[Game Thread] Off-Stage Narration

[Fil kearney]

Celestine has a memory...

Somewhere in The Labyrinth of chasms along the Demon Wastes....

The depths of the ravines never saw the light of day. The heavy fog, the crushing rocks dropping away into the deptsh of Khyber...
"Training ground for the righteous."
Millianta mused. A well known conjurer allied with the GateKeepers; she was legendary in her own right. A human of incredible skill.

After an incredible battle, both sides were running thin. bloodied, battered, and low on resources.
Then the brutes arrived.

Cleaving handholds from the solid rock, The monsters climbed the steep slopes at a full charge, flinging the dug in forces of heaven down into the depths to be lost forever.

Celestine's blasts were minimal in effect: not nearly as strong as he is now. The legion of brutes steadily and swiftly tore their way up the defended ravine 5 fiends wide, shoulder to shoulder.

Millianta had a smile on her face.

"We're gonna get killed if we don't do something!!" Celestine shouted over the howling updraft, stinking of death and brimstone,
"You know something I don't?!!"

"I sure do!!"
She cried with perverse pleasure, her arms outstretched,

The air between them and the climbing legion of infernal doom rippled, and a massive whale, gleaming with it's own celestial light materialized above the near creatures. It was the most horrible, and at the same time most bewildering, scene the young druid had ever seen.

With a roar, the ill- fated creature toppled head over tail-- crushing the large devils. A growing snowball of blood, gore, and whaleflesh tumbled down the chasm with unstoppable force, tearing away the creatures from the wall..

None survived.

[DaveTheMagicWease]

((Time: Two weeks ago))
((Location: somewhere beneath Auxylgard))

His office was a small and spartan affair, the altar to the flame in one corner the only clue as to the identity of its occupant – one of the most powerful men in all of the theocracy. Today he was nervous, and when men such as Ghelios are nervous the whole world holds its breath.

The heavy clang of the door-knocker roused him from his thoughts, and after a moment to compose himself he bade his visitor come in. Gwynaedh strode purposefully through the door, his silver robes shining with the light of the day and his eyes glinting with an excitement to match. Ah the confidence of youth, it has been so long since I felt it.

“Good morning your grace”

“Good morning Gwyn, please take a seat this could take a while”

“Thank you, the message mentioned something about a new assignment?”

“Straight to the point as usual I see, yes, a new mission, perhaps your most important yet”

“The Mournland” the younger man stated emphatically. Many were unnerved when Gwyn pre-empted their words, but Ghelios had become used to it, after all, he’d been doing the same with his teachers since he first learned to speak, the gift of prophecy was why the Order had taken such interest in him to begin with.

He simply nodded, “The dreams again? What was it this time?”

“The images were … confused … I saw a black cloud creeping across the sky, but it was as no cloud I’ve ever seen before, like it was alive…”

His voice trailed off at the last and the silence stretched on

“The air was thick with the presence of death, like a weight on the shoulders, and then a spirit spoke to me; of the birth of a prince, the fall of a gate and of the death of the future…”

“… That’s all I remember. I can’t make any sense of it, all I know is that I feel a calling towards the Mournlands.”

“We are surrounded by portents, the Church’s own oracles speak of similar things, they haven’t been this troubled since they foretold of Cyre’s fall.”

He paused and the two locked eyes. Words were unnecessary, the failure of the Order’s attempt to save their neighbours was a sore that still burned for both of them. The unspoken question passed between them: "could it happen again?"

“There’s more you’re not telling me”

“Yes. They also speak of something else, of a growing darkness deep within the wood, I want you to go to the Reaches.”

“Into the wood? The gate … the Gatekeepers?”

“Perhaps. They could be valuable allies against the darkness. Or they may need our help, either way we simply don’t know enough about what is going on, our priests aren’t even safe to walk through the woods with the shifter tribes that live there so given your past you’re the obvious choice”

“That was five years ago your grace, I haven’t even seen him since then, he may not even still be alive let alone in the Reaches!”

“Nevertheless, you’re the closest we have to a friend to them. And there’s the small matter of your brother as well”

The distaste in the Cardinal’s voice was plain. “You still haven’t forgiven him have you?”

“He abandoned the flame, abandoned his faith. I’m sorry Gwyn but I can’t forgive that, though I still pray that he finds mercy in the flame at the end.” He stands, and Gwyn quickly follows suit “That’s all I can tell you I’m afraid, find your brother and then head into the wood. Good luck”

Gwyn grinned mischievously, he still had one last surprise up his sleeve for the old man “Thank you your grace. But Owain arrived yesterday, we’re already packed and ready to go. Visions or no visions, when Owain turns up you can guarantee there’s trouble ahead.”





As Gwyn’s retreating footsteps footsteps fade into the distance a figure steps out from one of the alcove’s in the office.

“You still didn’t tell him everything old friend”

“No, its better he not know everything. Better he still has some hope”

[Incendius]

((Time: 971 YYK))
((Location: The bank of Divelo (A branch of the Karrnathi bank located in the small town of Divelo)))

"Excuse me, Miss, but I would like to take out the interest I have accumulated from my account for spending." A somewhat thin, unadorned man said. The man was not really distinguished; he was of slightly less than average build and height, and was wearing mostly dull browns He had features that really stuck out, and even his tone was placid and boring. It was almost boring just looking at the man; although there wasn't much else to look at in the bank. The war was still raging after all, and while speculation was at an all time high, there weren't many that came directly to the bank during business hours.

"Why certainly Sir, just step right this way and we shall verify your identity and send you on your way with your savings. If you need any other function afterwards, I would be glad to assist." a cheeky, energetic young woman who was working for the bank told the man as she motioned with her hand to a room off to the side. Lifting herself from her chair, she placed a hand on the man's arm and drew him off in the right direction The woman was dressed in a standard business outfit of the time; austere blacks and white's, all very formal and extremely professional.

The room held no other exits, but on the far wall there was strange and obviously magical device. A softly glowing display of white light was the focal point of the device, which held the words "Please enter your pin number". Below this screen was another strange contraption; what looked linking the typeset for a printing press, but arranged in a very specific order, with characters off to one side, and a pad of numbers from zero to nine on the side. In the center of these two pads was an inch wide hole which was girded with a small untarnished ring of a metal that never seemed to lose its touch, and liquids flowed off of with ease.

The young woman lead the indescriminent man up to the device and then turned around to give him the privacy he needed to enter in his private information. As she did this she says "We are very glad to have your business sir, and hope to have many more visits from you in times to come. Would I be able to offer you any of our new benefits? We are even holding stakes on some of the actions of the Karrnathi military, and let me assure you we believe in our country men ever step of the way, so you are almost assured to gain a profit!"

At this an almost palpable cold silence filled the room, as the man entering in his information stopped breathing, or even moving. However the moment passed, and he replied in a sweet, yet still plain tone that seemed aimed to placate the woman. "No thank you, I do not like to place wagers on the lives of those serving this country, even if it is in 'good intentions'. Besides, I believe I shall have need to work out of the other branches of the bank from now on." As he said this, the man slid a small vial out of the cuffs of his wrists, and unstoppered it, the sound of this activity covered by his speech.

Pressing another button on the display, another of the dozen lines popped up, this one saying "Please place a sample of blood in the collector to assure your identity Mr. Benton." The nondescript man poured the little vial of blood into the metal ringed hole, and then slid the vial back into his cuffs. As he did this the woman replied back. "Well we are sorry to hear that, may I inquire why you will be unable to deal with us in the future? Is it something we can do to help you in that regard?"

Smiling to himself, the man pressed in a series of numbers on the pad, and then pressed a button labeled 'submit'. After doing so, the man stepped forwards and to the side of the strange contraption, then twirled around and pressed his back against the wall tightly, not even letting his feet an inch from the wall. The woman heard this strange behavior, and as she started to turn, the man said. "Oh, there is no problem on my end fair lady. I just don't believe you will have the capacity to serve anyone soon." As she looked quizically at the man, with his strange words and actions, a a large hole in the wall opened up above the display, and a VERY large whir of gears could be heard in the background.

"Oh, and I would move if I were you." The man said with a very frosty smile. Even more confused, the woman did not have a chance to respond before the hole above the display started to divulge the contents moved by the gear. Normally, in transactions such as this, the amount of money all came at the same time, and dropped neatly into the palms of the recipient; but it didn't quite happen that way this time. Hundreds of thousands of gemstones and coins, of an immense variety of types, sizes, and denominations stated to shoot out of the hole above the display, and the torrent was unending, impacting even against the far walls where small hairline cracks showed.

The woman screamed in fright at this entirely unexpected event and froze in place, very near to the path of the stream of hardened monies, which was widening at every second. Sighing, the man jumped forward and grabbed a hold of her, before rushing her to a corner of the room, and alcove entirely outside the range of the stream, and the mounds of monies falling upon the floors. Jumping midway through his dive, the man twisted in midair and lodged himself in between the two walls, the woman in his grasp, his two legs held out perpendicular to his body, wedging him five feet above the ground.

The woman's face had turned into a pale white, and she halted her screaming. The man commented "I decided to take out the whole account and not just the interest. It seemed like a wiser choice due to the practices you commented on here. I hope I have not scared you overmuch."

The masses of gems and coins continued to flow out of the hole, and the woman managed to stutter as she looked over the man's shoulder. "Wh- wha -- what ha have you do done! This mu must be the entire reserves of the bank!"

"Exactly"

[Incendius]

((Time: 996 YYK, a month after the war ended))
((Location, an empty grove located in a Karrnathi Forest))


What can you remember? What have you learned...

A rumbling, echoing, deep toned voice wormed its way into Orvelios' mind. From whence it came he knew not, and could not determine, but for a fourth time in the same said hour it had found a hold on his thoughts. He kept trying to get into the perfect state of meditation that always came to him when he prayed, yet at the moment he could no do it, even without the interjection of the voice. His nerves were too shot, his mind too unacustomed to the rigors and duties of peacetime, of the diplomatic missions he was asked to attend, of all the varying efforts he had gone through in the last month, devoting his time, money, and intellectual capacity towards the recreation and restoring of homes, families, and lives.

What can you remember? What have you learned...

The voice broke into Orvelios' meditation again. He stirred uneasily from his position in the center of the grove, surrounded on all sides by the shadows of the trees, however in such a place that only the sun's rays shown down upon him, and the shadows themselves formed a ring in which he was left out. Cross legged, Orvelios broke his meditative pose to run his delicate hand through the slick, well oiled, brown hair that topped his brown. I keep thinking the same thing over and over... is it my own unconscious self forcing a way onto my meditations? Is it a divine question that must be answered? Is it a spirit from my past haunting my thoughts? Or is it simply the deluded ramblings of a man who has spent far too much time in war, in fighting, and has burned his capacity away to live in this new time of peace?

It is a little bit of both young one. I am simalultaneously part of your psyche, a being of origins divine, and a friend from ages long past that you might do well to remember. I could not be accessing you if you had not left yourself open for the first time in many decades; the war had left you too tightly bound together and protective of both your mind and body. The lack of sleep and mental labor that you have undergone in these late weeks has made your guard fall; it is lucky that it is I that am accessing you now. The voice rang once again into Orvelios' mind, Orvelios could fairly feel it placing it self into the area that had previously been the fortress of his mind and breaking through all his guards in one fell swoop. This time the voice was much more coherent, much less like an echo, and like a real definable person speaking directly into his ear, a greater eloquence than it had displayed before, and the access it had into his self was far greater then the momentary intrusions of prior.

Orvelios instantly twirled up onto his feet, rising from his meditative position with an unearthly grace, drawing his sword as he did so. A flash of light shone of the sword, producing a blinding glare, and the sound of the metal ringing against the leather of the sheathe echoed throughout the forest glade, disturbing nature with its unnatural voice. "Show yourself whatever you are, identify your nature, your name! I have no time nor patience for mind games! I warn you, whatever you are, that your access to my mind is not your victory! If you do not cast your identity from the darkness into the light I shall destroy thee, I am in no mood for games!" Orvelios called out in angry indignation.

You are just as I remember you, my young impetous student. Quick to motion, quick to battle, quick to act, and just as decisive in battle as you are in your opinion. Do not be so angered by my intrusion, be gladened by it. Remember I told you, "Never let the tendrils of the hungering darkness keep you away from those that walk the sun's path, or else you shall find yourself in an endless pit of despair and forlorn of life." I have watched these last decades, and you have disapointed in this regard. You have many allies, many comrades, but you have no true friends. You have distanced yourself from all those that would comfort you, simply for the fact that you know they shall die, and that you can do nothing to stop it. Oh my friend, you have erred, but that is not why I am here." The voice once again echoed into Orvelios' mind, however it was at this moment that the source became defined.

The ring of shadows around Orvelios started to twirl, drawing in upon itself and retracting to one point not a meter away from Orvelios. This gathering of shadows shaped upwards, aquiring a volume in addition to it's area. In a moments span, these shadows had formed into a human shape, a shade of the composition of darkness. Anyone looking upon the scene would have been confused for moments, for the shade and the solid man seemed to look alike for a moment. Except for their colorations, both wore the same garb, both had the same aura and feel towards them, of two kindred souls that should never have been separated. However a closer inspection did reveal differences, the Shade was taller for one, and it lacked wings, as well as having a completely different face, and a much more relaxed posture.

"Lelivo? But you died! I know you died! I saw you die, I've played that memory through my head countless times in countless ages, and I could never find the hope that I was looking for! My mentor, my friend, you cannot truly be here can you? I did not just see you die, I felt you die, I felt my soul torn asunder when the breath of life left your body. I could see it, feel it, the energies warping your soul and sending it into the farthest depths of the beyond! My self was ruptured in the moment, and yours could not have survived! How are you here! Tell me! Please, answer me, I cannot think but I am going insane! Are you truly my friend or are you a daemon here to steal away my soul for the misdeeds I have wrought?" Orvelios called out to the shade in a strangled voice, holding on tightly to his sword, even strengthening his grip as he seemed almost as if to crush the handle in his hand, his output of emotions.

I am not lying or obscuring what I am my friend, this is truly the Lelivo you remember, but not the one you knew. I was never the Lelivo you knew, but I am simply revealing this too you now. Hold your questions young one, for I shall tell you all, if you should only listen. Keep up your guard if you must, but let me have my speech. I cannot tell you if you should welcome me, for that is your choice to make, but I shall tell you all. Listen to my words old friend, little boy with the endless curiosity and the wings of pure white...

[MittenNinja]

((Time: 964 YYK, shortly after the dawn of the new year))
((Location: A board room within a House Cannith safe house))

Two men stand alone in a room, waiting for a meeting to begin.

"We have no choice but to abort the project Arkus. Our losses are too great, and our costs are too high."

"I refuse to give up on something that we've come so close to completing."

"But, sir, Model 28 went berserk last year. It... it killed three of our researchers."

"Loses will occur when researching weapons of war."

"We haven't made any significant prgress since then either sir. Models 29 and 30 were essentially non-functional."

"While true, we are almost ready to test Designation 31. I have good feelings about this one."

"Even if 31 makes progress, how do you expect to appeal to the big wigs for more funds?"

"It's reasons like this why you are my assistant Delkis. I have a few, propositions that will ensure our funds will continue to flow like a waterfall. Now get back to the labs, I want a full detailed report on 31's status by morning."

"Yes sir..."

Delkis quickly scurries out of the room just as 4 men are entering, all dressed in fine noble's garments.

"Ah welcome members of House Cannith's council. I have much progress to discuss with you..."

[Surreal]

Joe disliked mandatory shore leave. The Sonia was his home now; it was familiar and comfortable. With the ongoing repairs however, even someone with his skulking abilities wouldn't be able to evade the hundreds of repair wrights forever.

Sharn wasn't exactly high on his list of places to visit neither. The "Herald of the Modern World" would say some, and the "Cesspool of Corruption" would say others. What was that other phrase that the civilians used? Ah yes, "Whatever happens in Sharn, stays in Sharn... until someone writes a book about it."

Busy cities such as this were such a terribly noisy place. Joe had long ago learned to maneuver without the need for sight, relying instead on all his other senses. In Sharn though, it was difficult to think, much less move. Echoes and tremors from every direction, clashes and bells from above and below, a multitude of smells and odours, everything hitting him like a carpenter to a nail. He walks slowly, one hand on a wall for stability and sense of grounding, cane in the other. From behind him he hears a quick flutter of tiny steps and a slight tug on his jacket...

"Boy, you are absolutely terrible at sneaking up on someone, y'know that? And if you're going to try and filch me... at least aim for the pocket that has my wallet." The boy doesn't move, afraid of what the old man may do to him. The cane hooked around his shoulder doesn't help. "Now you seem awful young to be doing this for a living, and you smell clean enough... tell you what, there's a pastry shop just at the corner there. Take this silver piece," Joe can hear the boy gasp at the shiny coin, "and run down and get me two pieces of whatever they have, and get yourself one too. If you can do that for me, I'll let you keep the change and give you this second silver here. Got that?"

The boy doesn't say anything but nods rapidly. Joe hands him the coin and the boy runs off with a giggle on his lips.

[Surreal]

"Uncle? Is that you?"

Joe whirls about. "Good gracious, I recognize that voice. Little Aiella!"

"Not so little anymore uncle. I haven't seen you in years... decades... Where have you been? What brings you to Sharn?

"Oh, just a little traveling about. A man's gotta keep active after all. What about you? Still with that research business?"

"It's all just management here, paperwork there..." she says with a sigh, avoiding the question.

"You're not still all messed up with that terrible business in Cyre are you?"

"The Mournlands uncle. We call it the Mournlands now."

"Bah, that's what the press and the government want us to call it. Give it a different name so people don't have to be reminded of what it once was. No one who's from Cyre would disgrace it by calling it otherwise."

"Shh, uncle! Come, you're making a scene." A few curious onlookers have stopped to listen in. Any mention of the Mournlands has that effect.

"H... He... here's your pastries sir," puffs the young boy who'd just finished running back. Joe pats him on the head and gives him the coin. With a skip in his step the boy runs off and is soon joined by a few other children who marvel at the bright silver. Joe takes a bite of his bread and hands the other to his niece.

"Oh take it. Your stomach is growling and you obviously came down to the street looking for something to eat. Let's go for a walk and you can tell me what this important business is that you're all mixed up in."

"I... I really can't talk about that uncle. You know how it is with the politics and such."

"Sigh, ever the secretive one. Very well, but you can still keep me company and show me around this noisy city of yours. Tell me, how is your father doing?"

[Incendius]

((Date: 910 YYK))
((Location: Lilevo's Apartment in the Capital of Sharn))

"What does this do? Where did you get it?" Asked a very young boy as he placed his hand on a orb of molten silver, one which gave off no heat, yet veins of firey red ran all the way through its form, changing its path constantly. This boy had very small, delicate features, and was wearing robes and vestments colored dark blue. He did not look more than six years old at first glance, but this was deceptive, for he was truly nearing ten years of age. However, most people would not notice these facts at first, for there was a much more interesting thing about his appearance: this boy had two, large, fully grown wings of the purest white, with feathers reminsicent of a bleached raven. These wings dominated his appearance, and defined his form and figure far beyond little features such as his eye or hair color.

"A memento, that is all it is, a memento of the forgone past, of a life lost and forgotten... But that is not important my boy, it is simply a reminder I keep for myself, of what I once had, and how I chose to share it, enriching myself, yet losing much in between..." Responded a man of average height and build, not even turning around to look at the young inquisitive boy. This man was kneeling as if in prayer on golden threaded rug of fiery red, his hands grasped in front of him and his eyes closed, his mouth only open to give hi reply.

"You want me to tell the tale don't you? Of where I come from and how I started my proffession? Where I draw my motivations, what powers me, pushes me forward, and inspires me? Do you wish to know myself boy?" The man asks, barely even moving a muscle as the boy behind him takes his hand off the orb. The boy jumps slightly into the air, extending his wings to lift him aloft a bit, a little skip of emotion that showed his enthusiams and said "Please Lelivo, tell me about it, I want to know, you've showed me how you do the things you do, but never why. How else am I supposed to learn if the information is withheld?"

The man smiled to himself, the only sign of emotion or movement he had shown thus far and simply responded. "I will keep this in mind, but not yet, that is a story for another day, one a long, long time from now, at a point in which you will not remember. Nay, go back to looking at the depths of the orb, tell me what you see in it, and how it makes you feel. My own self will be revealed when it is needed; what we need to work on now is yours."

[Incendius]

((Time: 996 YYK, a month after the war ended))
((Location, an empty grove located in a Karrnathi Forest))

... And so that is how I have come to be here today, and why I have arrived to confront you, young one. I now offer you the choice that I have spoke of ever since I started my tale. I tell you now, that the choice is not as any other pact with the divine, or daemons as you have ever heard. There is no loss of personality, no seizure of form, no interception of dreams, no manipulating of thoughts. There is only the coalescing, as two beings form to become one. You will keep your own plans, only they shall be magnified in scope, your thoughts shall be your own, but they will go in new directions you never saw before, your dreams shall still be present, but they will be grander, and on a much farther scale than you could ever have imagined.

This choice is not one between servitude and freedom, but between one way of life and another, a split of destinies. I must tell you now, before you make your choice. I hold no stake in this act, if you make your choice now I shall be freed to go to the beyond, if you do not I shall serve for a few more years until the next one is found, but this is not a wearisome or unheartening task, and I find no great hardship in doing so. So do you have any more questions my friend? The shade asked communicated to Orvelios, motioning every now and then, pointing off to the horizon as if in emphasis of it's words.

"Do I have questions? I have thousands of questions for you, I could pile them and use them all as a ladder to reach the stars, but they all flee my mind the second I grasp upon them. I want to ask you everything, but can truly ask you nothing. No my friend, I have no questions which we have time to relate, nothing that would bear relevance to what is happening here today. I would discuss hundreds of theologies, ask you countless facts, just to hear your words for longer yet, but I know that I cannot do so.

I cannot dance along the issue much longer though, I am coming near to my choice. I just wish that I could be here with you, basking in your presence and in the light I see in your shadowy soul forever. There is no peace in this choice, in either manor. For if I say no, than I shall always wonder what I have missed, but if I say yes, than I can never know the true life of peace that my sweat has payed for in these last hundred years, nor ever find myself outside the realm of all happenings." Orvelios related, his breathing quick and rapid, the words rushing out of his mouth as soon as they came to mind, and a thousand other things racing through the alleyways of thought in between.

I know that whatever you choose, you will stick through your choice towards the end. You have always been like that, never were you to swerve from your path when you promised something. I feel assured, that if you choose the way the being intends, that there will be no great conflict, for while it assumes that you could not break free, I know you better. You are one who cannot be conquered, and would give the greatest of manipulators pause. You have great things left to accomplish in this world, and the machinations of any other being could not bring this to a halt.

You are as a Knight on the playing board, a piece that defines the shape and scope of the game, something that all players look to determine there actions, whereas those such as me are just pawns, beings that have no impact, and are out of thought. Now then, even I find myself drawn to stay longer, but my time is drawing short, what is your choice, friend? The shade of Lelivo related back, his mental words taking on a bittersweet tone, one of pride, love, respect, but also of memories gone past, and chances lost to the wayside.

Orvelios smiled at these words, and folded his arms into a cross on his chest. Sweeping down his white wings, he produced a draft across the ground, stirring the dust in the glade into a small localized cloud. "How many times have you shown me on the playing board my friend? It is never the Knight, the sole warrior, that determines how the game moves. He is merely there as a distraction, the point upon which all the energies of the other focuses. No, it is never the Knight that truly makes the difference, it is those, the pawns that are allowed to move unseen, that are allowed to maneuver and slay with impunity that are truly that on which the world hinges. I would reinforce this point, but I see in your devious smile that this is part of what you intended to convey, always teaching, always lecturing, and I am always here to learn.

I am saddened, for I know that you speak true, and that you shall leave me for a time, if not forever upon the conclusion of this event. Even now I can feel your hold onto this glade straying as if it was a rope twisted constantly. I have finally made my choice however. I know this can not be delayed. I cannot but thank you for all you have done for me thus far, my friend, my teacher, my mentor, a person that I cannot yet believe is just another iteration of my soul. I just have one last thing to say; I will never forget what you have done for me, I will always attribute everything I have in life, and will have in the future, to all of your different actions. You are truly the hinge upon which my life has rested thus far.

Without yet more banter and words, I have delayed this decision for as long as I can, both of us have I think, but I finally feel the time has come to choose. I am starring into the tapestry of fate, and the painter has stopped moving his brush, for nothing can continue until these two last words are uttered. Do I decline? Do I accept? In what way will the world's fate change because of my choice? Shall I damn it, or shall I save it? Whatever the case is, I have made my choice, I have found sanctity and peace in this thought, despite it being a path that might bring the opposites."

At these final words Orvelios closed his eyes, and the entirety of the glade seemed to hush. The chirping of the birds halted, the noise of the breeze whistling through the grass settled down into less than a murmer, even the revolution of the earth itself stopped producing its noise, giving into an eerie atmosphere unlike anything any being, or at least Orvelios, had every experienced. With trepedition, but also great determination, Orvelios opened his eyes to gaze once more upon the shade of Lelivo, and uttered words that shattered the silence, both of the glade and of his soul, forever.

"I accept, I give way to the offer and open up my soul to be joined! My choice has been made, and I have no doubts!"

The form of the shade Lelivo started to tear at itself, the shadows of its composition seeming to struggle to get back into their normal states. Wispy tendrils of inky black reached out from the shade, and all his features were obscured, yet it still managed to convey its thoughts one final time to Orvelios I thought you would, it seems that I still know you as well as ever, I am glad that the war has not changed you overmuch. This, however might. Nothing will happen at once, it has been found that the aforesaid method gives disastrous results. No the changes shall come gradually, and you shall be aware of them, but they will be there. It may take years, it make take days, I have not the knowledge to say, but eventually you shall be fully imbued, and then the world, nay all the worlds ever conceived, all the planes, and even the realms of the spirits shall shake upon your footsteps.

It is now my time to depart, the chains binding me to this world and away from my final resting place are dissolving, they have been ever since you uttered those fateful words. I can feel my soul yearning, I can see the pathway back into the realm of the spirits, back to the place where I would have gone half a century ago, if not for my debts and servitude. Yet... I cannot but feel that there is more I need to do, and thus I can feel my own choice coming up. Shall I stay? Shall I move on and rest eternally? I do not know the answer to this. Regardless of how I chose, Adieu my friend, my student, the little boy I have cared for. I shall not see you for a great time yet, whether I decide to remain and that meeting is close to this world, or whether I great you at the end of eons on your entryway to the final path you shall be guided along, in the boundless realms of oblivion.

With the final thought mentioned, the form of Lelivo exploded in an array of shadows, the darkness was almost blinding as the soul of a man dispersed from this glade. Only Orvelios was left, appearing unchanged, yet having made a choice that would shake the foundations of the entirety existence for many years to come. Orvelios twirled on his feet and marched back towards the exit of the grove; he had come here to meditate on his future path, and he now realized that he need not change it from what he had intended in the first place, it only required a new way of going about it. A small smile alight onto his face, and for the first time in a long time he laughed with joy.

[HeadofVecna]

From her floatstone villa, currently hovering above the Breland-Aundair border, Maracal Deserin scowls into an ornate full-length mirror. Rather than reflecting her own artificially youthful features, the nighmarish landscape of Hell sprawls dismally before her. "What precisely does this 'minor disruption' entail? If you cannot fulfill your part of a bit of minutia, perhaps the shadow cabinet as a whole should raise the matter of incompetent underlings with your master.”

“There is no profit to be had in making a ... hasty ... decision mistress. As I said, it is only a minor disruption. One of my runners ran into a bit of a problem. But an arrangement has already been made to secure the return of the jewels directly from the originators of the issue.”

“You're saying that no one in your employ has them at present? If you don't even have the jewels to trade for ... ahem ... my wares, obviously Lord Gurlaethiel would have to be informed.”

“No need, no need. I have good reason to believe that those in possession of the jewels are already on their way. There will be no more disruptions. All you need to concern yourself with is making certain that the contracts are delivered to me at the appointed time.” the devil smirks, pleased to turn the conversational tables.

“They've already been signed. You'll have your souls. That is, so long as everything goes as you say it will on your end. I will be in touch. And should things NOT be as you say, resulting in Gurlaethiel reducing you once again to a lemure, we will still be seeing each other again. Remember the terms of our arrangement. The jewels are to be delivered untraceably. Lack of discretion in this matter would pose the same risks, to you, as non-delivery.”

Maracal dismisses the image and takes another sip of her drink, the price of a bottle of which would beggar many of the so called nobility. Simply seeing that the devil was punished for failure to deliver was not really an option. She has uses for those particular baubles, an no other would do. Why was it that dealing with the help was always so vexing?

[DaveTheMagicWease]

((Time: 5 years go))
((Location: Flamekeep))

As he stepped into the cavernous courtroom Gwyn could feel every pair of eyes on him, sympathetic glances mingled in with accusing glares. He had certainly found out who his friends were these last few days.

In the centre of the room sat the High Inquisitor, his beady eyes peering over his high cheekbones at Gwyn. The room fell silent as Gwyn approached the podium, his footsteps echoing in the high arches in the roof. He swallowed hard as he took his position.

"Gwynaedh Corvalis, you stand before us today accused of the crime of heresy-by-deed. You are charged with wilfully helping an enemy of the flame escape justice, threatening your fellow priests and aiding in the spread of corruption. If found guilty by this court you will be stripped of your inquisitor's robes, expelled from the priesthood and excommunicated from the holy church. How do you plead?"

Gwyn glanced across at Cardinal Ghelios, who met his gaze with a small nod of the head. Now seemed as good a time as any to find out just how influential the old man really was.

"Not guilty your grace"

[DaveTheMagicWease]

((18 months previously, deep in the gloaming))

Peace reigned across Khorvaire with the signing of the Treaty of Thronehold, though that peace was a fragile creature. The peoples of Eberron took the opportunity to lick their wounds and try to find some normality after the years of war. Gwyn had been careful not to wear anything that might identify his nationality and avoided mixing with the locals, but even so the very presence of an Inquisitor of the Silver Flame in the heart of the wood would have been unthinkable just a few short years ago and he had decided to take the opportunity for a relaxing visit to his half-brother for the first time in years.

At least, that had been the plan. Now he stood in the centre of a battlefield, the ground slick with the blood of the dead and the cries of the wounded filling his ears.

It had all started shortly after he arrived, stories of terrible massacres in the isolated villages and groves of the southern forests had spread throughout the wood amid tales of a hideous "beast" on the rampage and of "wraiths" on the prowl in the trees. As the young are want to do, Gwyn and Owain had offered their services and joined the search parties that had combed the forests, and the trail had led them deep into the Gloaming, to a place known as Drakh Fen, though the origin of the name was long lost to history.

There they had found the encampment of a tribe of goblins, with the captives they held clear proof of their guilt of the atrocities the Wardens and their unlikely ally had launched into an attack, only to find that the goblins had seemingly been corrupted, their very beings suffused with the mists and shadows they were able to drift between the trees and shadows and attack the raiders from surprise. The attackers soon discovered that their sinister abilities were neutralised by the light of the day and had formed a defensive phalanx about Gwyn and the Druids of their number, all of whom were now projecting bright light across their fellows.

Just as they seemed to be getting the upper hand the goblin's shaman had stepped to the fore. An unassuming creature at first sight close inspection would have revealed a malevolent glint to his eye. Close inspection was, however, rendered impossible as the shaman shifted his form taking on the aspect of an enormous bear, drool dripping from its grossly enlarged fangs and its fur wreathed in shadowy tendrils that refused to dissipate in the face of the magelight arraigned against it.

They had found "the Beast". With a snarl it had launched itself into the phalanx, tearing men and elves asunder with contemptible ease, and its brethren had roared in triumph and followed their leader, keeping within its shadowy trail and renewing their own attacks.

The Wardens leader, Aedred the High Druid, had instantly shifted into the form of a giant tiger and leapt upon the monstrosity, but his battered and broken body now lay discarded in the beast's wake as it bore down upon Gwyn. Owain was one of those now stood before the beast, their diminishing numbers desperately trying to block its progress and re-establish some kind of battle-line, but they wouldn't hold for long.

Gwyn dug deep, drawing forth as much power as the flame could provide, his whole being seemed to throb with it, excess energy escaped from his control to leave the ground around him charred and smoldering, surrounding him with a wreath of flame as he struggled to shape the flow of energy.

Owain was struggling just to dodge the beast's vicious claw swings, any thought of attacking back were pushed to the back of his mind and the occasional instinctive thrust was the best he could manage. But he could not dodge forever and as he swayed to the side of one claw the other raked across his exposed back causing him to collapse with pain. But the killing blow he expected never came, instead a searing blast of heat and blinding flash of light filled all of his senses and as his vision returned it was not the charred corpse of the goblin shaman lying next to him that caught his eye, but the smug grin on his brother's face looking down on him.

[ChristopherGroves]

Gwynaedh | Owain


"Oy ... raise its head"

Grunner barked his order. Not wanting to provoke the ire of his commander, Fleeson complied. The shaggy, dreadlocked hair was matted with sweat and blood, obscuring the features of the shifter's face.

The shifter's thoughts were jumbled through the haze of pain ... Better me than them ... your unit took all the livestock and foodstores from their farm ... little wonder those kids were hungry ...

Snorting, Grunner grinned. "See? That ain't no person ... that's an it ... a cursed were-thing. It were him that raided the supply tent and probably him that stole the breath from Henks and ir'Strum last night. They was healthy, but then this beast cursed them ... killed 'em with its evil. It's a bloody murderer."

My only crime is my silence ... you'll not have those children to punish

Fleeson was still unconvinced. To Fleeson it ... ("he" Fleeson corrected himself mentally) looked like a shifter ... beaten, bruised and bloodied ... but a shifter.

"Sir ... I don't mean to be contrary, but shouldn't we wait for the Inquisitor?"

Spewing a stream of obscenities, Grunner dealt Feelson a back-handed blow to the face, knocking him to the ground. As he loomed overhead about to dipsense more of his crude justice, a voice rang like a bell from behind them both.

"No need to wait, Sergeant. Inquisitor Gwynaedh Corvalis at your disposal. This is Owain, my brother and companion and this Exorcist Larrissa."

Dressed in full armor and regalia, the Inquistor and Exoricist looked far to ... CLEAN ... to be here in this camp. Yet they were clearly HERE. Grunner recoiled in shock. The Inquisitor was dressed in shiney silver armor with a billowing samite cloak. The Exorcist was smaller and less armored - perhaps only armored in her faith - and dressed in robes of white and blue.

Try your own tricks or ply your torturous trade ... you'll get naught either.

The Exorcist's brow was furrowed, as if she were deep in thought. Seeing this, Owain nudged Gwyn with his elbow. Giving the slightest nod of recognition, Gwyn continued to speak.

"We've been outside the tent for a few moments. Not long, but long enough perhaps. Give me the details sergeant ... and sharp ... "

Straigtening himself, Grunner attempted to whipe the grime of war off of his dishelved uniform. The attempt was futile. He responded to the inquisitor.

"Sir ... yes ... we aprehended this lycanthrope near the woods." Grunner motioned towards the captive.

... shifter ...

As Grunner was about to continue, Exorcist Larissa interrupted him. "Inquisitor Corvalis ... this is a shifter, not a lycanthrope. He misspeaks."

Raising an eybrow, Gwyn gave Larissa an appraising look. "Indeed? Well then ... contiue sergeant."

"I says lycanthrope, look at 'im!" Grunner retorted furiously.

Raising a claming hand Gwyn attempted to refocus the soldier. "Now now ... that is not the matter of debate. We can all make mistakes. Please, continue."

"Right ... ok ... so we apprehended it. It broke into our supply wagons and took a bunch of vital supplies. And it used its evil to kill Henks and ir'Strum. They's dead now, thanks to this monster." Grunner looked pleased, as if this was a statement of absolutely brilliant logic.

The Uronni family took those supplies after you raided their farm ... but you'll not get me to say differently ... eight of them, only one of me ... torture or pain and all

"You have proof then?" Inquistor Corvalis addressed the question to Grunner but had instead walked over to the captive. He raised the shifter's head. It wasn't the sergeant who responded, rather Larissa.

Clearing her throat, she addressed the Inquisitor. "Sir, he does not. He has his suspiscions." Sensing an angry retort from the sergeant, she continued. "We esteem highly those who take the initiative ... well done Sergeant Grunner."

The unexpected compliment took the sergeant by surprise. Shocked, he found himself unable to speak.

Still staring into the shifter's face, Gwyn spoke. "And do you have all the info you need Larissa?"

Larissa nodded. "Yes, I know the whole story now. Their minds are as an open book to me. The goods were certainly plundered ... it wasn't this shifter ... I'm afraid we'll never be able to identify the actual cuplrits."

Even beneath the grime and blood on the shifter's face, Gwyn could see shock register in his eyes. Once he set things right, they should talk ... the Inquisitor and the Shifter ...

[DaveTheMagicWease]

Gwyn had been stationed on the border for months now, tasked with looking for any proof in the rumours of demonic possession at the top of the Aundairian military. So far he'd seen nothing to confirm the rumours, and as the days went by he was becoming ever more sure that the intelligence was faulty. Instead, all his time seemed to be devoted to trying to keep the ranks in line. As cries of pain filtered through into his tent he sighed deeply - what was it this time?

He stepped out of his tent with Owain in tow to find Larrissa waiting for them already, did the woman never sleep? They crossed the camp to where the commotion was coming from to find some of the soldiers surrounding a huddled shape. Grunner was there, and another sergeant he didn't recognize.

"...shouldn't we wait for the Inquisitor?"

Grunner knocked the other man to the ground - Gwyn was going to have to do something about this one but for now contented himself with interrupting him before his violence went any further.

"No need to wait, Sergeant. Inquisitor Gwynaedh Corvalis at your disposal. This is Owain, my brother and companion and this Exorcist Larrissa."

Owain nudged him in the back and indicated towards Larrissa, the look on her face showed she was deep in thoughts not her own, already she knew more than any amount of questioning would yield.

He swept past Grunner, taking charge of the situation by his mere presence, "Give me the details sergeant, and sharp"

Grunner stammered a response, but Gwyn barely listened to the words. He reached out with his mind to touch the sergeant's and was overcome with a feeling of revulsion, the hatred within him was twisting his very soul. A telepathic message from Larrissa confirmed his suspicions - the man was lying.

Moving past him he knelt down in front of the huddled form, a bedraggled mass of mottled fur caked with blood. It was sometimes hard to see the shifters as anything but wild animals, but looking into this one's eyes the spark of intelligence was clear, and not a trace of evil could he see. If only more within the church were as kind-hearted as this creature clearly was.

He waved a dismissive hand towards the sergeant to silence him "And do you have all the info you need Larissa?"

She nodded "Yes, I know the whole story now. Their minds are as an open book to me. The goods were certainly plundered ... it wasn't this shifter ... I'm afraid we'll never be able to identify the actual cuplrits." The look on her face told Gwyn differently, she knew who had taken the supplies. And Gwyn suspected, so did the shifter. It would be very interesting to talk to him.

"We'll take the prisoner from here thank you sergeant." He motioned towards Owain, who walked across and helped the shifter to its feet before guiding it across to their tent.

Once they arrived in the tent they sat the weakened creature down, Gwyn passed his hands across the creature's wounds bathing them in a cold silver fire. The shifter started in shock, but instead of hurting the flames closed his wounds before slowly fading away. "You're safe now, no one will harm you again. He tried to give a reassuring smile but wasn't sure how successful he was.

Moving across to the other side of the tent he entered into a huddled conversation with Larrissa.

"Tell me what you know?"

"Sir, the shifter didn't steal those supplies. It was a family of refugees - children - that took the supplies. They're hiding in the woods not far from here."

Gwyn nodded, satisfied that he knew enough to piece together what had transpired he headed back across to take a seat before the shifter.

"It was noble of you to protect the children." The shifter started in surprise "Don't worry, they'll not be harmed. If you're willing to trust me and tell me where they are then I'll do everything I can for them, my name is Gwyn, what's yours?"

[DaveTheMagicWease]

The shifter glared back at Gwyn before rasping out the words.

"Rass. And you'll get nothing from me with your tricks butcher. Kill me if you must but you'll never find them"

It wasn't the inquisitor who answered. Larrissa walked over and kneeled down in front of the shifter, her hands arched and her clear blue eyes staring at him, cold as ice. "If I wanted to I could take it from you. Reach inside your mind and push. You're strong, but I'm in no rush, tho it would shatter your mind."

"But she's not going to do that. I gave you my word that no-one would harm you and I meant it. If you want to walk out of here right now that's fine - we'll give you some rations to give to the refugees and send you on your way. But if you tell me where they are then there is so much more I can do for them. Find them a quiet place to set up home. If only you'll trust me."

"Trust you? It was your men that did this, burned their crops and their house, stole their food, beat the children. If you want to help these people then maybe you should control your men better!"

Gwyn's reply was cut off by a crash on the other side of the tent. Turning to face the noise Gwyn saw Owain stood over a smashed pitcher. His hands clasping the table as he breathed heavily in an effort to control himself.

"Dammit he's right! Damn this war!"

"Owain..."

"No Gwyn! Look at what we've become, what are we even fighting for?"

"For the flame, to save the whole..."

"Spare me. You know as well as I that there's nothing holy about this 'holy war'. Cardinals who want nothing more than to be barons - little kings on their hills, that's what its about. Well I for one will have no more of it!"

And with that he stormed out, knocking another pitcher to smash against the beaten earth as he went. The resultant silence was broken only by a low chuckling from the corner.

"That one. Him I'll trust"


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
((Later))

Owain was stood at the edge of camp staring into the forest beyond. He heard Gwyn's footsteps approach behind him but didn't turn. His brother arrived and handed him a full pack. Owain took the pack and started towards the woods without a word.

Rass hoisted his own pack and took a few steps to follow, before stopping in his tracks and turning back.

"Thank you Gwyn."

He gave a slight bow of his head before turning back and heading down the path after the human.

Gwyn stood watching them until the two figures passed from view. "At least he took the pack" he muttered before turning away and heading back to his tent. Outwardly he was calm, but inside his mind was in turmoil.

The shifter had been right. He had let discipline slack, his men were out of control. He might not be able to end the war, but Gwyn swore to himself that not another innocent would suffer at the hands of his men. Even now he could feel the stares as he passed, maintaining his authority would be even harder after today.

He made sure to remain composed, only raising his hand to rub his bruised jaw once he had returned to his tent. Grunner had actually gone for him when he found out Rass was being set free. The man was in irons now, but Gwyn had a feeling he hadn't heard the last of that one.

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NB: the court scene a few posts earlier where Gwyn faces expulsion/excommunication is the aftermath of this incident. As for the adventures of Owain and Rass, well, thats a tale for another post...