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The Wilderness of Machafuko(Chaos)



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Fri Nov 28, 2014 11:45 am
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ThePatchworkPilgrims says...



Greetings, my fellow adventurers! Let me introduce myself; I am Lieutenant Jeremiah Hudson, and welcome to the Wilderness of Machafuko. We're on a quest to find the legendary Devil's Diamond!
But let me give you the lay of the land first. This fortress is Fort Ratangue, the last defence of the Century City against the darkness that resides in the wilerness.
The river just beyond the walls is the Mist river, a very dangerous and magical river. It leads all the way into the skeleton bay, to the north east, which of course leads out into the Devil's Sea.
Also to the northeast you will see the Cobra Mountains, in which there is said to be a civilization of exiles, all (supposedly...) extremely dangerous. You will have to pass through the Great Forest though to reach them, and that won't be easy.
The river starts at the Monkey Falls Temple (also known as Calliptra) to the West, where a folk shrouded in mystery live. Those who dare travel there never return most of the time.
Thn there's the several abandoned outposts, as well as the Observatory, but no one lives there anymore.

Main Plot Idea

Our main objective is to find the Devil's Diamond of course; a large diamond, said to posess magical properties. It will be a quest through the Wilderness, filled with romance, action, bloody battles, friendship, and, as always, betrayal.
You, my dear friend, are either to be part of this expedition for academic purposes, the money, the fame, as a spy to the Commander of the Fort, or even a spy for the Callitrix or the Exiles.
We will start at the Fort of course, where I am almost certain the Commander will try and stop us, but we will go on this quest even so. At the Fort, you will most likely be asked to find a lost loved-one or something like that, heaven knows how many people get lost daily due to the perils of the Wilderness.

Character slots:

Commander of Fort Ratangue: NPC
Leader of the Exiles: @Wolfare1
Leader of the Callitrix: NPC
Leader of the Expedition: @TheWanderingWizard
Adventurer 1: @r4p17
Adventurer 2: @AstralHunter
Adventurer 3: @Wolfie36
Adventurer 4: @QueenAnne
Soldier 1: @Rydia
Soldier 2: Open
Callitrix character 1: @AstralHunter
Callitrix character 2: @TheWanderingWizard
Exile 1: @15253
Exile 2: @Wolfare1

NPC's are most welcome.

Code: Select all
[b][u]Profile template:[/u][/b]
Name:
Age: any where up from 16
Gender:
Slot to fill:
Appearance:Full details, including your usual accessories and equipment
Personality: As detailed as possible
Skills: You may include magic(in the case of Monkey Falls leader this is compulsory), and also musket related abbilities
Rason for your character to be her: either be in Expedition/Fort RAtangue/part of the Exiles/part of the MOnkey Falls Civ
Short History:
Willingness for Romance:
Weaknesses:
And a random question (optional): If you were on an island and you only had one box (no mattter the size), what is in that box?


ANd finally, some ground rules:
-No Spamming in the SB
-Proper Grammar and Spelling at all times (in the case of continuos poor G&S, you will be kicked out)
-No Godmodding
-Yadda yadda yadda...

PS: If you want to reserve a spot, please PM me, or post the reserve in the DT

Now, go and find that Diamond!
Last edited by ThePatchworkPilgrims on Fri Apr 03, 2015 5:31 pm, edited 6 times in total.
Former incarnations have been:
TheWanderingWizard
TheClockworkConjurer
TheIllusiveIntellect
TheSunderingSorceror
And, TheMaieuticMesmerist


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Fri Jan 02, 2015 1:18 pm
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ThePatchworkPilgrims says...



Jeremiah

‘Enter.’
Jeremiah opened the door into Commander Carlyle’s office. The interior was illuminated by bright sunlight that came through the windows overlooking the bustling Fort Square. The walls of the office were lined with charts, weapons and bookshelves, most of the charts showing the Wilderness or the Fort and its accompanying outposts.
In the center of the office was a large desk, with orders, letters and lists strewn across the surface. It was at this desk that the Commander was sitting, busy writing a letter of some sort.
Without looking up, the Commander gestured to a chair in front of the desk. ‘Sit down,’ he said in his rasping voice.
Jeremiah did as he was told; after all, he needed to ensure that he and the Commander were on good terms. For several minutes they sat in silence, the only noise being the ambiance from the Square outside and the scratching of a quill on paper.
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, after even more time elapsed, Jeremiah audibly cleared his throat. The Commander spared a glance at Jeremiah before continuing with his letter.
‘So,’ he began as he folded up the letter and stood to walk towards a pigeon coop close to the window, ‘my sources tell me that you are planning an expedition.’
‘Your sources are correct, my lord,’ Jeremiah said.
‘And why do I, the commander of this Fort, only discover this now, from a third party?’ The Commander was tying the letter onto a Centurion Messenger Pigeon’s leg, before releasing the pigeon through an open window.
‘I did not want to trifle you with such a tiny thing as an expedition, my lord.’
‘I would not call an expedition into the Wilderness a tiny thing,’ the Commander said, walking back over to the desk, ‘I think the right description for it, is madness or foolishness.’
‘What I meant, my lord, is that it isn’t worth concerning your lordship about.’
‘A expedition into the Wilderness that is being planned and based out of my Fort is of concern to me, Lieutenant. Or am I to remind you of who’s in command here?’
‘No, my lord,’ Jeremiah said, inclining his head, ‘but if you would let me explain...’
‘Explain?’ the Commander gave a mirthless laugh, ‘I do not need you to explain to me what you are planning. I know damn well that you are going to go look for my daughter.’
‘My lord,’ Jeremiah said, standing up, ‘That is not the only reason for this expedition. We are planning to find the Devil’s Diamond.’
‘The Devil’s Diamond? Lieutenant, I thought they taught you how to think realistically at the Academy. It doesn't exist.’
‘Well, if you just let us...’
‘Us?’ the Commander interrupted, ‘I do hope you have not tainted any of my soldiers’ minds with this foolishness of yours?’
‘No, my lord. I have been recruiting volunteers who are willing to follow me on this expedition.’
‘Oh, so you, a Lieutenant, believe that I would just allow you to put some of the good and hard-working residents of this Fort in mortal danger, just because you believe you can find some fairy tale?’
Jeremiah kept silent for a moment, trying to calm his thoughts. He’s still your father-in-law to-be and your commanding officer. Calm down.
‘My lord,’ Jeremiah said slowly, ‘I did not think you’d understand...’
‘Of course I don’t understand! You, a soldier who swore to protect the people of the Empire, wants to take a band of confused individuals into the Wilderness, and put them in harm’s way, just so you can play hero. Your father will be very disappointed, Lieutenant.’
‘Commander Carlyle, I realize that you are saying this as a member of the Centurion Circle, and acting on behalf of my father, who has no other heirs to his Family’s name, but I do not care about the Circle. All I care about is the truth.’
The Commander was silent, and Jeremiah could see the thoughts racing through his mind.
‘Very well, Lieutenant,’ he said, suddenly extremely calm, ‘It seems you leave me no choice. I am giving you two days to think about your hasty actions and disband this foolish expedition, thus only receiving minor punishments for raising your voice to a commanding officer. Or I arrest you and all those associated with the expedition, thus not only punishing you for raising your voice, but also for going against your direct orders and being tried as a traitor.’
‘You’re setting me an ultimatum, my lord?’
‘You have two days to decide. You are dismissed.’ With that, the Commander sat down and continued writing reports.
Jeremiah left the commander’s office and hurried out into the ever-bustling Fort Square. He spotted a young boy loafing around close to one of the stalls and beckoned to him to come over.
When the boy stood in front of him, Jeremiah handed him a list of names. ‘Are you fast boy?’ he asked, crouching to look the boy in the eye.
The boy nodded.
‘Well, can I ask you to do something very important for me?’
The boy held out his hand expectantly. Jeremiah reached into his purse and handed five coppers to the boy, who quickly shoved it into his pocket and nodded extremely business-like.
‘Good. I would like you to locate these people on the list and tell them to be prepared to leave tomorrow at sunset. Tell them to meet me at the Overgrown Vineyard (an inn) then. Can you remember all of that?’
After the boy recited the message and ran off into the crowd, Jeremiah straightened up and made his way to his chambers in the Officer’s Quarter.
He had preparations to make...

***
Commander Carlyle

‘You, soldier,’ the Commander said, calling one of the guards outside of his office.
‘Yes, m’lord?’ the guard answered after saluting him.
‘I would like you to follow Lieutenant Hudson for me. You can even ask some of your fellow soldiers to help you. Report any suspicious looking behavior directly to me.’
‘Suspicious behavior, m’lord?’
‘Meeting with suspicious-looking people, preparing to leave, or even trying to leave the Fort. He must not leave Fort Ratangue!’
‘Aye, m’lord!’ the guard saluted the Commander before hurrying off with several other guards to help him with his assignment.
Former incarnations have been:
TheWanderingWizard
TheClockworkConjurer
TheIllusiveIntellect
TheSunderingSorceror
And, TheMaieuticMesmerist


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Fri Jan 02, 2015 7:03 pm
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StupidSoup says...



Morn

Morn sat at a pub watching a man who had just entered. He was short and portly with a fine trimmed beard and a classic commoner's tunic. Morn suspected he was a family man. His wife must have trimmed his beard for him even when they did not have the money to buy better clothing.

After all, a man had to look his best at all times yet this one seemed a cut above the others. This one sat with his chin up and his back straight. Could he be more than just a commoner? Morn squinted and leaned forwards, looking for...ah, there it was. Just below the man's waist was a leather pouch heavy with coins. Either he had stolen his families savings or he was faking the commoner appearance. Morn believed the latter was true.

Then a boy ran past the pub, the slightest rustle of his clothes, the whip of his hair past the tavern doors was all Morn needed to hear. In an instant he was through the doors and tailing the boy as he hurried down the bustling city street. Soon, the orphan reached the edge of town and right at the border, nestled in the forest, was a house.

Morn crouched in the shadows, watching the boy walk up to the house an knock twice. After a moment, an older looking man answered the door and the orphan quietly asked for a certain "Kaliska Tamarin." The older man shook his head and began closing the door but the boy thrust a letter towards the man, claiming it was from the fabled Jeremiah Hudson. Morn smiled at this, then turned and strolled back to town. From here he would get his horse and ride back to the Exiles, for now they knew who to expect and, who to kill.
Last edited by StupidSoup on Thu Jan 15, 2015 7:55 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Sun Jan 04, 2015 1:10 am
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Wolfi says...



Kaliska


Her home in Layata was only about half a day's travel to Century City, but the boat ride was monotonous nonetheless. She simply had nothing to do except stare out at the flat horizon and await the ship's landing. After an hour had passed, she was restless enough to ask a sailor if she could do something, whether it be polish a compass or find the midpoint of a tangled rope, but he just laughed at her and turned away.

Kaliska was eager to be off the moment they touched the shore. The Lieutenant had recommended that all the volunteers should be waiting in the Fort well before the planned departure, just in case the plans had to be changed.

She rented a white stallion and sped off down a narrow trail, one that most villagers clearly avoided because of its path through the wilderness. She liked to use it for that very reason—the quiet breath of nature was certainly more appealing than the hustle of villagers.

From the moment the trees flanked them on either side, though, something just wasn't quite right. She felt it in her horse's stride, and then in her heart. But, for the time being, she ignored it.

Her horse was scared, though, and that was a hard thing for her to ignore. She rubbed her hand on its neck, soothing it as best as she could.

The woods grew thicker, and the overgrown branches frightened her horse. It slowed to a skittish trot, dancing between branches and hopping over roots. Kaliska, pressed for time, encouraged the horse onward. "Just run a little bit longer for me, boy," she said. "Then we can walk. I promise."

She remembered this path from when she had ventured into Century City, alone, several months ago. It hadn't been so overgrown. Or at least her horse had not been so frightened.

Under her urgings, the stallion was speeding through the forest. Kaliska saw a low branch approaching and ducked well below her horse's head, but something caught her for a moment by the shirt. She screamed with surprise as she was lifted of her horse, then sent sprawling to the ground.

Her horse wheeled around, its ears plastered against its skull in fear. Kaliska scrambled to her feet, her arms raised to stop it, but it was too late. Her horse dashed past her, and was gone.

"No..." she whispered. She stepped back and leaned against a tree, angry with herself. She should have gotten off the horse and led it through the branches long ago, or at least have wrapped its reins around her wrist, or something...

The low-hanging branch rocked tauntingly above her, so she leaped up, grabbed it, and tried to tear it from its tree. When it could not be broken, she reached for her belt and pulled out a small knife to hack it with.

When she was all done she sat on the dirt, next to the disembodied branch. "That should teach you," she said, then tossed it away.

With no other way to reach the Fort, Kaliska set off at a swift jog.

~*~


When the soldiers were convinced that Redford Tamarin was indeed her father, Kaliska was permitted entrance to the Fort. Once inside, she immediately made her way to his barracks, hoping that her father might have a few tins of crackers stashed in a cupboard.

She peered through the back window and saw her father reading a book by the fire. Cautiously, she opened the door and crept inside.

Kaliska's heart jumped when there was a knock at the front door. Her father rose. On the doorstep was a young boy with wide eyes. "Are you Mr. Tamarin?" he asked.

"Yes."

"If I may ask, sir, do you know where your daughter Kaliska is?"

"She is at her home, in Layata. What do you need from her?"

"I just need to... give her something."

"I could hold on to it for you, and give it to her next time she visits."

"No, that's alright. Thank you for your time, sir."

Kaliska forgot about the crackers and slipped out the back door. She met the boy a few houses down. "Do you have a message from the Lieutenant?" she asked him.

"You're Kaliska?"

"Yes, that's me." The boy reached into his pocket and handed her a note. She read it over quickly, then pocketed it herself. The boy still waited, an expectant look in his eye. "What do you—oh, here." She slipped him a copper, and then he was off.
John 14:27:
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled
and do not be afraid.





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Sat Jan 10, 2015 7:27 am
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ElvenKnight says...



Ecthelion Salamas

I glanced around at the fort's surroundings, than nodded to myself and turned around to my charge. High Lady Delilah, daughter of the Emperor, and princess of the Sun, smiled uncertainly at me though her veil. I bowed my head. "My lady, the area seems secure, and I believe it is safe to continue. She nodded at me than gestured to her bodyguards who guided her back to her horse. I smirked at them. I had no respect for these men. They were a lower caliber of Imperial guard, tasked with protecting the Princess, and not as well trained as I. It seemed they sensed my distaste for them, because they looked back at me as one group of six, and I gave them a smile. Of course that smile disappeared as six crossbow bolts erupted from their chests, and a group of masked men rushed the Princess Delilah.

I am not a man to boost. But they were too easy. My shamshir came out of its scabbard, and i moved through through the attackers with ease, cutting my way through them. The first body hit the ground as i wiped my blade on the grass and replaced it. Princess Delilah stared in shock at the bodies of her attackers, and her dead body guards. I grabbed her by the arm and whistled. My stallion, Storm Shadow, erupted from the trees like a spectre, and whinnied as he stopped. I helped the Princess into his saddle. I jumped aboard, and whispered," Show me the meaning of haste my friend."
I'm not sure if we were pursued at all, but, the trip to the fort was quick. The guards opened the gate quickly as Delilah finally gave into shock and fainted in the saddle. I helped her down, and shot a look at the approaching men. They quickly steered clear. I held her close and carried her inside to the officers quarters and locked the door."

Later that night, (presumably after Jeremiah and Commander Carlyle have their arguement.)

" So why does the Emperor send his daughter and his Imperial guard, to one of his frontier forts?" Carlyle asked pleasantly, pouring Delilah some wine. I gripped my shamshir." I do not appreciate the tone in your voice commander." I growled. Carlyle smirked." You may be an Imperial guard, boy, but i have more authority than you, so show some respect." I opened my mouth to retort, but Delilah silenced me with a look."Commander, Ecthelion is a captain in the guard, and is one of my father's most trusted men. He does not outrank you, but he is definitly your equal. But if you to gentleman would like to shut up for a minute, I will continue, and give you my fathers orders." We both looked at her. Me with respect, Carlyle with with suprise.

" My father wants Ecthelion to follow the quest for the Devil's diamond. At the same time, he will be scouting out the land." She smiled a little sheepishly." Because... because the Empire is going to invade the the Wilderness, and destroy any one... or anything." The door burst open and a soldier ran in." Commander! Assassins!"
"Aquellos de nosotros que van a morir te saludan"

"Those of us who are about to die salute you"





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Wed Jan 14, 2015 11:21 pm
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r4p17 says...



~How Long does it take to mop the floor again?~
Lander


I walk down the street of the small village wearing pants and a leather jerkin. To think of it! A lady wearing trousers like a man's walking down a public street for all to see? Who would dare to do such a thing? Well, the answer, quite frankly, is me.

I make my way over to the village stable. I'm not going to ride sidesaddle like most proper women do. I don't have any time to waste. I need to get to for Ratangue quickly.

Most would probably consider my idea crazy, but I scoff. I have already been through a a lot. I would much rather go on an expedition in the wild where I belong than spend my days as a washerwoman. I don't care if is costs me my life. By now I am already so low that I am almost out of money and I have decided it is time to do something desperate.

I look up as the smells of the village stables greet me. You might be surprised, but I actually happen to like the smell of barns, or rather the smell of the animals that inhabit them. I drink it all in, ignoring the odd looks that the stable boys give me. I don't care what they think of me.

Now that I think of it though, it does seem a little strange to be walking toward a stable in men's clothing and carry nothing but a single pack. I don't have much with me. I feel like hiding away from their glares, but I really need a horse!

"Good afternoon," I say to one of the younger men. "Do you know where the stable master is?"

"He's right over there," the man said pointing to a man with long pants, riding boots and a felt hat. He appeared to be rather tall. Most people are taller than I am. Just one more reason not to like men. I wouldn't mind being short, but quite frankly, almost all men are bigger than I am and they all hate me. I'm sure of it. From childhood I have suffered from abuse by men, including my father.

I walk straight toward the man, deciding I might as well get it over with. Okay. Don't get nervous. You don't know he is like the others, she told herself. But he most likely is, the old suspicious part of her said. There's no time to think about that now. Just go up and ask the man for a horse!

Clearing my throat I walk up to the man and say, "Excuse me sir. Do you have a horse that I could rent. I need to ride to Fort Ratangue, and soon."

"Of course. We have an outpost there, so to speak. We trade horses back and forth all of the time. Most of the people that come by are on their way to Fort Ratangue, but not all that many people come through here."

"I know. I am a scientist, well a botanist, and I am hoping to be of service at the fort."

"I don't need to know your business. It doesn't affect me, just so long as you need to rent I horse and you happen to have the money."

Of course. I don't know why I even said that. I guess I had just assumed that he would want to know.

I pull out a few coins and hand them to the man reluctantly. There are hardly any of them left, I realize. I better spend the rest of them wisely, if I have to spend them at all.

"I will have one of the lads go and fetch a horse for you. I will try to make sure that you get a calm one. We wouldn't want you to be having any trouble along the road out in the middle of no where with no one to help you."

"I don't think I will have any trouble. I find that animals suit my tastes much better than most humans do."

"I'll do it nonetheless," the man replies. I roll my eyes. This one is a rare case! I think to myself. Most of the others would do just the opposite. I haven't met many men like this one.

"Herb!" the man yells. "Get this lady a horse. Make sure it isn't one of the feisty ones too! We wouldn't want anything happening to her.

A flash of suspicion creeps into my mind and I try to piece things together. [i]Why would he want to give me a calm horse. What do I matter to him. And why would he call me a "lady". I think I can smell trouble somewhere here. It just doesn't seem right to me. Perhaps they are trying to give me a slow horse so that they, or someone they know can harm me. Maybe that's why he is supposedly being so nice to me.
I pause and consider what to do. If I refuse then the man might become suspicious, but if I go along with it I might land myself in trouble.

"Here is Mop," one of the stable boys says, handing me the reins. Mop is a good name for her. She has white and a light brown, almost tan, mottled coat. Her mane looks quite similar to a mop, especially do do its haphazard nature. I am sure many a groom has tried, and failed, to comb that scraggily mess of coarse material we call hair. Instantly I fall in love with her. She is a beauty.

"Thank you. She is a good looking horse. Not the fastest type, but she will do. The fort isn't too far from here."

"You can take her. Thank you for doing business with us!"

I nod toward the man and then mount Mop. I feel like I should say something else to the man, but I decide against it. I don't have any more time. With a tap of my heels against Mop's belly I brace myself for her to break into a trot, the bounciest gait, but she barely speeds up into a fast walk. I tap harder this time hoping she will understand me, but again she seems unaffected. Finally I kick her. Any other horse would be cantering, if not galloping by now, but Mop only just picks up enough speed to settle into a trot.

"You need a lot of training Mop. If you were like any other horse I would have kicked harder and let them know I was upset. I see you are just in need of a lot of training. Pick up your pace now." I click to her and kick her, and not gently this time.

Mop soon slipped into a canter and continues at it for about a minute. I begin to feel satisfied, but then she stops. This is going to take a long time, I think as I shake my head.
One writer with one imagination makes thousands of new worlds and stories." ~ Anonymous author





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Fri Jan 16, 2015 8:42 pm
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BrumalHunter says...



Thomas

...which is why adopting the appearance of a member of the opposite sex is never an advisable endeavour. Even mere illusions are not to be attempted, as even the most subtle of discrepancies in one's behaviour can lead to

Thomas stopped midsentence when he heard someone mention his name. He looked up to see a young boy speak to the old librarian who then pointed in his direction. Thomas abruptly closed his grimoire and returned it to his satchel, sweeping the quills together in one swift movement and depositing them in the satchel as well.

"You're Thomas Austin?" the boy asked as Thomas stoppered his inkpot and put it away.

"I am."

The boy continued to look at him, an expectant look upon his face. Sighing, Thomas handed the boy two coppers.

"Jeremiah Hudson says you should be ready to leave tomorrow at sunset and that he will be waiting at the Overgrown Vineyard."

Thomas nodded and the boy left without another word. He had not expected that the expedition would have to depart so prematurely, but he had prepared for it - one did not get as far as he had by being caught off guard.

After leaving the library, Thomas visited the Fort's armoury and bought a few more cartridges for his pistol. Thence, he found himself a comfotable spot in the corner of the previously mentioned inn and continued his writing.

the undermining of the illusion's effectivity. No matter what else can be gained, the integrity of the illusion must always be of the highest priority, as it is the foundation on which the cover is built, and the loss of the cover is every illusionist and spy's worst nightmare...
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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SpiritedWolfe says...



Aaron Maydock
~Chamber~


“This will never work.”

Xavier paces back and forth beside a wall, his hands folded behind his back. He takes several steps forward, then turns and continues back, creating a rhythmic beat with the sound his boots make. It’s rather infuriating: the combination of the noise and his stress.

“Stop that,” I snap. “You’re anxiety is annoying me.”

Stopping midstride, he turns and glares at me. “What do you expect me to do?”

"Hmm. Maybe stop pacing or drop dead," I remark. "I could help out with the second option." My favorite dagger just happens to be in my hands and I run my finger along the leader grip of the hilt. With a flick of my wrist, I wave it in the air and sneer.

"Oh, yes. Very funny. And I suppose you'll win the Callitrix over with that same attitude."

"Hush," I hiss. "You're just being a moron and I'm calling it like it is."

A long sigh escapes Xavier and he continues pacing. "Are you even taking this seriously? One wrong move and they could very well kill us."

"Look. I don't have a reason to be worried. You won't infuriate them because you'll keep your trap shut and I'll be fine because I won't even mention that goddess of theirs."

"Yeah, but-."

I raise my hand to interrupt him. "No, no. Get it through your thick skull that I'm your leader and I know what I'm doing. Just because you're my brother, doesn't mean I'll hesitate to slit your throat. 'Kay?"

Pursing his lips, he fingers a scar running down his shoulder and says, "Yeah, I know. You've proven that point several times before."

"Good." Now that that little discussion is handled, I lay back down on the cot and cross my legs, staring up at the ceiling. Just like the walls, stone bricks are fitted together and arranged in strange patterns to create the ceiling. Clearly, these chambers were created long ago, since cracks run through the bricks and moss creeps across the stone.

Still, the structure holds true to its purpose of not collapsing, which is sort of nice. If this is how their rarely used diplomatic chambers look, I can only imagine the condition of their city. I wonder if we'll go anywhere near there today.

Xavier's worries interrupt my thoughts again. "Alright, please at least tell me you've thought about what you're going to say to them."

I shrug. "Not a clue. In fact, you can make yourself useful and tell me what their names are."

Dead silence follows and I imagine a look of horror creep onto Xavier's face. "You don't know their names...?"

"Of course not," I say. "Their titles are far too long and all the names are too similar. There's Callitrix and Callypsis and that Cali-whositwhatsit. I would've even care if one was called the 'Cali-octopus'. The only one I'll remember, if any, is probably the High Priestess."

"Aaron! If you go around calling them the 'Cali-whositwhatsit', I can guarantee you we're not walking out of there."

"Yes, I know that. Just give me the names."

Pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, Xavier rushes over and places it into my hand as I sit up. "Wow, so you had to write it down."

Cracking a smile, he replies, "I'm the one who was explicitly order not to speak unless spoken to."

After unfolding the paper, I flip it around and turn it several ways, trying to read the chicken scrawl. The ink is faded, making it even harder to see. No matter which way it's turned, I can't make out what the words are supposed to say, only that fact that those titles are pretty long.

Eventually, I shove the slip back in his chest. "Alright, smart ass. Read it to me, since you're obviously terrible at writing."

With a dramatic clearing of his throat, Xavier recites, "The leader of the Callitrix is titled Calliarus Driazar, the eyes and hands of Callypsis the Merciful, Matron of the Callitrix, while he will be accompanied by High Priestess Siana, the ears and mouth of Callypsis the Merciful, Matron of the Callitrix."

"Sorry," I mock. "I didn't catch that, it went by too fast."

"Goodness, why can't these leaders be like you can just go by their first name?"

"You know, I could learn a thing or two from these guys. I'll start calling myself 'Empress Aaron, protector of the good name of the Exiles, inhabiting Cobra Mountain'."

"Eh, doesn't have the same ring to it. Maybe add 'slayers of the empire' in there somewhere," he teases.

As I'm about to reply, a loud creak sounds from the entrance, and a man's head pop's in. "Exile Leader, Calliarus and High Priestess await."

I nod. "Thank you. Just a moment, please." The Callitrix man recedes from the doorway, waiting right outside.

Then, I pull myself off the cot and turn to Xavier. "Leave all your weapons here."

Though the command annoys him, since he rolls his eyes, he unbuckles the sheath on his side and lays it on the table. I do the same, almost slamming dagger down into the stone. Usually I'd have the comfort of knowing I can still fight my way out of a tough spot. Now, I'm defenseless.

"Aei! And the one from your boot," I bark. "You were the one going on about angering them. Come, on. Fork it over."

Reluctantly, the dagger hidden in Xavier's boot is exposed and placed onto the table. "Why do we have to leave them in the open," he grumbles.

"To show trust," I retort and lead the way outside.

"Who's talking here? I didn't think you knew how to trust, Aaron."

Shooting him a venomous glare, I push the entrance open and face the man who came to escort us. "Lead the way."

Though the walk is short, the scenery is still beautiful. Sounds of gushing water in the air only add to the ambiance, while still some mist drifts over to us, created from the force of the waterfall. We're led further towards a garden, with fruits flowering and each lush plant blooming. Now if only Cobra Mountains has this.

Right in the middle of it all, is a small clearing, raised up slightly to give a view of the entire garden. The two leaders stand at the top, staring down at me. Our escort gestures us forward, but says nothing and doesn't even steps up onto the small incline. Swallowing my fear, I recite their names over and over in my head as I take each step forward, Xavier following close behind me.

When I reach a comfortable distance before the two, I bow my head and gesture to the female. "High Priestess Siana, the ears and mouth of Callypsis the Merciful, Matron of the Callitrix..." The Priestess dips her head slightly, then looks up and stares into my eyes. The contact is unsettling, and I quickly move on to the leader.

"And Calliarus Driazar, the eyes and hands of Callypsis the Merciful, Matron of the Callitrix..." I gesture and bow in the same way as to the Priestess, but instead his stone cold eyes are locked on me, seemingly staring into my soul.

After a slight pause, I finish the introduction, "It is an honor to be in your presence." Suppressing a grin, I silently congratulate myself for keeping the names straight.

The Calliarus is the next to speak. "What is your business here?"

It takes all my strength not to remark with a tart 'you know why' and instead calmly reply, "We have heard rumor of the Devil's Diamond's reappearance. Some even believe it can be located in the deep forest once more."

"That doesn't explain why you have sought us out," the Priestess says cooly.

Sweat runs down my back, and I have to force my voice from quivering. "I am here to represent the Exiles in our plan to seek out the Diamond. But we cannot do this on our own. And so, we request your assistance in our expedition, Calliarus and High Priestess."

Once again, the Priestess strikes while keeping a calm and steady voice. "What would we gain from aiding you?"

"The Diamond," I reply, quickly. "It is no secret that the Callitrix desired the stone in the legend."

"And what if we refused?" she says.

"There is no guarantee we will go either way," the Calliarus interrupts. "In what way would the Exiles aid us? What is to keep us from exploring on our own?"

My racing pulse calms a little. Finally, something I can answer with ease.

"History is a good example," I start. "When the previous Callitrix went against the empire alone, the Diamond was lost. If our two clans combine, we shall create an unstoppable force. Then it is guaranteed that we will secure the diamond.

"What aid can I provide? Well, I have an army of warriors that will follow me into battle without protest at a single command. Though they may seem barbaric to you, their ruthlessness provides useful in the fight against a man of the empire. They have a drive, an absolutely desire to find this diamond which will not rest until it is in our hands. We even have faithful spies inside the empire, to track what sort of expiation they will plan themselves.

"Once it is found, the Diamond shall rightfully go to you, Caliarus and High Priestess. With all of this, I only ask for one thing in return: that we, as Exiles, are allowed to use the Diamond's power to destroy the empire that deemed us so in the first place."

For a moment, I felt convinced that I had won them over. There wasn't a doubt in my mind they wouldn't agree to the terms. Most of it was in their favor. But once again, the Priestess' icy stare and blunt words broke my spirit.

"Exile Leader, we do not want to slander the good name of the Callitrix," she reasons. "Slaughtering the entire empire, civilians and all, would go against what Callypsis has created us for."

"I assure you, High Priestess, that we shall not demand any of the Callitrix for the final raid of the empire. It shall be on the weight of us Exiles alone."

"But how will you insure we get the Diamond back? With a bunch of Exiles running wild with it, surely out end of the deal will never be met."

I take a deep breath to calm myself. "That is also why, during the raid, I shall not accompany them. Xavier, here, will be leading them and he will insure the Diamond is returned. I shall be under your captivity and that is the trade. My life for the Diamond."

Xavier's hand slips into my own and squeezes hard. Of course, I didn't tell him about this teensy little part. And well, I'm basically asking for a death wish, since we both know I'm not in a very stable position as leader. As so as I'm gone, someone else will take up my spot as leader. I can only hope enough favor me so this will work.

I find myself almost praying he'll accept my bluff. For a moment, his eyes are in deep concentration, and even the Priestess does not remark, even though I'm sure she does not approve.

"Your terms are reasonable," the Calliarus finally says. "We agree to aid you." And I can finally breathe again.
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ThePatchworkPilgrims says...



Jeremiah

The Overgrown Vineyard was extremely overcrowded when Jeremiah stepped in. He jostled his way to the table he had reserved the previous afternoon, greeting the bartender with a slight nod. His equipment and rucksack had been stowed away just behind the inn, making it easy to leave as soon as all of the others arrived.
After ordering a pint of Layatan mead, Jeremiah started scanning the drinkers around him. A small instrumental group were playing a popular melody in the opposite corner of the inn, and many of the drinkers were whistling along or rapping on the tables. There were several off-duty soldiers scattered through the inn, but either they were too drunk or too busy with flirting to have noticed Jeremiah’s arrival.
In one of the corner cubicles, Jeremiah spotted a light brown-haired man staring at him. He recognised the man as Thomas Austin, and beckoned to him to join Jeremiah at the table.
“Ah, Lieutenant,” Thomas said as he took a seat at Jeremiah’s table.
“Just Jeremiah, please. Are you ready to depart?”
“Of course. Where are the others?”
“They ought to arrive within the hour. I would like to leave as soon as they’ve all arrived.”
“I heard there was an assassination attempt at the Keep. They say the Princess is here.”
“Your sources are accurate, Thomas, there was an assassination attempt. But, as always, the assassins were dealt with.”
At that moment, the woman Jeremiah recognised as Kaliska entered the inn.
“Kaliska,” Jeremiah said, standing to greet the newcomer, “This is Thomas Austin, a fellow adventurer.”
“Is this all of us?” Kaliska said, sitting down.
“We’re still waiting for one more member, and then we can depart.”
“Please continue telling me about the assassination attempt,” Thomas said, leaning forward slightly.
“Well,” Jeremiah said, finishing his mead, “It definitely was someone influential who hired them, that’s for certain.”
“Why do you say that?” Kaliska asked.
“These assassins were trained killers. They took out five of the Commander’s personal battalion before being overwhelmed. Their weapons were also of expensive quality and skilfully crafted.”
“How would they know the Princess is here?”
“Not really sure. Their employer most likely thinks the Fort a less risky location to assassinate a famed commander and a member of the royal family than the Century City.”
As they were discussing the assassination attempt further, the final member of their party arrived. Lander looked windblown and clearly exhausted, most likely from riding a horse too quickly.
“Glad you could join us, Lander,” Jeremiah said, “we were just wondering when you’d arrive.”
“My apologies,” Lander said, giving a long sigh, “I just had a long ride.”
“Well, then we’ll wait until you’ve eaten before we depart.”
Lander just started eating the leek soup the bartender had brought over when a minor brawl drew Jeremiah’s attention to the bar counter. There he saw a soldier inconspicuously watching him and his party.
“Lander, stop eating right now,” Jeremiah said, standing up, “We’re all leaving now.”
“Already?” Lander asked.
“Yes. That soldier over there has been watching us for who knows how long. I believe the Commander wants to arrest us.”
“Then let’s go,” Kaliska said, also standing up and making her way out of the inn.
Jeremiah retrieved his equipment, and then quickly led the party towards the northern gate, otherwise known as the Chaos Gate, for it led into the Wilderness. The guards were busy with a shift change, so the party had a fifteen minute time period to get through the gate, over the bridge and into the forest.
“Come on!” Jeremiah urgently whispered before pushing open the gate.
As Lander, Thomas and Kaliska exited the Fort, Jeremiah caught sight of the soldier from the inn watching them leave before hurrying away towards the Keep.
And now the Commander knows of our departure, Jeremiah thought as he closed the gate and ran across the bridge, Brilliant.

* * * * *
Commander Carlyle
Carlyle was just about to retire to his quarters when a panting soldier ran into his office.
Somewhat annoyed at the lack of respect and precedence, Carlyle spoke with a sting in his voice.
“Why do you bother me when I’m about to retire to my quarters?” he asked.
“M’lord,” the soldier panted, “Lieutenant Hudson and his party have left into the Wilderness.”
Carlyle instantly banged his fist on the desk, making the inkwell topple over, messing up the sheets of paper in front of him.
“God dammit!” he shouted, “Why do I only hear of this now?!”
He waved his casually over the desk, making the ink flow back into the well, the figurines return to their upright positions and the papers reorder themselves.
“M’lord, I ran as fast as I could to bring you this information.”
“Why didn’t you try and stop the bastard!”
“Most of m’mates were either drunk or nearly there, and I couldn’t...”
“You couldn’t what? Find a sober soldier in a Fort, fullof soldiers?”
“Not fast enough, m’lord.”
Carlyle simply scowled, but when the soldier still stood there like the bearer of bad news, Carlyle got even angrier.
“Anything else, soldier?”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Don’t just stand there with your tongue in your mouth. Speak!”
“The officer who came with the Princess...”
“He’s no officer to me or any person who serves the Circle!”
“Yes, m’lord. The soldier who came with the Princess has also disappeared.”
Disappeared?! Does the Circle pay you to allow people to disappear?”
“No, m’lord. But none of m’mates who were watching him saw him leave, m’lord.”
“Leave me, before I make you disappear!” the Commander bellowed.
“Anything else you require service with, m’lord?”
“You’ve done enough for tonight!”
“As you wish, m’lord.”
After the soldier left, Carlyle paced up and down in his office for a long while before starting to write urgent letters to his brother.
The Circle aren’t going to be very pleased, he thought well writing, But at least we’ve got the Princess alone now...
Former incarnations have been:
TheWanderingWizard
TheClockworkConjurer
TheIllusiveIntellect
TheSunderingSorceror
And, TheMaieuticMesmerist


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StupidSoup says...



Morn

The afternoon was cold, yielding an even colder night. The fading of the light found Morn five miles off of Cobra Mountain. Deciding to make camp rather than brave the denizens of the night, Morn set down in a grove of pine. The assassin quickly made a fire. He split the earth at his feet and drew up a sufficient amount of magma, then encased it in a cauldron of stone.

Satisfied, Morn paced around his cauldron and reviewed his assignment, desperately trying to keep his memories at bay. The assassin had been told to infiltrate Century City, not a hard task to do, and find information of a plan to retrieve the Diamond, and extremely hard endeavor. Despite the odds, Morn had prevailed. He had used the orphans, numerous little boys and girls who the assassin had used as his eyes and ears in the city. Every night for a week , they returned to tell Morn what they had heard and every night Morn gave them bread and cheese. Finally, Morn had seen one of his spies running past his pub and decided to follow, there, he had found who was leading the expedition, the famous and somewhat notorious Jeremiah Hudson.

With that, Morn had left for Cobra Mountain where he would relay the information to Aaron, the Leader of the Exiles. Morn never considered anyone as his leader but he would put up with this for a while, long enough to catch his pray, for he knew what those five were planning and when the time came, the assassin would have his revenge.

With that, Morn surrendered himself to sleep and waited for the memories to come rushing in.

Morn opened his eyes, he was in his house, the house in the woods. His wife bustled around the kitchen, and Morn realized what time it was. Dinner. Morn rushed to his wife and turned her towards him. She stared at him with that same dreamy expression he'd seen a thousand times.

"Honey please! Please hear me! Feel me!" He shouted, more sorrow than anger. His wife just shook herself free and served dinner.

Morn tried dragging her out the door, yet the same barrier kept her from leaving the house, the door wouldn't open and again, she shook herself free. The kids were eating now and time was running out. He tried shouting yet no one could here him. Desperately, Morn tried breaking the door and windows but to avail. The children finished their meal then, laughing, ran upstairs to play. The missus smiled and proceeded to clear the table. Then a thump emanated from outside. Morn's wife looked up. She walked to the window and peered out. Nothing, yet Morn knew where the mercenaries were. Outside to the left, hiding in the bushes.

Morn pointed the spot out, shouting, screaming at the top of his lungs. Yet, the missus just went back to cleaning. Then, the window imploded.

A firebomb flew through the gap and exploded, taking the woman with it. Her body was thrown back against the sink as the heat turned her skin black. From upstairs, the children screamed. Morn rushed up, taking the steps two at a time. He found the children, screaming in their rooms as the flames licked up against the walls. Morn tried to shield them from the fire, to gather them in his arms and protect them yet he simply fazed through the two cowering children. Then a black figure mounted the stairs.

Without warning, a knife flew from the mercenaries' hand and took Morn's son in the eye. The assassin screamed in agony as he watched his son fall. His daughter ran, evading another dagger. She ducked, still crying, into a nearby closet as the fire devoured he top half of the house but Morn knew she was doomed. The man in black crashed through the door and steel flashed in the red glow. The girl fell, her mouth contorted in a soundless scream. Then, Morn ran. He burst into the attic, not really knowing what he was doing but remembering this time as if from a dream.

The assassin stumbled to a the glass case at the end of the room and smashed the top. In a daze, he reached in a pulled out a black cloak. Then, he hesitated. This was his fathers cloak. This was the breaking point.

Morn donned the cloak
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StupidSoup says...



Morn (Bonus Post)

Morn woke bathed in sweat. The world seemed to spin and the assassin stumbled to his feet and retched into the fire pit before him. Then, he slumped back against the cauldron and wept. What was he? A murderer, a thief, an assassin, and something else, something darker.

Morn was his father.

The assassin's weeping slowly faded until no more tears came from his bloodshot eyes. Now, only a sense of immense sadness emanated from Morn. His hands were limp, breathing ragged, and his mind torn as he knew there was nothing in this world to cure him.

Then his features hardened again, back to work, back to murder and trickery and nothing would stop the assassin until his mission was complete. Life, one kill at a time.

Standing, Morn banished the cauldron, sending the fire and rock back to the earth. He set off, through the forest, towards the mountains and home.

Dawn found him climbing the slopes of the Cobra Mountains. The trek was hard, but Morn had been through worse. Ice blew against the assassin, threatening to drive him off the cliff, but Morn advanced, clinging to the rock wall then leaping up and catching another handhold. He would have taken the longer, easier trail but the news could not wait any longer and Morn desperately needed an update on their position with the Callitrix.

The assassin wasn't trusted by the Exile's, of that he was sure, which made news all the more hard to come by. Yet Morn needed news, he would have this quest go through even if he had to kill the High Priestess herself.

Finally, Morn heaved himself over the edge of the village plateau and, straightening, strode into camp.
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Wed Feb 25, 2015 6:44 pm
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BrumalHunter says...



Calliarus Driazar

Spoiler! :
@Wolfare1, I had to pick Aaron's dialogue apart for Driazar to find things to criticise. I hope you don't mind, I meant nothing else by it.


If Siana wasn't the Goddess' High Priestess, he would strangle her. He understood that he was the first male Calliarus for five generations and that many of the female Callitrix, particularly the celebrants, would find that strange and distressing, but that by no means meant he had to accept their abuse. Especially when a grumpy old hag was the one who enjoyed dishing it out the most.

The leaders from the Exile Colony had requested an audience, and while they were undoubtedly a bunch of savages, they had a grim determination that could prove useful in an ally. Naturally, the High Priestess didn't give a fig and simply saw them as savages. She insisted on rejecting them, even if he was the leader - he was the eyes and hands of Callypsis, after all - and had the final say. That was the first thing about her that irked him.

The second was her infuriating habit of answering for him. An excellent example was after he had granted the Exiles' request and was waiting for them to join him and the hag in the gardens near the guest chambers.

The guest chambers were as old as the city itself (meaning it was older than human history - at least, that's what their children were taught) and designed in such a way that they were elegant, but simple, so as to induce awe in the guests when they caught a glimpse of the Calliptra. The gardens, too, had been grown to impress.

Clearly, the desired effect had been achieved, for when the leader of the Exiles and her brother made their appearance, they seemed as timid as mice, even though they tried to seem as fierce as jaguars. Driazar gazed upon them with confidence, aiming to unsettle them even more. Then again, the hag could do that well enough on her own.

The Exile woman greeted both him and Siana with their full titles - a good start - and ended with an, "It is an honour to be in your presence," a suitable, though ingratiating, continuation.

"What is your business here?" he asked nonchalantly. Sometimes, he thought, just sometimes, he was too good at this.

"We have heard rumor of the Devil's Diamond's reappearance. Some even believe it can be located in the deep forest once more."

And then Siana proved herself a thorn in his side yet again: just as he was about to respond, she beat him to it.

"That doesn't explain why you have sought us out."

Who gave her the right to speak? If she'd had things her way, she'd be speaking to the crickets in the bushes at that moment.

"I am here to represent the Exiles in our plan to seek out the Diamond. But we cannot do this on our own. And so, we request your assistance in our expedition, Calliarus and High Priestess."

Even the Exile leader knew - first Calliarus, then High Priestess.

"What would we gain from aiding you?"

"The Diamond," the Exile replied quickly. "It is no secret that the Callitrix desired the stone in the legend."

Past tense? If they no longer wanted the Diamond, that whole negotiation would be for nothing. The leader was slipping up.

"And what if we refused?"

All right, that was enough! "There is no guarantee we will go either way," he interrupted. "In what way would the Exiles aid us? What is to keep us from exploring on our own?"

The Exile leader visibly calmed; he was asking relevant questions, questions you would expect and for which could therefore prepare.

"History is a good example," she answered. "When the previous Callitrix went against the empire alone, the Diamond was lost. If our two clans combine, we shall create an unstoppable force. Then it is guaranteed that we will secure the diamond."

Sloppy sentence construction, and the Callitrix of the time when the Diamond was lost and the present Callitrix were the same. However, her suggestion was logical, and that's what mattered.

"What aid can I provide?" the Exile continued. "Well, I have an army of warriors that will follow me into battle without protest at a single command. Though they may seem barbaric to you, their ruthlessness provides useful in the fight against a man of the empire. They have a drive, an absolutely desire to find this diamond which will not rest until it is in our hands. We even have faithful spies inside the empire, to track what sort of expiation they will plan themselves."

It was frustrating being a learned man around barbarians. Still, she tried, and he couldn't deny she applied her emotive language quite well.

"Once it is found, the Diamond shall rightfully go to you, Caliarus and High Priestess. With all of this, I only ask for one thing in return: that we, as Exiles, are allowed to use the Diamond's power to destroy the empire that deemed us so in the first place."

"Exile Leader, we do not want to slander the good name of the Callitrix," Siana responded. "Slaughtering the entire empire, civilians and all, would go against what Callypsis has created us for."

The High Priestess was capable of sound reasoning? What a refreshing surprise.

"I assure you, High Priestess," the Exile continued, less confidently, "that we shall not demand any of the Callitrix for the final raid of the empire. It shall be on the weight of us Exiles alone."

Too many "shall"s - it should only be used with "I" and "we", not just to sound sophisticated. Besides, if they simply allowed the Exiles to destroy the Empire while they simply looked on, did that not make them equally guilty of genocide?

The hag, of course, had only asked the question because it was expected, not because she cared. Her following question proved it. "But how will you ensure we get the Diamond back? With a bunch of Exiles running wild with it, surely our end of the deal will never be met."

"That is also why, during the raid, I shall not accompany them. Xavier, here, will be leading them and he will insure the Diamond is returned. I shall be under your captivity and that is the trade. My life for the Diamond."

Oh? Now that was a surprise. Perhaps there was more to the Exiles than just primal urges like killing and breeding.

After a few minutes of intense consideration, he came to a decision. "Your terms are reasonable. We agree to aid you."

The Exile Leader exhaled. "Thank you, Calliarus and High Priestess. Your faith will not be in vain."

"For your sake, it had better not be." Siana rose imperiously and gestured for a guard to come closer.

"Take her to her quarters," Driazar added before the hag could continue, rising from his seat as well. She may have started first, but he would not be outdone. "You may say your farewells there."

He shot a smug glance at Siana, who responded with an icy glare; she knew who had won. Turning away from her, he haughtily strode to his throne room. Once there, he gracefully alighted upon his seat of power, not unlike a bird that had just consumed a particularly succulant worm.

"Servant!"

A lightly armed man entered the room. Since there were only three castes, the lowest of Guardians or Artisans doubled as whatever was necessary at any given moment.

"Find me a Guardian willing to be an escort for the Exile Leader and bring them here." The servant was about to rush out of the room, when Driazar had an idea. "Actually, bring him here. I want a male."

The servant nodded and once again made to leave the room. That time, Driazar did not stop him. He did not need to tell him he had a specific person in mind - being an escort was tedious work, and every other Guardian would opt out. Ten minutes later, Driazar's intuition proved accurate, for a long, golden-eyed man entered the throne room, bowing before coming to a halt.

"Greetings, Guardian. What is your name?"

There was no need for the question, as he knew very well who the man in front of him was, in addition to what made him uniquely suited to the task at hand.

"Berras, my Calliarus." The man bowed again.

Berras was a brave, but curious fellow. His curiosity occasionally landed him in trouble, as Driazar had first heard at a forgotten banquet (the Elders - the Celebrants ranked just below him - did like their gossip), but it was precisely that curiosity that had driven him to volunteer for the job, as Driazar had known he would. Furthermore, his length and eye colouring also made him an outsider, and who better to gain the trust of the Exile Leader than a fellow outcast?

"So, you have volunteered to guard the Exile Leader? Good. I need a devoted Callitrix for this most important assignment." Berras perked up. "While we have agreed to help her and her people, we do not know her true nature, and therefore the nature of her folk. I need you to befriend her and report back to me anything you might learn, no matter how insignificant it may seem. But do not consider this solely as an espionage mission - it is as much that as it is an opportunity to learn more about another culture. Speculations and assumptions are of no use to me, so the better we understand our allies, the more harmonious our relationship will be."

Berras' eyes lit up. "Acknowledged, my Calliarus. Do you have any other need of me?"

"No, you may dismiss yourself. Tell the Exile Leader she is free to roam within the limits of the guest quarters, and if she should ever require something, she need only ask. She is our guest, after all. Oh, and Berras, report to me only."

The Guardian nodded and left. Everything Driazar had said was true, for he was genuinely interested in the Exiles' improvised society, but a few embellishments never hurt anyone, especially if it was precisely what they wanted to hear.

And giving the people what they wanted was something at which he was exceptionally skilled indeed.
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SpiritedWolfe says...



-Xavier Maydock -
Early Afternoon ~ Base Camp


The journey home feels so empty. Usually, Aaron would be by my side and we'd start throwing sarcastic comments at one another to ease the tension. Now a lonely silence surrounds me while I listen to the nervous whispers from behind.

I snatch a glance at the other two exiles which accompanied us to and from Calliptra, though only to create a sort of 'strength in numbers' feeling. One doesn't look ahead, and the other quickly averts his gaze off the mountainside. After I told them about Aaron staying behind, not one has been able to straight on look me in the eyes, as if they fear guilt will give away their pity on me.

Well, we did at least get what we came for: an alliance with the Callitrix. Though, it cost us and I know that Aaron feared just as much as I did by the way her green eyes lingered for a second too long, taking me in for as long as she could. Who knows when I'll see her again. If I even will.

Another crisp wind tears across the mountain path, biting into my exposed wrists, even though my hands are buried deep in my coat pockets. Just the trek always makes me question why we have our main city in the highest point of the mountains we could manage. It's unnecessarily long to get there easily, though there are much shorter, much riskier ways up.

It also seems the frigid cold never ceases to sweep across the city, even in the heart of summer. No matter how cleverly we build, how many precautions we take, how well we study the patterns, fierce winds still wiggle their ways into any and every structure in that godforsaken flatland. This seemed so perfect a location at the time the city was founded, and I crack a smile at the thought. What would ever persuade any sensible mind to think this would be the perfect site? Obviously, the first exiles weren't sensible.

Pulling out my thoughts, I realize that the sound of footsteps echoing behind me has faded. When I turn around, both exiles stand there and stare at me with confused looks. Obviously I'd forgotten about the back entrance, which is usually a preferred choice for 'leader figures'. My cheeks burn red hot as I turn and backtrack those extra meters.

One opens his mouth as if to remark, but thinks better of it, moving out of the way to allow me entrance first. With a nod of thanks, I fit my hand into two small dents hidden in the otherwise smooth rock. I heave myself up to the next ledge and begin to walk around yet another spiraled path. While the other two follow, I allow the path to lead me into a thin crevice in an extensive cliff face, barely large enough for me to fit through.

The farther in we walk, the wider the opening gets, and the gap over head eventually closes, thus plunging the path into darkness. For an eternity comprised of five minutes, we continue through the darkness until the weak flame of a torch finally illuminates the tunnel. Instead of keeping the natural shape, stone bricks are stacked on top of one another for support, though the ceiling was kept as it came.

Beside the single torch is a ladder, which leads to a small, closet-like room. With each step on the rungs, the sound echoes around the emptiness of the tunnel.

Up in the room, with all three of us gathered, I finally break the silence of the entire trip. "You're free to go. And one of you find me Daniel."

The man nods, taking the other by the hand and leading her out of the room. I stay for a moment longer, bracing myself for what's next. There will be accusing tones, angered outbursts and further unrest, all of which I'm not sure I'm ready to handle. How does Aaron always handle this position so coolly? With a final shaky breath, I exit and stride into the grand hallway, avoiding flinching as I pass Aaron's quarters.

At the end of the hall is the Grand Hall, as it was cleverly named. It is merely a very open, naturally carved out overhang in the mountain, situated to be the meeting place with anyone and the leader. The only thing keeping this place semi-cozy is how an enormous, dark wooded set of doors covers an opening, along with bricks stacked straight up. It's a miracle half this city/town/settlement/what-ever-the-heck-this-place-is is still standing.

Out in the center of the room stands a squat, muscular man, one of Aaron's advisors known only as Harold, tapping his foot impatiently. "Where's Aaron?" he says as I approach him.

"Considering she's not here, I'd think it would be safe to assume she stayed back," I reply. "Why do you need her?"

"Why?" he grumbles.

I shrug. "More diplomatic issues that you don't need be concerned with."

While his scowl deepens, he says, "Fine then. What am I supposed to tell Morn?"

"He's back? Already?"

"Of course he his," he snaps, "and he's insisting on meeting with her."

"Tell him that he'll just have to talk with me, then."

After another moment of glaring at me, Harold turns on his heels and practically stomps out of the large room. His footsteps even echo around, caused by the emptiness of the place. A much smaller, more functional door is carved into the enormous 'ceremonial' ones, which take ages to shove open and always freeze out the chambers when opened.

For a couple agonizing minutes, I wait in the center of the room, folding my arms across my chest. Is it that difficult to relay a simple message? My eyes continuously scan the room, taking it all in like I've never spent a day in my life here. Logically, it'd appear to be dark and dank, being a literal cave, but a nice chandelier of torches hangs down from the ceiling. That sure is a pain to change out regularly.

The sound of a creaking door comes to my ears, and I notice a shady man in a black coat coming in. "Morn."

He doesn't bother to waste time. "Have negotiations not gone well with the Callitrix?"

"Not necessarily," I say, treading carefully, "Aaron's merely staying back to supervise the assembling party."

He runs a hand through his gray hair, then mutters, half absent minded. "Is the deal set?"

"What is more important is what you have to report," I say, shifting around his question. The deal may be set, but the terms are shaky.

"Jeremiah Hudson," he sighs irritably. "Party of four and they set out yesterday."

I ponder it for a moment. "How was their departure?"

"I didn't stay around for that. This is all I found out before coming back."

"It may have been nice to know how the Empire saw the exposition, whether it was promoted or forbidden." Once the words are out if my mouth, I realize how straightforward they are after Morn flinches. Not visibly, only a mere clenching of his fists and his jaw tightening, but it may not be wise upset him; that's something Aaron would do.

I continue, "But this is useful news. We are at least ready to expect company."

Silence passes between the two of us for a moment more. I expect him to ask further about our endeavors with the Callitrix or instead leave. Instead, he stares at me with those cold eyes of his. Chances are, there isn't much else for him to do.

Suppressing a sigh, I say, "Another escapade in the Empire at this time may not be of the greatest use to us, but if you stay around the area for the next two days, I'm sure I could find another use for you."

Another wave of silence comes forth; this is just becoming unnerving now. But he soon grunts in acknowledgement and begins to walk out the door, passing Daniel as he joins the stream of people coming in and out. I've been back for less than ten minutes and it already seem alike every issue rests on my shoulders.

But I force on a smile and greet him, "Thank God, Daniel. You finally came."

"I see you've come back in one piece," he laughs. "Where's the sister? She say something at the wrong time and get herself in spot she couldn't get out of?"

That's one way to put it. "Alas, no. She's staying behind with diplomacy, but leaving me in charge with the raid."

"Did she now? Bold move on her part. Easy to swoop in and take the crown."

"I think she's starting to thaw," I say. "She made me 'show trust', which was interesting. It was like seeing a pink sheep dance into camp."

"Good then, but I'm sure there's more to a reason that you've called me here? Better be important, Xavier. You know I've got a whopping number of customers, totaling at two."

"This shouldn't take you long. I want a raid team with three others, and make sure you get the supplies to last a couple week. I want it all done in two days."

"You're asking miracles, there," he teases. "I see Aaron's taught you well."

I merely nod and drift off, thinking back to what else I had to worry about. "She sure had to. Why would I make her life easier by not challenging her rein?"

The phrase was directed as a joke, but Daniel still falls silent. He almost seems to be seriously considering it. Then again, I am too.
Last edited by SpiritedWolfe on Fri Feb 27, 2015 5:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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BrumalHunter says...



Thomas

Jeremiah led the way through the jungle, moving at a pace somewhere between walking and jogging. For the most part, he stayed at the front, hacking away at ferns and creepers, but sometimes he stopped to urge the rest of the party on. Lander, however, was having a little difficulty, as her five minutes of rest had not been sufficient.

“Jeremiah,” she wheezed, “I can’t go any farther.” As if to emphasise her words, her knees gave way and almost caused her to fall face first onto the jungle floor. Fortunately, Thomas had good reflexes.

“We’re still too close to the Fort,” he responded. “The Commander’s soldiers simply have to follow the trail of slashed branches to find us.”

“Then why don’t you let Kaliska lead the way,” Thomas suggested, “since she said she comes from Layata, and then you can help me support Lander.”

Jeremiah hesitated, but only for a moment. Passing the machete to Kaliska, he hooked his right arm over Lander’s left shoulder. “Okay, let’s go.”

Kaliska proved to be more experienced than Jeremiah at clearing the underbrush, and with him helping Thomas, their pace actually accelerated. And so, they continued for what Thomas estimated to be an hour, judging by the angle of the rays that penetrated the canopy, before the three of them were also tired.

“I think now would be a good time to take a breather…” Jeremiah admitted.

Kaliska grunted in agreement. “I see a clearing up ahead. We can rest there.”

The clearing turned out to be a glade, but that was more to their disadvantage than the reverse: the larger open space meant they were more vulnerable to surprise attacks, and not necessarily by the Fort’s soldiers. Unfortunately, the nonhuman inhabitants of the Wilderness were mostly unknown, as very few explorers ever returned from the heart of the jungle. It might have sounded cliché, but when you were actually in the Wilderness itself, nothing seemed too farfetched.

Even Thomas was unnerved. Ordinarily, he would be composure incarnate, but for once in his life, he truly was outside his “comfort zone” – there was no information on it which he could study beforehand, and the sources that did exist, were incomplete and therefore insufficient. Then again, he had never expected the expedition to find the world’s most powerful gemstone would be an easy one; even somebody as skilled as he would be tested.

After settling down, the four adventurers spread out to have the best view of the glade, but still in each other’s sight, Thomas opened his grimoire and began documenting the flora around him. Lander, who was munching on a piece of bread Jeremiah had handed her, noticed it and enquired as to its purpose.

“It’s a log my ancestors used centuries ago. I would show you what’s inside, but…” he held it up to her, revealing the blank pages. “They enchanted it so that only a descendant could read it.”

“That’s cool,” she replied, biting off another piece.

Thomas returned his attention to his book. Most of the trees, vines and shrubs were already in the grimoire – it really did double as a log – but there were two he had never seen before. He was in the process of cataloguing an unknown fern, when a white butterfly with magenta and crimson markings alighted beside him. The colouring indicated it was likely poisonous, but Thomas couldn’t determine whether it was a known species, for a nearby group of parrots had taken screeching to the sky, scaring the delicate insect off.

“Wha’ wash tha’?” Lander asked with her mouth full.

“A threat.” Thomas replied, snapping the grimoire shut and rising to his feet.

Kaliska and Jeremiah had come to the same conclusion, for they too had risen. “It could just be an antelope,” the latter added, drawing his sword, “but I don’t plan on staying to find out. Let’s go.”
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Wolfi says...



Kaliska


"Faster, Kaliska, faster!"

The machete sliced through the foliage with as much speed and accuracy as I could maintain, but the possible threat of approaching soldiers made all of us desperately anxious to be quicker. Each beat of my heart seemed to deliver a single, self-explanatory message to every inch of my body: faster... faster... faster... That word undoubtedly echoed in each of the other adventurers’ hearts, too.

What I regretted most was how easy our trail was to follow. The littered path of fallen branches and trampled undergrowth were as simple to trace as a trail of breadcrumbs.

I could picture a group of soldiers catching up to us and forcing our surrender with gleaming swords. It was a shame that they too had to be the enemy, for it seemed as if we had plenty of opponents to worry about without them. And anyway, I thought, my father could be chasing after us right now, and several of Jeremiah’s friends, too. What could I say to my father when he visited me in the fort’s underground cells, with chains on my ankles and wrists?

As we sped through the Wilderness, I was conscious of the fact that the jungle was changing. It took me a minute to pinpoint what exactly was different, for the change was gradual, but as I slashed away branches and waded through fronds of tall ferns, I found that it was getting darker and darker beneath the towering trees. It wasn’t the waning hour that caused the light to dim; it was the thickness of the canopy. Earlier, there had been a sunlight-dappled shadow covering the carpet of earth, moss, and ferns, but by the time we had traveled another hour after our rest stop in the glade, hardly a speck of light could shine through. It was nothing, I realized then, compared to Layata’s jungles. As I lifted my head to see the hundreds of vines and branches and leaves that crossed over one another in the canopy, I was humbled by the ultimate magnitude of this Wilderness.

I finally and truly understood why my father had always warned me not to leave the fort when I visited him, and not to explore further than the first line of trees. This was the Wilderness of Machufuko, a jungle we adventurers had trekked through for a couple of hours and yet hardly explored. The dangers I had faced in the jungles of Layata, I knew then, would not be enough to prepare me for what lay ahead.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my free hand but didn’t cease the incessant slashing at the thickening vegetation. I was tired, as was Jeremiah - his urgings to quicken the pace were increasingly infrequent - and Lander had to be very tired, too. I took a short glance backwards to see if Thomas and Jeremiah were supporting her again, and was surprised to see that she was mostly hurrying on by herself. Her face was red and her chest was heaving, but she was on her own two legs. I smiled, my respect for her increasing.

I turned back to my assignment and hacked through a branch adorned with crimson buds. “Kaliska, no!” Jeremiah yelled. “Stop! For God’s sake, stop!”

Alarmed by his urgency, I dropped the machete, assuming that I had just murdered some rare plant. But in a moment I saw that he was trying to save my life, not the tree’s. Unable to completely halt myself in time, I stumbled forward, where the jungle floor unexpectedly sloped downward into a deep basin.

“Kaliska!” I heard Lander cry, but I was powerless to keeping myself from tumbling down and crashing through ferns and several more crimson-budded branches. Once the slope finally leveled out, I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the minor cuts on my legs and arms. I felt strangely exposed, for the basin lacked the canopy and tall trees of the rest of the jungle. The sun streamed in, alighting upon the bright crimson buds of the numerous short shrubs and trees that occupied the area. But what drew my attention were not the odd plants.

Before me was a tall building of aged white stone, entwined with green ivy that traced a path up ancient staircases and arches. At the highest point of the building was a dome, which had also sucumbed to the ivy and vines.

I looked back up at the other adventurers, who were watching from the top of the slope. “Kaliska,” Jeremiah said, “we need to get you out of there. Right now.”

“Why?” I asked, figuring we could explore the ruins. “You guys should come down here.”

“It’s extremely dangerous. There’s a -” His voice trailed off momentarily, and though they were some distance off, I saw each of the adventurers’ eyes widen visibly. Thomas took out his queer leather-bound log that he seemed to treasure so highly and hurriedly began to flip through it. Jeremiah’s left hand sought a weapon as he breathed, “Kaliska. Do. Not. Move.”

A cold chill ran up my spine. Not moving was something I was terrible at: I wanted to run, or scale a tree. Scared of what lingered behind me, I slowly turned my head.

Standing hardly twenty yards away was one of the many monsters that we would see in the Wilderness, a colossal cat with a coal black mane and smoky fur. It emerged from the ruins and exposed its yellow teeth in an ugly hiss, narrowing its black eyes and flicking its skewed tail.

The cat seemed to be drilling its devilish eyes into my head. God, it was huge. I took a tiny step backwards, and in turn the cat took two steps forwards. I whispered a Layatan curse, but kept myself calm and unwillingly still. I heard a tiny squeak escape from Lander above, and the cat did too. It cast its gaze upwards and nonchalantly scanned the three adventurers before looking back at me and running its pink tongue along its teeth. It did not seem fazed at all by my returned intense gaze, a technique I had often used to scare away coyotes or bears. The lieutenant was trying to distract the cat, and climbed down the slope a bit to shout at it. The cat’s ears swerved back in annoyance, but instead of abandoning its original prey - me - it advanced further.

I was scared, so I reached for the knife from my belt. The cat, who had seemed to have been waiting for my next move, hissed again, and this hiss developed into a rumbling growl. Its back arched and its back legs tensed. “That’s it,” I heard Jeremiah mutter. His next command he issued to me with an urgent force that I obeyed without a second of hesitation: “Kaliska, get down!”

I threw myself to the ground as Jeremiah raised his musket. I was worried for a moment that he would miss the cat from his high perch on the slope. But no - his shot echoed across the jungle, and the cat was dead.

Jeremiah and the others began to make their way down to me. I inhaled deeply and glanced at the monster, and its dead eyes seemed to be shining with malice.

One enemy had been slain, but with that single gunshot, every living creature in the Wilderness probably knew precisely where to find us.

Spoiler! :
As can be assumed, I described the old Observatory here, and the cat monster could be the NPC’s pet. If it would serve the story better that it was an abandoned outpost instead, I could simply remove the description of the dome. Whatever this place is, it is notoriously marked by the red-budded trees, which Jeremiah had recognized (from tales of the Wilderness, maybe) as a warning of the basin’s danger.
John 14:27:
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled
and do not be afraid.








Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.
— Marianne Moore