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  1. #341
    Rekōdo City: In the Dungeon of the Grand Palace

    Attachment 2352

    Emit, High Chronicler of Rekōdo, Prince Eri, Acting Ruler of Rekōdo and and his guards Ganard of House Fallandor and Merelin of House Diorna

    The Prince looked tired, as tired as any man who had come back from balancing on the brink of grief and madness could be. There was a heavy sag to his shoulders now, where he knelt. He felt crushed beneath the burden of his actions and his sorrows, sorrows which he felt were endless. There was an emptiness where the presence of his sister had always been, at least for so long that he knew no other way. Now, their severed bond created an abyss within him that he did not know how to mend.

    Eliona's words sting. She can see that in the corners of his good eye as he winced and drew his lips down into a deeper frown than they normally carried. He cannot find a response for her words, truthful words. The Prince returned his stared to his sword as it hummed before him from where it had been thrust into the defaced tome. Ryth's words made the Prince look up from the sword. He watched in silence as everyone left the cell. He remained there, upon his knees, in as much a prison of abandonment and guilt as he was in the High Chronicler's cell.

    As the High Chronicler stepped out, the guards of the Prince each offered him the necessary bow of respect. Merelin and then Ganard were silent as they entered the cell to tend to the Prince. Their magikal imprints joined the Prince's half of the infinite diamond of Rekōdo. Curiously, they fit together like a completed painting: Merelin's pale white symbol bloomed around the edges of the door where the Prince's symbol could not reach, where his sister's would undoubtedly have completed the infinite symbol. The lines of the healer's tree spread out from an elegant trunk of pure white. As Ganard entered, his imprint connected the two of their together, like bridges, leaves of the tree and rivers that caressed and flowed out from the Prince's symbol. The colors of the lines varied in color, as many who had lived for generations within the City did, but his were mostly pale blue, as if aligned so acutely to Merelin' white and Eri's azure lineage that he blended the two colors together.

    The High Chronicler was left breathing hard as he re-entered the world of magik that he knew and could feel. He felt his sense and magikal presence return to him and awaken him as if he'd jumped off the cliffs at Cajos and into the Ocean of Liar'Adon. As Ryth and Eliona fiddled with the Guild Badge, Emit put a hand on the cold, damp stone of the wall. He drew his colonial-style coat on and frowned at the state of it. It had endured much and was both singed and bloodied. An attempt was made to brush some of the singe away, but it was in vain. The notion of the Observatory being used for a Council Meeting caused the High Chronicler to look up suddenly. His sense of duty to Rekōdo kicked in. Wrapping on the High Council table began recording the meetings in one of the texts of the restricted room of the library. It was a stone Totem, ancient and from the founding of their united provinces. The meeting could not be recorded. A piece of history was being lost to time. At least, from the sounds of it, it was secure. She was secure. He was safe. Everything was safe.

    The High Chronicler's mental exhaustion was apparent this close to Eliona. There were rings under his eyes and a paleness to his already light complexion. His blue-grey eyes regard her, finally able to observe her for the first time.

    "Thank you" he said gently, a bit of himself far from her. He mentally explored his magik for a moment, taking inventory and becoming familiar with it again. He had been cut off from it so haphazardly for so long that it almost felt foreign to him. He looked to the portal before them and reached out a hand that shook, despite his desire not to, and took Eliona's arm. He looped his elbow with hers, as if they were going to go for a promenade through the City. There was a bit of weight to his end. He felt more off balanced than he wanted to admit. His eyes studied her, to be sure her offer for aid extended to assisting him through the portal. With a gentlemen's protocol, he gesture with a hand for Eliona to enter the portal. The High Chronicler followed behind her through the portal and stepped out into the atmosphere of the Heli'Dom.


    Faraking Island of Taroc in Far Western Rekōdo: The Floating Heli'Dom

    Attachment 2351

    Pasce, Princess of Rekōdo, Arion, Second of Taroc, Nalia of Enchantry, Sacha, Shepherd of Souls and Aramil, his Advisor

    ~It might be better~ Nalia's quiet voice replied within Branwen's mind ~if Kali knew. Then she would not badger me so about resting.~

    Nalia's emerald eyes, glowing lightly around the irises with the cut of emerald stone that dangled at her forehead, moved sideways to Branwen from where she stood. A small, smile accompanied. Small and quick as her fingertips glowed aloft before before her. Branwen would feel the acceptance of energies move in Nalia's direction. She took just a little, just enough to tithe her over for just a little longer. She dipper her head to Branwen subtly. Then Nalia's eyes moved to Alain. The eyes in the room that knew Alain all seem to have moved to the adrift Guild Master of Taroc. Sacha's blue eyes looked between them all and his white brows furrowed. They all showed patience, a patience he came to realize was because they knew the Master well. They knew something was coming from the internal conversation taking place between the Vessel of Taroc and the Spirit he housed.

    "The First Creations of Liar'Adon, the things we can only call lore, have long removed themselves from the world of men." What remained of the original High Council under Heron were most comfortable with speaking up in a place filled with such important bodies. Nalia's quiet voiced drifted easily through the gathered like the mist that crept along the waters by the Ailes. "The O'aris are the first to have be sighted in generations."

    "The Dragonkind have not come beyond the Holds of Maginus since before the Great War ended. We-" Sacha outwardly frowned. "- have not allowed it." He continued and glanced at Alain as he spoke. "They were well informed of what was current in Rekōdo. Karythar heard the rumor of Darmon's murder by Nalia. She spoke of knowing word beyond the mountain. They could have spies."

    Caldur could be a spy to Karythar. Sacha implied as much, but it could just be Maginus paranoia. They, at least, had a reason to strike against Maginus as Caldur had, but Arion had said the man was tainted with Maginus presence in his Soul Song. Sacha and Nalia's eyes shifted to the Princess, but Pasce's eyes had changed.

    Evalynn senses instantly alerted her to the trinket pulled from Olivia's bag. Her blue eyes follow the undead woman's movements. The room is bathed in the dark blue glow of the fire and it casts Evalynn's face in a play of light and shadow. It caused the scales on her arm to glisten and shine. Evalynn opened her palms as the wave of energy flowed over the room. She felt a curtain close around the Heli'Dom, a veil of sorts that the made this place impermeable to crossing. Evalynn studied the components of the veil, the making of its magik with her senses. Without hesitating, she took Olivia's hand. It was when Sacha of Maginus presented his hand to her that she paused.

    The Guild Master of Maginus's serious blue eyes settled on her and she felt every fiber within her being freeze. He stared, unblinking at her through strands of ghostly white hair. What was the story she was told as a child about white hair on someone too young to naturally have it? There was a story. Something about Spirits. But her mind simply could not function under the unwavering gaze of the man who now housed more power than anyone in Maginus. Evalynn felt her chest tighten and the runes carved into the side of her face burn with spells long since cast. Since escaping to Enchantry, seeing the attempted assassination of Nalia al'Vatar, and how the foolishness with with Darmon of Maginus almost threw them all into a third Great War, Evalynn had done everything in her power to avoid Maginus at all costs. Now, here it was, offering her its hand.

    Arion turned to look at the space where a portal would blossom to life. For a long moment, he was silent, listning to something only he could hear. Then a lopsided grin took hostage os his mouth. He spoke to Alain mostly, but his voice lifted to the ear of everyone present.

    "Ryth an' Eliona are comin'." His face changed. His brow furrowed. "They've got... someone with 'em."

    An official Taroc military portal opened exactly where Arion had looked. The Princess stared at the portal. Her face was unreadable. Sacha continued to stare at Evalynn. His hand was still offered to her. Evalynn felt herself being examined under the serious and silent gaze of the young Guild Master of Maginus. Her blue eyes grew unsure under the consistent scrutiny of his gaze.

    Then Ryth, Eliona and the High Chronicler of Rekōdo came through the portal. The Princess made a soft sound at the sight fo the last, but restrained herself from taking a single step forward.
    Last edited by SilntAngl5; 10-06-2018 at 06:12 PM.
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  2. #342
    The Great Orange One Qwaring's clone#1 is offline Qwaring's clone#1's Avatar
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    Lieutenant Lydmila Pavlich, Doctor Doraen & Berlix Ruelle

    The City of Clow, In the Province of Taroc...

    Lydmila recognizes the house. Every powerful seer of Taroc has visited, or been visited by, Zinna and her legendary house. Though, this appearance seems different. The house usually slips its way, unseen, into a place. Here it seems to have blundered out onto the stage like a drunken actor.

    The sniper is visibly surprised to see Doraen stumble out of the house. It seems unlikely the doctor would have stolen the house for some kind of joyride. The man respects his grandmother too much to take her home away from her.

    Doraen senses the confusion in his longtime friend. He opens his mind to her. Lydmila's psyche pulls away from the wolves. They will sense her thoughts embracing those of Doraen's. Information flows between them, like two halves being joined back together.

    They live out the recent experiences of the other. Lydmila's travel to Capios aboard the ghost ship. Zinna betraying Taroc, and meeting her ultimate end. First encountering the wolves. Reuniting with Udaya and Berlix. The battle for Enchantry. Learning the truth of the lost guilds. Clow assigning Lydmila to investigate the origins of the wolves.

    It's Udaya's conversation with the Alpha that shows the Taroc man and woman that their separate paths are actually entwined.

    Lydmila breaks her connection with Doraen, retreating from him. She turns away from the others. There's too much to process.

    Doraen picks himself up off of the railing, only the great space between him and his friend prevents him from reaching out to her. To comfort her as she struggles with the same agony that has threatened to drive him mad. The tip of a cutlass being pointed at Doraen's nose diverts the doctor's attention from Lydmila. He turns to see an azure ghost pointing his sword at Doraen. One blazing golden eye glaring at the doctor.

    Gold-Eye draws an ancient flintlock pistol from his belt and aims it at Udaya's top hat.

    "You've boarded the wrong ship," the ghost pirate snarls. "You've stolen the wrong house, from a nice old woman that I owe many debts to. You seem quite friendly with pals of mine, and so I do not slice you to pieces or shoot new holes through you."

    "Uh- I'm Zinna's grandson," Doraen stammers as he raises his hands and tries to remember any spell that can banish or offer protection from ghosts. No such spells come to mind at the moment. It has been a long night. "We didn't steal the house, it- well- I suppose she left it to me."

    "Left it- ?" the captain whispers. He gazes at the house. His golden eye sees the image of a kindly old woman waving goodbye to him. He had never seen Zinna in life. She spoke to him after the Great War, when he had lost his sight. He heard her projected thoughts after his death, when she convinced him to accept Olivia's offer of a new existence in the living word. He's somehow certain this image is Zinna. Gold-Eye lowers his weapons as the image fades from his mystical senses. "She's gone?"

    Not dead. He can feel that. No. She's simply gone. As if she never was. An end that even the dead fear.

    With the sword no longer pointed at him, Doraen raises his cane, as if to use it to defend himself if the pirate changes his mind and attacks.

    Gold-Eye walks away from the doctor. He pulls his hat from his head and holds it to his chest.

    "Twice that old gal gave me a reason to go on. Without her I would have either ended my miserable life or remained in the great beyond. I am what I am because of that woman."

    Lydmila glances over her shoulder and up at the ghost. Zinna was a traitor. Committing unknown crimes. Betraying so many that didn't deserve such treatment. And yet, she did do some good. Saved some souls.

    It's something to consider as Lydmila wrestles with the knowledge that Clow and Taroc had been a part of the Quieting of two provinces. Clow had participated in attempted genocide.

    How is she to view her friend and mentor now? Saint or monster? A wise spirit or a foolish demon?

    Did he send her here to help him to uncover a great injustice, or to harm him by exposing his greatest crime?

    She closes her eyes. Breathes. Pushes away the things Clow taught her of wisdom, foresight, and following the laws of Taroc and the laws of the stars. The spirit's lessons feel poisonous now. Lydmila summons up the lessons of LeCavalier. The ways of his clan. Of ancient justice, protecting those in need, and fighting against those who would do harm to the innocent.

    Clow and the old council did what their laws deemed was right. It wasn't morally right. It wasn't justice. The LeCavalier's knew this. This is why there is evidence of their clan rebelling against Taroc. Their instincts always guide them towards justice.

    These are the instincts that LeCavalier sought to impart upon Lydmila.

    Lydmila turns to look to Udaya. The sniper radiates the certainty of purpose that Doraen sought her out to find.

    "We will do what must be done," Lydmila tells the old Shamaa woman. She looks to the Alpha. "Can you find your way back to what had once been your homeland?"

  3. #343
    The World of Dreams, Clow...

    The Dire Wolves of the Ailes and Udaya of Shamaa

    In their attentive pets from the ancient Shamaa woman, the pack of noir Dire Wolves does not notice Lydmila slip from their presence. They eagerly nudged their noses forward to get at Udaya, to smell her and be touched by her. She lifted her hands from them as they fought.

    "None of dat here, now!" she scolded seriously and wagged a crooked finger at them. "Dere is plenty to be given out by dese here. Udaya's old hands are no ordinary tings like a delicate flower! Dey will not tire, boys. De are all yours now."

    Like with the Raven's Triumph and her crew, the greeting the Wolves gave her was excited and familial. Their tails wagged eagerly and their wide, crimson eyes tried to squeeze their way to the front of the pack and vie for Udaya's affections. Their noses sniffed loudly at the odd, old woman. They especially were fond of the many pockets of her apron. The air rose and fell with their pants and whines.

    Only the Alpha Wolf noticed Lydmila's slight departure from them. His stature remained poised, erect where he sat, but solemn. Outside the excitement, he was the only one of his pack to realize what was transpiring between Doctor and the Sniper. The large Wolf regarded the two of them with his crimson gaze and silently watched over the two halves joining in something so uniquely perfect that it felt familiar. It felt balanced, like home once did, when he had a home. Lydmila suddenly turning away from them all distracted him from fully re-living that memory.

    That, and the sudden sounds and images of confusion from his pack. The Alpha's mind was suddenly swarmed with images of all their angles, of the Ghost Captain pointing a weapon at the elder Shamaa woman. Their whines rose in distress at two allies at odds. The pack shifted their paws, stepping back adn then unsurely moving forward. They did not know what to do.

    "What is de sense in pointing dat ting at Old Udaya's hat?" she questioned amid the flurry of large, dark bodies moving near her. "Dere is nothing dere!"

    She let out a hearty cackle and looked up beyond the old, misshapen brim of her hat.

    "Dats funny right dere... You are just a hat now."

    Udaya's amused smile faded as Gold Eye realized Zinna's fate. Her squinted, wrinkle-burdened eyes regarded the Captain with a solemness to rival the Alpha Wolf's.

    "Put dat cane down" she whispered loudly to Doraen. "Zinna's boy has more sense den dat. Dese ones here are harmless."

    She smiled a cheeky, toothless smile at the Captain and his crew. Her smile grew excited at Lydmila's proclamation. She waved a vague hand at Doraen while ardently listening to Lydmila.

    "Here, Zinna's boy. Listen to dis girl here. We are going on a trip now."

    But the Alpha Wolf is silent. Lydmila's request drew out a slow silence from the all pack. Eerything dow to their tail tips were still.

    ~I know the way.~

    There was a type of silence at the end that implied there was more to say. The lead Wolf rose from where he sat as if preparing himself for a great journey. Around them, the hazy, pastel color of the Dream World began to shift and morph. The Alpha's crimson eyes stared hard at Lydmila. There was a shine to the blood-color. Aboard the house and ship, Udaya looked down at the ground beyond her feet and pursed her lips in a distorted frown.

    ~Prepare yourselves~ he warned Lydmila, warned them all. ~It is most dangerous to travel there in Dreams.~


    The World of Dreams, The Northeast Edge of The Marshlands...

    The World around them changed the moment they blinked their eyes. The sudden appearance of the airy space of the fields all around them would be dizzying and disorienting. The City of Clow was gone, replaced by vastness of the Marshlands of the South. The world was a hazy color, but here, it almost faded to dull grays and browns. The World of Dreams appeared sickened. The tall grasses that would be a rich gold in color were a dull gray and the riverlets of water that pocketed the extensive fields to the south and west were gray. The buildings of Ardhin in Shamaa were not visible where they stood. They were on the last stretch of dry ground before the Tiarna Wood, her Border Forests and the Marshlands that separated her from the forest they stood and faced.

    It would take only a moment for the to realize where they were. The distant glisten of the Sea of Sul and the dark buildings of the city of Ardhin were to their right, to the south and west. Behind them was the rise of the Tiarna Woods. Her energies hummed and stirred the air at their backs with energy. There was a stillness to the air, one that was made the energies of the forest far behind them and the energies of the looming, dark before them.

    The Alpha Wolf had brought them to the Wilderlands. He stood in the tall grasses and faced the forest silently. The rest of the pack came and stood behind him. Their fur moved subtly in a breeze that did not exist here. The forest was still several yards off, but was an imposing wall of darkness that swayed in sync with the same breeze that subjected the Dire Wolves' fur to movement. As the breeze blew the air and energy of the forest reached them. The Wolves stood perfectly still, but the hair on everyone human would raise in alarm. Something about the air here was wrong. It felt off, charged, dark as if haunted. The forest stood silently before them. From the edge of the porch on Zinna's house, Udaya put a hand up to her old, top hat.

    "Oh no."

    One member of the Alpha Wolf's pack made a quiet, high noise.

  4. #344
    The Great Orange One Qwaring's clone#1 is offline Qwaring's clone#1's Avatar
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    Lieutenant Lydmila Pavlich, Doctor Doraen & Berlix Ruelle

    The World of Dreams, The Northeast Edge of The Marshlands...

    Gold-Eye isn't certain where to glare first.

    "First you plant a house on my beautiful Raven," the ghost complains at Doraen. Then he turns to growl at the Alpha, "Now you've kidnapped my poor boat!"

    Gold-Eye storms away from the others. He walks through the house, passing immaterially through its walls. The pirate emerges out from the house and continues onward up some steps and to the helm of his ship. There he recovers a dented brass telescope. He peers his empty eye socket through the broken telescope and at the surrounding dreamscape.

    "Ruining a perfectly good fishing vacation," Gold-Eye grumbles to himself.

    Doraen pays little attention to the ghost, now that Udaya has assured him that it's safe. It also helps that the ghost doesn't seem to want to kill any of them right now, despite the complaints. The doctor instead looks at the wolves. According to Lydmila's recent experiences, these wolves are really men. Warriors of the lost province. Doraen stares at them, trying to use his mystically enhanced senses to detect the humans dwelling within the forms of these giant wolves.

    Lydmila's focus is on their surroundings. Ever the sniper, her eyes scan the horizons. She quickly finds the darkness. Feels the chilling corruption of this place slithers across her senses. Lydmila grabs the strap of the rifle slung over her shoulder, ready to tug the strap and pull her weapon into her hands.

    Doraen's study of the wolves ends when he also feels the unnatural energy radiating from the dark wilderness. With a shudder he looks out at the Wilderlands.

    "Feels like an infected wound," Doraen whispers. Such imagery is the first image the combat physician can conjure as he beholds such a foreboding place.

    Gold-Eye, tiring of what he sees, or doesn't see, through his broken telescope, throws the dented brass thing away.

    "What is this place?" Gold-Eye demands, as he sets a hand on the wheel of the helm. With a slight nudge of the wheel, the entire ship begins to turn itself. Slowly the vessel starts to drift towards the haunted Wilderlands. "It looks cursed. Haunted. Dangerous. No doubt there are countless horrible beasties lurking about in such a place."

    Gold-Eye enjoys a twisted grin as they drift ever closer to the place he is describing.

    Meanwhile, Lydmila, who still hasn't boarded the ship, notices the Raven's Triumph slowly moving forward. She pulls her rifle from over her shoulder, and holds the weapon at the ready. Lydmila then begins moving forward, walking beside the large ship. The Raven's Triumph is lurching forward at such a slow pace, that Lydmila is able to easily keep up with it.

    "Is it wise to go into there?"Doraen worries aloud. He then looks to Udaya. "Should we research this a bit more? Gather some information first?"

    "Bah!" Gold-Eye scoffs. "The sound of that beating heart is filling your head with nonsense. Once that heart stops, you can hear how silly fear is."

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