must."

"And the rest of his party?" Abel inquired.

"Do what you will with them."
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TheCrimsonLady says...



Helle

Helle growled softly at the other shifter. He hissed at her, warning her off. Briefly, she wondered if he didn't realize that she was a shifter, too. But no, shifters recognised their kind. Helle backed away and sat, hoping to show the other shifter that she meant to stay. She wished she could talk to him, but that would mean shifting to her human form, and if he attacked, she'd be vulnerable.

Still, she had to pass by him to follow the trail. It was best to explain everything to him, she reasoned. Sighing, she concentrated on her skin and shifted back to human form. She left her fangs and nails long- just in case. Standing up, she shook the leaves out of her hair and took a small step toward the hellcat.

Her voice sounded odd to her own ears when she spoke. "Please, shift to your human form. I'd like to explain my business here. I don't mean you any harm."

The cat backed away further, and Helle growled- or tried to- in frustration. But then she saw his skin start to ripple, and she sighed in relief. She didn't want to have to fight him to keep hunting.

When he stood up, Helle saw that he was close to her age. His hair was as dark as his mane had been, although his skin was pale. Like her, he seemed to be half-wild, spending most of his time in animal form. He stared at her warily before speaking. "What d'you want? Why're you here?"

Helle retracted her fangs, making it easier to speak. "I'm following someone. I didn't mean to pass through your territory, but-"

He snorted. "You're one of those shifters."

Her pride reared up. "What do you mean, 'one of those'?"

"There's no need to get offended. I only meant that you're one of the shifters that never makes a home, that wanders from place to place."

She hissed, showing her teeth. "You have no idea why I'm here."

He backed away again. "Then enlighten me. After that, you're welcome to leave."

"I've been hunting someone. If you'd stand aside and kindly let me follow his scent, I'd leave!"

His face spread into a smile- a human smile. "You're hunting?" His eyes flashed yellow. "In that case, can I help?"

His sudden mood swing didn't throw her off. Smiling back, she said, "Help wouldn't hurt." Just before she shifted, she turned back, and said, "Do you have a name, or will you answer to profanity?"

"Ren. And you?"

"He- Falka." She decided not so give anyone her real name, just in case anyone was looking for her.

They both shifted, and she set off, knowing Ren was following her. When she finally caught the scent, she nudged him, and he sniffed the ground, memorizing it. Taking a deep breath, she ran, following the scent as quickly as she could.

They had run for a few minutes when they heard voices. Just in time, both of them came to a halt and split up.

A girl set off towards the wood, but neither of them followed her, sensing the man as the threat. Ren circled around, his fur blending in with the shadows cast by the trees. Helle didn't dare move, since her pale white and gray fur would give her away in a moment. Suddenly, the man twisted around and drew his sword, just as Ren pounced. Helle growled and threw herself into the fight. Even though this wasn't her brother's murderer, she'd get a good meal out of this.

It didn't take long. Helle had spent four long years honing herself into a deadly weapon, and living by himself, Ren was just as good, if not better. The man was good, but he was taken by surprise when there were two of them instead of one. When he finally fell, bleeding from his many wounds, Helle stepped aside and let Ren rip the man's throat out and tear into his flesh. After waiting a few seconds, she went to the opposite side and ate.

When the feeding frenzy passed, they both shifted back, wiping the blood from their mouths.

Ren stood. "I've hunted with you, and I'll leave now. My hunger is sated, but you're welcome to go on if you want to." He started shifting back, just as the girl returned. Taking one look at the body, she shrieked and froze in her place. Helle was still in her human form, and the girl turned on her.

"What is this? What did you do to him?" She stepped away, as if to run, but Ren growled at her, and she froze again.

Helle stepped forward. If the girl ran, her presence would be exposed. "We killed him , but he attacked first."

"Who are you? What are you?" She seemed to be hyperventilating.

She ignored the girl's question. "You need to come with me."

"What? No, of course not!"

Helle advanced. "You will, because if you try to run, I will rip out your throat your throat with my teeth and drink your blood for breakfast." Not that snow leopards drank blood, but the threat seemed to work. The girl paled, and nodded.

Sensing that Ren had left a while ago, Helle shifted back to leopard form and nudged the girl forward, scent following the scent. They hadn't been walking very long when they both heard a loud bang somewhere close to them. Helle stayed very still, recognizing the shot of a pistol. The scent led to the place of the sound, and when Helle finally got there, she found Ren's body. The girl recoiled, but a growl from Helle kept her there while Helle cleaned Ren's wound, even though he was dead. Helle blinked her eyes once and turned away.

The scent seemed to lead to the white building, so she padded back to the cover of the trees, pushing the girl in front of me. When the trees covered them fully, Helle shifted to human form. The girl shook with fright.

"Calm down. I'm not planning on hurting you unless you tell someone I killed your companion."

She didn't seem all that reassured, but said, "Then you'll let me go?"

Helle rolled her eyes at her. "I can't, not out here. You'd die in an instant." She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. "I need to get into that building, but they won't let me in as a leopard."

The girl brightened a bit. "So you want me to help you get in?"

Helle tried to flick her tail, forgetting that she had none. Mentally scolding herself, she nodded. "Who are you, anyway? You must be someone important, from your clothes."

The girl pulled herself up. "I am the emperor's daughter, High Lady Delilah, Prin-"

Helle cut her off. "Good, good. Why are you here?"

"I am delivering a message from my father." She still seemed scared enough to obey Helle's wishes.

"Fine. I assume you have clothes in that bag you've been carrying all day. See if you have any simpler clothes that will fit me. I'll be back soon." The princess- Delilah- clutched at Helle's arm, and Helle tried not to flinch at the touch.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be back in a minute with your companion's weapons. When I get back, we'll tell them that I'm your bodyguard." The princess nodded. "Oh, and if you have any urges to run while I'm away, remember- it's almost nightfall, and you won't get very far- and if you do, I'll hunt you down and gut you."

With that, Helle left, shifting into hawk form after leaving the princess's eyesight. The trail was easy enough to follow, and she came upon the body and the discarded weapons quickly enough. Turning human as she landed, she weighed the sword in her hand, collected the daggers, and slung the bow over her shoulder. It had been months since she'd practiced with weapons, but Helle was confident that she could still use them well. If worst came to worst, she'd just shift. The sky darkened as she ran back, and thankfully, the princess was still there when she got back.

Delilah was holding a pale blue dress and some underthings. Putting the clothes on, Helle strapped the daggers on with bits of fabric ripped from one of the many layers of the dress. She'd had the presence of mind to bring the sword-belt, and she tightened it around her hips and slid the sword in its place. The crossbow and quiver went back on her shoulder, and Helle and the princess walked to the building.

As she knocked on the door, Helle turned to the princess and said, "My name is Falka, should they ever ask you. You don't know my history, but I am one of your father's trusted guards. We got lost in the jungle, and are seeking shelter. Do you understand?"

The princess nodded, just as the door flew open, and an old man greeted them.
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ThePatchworkPilgrims says...



Berras

Berras felt uncomfortable being escorted by two of the Thorns, who were the personal protectors of the Calliarus. He had travelled this way a few times, most of the time to admire the gardens outside of the High Priestess and Calliarus' Residences, but also to be with himself and think things through.
The escort passed under a flower-decorated arch before starting to climb the steps to the leader of the Callixtrix's residence. The left wall was decorated with the ceremonial masks of all the previous Calliari and High Priestesses, while the right wall opened up to give a perfect view of the gardens, the Cliffside, and then finally the Wilderness beyond.
The guards led him further up, passing the descending High Priestess. She made the sign of Callypis as she stared at Berras with disdain. He never truly understood her animosity towards him, but frankly couldn't care less. He served the Calliarus after all, not her.
When they reached top of the steps, they passed through yet another flowered arch, before entering a majestic atrium. An indoor fountain was lightly trickling in the centre of this room, and vines and flowers grew along the walls. A beautiful statue of Callypsis stood in one of the niches in the far wall, the other three statues having been removed after the goddess' imprisonment.
Two hallways led to either left or right, yet the guards led Berras to the far wall, where two large doors opened into the Calliarus' personal chambers. One of the guards knocked and entered, leaving Berras, his other escort, a the several other Thorns in trickling silence.
"The Calliarus will see you now," the guard said, allowing Berras to enter before closing the door behind him, leaving Berras alone in a room with their leader.
"The High Priestess says you wanted to see me," the Calliarus said, his back towards Berras.
"Yes, your eminence," Berras said, bowing slightly to the statued shadow, "But how did the High Priestess know that?"
"I can see you like asking questions, Berras," the Calliarus turned around, his face and reality finally forming, "That is good. But I ask the questions here. Why did you want to see me?"
Berras started formulating what he was going to say, as well as how he was going to say it- the Calliarus was known for ripping the best arguments apart without a single sign of remorse.
"I have come to inform you of the Exile leader," Berras started.
"I could deduce that that was your intention," the Calliarus said coldly, his cloak swirling as he walked over to a table and poured a goblet of water, "So please speak your mind for me, or I shall have you escorted out."
"I apologize, my lord," Berras said, slightly irritated at being interrupted, "The Exile leader seems to refuse to speak when I or any other person is close. She also refuses our food we provide, saying that she wouldn't eat that food even if the Wilderness takes her."
The Calliarus looked straight into Berras' eyes, seeming to harvest every twitch of his rebellious soul. "I cannot see this problem you speak of," he said, "If see does not eat, provide her with more, familiar, food."
Berras started to interject, but the Calliarus cut him short. "No objections, Berras. I need her to trust you wholeheartedly, as well as reveal information about her people, and what they know about the Diamond."
"And how am I supposed to build trust with her?" Berras asked.
"Use your intuition, Berras. Show her that you and she are very much the same."
After a resounding silence, the Calliarus set down his goblet and started walking to the balcony. Before exiting onto the elaborate balcony, he gestured with his one hand, after which a clinging noise drew Berras' attention to a key which had appeared at his waist.
"That is the key you will require to open the Exile's room," the Calliarus said, "Show her the gardens, the city, the Temple and the Waterfall. And remember: bring your information to me alone."
With that, he walked out onto the balcony, leaving Berras in silence. Then finally, he made his way down the steps and into Calliptra...
Former incarnations have been:
TheWanderingWizard
TheClockworkConjurer
TheIllusiveIntellect
TheSunderingSorceror
And, TheMaieuticMesmerist


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Sat Apr 25, 2015 9:26 am
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Rydia says...



Abel Capello Braum

There were four champions and each came with their own baggage, every one of them attempting to out-do the last. There was the big and muscular Dartel whose baggage mostly consisted of food and a scrawny squire carried the pack for him. Dartel had a sword on one hip and rode a fat pony which plodded along at the back of the group. It was probably for the best as Abel liked him least and that meant he'd most like to paint the trees with him.

The man cutting through the undergrowth ahead of them, working twice as hard to slice the path wide enough for their mounts was a pretty one. He was wide shouldered but not fat and his dark skin rippled in the sun. Abel liked the look of him well enough, but he didn't say a thing. He was, unfortunately, entirely uninteresting.

"-and then I said to the old hag where's my share?" The man riding at Abel's side was uninteresting in a different way. He was a loud mouthed, ginger bearded beast of a man with no fear and less sense. If the story he was telling was funny, Abel must have missed the punch line.

"And then do you know what she said to me?"

"No. What did she say to you?" Abel asked with a deadly glare but just then their fourth companion chose that moment to break in.

"Hey Farthir, why don't you help Javen with that path?"

Farthir observed their fourth companion for a moment, perhaps a moment longer than need be and then he nodded. "I can do that."

The girl smiled at him and took his place at Abel's side.

"You don't look at me," she observed as Abel went back to watching the dark skinned man.

"Is there a reason I should?" He spared a glance for her white mare and his eyes flickered upward, taking in the long, brown plait down her back and her willowy figure. He doubted she'd be much help in a fight; more of a distraction for the other men than a useful sword. She looked like she'd break easy and he considered for a moment that it might be fun to kiss her against a tree after he'd painted it with Farthir's blood, but he was trying to behave.

"You abhor the rest of them so I can't help thinking it means you might like me." There was something playful in her tone. On another day, Abel might have gone for that, but knowing he couldn't harm these four took all the fun out of playing with them.

"Maybe they're just prettier than you."


The party continued on in silence for a bit after that and a wind picked up. Abel wasn't one to be scared of no wind but the red leafed trees rustled menacingly and their black trunks almost seemed to vibrate as their branches swung with the gale.

"We need to find shelter!" Dartel declared, kicking his fat pony forward. The squire swayed left and right in the wind, his heavy pack almost tumbling him over more than once.

Abel insisted they march on until they came upon a steep drop and Javen held a hand up and pointed ahead. A basin lay below them and it looked more sheltered from the wind. It was also almost dark - the wind had slowed their progress so that at times it had felt like they were moving backward.

"Get down there and set up camp," Abel ordered as he dismounted from his own horse and looked for the safest way down.


It was later that evening, after his four companions were sleeping, that Abel stole silently through the camp. He stopped by Dartel's squire and slit the strings of the heavy pack with quick movements. Then he transferred some of Dartel's food to Farthir's bed roll and left them to their sleep. He couldn't kill either one of them, but that didn't mean he couldn't screw with their heads.

When he got back to his own sleeping roll, Nefari was there with a knowing smile on her lips.

"I'd heard you were bad, but that's just diabolical," she declared, her tone dripping with sarcasm. It boiled his blood that he couldn't do worse than play tricks on them and he thought about striking her. A bit of blood. A few bruises. That might give her tender, milky skin a stronger look to it.

"Maybe I'm bored." Abel shrugged and eased under his blanket. "What do you care anyway?"

Nefari smiled. "Maybe they're prettier than you," she echoed, but she closed her eyes all the same and went to sleep.
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BrumalHunter says...



Thomas

After Jeremiah had shot the malicious creature, Thomas complimented him for it and enquired as to the fallen beast's nature, but none of them knew what it was. A pity. Still, he had heard fragments of tales about the building known only as the "Observatory", and just glimpsing it would have been enough, much less getting to draw a rough scetch of it.

But it seemed the black cat had simply been a precursor of what dangers lurked in the Wilderness, for shortly after its death, an unholy wind picked up. Sinister shadows danced in and out of his vision, and though Thomas had encountered many beings, both mundane and spectral, in previous adventures, none had instilled as much fear in his heart as those phantoms. Fortunately, their saviour had inpeccable timing.

The room into which he had pulled them appeared to be some sort of library or study, as there were bookshelves lining every wall. Each held more journals, ledgers, tomes and scrolls than were advisable, but it was necessary, since every table, desk and chair also accommodated several of them. In fact, many papers and books had been placed on the carpeted floor to make space for the sparsely placed candelabra. Had it not been for the peridot chandelier hanging from the ceiling, it would have been nigh impossible to read even the golden lettering on the crimson volume beside his foot.

Thomas turned to regard the old man who had saved them. Obviously, he was the room's chief occupant, for his cloak was the same green as the tapestries that adorned the sections of wall unclaimed by shelves. His age was immediately apparent, but the russet in his hair which stubbornly refused to capitulate to the grey made him appear younger than Thomas suspected he truly was. At a glance, one could tell he was sagacious.

The man fussed around, looking each of them over for injuries, before announcing cheerfully (but only ostensibly), "Welcome to the Observatory!"

He was greeted with looks of bewilderment.

"The what?" Jeremiah asked, a blank look on his face.

"The Observatory, young boy! This is the headquarters for the ancient Observer's Guild."

"Why have I never read about this place before?"

"We like to... distance ourselves from society. Would you like something to drink? Some Wild Frostbush tea, perhaps?"

"No thank you," Jeremiah replied.

Kaliska answered the same, but Lander eagerly agreed before almost upsetting a precariously balanced tower of books beside her. Thomas also asked for some, but only for academic purposes.

After the man left, Thomas set about examining some of the widgets scattered throughout the room. Meanwhile, Kaliska and Lander were trying to find a seat, and Jeremiah was, of course, reloading his musket and scanning the room. Soon thereafter, the man returned with their tea. He mumbled something to himself, but Thomas was still scetching the strange devices before him, so he did not hear what. By the time he finished his drawing, the man and Jeremiah seemed to have grown annoyed with each other.

"Even the Trueborn cannot rush Time," the Observer responded. "You can't go outside for now. Let me show you to your quarters." The last sentence was more a demand than a request.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jeremiah asked suspiciously.

Although the man had saved them, Thomas suspected he had his reasons for doing so. "I am with the Lieutenant. We know nothing about you or this Guild of yours."

The man turned to Thomas and looked him in the eye. "Then follow me, and I'll explain."

Success!

After deflecting some more protests from Jeremiah, the man led them up the spiral staircase in the corner and out of the room. He led them down a corridor with more green tapestries on the walls before beginning his explanation.

"The Observers are an ancient and timeless Guild which has existed when the Empire was but still the Thirteen Tribes, now known as the Circle of Thirteen. We were assigned to watch over all the races, from the Great Skeleton to the White Scorpion.

"There were originally Four Arch-Observers: Thought, Vision, Nature and Chaos. Together, we brought balance to the Sky, and ensured that darkness was kept at bay. But as the years progressed, and the Thirteen Heads came together to form the multi-headed beast, our powers waned.

"The first to falter was Chaos. The world was a slab of stone, and he the mason. Next was Vision. As Chaos crafted the Sky, Vision slowly weakened. When Vision finally was lost, the Heart of the Blood Queen was lost as well. Nature tried to reason with Chaos, but the world was beyond repair. Thus, to stop Chaos from completing his masterpiece, Nature had the great snake take them both. That is why only Thought remains to try and lead the world back on its course."

"Extraordinary!" Thomas exclaimed, despite himself. Naturally, he had written down every word.

"What does this have to do with your Guild?" Lander asked.

"There were many who served the Four, and they thus formed the Guild of the Observers," the man replied. "Many of these followers faded away with the Three who no longer exist, but some still devoutly serve them in their absence. Those of the Peridot serve Thought, and those of the Topaz serve Vision. Those with the Azure serve Nature, and the Crimson men served Chaos."

"So, you are Thought then?" Lander asked again.

"We have reached your quarters." By ignoring Lander's question, he answered it. "This is the Vision Wing of the Observatory. Rest well." The Arch-Observer made to take his leave, but turn around first. "I must warn you that the following areas are not to be entered: the Chamber of Thought, the Dome of Vision, the Gardens of Nature, and the Hall of Chaos." With that, he walked down the a hallway and disappeared from view.

"I presume we stay here then," Kaliska said, and opened the door to their quarters.

Whereas the walls of room wherein they had first arrived had been lined with bookshelves, that room's walls were occupied mostly by mirrors. Lander approached one of them and grimaced at seeing her ruffled appearance, while Jeremiah dispassionately inspected the crystal ball on the table in the centre of the room. Thomas opted to join Kaliska, who was smelling one of the many yellow tapestries.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, amused.

She straightened quickly, blushing. "These rooms probably haven't been used for ages, yet everything smells like a fresh breeze after it's rained."

Thomas looked doubtful, but sniffed the tapestry anyway. "It simply smells clean to me."

"Precisely! Shouldn't it be dusty?"

"I suppose." He regarded the tapestry with a new interest, but quickly grew tired of it, so he opened his grimoire and began scetching.

"What's that?" Kaliska asked. To her, it must have seemed as if he was scribbling away on a blank page that remained blank.

"A scetch of the beige eagle on this tapestry. Thought's tapestries displayed a burnt umber tiger."

"Wow. I didn't even notice that when he had passed them."

Thomas gave her a slight smile, but then returned to his drawing.

"Why do you think Thought chose a tiger? And why is Thought green, but Nature is blue. Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"In Eastern mythology, the tiger is a symbol of immortality and life. Tigers are viewed as great guardians and sentinels because they are are rumoured to battle fierce dragons, ward off evil spirits, and aid those in peril. I think the Arch-Observer believes he has the same goal. As for the colour, maybe Thought and Nature wanted to diverge from the norm."

Kaliska looked thoughtful, but Jeremiah demanded everyone's attention by coughing. "We only stay here for the night. When tomorrow dawns, we leave. Any objections?" Silence. "Good. Remember, we don't know these people, so be cautious." He nodded dismissively and entered one of the six doors that led from the room.

Kaliska and Lander excused themselves and did the same, leaving Thomas alone. For the first time, he noticed the room in which they were acted as a lounge. They would probably be brought food, so there was no need for a kitchen, and the bathrooms would probably be in their separate rooms. He entered his, finding it comfortable, but nothing spectacular. Thomas tried to keep himself occupied, but the books were boring and he was burning to explore. He scribbled a note on a piece of paper, left it on his bed, and inconspicuously exited the room.

"Ah, the Hidden One wishes to explore!" the Arch-Observer exclaimed, causing Thomas to start. Beside him were two women - one lavishly dressed but shaken up, and the other simply clothed and heavily armed. "Remember, the Four Rooms are not to be entered." Without another word, he left, leaving the two women behind.

"Why did he call you the 'Hidden One'?" the lavishly dressed woman asked.

"He speaks in riddles," Thomas answered shortly. "Who are you?"

The woman raised her chin. "I am High Lady Delilah, the Emperor's daughter."

Thomas' eyes widened. Bowing, he said, "My apologies, your Imperial Highness. I did not mean to be rude. I am curious - how did a princess come to be here?"

"The princess cannot divulge that information," the other woman, the princess' guard, responded. She eyed Thomas suspiciously.

"And who might you be?"

"Falka. And you?"

"Thomas Austin. Now, there are two more rooms through there," Thomas indicated the door, "and I'm sure my companions would be delighted to have more company. Good day, your Highness." Thomas gave the guard a dirty look and casually strode away.

Falka! As if Helle thought that could fool him. She likely recognised his smell, but he never wore the same guise twice, so she couldn't have known for certain that he was the one who had killed her brother. Thomas always knew his past would eventually follow him into the present, but he had not expected that Helle would be the one emerging from it.

Slightly more than three years previously, Thomas (under a different identity, of course) had been tracking a ruby necklace embued with a powerful Debilitator's Curse - a particular nasty piece of Dark Magic that not only crippled those who came into prolonged contact with it, but also drove them mad with hallucinations. When he finally traced its location to a small town, it was in the possession of one Edda Medwin.

He researched the background of that woman and discovered that her deceased mother had been a Light Witch. Light Witches cast enchantments on their families so that they were resistant or immune to Dark Magic, so Thomas knew she would be unaffected by the curse. Further research showed that her husband, Leopold, and two children, Stefan and Helle, were still in grave danger though, since Leopold and Stefan were ordinary, and Helle was just a shapeshifter, inherited from her mother's side.

One evening, Thomas waited for the family to leave on their daily stroll before entering the house. He easily found the necklace in the mother's room, but after placing it in a holly container and stowing it away in his coat, he turned around to find the boy, Stefan, looking at him in surprise; the family had returned home much earlier than usual.

Thomas would have departed at that point, but he had encountered Dark Magic often enough to know that the boy had been inflicted with the curse. He could not the allow the poor child to suffer, so, in a moment of weakness, he slit Stefan's throat. Unfortunately, his elder sister, Helle, had entered the bedroom just in time to witness her brother's death. Thomas tried to explain himself - something he did very rarely - but the girl was consumed with rage and began shifting.

He quickly made his escape and eventually destroyed the necklace, but not after hearing that the entire Medwin household had been slaughtered by the daughter. How it had come to pass, Thomas did not know, but the three lives lost was the price that had to be paid for the many others saved.

And now, Helle had come for retribution. She would undoubtedly be a thorn in his side, but he was on his most important quest yet, and if she interfered too much, Thomas would be forced to resort to murder. However, he regretted the death of her family and the suffering he had caused her, so if he could alleviate it in any way, he would.

But how did she come to be the personal guard of the Emperor's daughter? It simply made no sense. Under normal circumstances, Thomas would have begun sleuthing for clues, but his current circumstances were anything from normal. Fortunately, he was in the mythical Observatory - if anything, his search for answers should be easier.

The Observer's Guild had accomplished many feats in their time, but exactly what was more or less unknown, since the few texts that referenced them were too tattered, burnt, or faded to say. What he did learn was that the Observatory contained some of the most potent magic in the Empire and beyond. The source of this magic was probably the Four Rooms - the only areas he had been repeatedly warned not to enter.

Concentrating his magic on his sense of sight, Thomas created the illusion of a pale, black-haired youth wearing peridot garments similar to those of the Arch-Observer. He wandered around, only half-pretending to be lost, until he came upon a servant close to his illusion's apparent age.

"Excuse me," Thomas said, after creating an audio illusion to alter his voice, "but could you tell me where the Chamber of Thought is?"

The servant, dressed in yellow robes, indicating his allegiance to Vision, stopped to regard him impatiently. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Thomas nodded.

"I'm guessing you haven't been initiated yet. Great. I'm kinda busy at the moment, so you'll have to walk with me."

Thomas fell in step with the servant as he began explaining.

"We're currently on the sixth level of the Observatory. Now, the top four floors are dedicated to Vision, with the Dome of Vision at the very top. The three floors below that are dedicated to Nature and Thought, which is located in the west and east wings, respectively. The Observatory extends seven floors below the ground too, but only the bottom four are - err, were - dedicated to Chaos, since the other three are also dedicated to Nature and Thought. Now, I don't know how- Hold on, you're taking notes?"

Thomas looked up from his notepad. "Yes?" he asked, mimicking uncertainty.

The servant shrugged. "It's probably just as well. Now, as I was saying, I don't know how you got all the way up here, but it's best if you stay away from now on. Apparently, we have visitors, and they're staying up here."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, but the Arch-Observer doesn't want us bothering them. If you happen to run into one of them, just keep moving, and don't answer any of their questions."

They descended the staircase before Thomas continued the enquiry. "So, how do I get to the Chamber of Thought?"

"You must've heard your order wrong, since only the luckiest initiates ever go there, much less apprentices. But if you are ever sent there, look for the door with a tiger statue opposite it. Just knock on the door, and wait for Arch-Observer to open."

"And if he's not there?"

"Leave. You need a key to enter any of the Four Rooms, and the Arch-Observer always keeps them on him. Besides, some of the older initiates tell stories of a trial you must pass before you can enter, even if you do have the key."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble," Thomas thought out loud. "There must be some really important stuff in those rooms..."

"No kidding," the initiate agreed as they turned a corner. "Well, this is where I leave you. Follow the corridor until you reach another staircase. Go down it, and you'll find Peridot Initiates. One of them can lead you to one of your supervisors." He made to walk away, but quickly halted in his tracks. "Oh, and if you ever get lost again, head for the Atrium. There are banners and tapestries in every passage connected to it, so it will lead you to wherever you need to be, including the kitchen."

"The kitchen has its own banner?" Thomas asked, genuinely surprised.

"Of course not - the staff does. It's a brown goat. See you." The initiate turned to leave again, but once again, he stopped and turned back. "One last thing: if you ever find yourself in a place with lots of cobwebs and stuff that look like torture devices, run for the nearest staircase."

"Why?"

"Because then you're in the area dedicated to Chaos, and I don't think it's as abandoned as people say it is."
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Rydia says...



Abel Capello Braum

Strange dreams visited Abel that night. They started out normal enough with Farthir's blood hot on his sword and Javen running through the trees ahead of him. He didn't know whether he'd kill or kiss the man when he caught up to him, but that was part of the thrill of the chase. Then he caught hold of Javen's arm and pulled the man back to trap him between the tree and his own bare chest. The man looked up at him with long eyelashes and a wry smile and suddenly it was Nefari and his back was to the tree instead, the weight of her leaning on him and making his flesh burn.

It was almost a relief to be woken by angry shouts and bared steel. Abel sat up quickly as the portly Dartel tried to pull his sword out of its sheathe. A wary Farthir had drawn already and was trying to convince the portly man that he hadn't touched his food while the squire hovered around them in agitation.

"If I'd have wanted a couple of hams, I'd have sliced your buttocks off!" Farthir shook his sword in the air and Dartel finally got his free of the sheathe and wobbled closer.

"Say that again when I'm holding my sword!" Dartel shouted.

"What I said-"

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out as Dartel sprang forward with a roar, his sword dancing toward Farthir's chest, but then the portly man slipped and ran the sword through his own shoulder instead. The man lay howling on the ground and his squire ran to pull the weapon out, the blood gushing over the grass.


It took a long five minutes to cauterise the wound with a stick from the fire and by then the camp smelled of burning flesh and strong gin as the fat man drank himself out of his pain.

"What do we do now?" Farthir wondered aloud as the squire sat shell shocked and the other two stood quietly by.

"Their tracks lead down there." Abel indicated the grassy bowl but didn't add that the tracks appeared to stop halfway across. He didn't have an answer for that yet and wouldn't have until he got a closer look. "Javen, Nefari and I are going to scout it out. You stay here with the horses and fatty. We'll find them and we'll bring the Lieutenant back here."

"And the rest of them?"

"If they're smart, they'll run."
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StupidSoup says...



Morn

The tavern was packed, then again, It was always packed this time of day. Morn sat in a corner, his face hidden by shadows, classic assassin style. They knew who he was, most did anyway, and ignored him. Morn didn't talk and to those who sat with him he simply ignored them in turn.

Today, he watched a blond haired foreigner drunkenly rant with a group of exiles. When drunk, people had tongues like soap.

"The politics are thinkin' 'bout getting out o' th tribe fer once! Thinkin bout huntin some of YOU!"

The exile jabbed the blonde one In the shoulder and burst out laughing.

"It's a shame ya stuck here huh? Getting nice and plump and ready ta harvest eh? Why I could just stick ya here and roast ya fer dinner!"

Thus began the brawl. But now Morn was interested. Standing, he strode over to the punching match and grabbed the fatter exile by the neck.

"You. What do you know about the "politics?"

"Wha- Morn! Fancy seein you here eh? I heard ya ge-"

Morn pushed him back into a table with enough force to split it in two. Stomping up to the man again, he pulled him up by the hair and growled,

"You mistake me for a friend. Its not a request, its a demand. What do you know about the politics?"

Now the exile was afraid, he knew better than to be angry and he didn't know enough to keep cool.

"I heard someone, th-the knew one was talkin bout it. Name starts with some strange letter, I don't remember Morn! Please!"

"Xavier?"

"No, no, the older one, 's names H-Harl er sumthin."

"Harold."

Morn didn't bother waiting for the reply. Letting his grasp slip on the man's hair, he tromped out of the room. He realized he didn't ask where they were but also didn't care. He would find out one way or another. Perhaps he would kill one for it, perhaps not. The only thing that was certain was that he would be on that mission.
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SpiritedWolfe says...



Aaron Maydock

Time seems to pass so much slower when you know you'll be living your last days alone. Essentially. There's that guard, introducing himself as Berras -- and not an obnoxiously long title -- but he's not someone I can banter with insults or playfully slash at. So instead, I sit inside the chamber most of the day, as it reminds me the most of the caves back in Cobra Mountain.

The dagger makes short pinging sounds as it scratches against the rock's surface, chipping away at the dirt and dust clinging to the side. For whatever reason, I had picked up the rock and decided to try and 'whittle it', since carving doesn't feel like the right word in this case. Maybe it's more of an excuse to myself to keep busy and avoid anyone/anything else. Even being outside seems so wrong, traitorous somehow.

At the thought of that, my stomach growls and claws its way up to my throat, hunger spreading like fire and burning its dryness. Just like the 'rock whittling', I'm not sure what swayed my judgment, but I decided to refuse eating. Of course, I regret it now, but there's no way I'm backing down. Maybe at that point I just needed a way to continue fighting, rather than succumbing to this glorified prisoner life I've given myself.

That's all it is, isn't it? I'm free to roam the guest quarters sure, but under a heavy watch so that I don't run for it. Or accompanied by that Berras, for whatever reason only their Callypsis-Goddess thing knows.

A slight knock sounds at the door and it creaks open, while a voice asks into the dimness, "Exile Leader?"

"I'm here," I mutter. Where else would I be? Halfway across the Wilderness at the least, actually. Don't have so much faith in me.

Berras pops his head around the corner and takes a good look at me. I probably look so... pitiful to him. That's the only word to describe it. Still, I try to ignore the slight pangs in my stomach and sit up straighter, keeping my eyes trained on him with a determined glare sparkling in them.

He shifts on his feet and clears his throat before speaking again, "Do you require anything?"

Oh, it's just another check-up. As if there aren't enough of those. I had believed this entrance was of some importance. Losing interest, I find it easier to continue working with the stone and mumble a "I'm fine" in response.

A hint of tartness appears in his voice. "Are you sure? You haven't—"

"Yes, I realize that." I snap, but sigh as I realize it could mean a many number of things. Gone outside, been friendly, eaten. God so help me, if that is what he starts talking about, I'll slit his throat before he can even flinch.

With a shrug, he presses on, "It's only in your best interest. Perhaps, we could provide something more suitable to your tastes?"

I lay my dagger onto ground -- well, it's more of a slam -- with a loud clank, shooting him glares like sharp knives. "I'm fine, alright?" A realization hit me that I probably looked a tad... unstable? insane? crazy? Either way, I drop the stone and snatch the dagger before regaining my composure as I stand up. I also realize just how much he towers over me, almost a good foot taller.

"Excuse my tartness," I say while shrugging off the dirt from my clothes, "but it is a little frustrating that you continuously ask. I'd appreciate if you would just drop it."

"But, miss, it's been over two days."

"Yes, I realize that," I repeat. "But, trust me. I've gone far longer. Is that the only reason you're here?" Or are you going to press your luck any further?

He doesn't reply immediately, as if lost in an internal battle of thoughts, then finally saying, "I'd like to show you the city."

My first instinct is to snicker, eventually evolving into a full on laugh. "You're joking! You're letting an Exile into your precious city?"

A determined look stays on his face while I laugh. Then, the mocking grin that had spread onto my face starts to slip, and I purse my lips. "You're actually serious?"

"Of course I am serious. Misleading you would not be... trusting." He places emphasis on the last word, like it was worth the world. Instinct tells me retort about trust. Not to fall to its trap, as who you 'trust' will stab you in the back the next instant.

Still, I hold my tongue about it and scowl. "Why?"

His response is quick, well-rehearsed almost. "The Calliarus wants you to be comfortable."

He wants something from me, that's for sure. Why else would I be here? "And that means showing me around because...?"

"Perhaps you may loosen up, afterwards."

"My tongue?" After the words leave my mouth, I realize I shouldn't have said that. But I just pull my chin and ride off the retort. "Fine then, you can lead me wherever if you so insist."

Relief spreads through Berras's eyes. "Then let us make haste."

While he abruptly turns to exit the chamber, I follow at a much slower pace, taking my painstaking time to place my dagger in its sheath and that sheath on the table with the rest of my armor. The entire time, he stands in the doorway and taps his foot, yet staying quiet.

Outside, he leads me through the same path as the escort did before the diplomacy. Before my self-imprisonment. And for another moment, one more that I can’t count, I find that I’m missing Xavier. The only way to deal with it is to deepen the scowl on my face and shove my hands deeper into the tiny pockets.

The second time visiting the garden isn’t quite as… breathtaking as before. The mist is thicker now, as a stronger wind blows and whips the leaves on the plants around. Perhaps it would’ve been a lightening experience, if I didn’t continuously think of how the mist stuck to my skin and the fruits’ nectar filled my nose with such a strong sensation, nothing like the dullness of Cobra Mountains.

Perhaps Berras could sense my discomfort, for he moves on quickly. And the only thing I can really do is follow along, like a prisoner in tow.

After we pass through the exact site of my own sentence, he takes me further through the gardens and eventually up to a large set of stone stairs before an archway. Carefully carved into the sides are little engravings of beautiful patterns and perhaps of an ancient, pictographic language. It’s like they built a single, extended pillar and used magic to bend it into its correct position.

I don’t realize I’ve fully stopped to admire the craftsmanship until he takes my hand and gently pulls me forward to guide me deeper into the city.

Much of the city looks ancient with its own charming sheen. Moss clings to stone bricks so carefully laid out centuries -- no, millenniums -- ago, but it still looks as study in place as the day it was placed there. The ivy draping the sides of the buildings seem to give it more beauty by adding a splash of controlled color among the gray and blue stone.

As we’re walking, I notice that the path has tan stone as their pavement, also aligned in rows like bricks. It’s not enormous, just large enough to accommodate a lot of people if there was, perhaps, an event of sorts. But that’s probably because this is a main road. Even now, not many people are about, and those that are ignore us, for the most part..

Under the gaze off the few Callitix that do look, I can’t help but squirm a little. Yet another reason why I don’t below here. I don’t even dress like most of them, without robes or various colors to represent status. Then there’s comparing the two capital cities, where one has lovely structures and flowering plants lining the roads and the other you have to be wary about falling off the mountain by a strong gust of wind.

Berras pauses and taps my shoulder to look up, casting me a warm smile. And I’m not disappointed. The building before me reduces the rest of what I’ve seen to weathered pebbles in the wake of its glory. Not only does it surpass them in height, but also magnificence. It’s the Temple, no doubt.

There’s another archway before another vast garden in front of it, giving the air a sweet scent of flower petals and fruits. At the base and surrounding the perimeter of the structure entirely is a strip of stone foundation, with more carvings and lovely painted colors. The Temple itself looks as if it could reach up and scrape the sky to meet the hand of a God – or, Goddess in their case.

“I don’t believe the Exiles have anything like this?” Berras asks with a smirk.

“Nothing…”I breathe, “even compares. It’s like taking a worn down boulder and placing it next to Calypso – er, Callypsis herself.”

He laughs. “I apologize, but I don’t believe I can bring you inside.”

“I understand,” I say, returning a slight smile. “I think my heart has had enough beauty for today. Any more and it might stop. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he says, politely. “Shall I lead you back?”

“Please.”

As he turns and follows the path back out to the main arch and garden, my stomach rumbles once again. War breaks out in my mind, but something tells me in the back of my mind that I must have fasted enough. Beside, if they were out to kill me so soon, there would be better opportunities than through the food.

"You know, Berras -- is it? -- I've always wondering what you actually ate here."
[insert really cool and fun quote here]
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BrumalHunter says...



Thomas

The Vision initiate’s warning had been a little too ominous for Thomas’ taste, but if there really were demons or any other beings of Chaos lurking in the bottom three floors, it would be best if he avoided it.

Thomas followed the initiate’s instructions and soon reached a corridor where “fellow” servants of Thought moved about, but Thomas wasn’t too keen on asking any more initiates any seemingly obvious questions, so he continued down the staircases and corridors until he finally reached the Atrium. It was certainly impressive, and if Lander had been there, Thomas was sure she would have gawked.

The Observatory mostly consisted of brown-greyish granite, since it was functional and had been readily available during the construction (at least, that’s what Thomas assumed), but the Atrium stood in stark contrast. The floor and walls were made of beautiful brown marble – a refreshing change to the customary white – and colossal statues stood back to back in the centre of the hall. At the base of each was a banner that depicted the House/Room the statue represented: a crimson banner with a black gargoyle for Chaos, an azure banner with an imperial purple stag for Nature, and then the peridot banner with the burnt umber tiger for Thought and the topaz banner with the beige eagle for Vision, which Thomas had already seen. (All of the statues were the same as the creatures on the banners, of course.) Smaller than the other statues was a goat, a white banner with a brown goat at its base. Thomas found it odd that the Observatory would honour its staff so, but it was admirable nevertheless.

After quickly copying down in his grimoire the animals on the banners he had not yet sketched, Thomas walked off to the kitchen. When the Arch-Observer had saved them earlier that day, he had offered them some Frostbush tea. Therefore, Thomas assumed he enjoyed drinking his tea, and since he had seen the sun set through the Atrium’s windows, Thomas assumed the Arch-Observer would want some soon. Then again, his assumption could be completely misguided, and if that was the case, he would be in a spot of trouble. Unfortunately, he could think of no other way to reach the Arch-Observer, so he would simply have to try his luck.

Thus, Thomas followed the hallway lined with the goat tapestries. He had thought the kitchen would be nearby, but there were many other corridors that branched off from the main one. Thomas didn’t know which one to follow, so he continued walking straight ahead. After several more minutes, the suspicion that he had taken the wrong path took hold of him, but suddenly, the aroma of cooked lamb wafted towards him, driving said suspicion away. Soon, two rather large doors appeared at the end of the hallway, the smell of cooking food nearly overpowering. Thomas pushed open the great doors and gasped.

He found himself in the largest kitchen he had ever seen. Row upon row of benches and counters lined the floor, with ovens of varying sizes occupying the wall. What made Thomas gasp, though, was not the amount of appliances, but the amount of people. The cooks shouted at servants over the din of lids clinging, pans clashing and liquids bubbling, while the busy-body servants were scurrying all over the place.

If any of them were surprised to see Thomas, they didn’t show it, since they ignored him completely. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if they could see him at all, since he frequently had to sidestep a running man or woman who seemed to be in no mood for playing chicken. Utterly bewildered, he just stood there.

“You’re late,” a young cook said, seemingly materialising out of the ether and grabbing him by the arm.

A decade or so ago, Thomas would have yelped in fright, but at that moment, the cook – and Thomas himself – was lucky he restrained his instinct to break her arm and kick her legs out from underneath her. (He did not take well to being startled, and usually, whatever was responsible had murderous intent.) Instead, he allowed himself to be lead past the oblivious cooks to a very large oven with two cauldrons, five pots and a couple of kettles in it. The cook grabbed one and then lead Thomas to a small station away from most of the benches.

“What did the Arch-Observer want?” the cook asked, finally letting go of Thomas’ arm and slamming the kettle down on the counter.

“Tea.”

“No, hey! What kind of tea?”

At least Thomas’ assumption had been correct, but now he had a different problem. “Err, Frostbush.”

The cook reached up towards a cabinet and opened it, but stopped before taking anything out. “Again?” she asked, puzzled.

Crap.

“Sorry, then it’s Emberbush.”

“Are you sure?” the cook asked, narrowing her eyes.

Thomas panicked for a second before regaining his composure and improvising. “Yes. The Arch-Observer asked for “the bush that glows”. As far as I know, the only bushes with glowing flowers are the Frostbush and the Emberbush. Judging by your reaction, he already had Frostbush, so the only remaining possibility is that he wants Emberbush.”

The cook continued scowling at him for a moment more before shrugging and snatching a tea bag from the cabinet. She tossed it into the kettle and began pouring the water into a teapot.

“I haven’t restocked the cabinet with biscuits yet, so you’ll have to fetch some from the pantry over there,” she said and gestured to a mini-pantry nearby. Thomas knew it wasn’t the actual pantry because that occupied the far wall, which other cooks were constantly entering and exiting.

He did as he was instructed, but when he reached the shelves with the biscuits, he halted. Retracing his steps, he called to the cook, “Which biscuits? There are more than ten different types!”

“I don’t know!” she called back. “The Observer’s never asked for Emberbush while I was on duty!”

She didn’t say anything else, so Thomas re-entered the pantry and grabbed the nearest packet. By the time he returned to the cook, she was holding a tray with the teapot and a teacup. She took the packet from Thomas with her free hand and read the label.

“Bran? Unusual choice, but it’s your head, not mine.”

She stripped the packed open and placed some of the biscuits beside the teacup. Without another word, she gave Thomas an unceremonious little shove and strode away.

He didn’t have any regrets leaving the crazy kitchen behind, but after the cacophony inside, the silence of the corridors was oppressing. However, Thomas soon forgot about the kitchen as he tried to find his way to the Chamber of Thought. It took him what felt like half an hour – no building should be that large – before he finally saw a statue of a proud tiger in front of one of Thought’s banners. Opposite it was a pair of green doors, but they had no knob. Not knowing what else to do, Thomas tentatively knocked on them.

When no-one responded, he considered knocking again, but a voice behind him said, “The Arch-Observer doesn’t like being disturbed, so just open the doors and enter,” almost causing him to drop the tray. Thomas turned around, and sure enough, the tiger was looking at him. “Well? The doors are unlocked. Enter.”

Admonishing himself for being caught unaware twice in the same hour, Thomas turned the knob, which had just appeared (apparently many things and people in the Observatory liked doing that), and entered the Chamber of Thought. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he was certainly not prepared for what he saw in front of him.

Essentially, the Chamber of Thought was just a study with several bookcases, couches, chairs and a fireplace, in front of which the Arch-Observer was currently sitting. There was nothing wrong with the study, but he had expected a little more… well, more. If the Arch-Observer was asleep too, then Thomas would have to reconsider whether he was actually more than just a very old, senile man.

Thomas approached cautiously, but when the Arch-Observer stirred and rose, relief washed over him; the Arch-Observer was wide awake, he had simply been deep in thought. There was still hope.

“Ah, my tea!” the old man exclaimed happily. “And I didn’t even have to ring the bell. Perhaps the staff is finally learning.” He walked up to Thomas and gratefully took the tray. “Or maybe I have an inquisitive youngling’s intuition to thank…” he added and winked.

As the Arch-Observer turned around, Thomas spied the key ring hanging from his waist. He inched forward, placing an auditory illusion on the keys so they would not make any noise when they jangled. When the Arch-Observer placed the tray on a small table beside his chair, Thomas’ hand shot forward and, with a sleight of hand he had perfected after a decade’s practice, lifted the key ring out. He couldn’t simply keep all the keys and expect the Arch-Observer not to notice – it would be the most ironic event in history if that were the case – so he slipped all the keys save for the one with the inlaid peridot off. Tucking those three into what would appear to everyone else as cloth but what was one of his actual pockets, Thomas placed an illusion on the key ring so that it seemed as if all four were still on it. Thereafter, he waited just before the Arch-Observer sat down and tossed the keys onto his seat, removing the auditory illusion afterwards.

“By the Icy Heart of the Wilderness!” the Arch-Observer cried, standing up again. He turned around and smiled when he saw the “keys”. “They must have fallen out of my pocket, naughty things. Always having minds of their own…”

As the old man bent to pick up the keys, Thomas realised the illusion was visual, but not tangible, so he quickly modified it. Unfortunately, it was difficult for even him to cast such a variety of illusions in such quick succession. Feeling quite light-headed, Thomas rocked forward. He would have fell, had the Arch-Observer not caught him. (The “old man” could move rather fast, it seemed.)

“The intensity of the Chamber’s power must be muddling your mind,” the Arch-Observer said, leading Thomas back to the door. “Thought requires more effort than one might think.”

With that, Thomas was gently pushed out the door, which closed behind him a moment later. He had to lean against the door for a few seconds before his vision stopped swimming.

“I shouldn’t do that too often…” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

“If the Arch-Observer intimidates you, you could always let someone else bring tea next time. After all, I’m the one that bites, not him.”

Thomas looked at the tiger and shook his head. “You’re almost as cryptic as he is.”

“Wrong talking statue, my dear boy.”

“What?”

“Give it an hour. It will have dawned – err, descended – on you by then.”

Thomas pushed away from the door and strode away. “Whatever.”

After rounding the corner, he stopped and adjusted his robe colour so it fitted Vision. If he wanted to know how Helle had found him, the Dome of Vision would be the best place to search for answers.

And he had just procured the key.

***


Arch-Observer

The tea really was quite lovely. And the biscuit? Who would have thought it would–

The Arch-Observer’s thoughts were interrupted as the Chamber’s doors opened and his tiger statue strolled through, the doors automatically closing behind him.

“For somebody who is so knowledgeable about illusions, he is blind to what is right in front of him.”

The Arch-Observer nodded. “It is the nature of the Hidden One to hide and conceal, not to seek and reveal. And yet he seeks truth. It is like this tea and this biscuit.” The Arch-Observer held up both for added effect. “Alone, the Emberbush tea is too rich and the bran biscuit too dry, but together… splendid! A most queer combination that is complementary by chance. The Hidden One is lucky.”

“He’ll need more than luck – and our assistance – if he is to accomplish his objective,” the tiger replied reproachfully.

“Too true, too true. But he has magic – something the Shifter suspects and of which the Trueborn is completely unaware. Even now, they set out to stalk a quarry they are unprepared to face.”

“You overestimate the Hidden One’s abilities.”

“And you underestimate them. He still has much to learn, but he has an advantage the others do not. And if he succeeds, he will have another. I look forward to watching his progress.”

“You know what his goal is?”

“I am hyper-vigilant, not omniscient,” the Arch-Observer teased. “But I can make an educated guess.”

“And?”

“You are too modest; you understand more than you let on. As you said, give it an hour. Even we aren’t too old to learn something new…”
But the Fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.
— Paul the Apostle

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TheCrimsonLady says...



Helle | Observatory

Helle tugged the comb through her hair, wincing at the pain. If she was going to pass for human, she had to look the part. A leaf fluttered onto the floor, along with a clump of hair, and the tangles were finally all gone. Sighing in relief, Helle braided her hair and twisted it into a bun. Delilah appeared behind her, and Helle nodded in recognition. The fear seemed to be fading. Helle winced. If only she could get the princess to trust her...

Delilah curled up on one of the two small beds. Helle slipped out the door and was just about to close it when she heard the princess's voice behind her. "Where are you going?"

Helle looked back at her. "I'm standing guard. We have to keep up our façade." Delilah nodded and closed her eyes. Well, that was easy.

She closed the door and looked both ways. Unfortunately, she had no way to track him in her human form, so she went back inside, and stripped off her clothes before changing into a leopard. She nudged the door shut after going out, and started sniffing around. Helle knew that her brother's killer was still in the building- she hadn't heard anybody leave since she got in.

She picked up the scent a few doors past her own room. It smelled relatively fresh, so she followed it, hoping for a glimpse of him. Helle got all the way to the kitchen, where the trail simply... ended. Wishing she had brought clothes, Helle shifted back to human form and looked for someone alone and helpless. Ten minutes later, she had spied her victim. A girl in green robes walked towards her, whistling a tune and oblivious to the shifter hidden in the tapestry next to her. Helle stepped out from behind the curtain and knocked the girl out with a well placed punch. Dragging her body behind the curtain, Helle apologised profusely in her mind and turned to go into the kitchen.

The kitchen was chaos. As far as she could see, there was no order to the things happening. A woman grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
"What're you doing here? A young man just took the Arch-Observer's tea." Nudging her out the door, the woman yelled, "Go on, get out. How are we s'posed to get anything done if people keep barging in, hey?"

Helle found herself outside the door. Sighing, she shifted again- this time picking the clothes up in her mouth and sniffed around to see if the trail backtracked. When she caught it a few moments later, she berated herself for not checking before. This time, the trail went to a room with a tiger statue in front of it. This time, she remembered to check for a trail that kept going, and when she found it, she picked up her pace, hoping to catch her prey soon.

When the trail finally ended, it was in front of an opaque, glassy door. Helle shifted and tried the handle, but it was locked. Dressing again, she sat back against the wall. The trail didn't continue anywhere, so that meant that her prey was still inside. For the first time in years, a smile spread across Helle's face as she waited for the man who'd killed her brother to face her.

Hours passes before the door finally opened, and the person who came out wasn't who she was looking for. Helle barely managed to stop from swearing. It was the man from before; the one who had asked them who they were. The man glanced at her, his expression betraying nothing. Without another word, she walked away, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Just as she got out of his eyesight, she realised she'd left her stolen robe behind, and went back to retrieve it. As she bent to pick it up, the man was still there, holding a journal in his hand. Suddenly, a memory flashed through her mind- her brother's killer holding the same journal before he slit her brother's throat. But how could she kill a man just because he had the same journal as her prey? If he was innocent, Helle would never forgive herself.

Sighing, she went back to her room. The best she could do was follow him and see if he gave anything away. Perhaps he had disguised himself somehow. After checking on Delilah, who slept soundly, Helle re-dressed in the dress she'd been given and strapped all her weapons back on. Outside the window opposite her room, the sky was just starting to lighten. The was no sign of the man yet, although she could hear people walking around in his room. Helle sighed. She'd been patient for more that three years, but coming this close, only to lose her prey made her want to rip someone to shreds. Someday, she promised herself. Someday, you will find him.
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BrumalHunter says...



Thomas

Navigating the Observatory was still not getting any easier. For some reason, whoever had built it had decided the stairs would not be together, like in most buildings, but rather spread out across the floor. Therefore, it was quite possible that one could ascend a flight of stairs and have to walk to the far side of the Observatory before one found the next ascending flight.

Nevertheless, Thomas had much practice in being patient, so he simply strode on. If he had found interesting sights along the way, he might have been a bit more enthusiastic than just merely determined, but all the doors were locked and all the corridors deserted. His encounter with the Vision initiate proved there were indeed still initiates dressed in yellow, but they seemed to be as absent as the Observer they supposedly served. (Either that or four floors were far too many…)

Thus, when he spotted movement down a corridor to his left, Thomas was relieved; however, that relief turned to dread. It was none other than Helle herself, currently in her snow leopard form. Thomas mentally berated himself for not realising Helle would search the Observatory for him. Of course she would! After all, he had taken her brother, and indirectly her whole family, from her.

His appearance and voice was constantly changing, but he’d never had a reason to think he would have to change his scent too. Clearly, that was how Helle was tracking him. Fortunately, he had seen her before she had seen him, so Thomas had just enough time to conjure an illusion that projected what was behind him, in front of him. Unfortunately, it was less than ideal that he was still in her line of sight.

Snow leopard-Helle looked up at the sudden movement and tilted her head sideways. She sniffed the air, but the air flow was coming from her side, so she didn’t smell him. After a minute of intensely gazing at him, she walked away, and Thomas was able to breathe again. Yet he was only safe for the moment – if Helle was following his scent, she would be lead to the kitchen eventually. It might throw her off for a while, but if she casted for his scent, she’d eventually find it leading away again.

It was too late to change his scent; if he did that, Helle would smell the change and realise Thomas could conjure illusions. The only choice was to let Helle catch up with him and somehow fool her into believing he was not the murderer for whom she was searching. His difference in appearance from back then would help, but it wouldn’t be enough.

Thomas realised he couldn’t go to the Dome of Vision with her following him, so he searched for a place that seemed interesting enough to keep him busy for a few hours or so. Regrettably, no such place existed, so he had no choice but to make do with a storage room. Inside, he sat down on a box beside a stack of mechanical clocks and the waiting game commenced.

He was bored out of his mind after only five minutes, so Thomas contemplated a potential cover story. Helle was following his scent, so he’d somehow have to explain that. He could pretend it came from the grimoire and explain that the man she pursued was his father… no, he had been younger at that time. Err, brother, then. His brother had killed her brother and she only smelled him because he had owned the grimoire since they were children, while Thomas had inherited it after his brother’s untimely death following an accident with a Dragon-Fly.

Feeling satisfied, Thomas began fabricating a history with his “brother”, but then he remembered he had already told Thomas he was an only-child. Beginning anew, he exchanged his “brother” for a “cousin” who had no other close family left. Thomas then fabricated trips to his cousin’s home which would serve as their contact with each other. By the time he was done, a couple of hours had passed. If Helle hadn’t caught up yet, she would soon.

Two more hours wouldn’t hurt, so he decided to concentrate his scent on his grimoire. Creating semi-permanent illusions were never easy, so Thomas removed the visual illusion of the Vision apprentice and sat in his normal form. He then began to focus his scent on his grimoire and entered a dreamlike state. When he emerged from it a minute later, three hours (according to the mechanical clocks) had passed, and his grimoire smelled almost spicy. Wrinkling his nose, Thomas searched through the boxes for something with a scent faint enough so that it could be overpowered by the grimoire. His search proved disappointing, since everything was metallic. However, he didn’t recall searching in the box on which he had sat, and lo and behold, it contained dried lavender. He placed a few stalks inside his coat and closed the box. Finally tired of the stuffy air, he exited the room.

Helle was leaning against the wall beside the door, but Thomas had expected as much, so he kept his face expressionless and gave her his best indifferent stare. It seemed the whole process with the grimoire had been unnecessary, for his appearance was enough to throw her off. Crestfallen, she turned and left, but a moment later, she returned and picked up a familiar peridot robe. She made to leave again, but she caught him flipping through his grimoire and suddenly stopped, staring at it.

Evidently, his efforts had not been in vain, for she narrowed her eyes suspiciously but left anyway. Concluding that it would have to be rebound after destroying the Devil’s Diamond, Thomas set off for the Dome of Vision once more.
But the Fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.
— Paul the Apostle

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ThePatchworkPilgrims says...



Jeremiah
The Observatory
The chambers the Arch-Observer had assigned Jeremiah and his party were some of the strangest Jeremiah had seen in a long time. Kaliska and Lander had received a separate chamber, and the Lieutenant could hear a muffled conversation through the wall beside his bed.
Thomas had been in the chambers for a little while, but left as yet two more people entered. As he only heard them enter, Jeremiah could only deduce that it was two females, and they too got a separate chamber.
I don't like this place, Jeremiah thought as he lay on his bed, This place feels too, magical, but it must contain some clues as to the location of the Devil's Diamond.
When Thomas didn't return for some time, Jeremiah became slightly suspicious. He redressed, and decided to go searching for clues.
He looked into Kaliska and Lander's chamber to tell them what he planned to do, and stepped into the hallway.
As he had no indication as to where he should start looking for Thomas, he thought it best to travel down in the Observatory.
He traveled for what seemed like an age, passing statues, portraits, vases and tapestries as he made his way through the tower. He encountered several people wearing topaz, sapphire and peridot robes, and was confused with where everyone came from.
Surely these apprentices don't get sent here by their parents? This tower is no more than a legend. A fairytale.
A vast commotion attracted Jeremiah down a long hallway. At the end of this, he encountered the kitchens. As he was about to enter, a rude looking woman shooed him.
'No, no, no!' she scolded, 'First that boy who came to fetch the tea, then that girl; and now a guest! This kitchen is off limits!'
'Wait. You said, a boy?' Jeremiah asked.
'Yes! Are you deaf? Be off with you! Breakfast will be ready tomorrow morning!'
Jeremiah retraced his path down the servants' hallway when a servant surprised him by suddenly appearing from behind a tapestry. When the servant entered another room, Jeremiah investigated the tapestry.
Behind the long wall decoration Jeremiah found a spiral staircase, most likely used by the servants to get through the Observatory quickly. Naturally, Jeremiah started climbing.
At every floor, a landing lead to other entrances, like bookcases mirrors and tapestries. Starlight illuminated the seemingly never ending stairs, all finely crafted, yet worn out by the continuous walking by servants and curious initiates.
At one of the windows, a light on the basin floor caught Jeremiah's eye. There, outside the Observatory, Jeremiah saw a camp. In the darkness of night and the wilderness, he couldn't make out how many people there were, but he didn't like it at all.
The Commander can't have caught up yet! he thought, Let's just hope that isn't a hunting squad.
Jeremiah nearly walked into a wall as he reached the end of that particular staircase. He pulled a lever, which caused the wall to turn, opening up behind a statue. The hallway's tapestries had a topaz griffin on, which, if his memory served him right, meant he was once again in the Vision wing.
Jeremiah continued down the passages, until he found a double door standing slightly ajar. Inside he found bookshelf upon bookshelf, with several desks and candles everywhere.
Well, if I can't find Thomas, I'd better start looking for information on the Diamond then.
Many of the tomes and grimoires were dusty and old, and even more were in ancient languages like Callitrix, Old Centurion, the language of the old Scorpion people, and more.
As he searched for a related book, a slight breeze suddenly closed the door behind him. The candles also snuffed out, locking Jeremiah in isolated darkness...

* * *


Commander Carlyle

Back at Fort Ratangue the Commander was in deep conversation with a hooded figure.
'Thank you for being willing to offer your services to me,' the Commander said, pouring himself a glass of wine.
The hooded figure merely inclined its head slightly.
'The Carlyle family truly appreciates your unending loyalty, and requires assistance from allies we can truly trust,'
'What is it your family seeks of the Wildershades?' a voice which seemed to come from everywhere asked.
'The Circle has decided that it is time to change the rule of the Empire,' Carlyle said, sitting down behind his desk. 'Emperor Dirran has grown weak, which has led to the strengthening of our enemies. Even now as we speak, I can sense the Callitrix preparing for something. For what, I do not know.
'The Wilderness is also growing restless. It used to be calm and at least moderately tameable, but its power is growing. The Scorpions in the south are also preparing to claim the land we worked so hard to conquer.'
'What will you have us do?' the Wildershade asked.
'The Circle requires of the Wildershades to put an end to this Imperial ruler, so that we as the Families can control the lands again.'
'This task shall require a drop of blood from each of the Thirteen.'
'Here is your payment,' the Commander said, waving his hand and making twelve small vials float towards the Wildershade.
'We are missing one,' the Shade said.
'Yes,' Carlyle said, taking a sip of wine, "the Hudsons are all loyal to the Emperor, and refused to provide a vial.'
'Then we cannot perform our duty,' the Shade said.
'The son, Jeremiah Hudson, is in the Wilderness as we speak. Find him, and you shall have your thirteen vials.'
The Wildershade inclined its head yet again before walkng out of the office chambers.
'That fool Jeremiah better hope that the Viper or the Wilderness get him first...' the Commander said, as he started writing yet another letter to his brother.

Spoiler! :
Note- the Wildershades are a magical race which live on the coast of Skeleton Bay, and are masters of dark magic and assassinations. The are also very loyal to the Thirteen Families of the Circle, as a pact between the humans and the Wildershades was signed by the Thirteen.

Also, if anything in my post was confusing, feel free to say so (I'm typing this on my phone, and it's past midnight, so...
Former incarnations have been:
TheWanderingWizard
TheClockworkConjurer
TheIllusiveIntellect
TheSunderingSorceror
And, TheMaieuticMesmerist


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