For Whom the Darkness Parts [Med/Fant roleplay. Accepting]

[prettylykSIN]

• • • • In the land of Terre A'nglis, evil if stirring. Evil in its most abhorred and terrifying form. Twilight, the God of Curruption, is awakening in the prison he was sealed in at the beginning of humanity by the other Gods for fear he would destroy their newest Children. Thousands of years later, he is awakening and his followers are intent on freeing him completely.
        
        The Gods are still too weak to reseal Twilight's prison or kill him should he escape, so instead they choose a few Mortals to do it for them, blessing them with miraculous gifts and powers and a promise to grant their hearts' desires once they seal Twilight away.
        
        The chosen Mortals must find each other and band together to stop Twilight, but can they forget their differences, put away their love, disown their hopes of a future, and forfeit their lives for this task? What happens when one of their chosen takes the path to free Twilight? Only you can decide the fate of Terre A'ngelis.
        
        
        
        
        • • Omei had seen mountains lower than these misnamed Snowy Hills, great lopsided heaps of half-buried boulders, webbed with steep twisting passes. A number of those passes would have given a goat pause. You could travel three days through the lush forests and snow-covered meadows without seeing a single sign of Mortal habitation. This was the Roof of the World, a place that would soon become legendary.
            
            She glanced at the others that crowded the rift between the mountains. All looked fearful and nervous, casting brief glances at a tall steel cage in the center of them all. No, they looked at its contents. The man in the cage caught and held Omei's eyes. She was not close enough to see the man's face, as She had wanted to, but suddenly She thought She was as close as She cared for. The prisoner was a tall man, with long, dark hair falling around his broad shoulders. He held Himself upright with one hand on the bars over His head. His clothes seemed ordinary, a cloak and coat and breeches that would not have caused comment in any farming village. But the way He wore them. The way He held Himself. Twilight was a God in every inch of Him. The cage might as well not have been there. He held Himself erect, head high, and looked over the other Deities as if They had come to do Him honor. And where ever His gaze swept, there the others fell silent, staring back in a mixture of fear and disgust.
            
            "Did we make the right choice, Gallues?" Vexed with Herself, Omei grimaced. She shouldn't be acting like a Mortal and letting Her mindless tongue flap in the breeze. The decision was made. It had been on Her mind though. She was not so unconcerned as She wanted to be.
            
            Galleus, the Skylord as Mortals called him, glanced at Her. "The other choices only held different risks, not lesser." The Skylord considered Her for a moment before placing a hand on Her shoulder. "We must do this, Omei. For our Children." Omei nodded, reluctantly.
            
            The others were forming a circle around the steel cage. It was time. Omei and Galleus joined them and completed the circle. The air crackled and sparked with the combined power of Their joining. Every head was bowed, as though in prayer. Twilight stirred now, eyes growing large as He stared at His fellow Deities. As the air seemed to harden and crush the cage, Twilight threw back His head and laughed.
            
            It was the last sound He was to make again. A mountain, taller than any other in Terre A'nglis rose from were Twilight once stood, rising farther and farther into the sky, past the clouds. The roar of the earth being up heaved was deafening to any Mortal.
            
            Finally, the earth became silent and was still. The Deities were gone, back to their homes to rest. Some carrying the bodies of those who had used too much of their power and were now as dead as a Mortal being.[/list:u][/list:u]
            
            
            
            "The shadow fell upon the land, and the world was cleaved stone from stone. The oceans fled, the mountains were consumed, and the lands were wrought with death. The moon was as blood and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead. All was scattered and all memory lost, save for one memory above all others; of those that had begun the Dark Wars."
            
            "It shall once again come to pass that the shadow shall rise across the realm, darken every land, and there shall be neither light nor safety. Darkness shall be reborn, born once more as it was born before and shall be born again, time without end. And it that shall be born of the shadows, born of the ancient evil, shall stretch forth its hands, and the blood of the world will flow with death once more."[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[prettylykSIN]

• • • • The sun stood high overhead, almost in its noon position, and beat mercilessly down on Lucrecia as she sat alone in the forests near the capital city of Terre A'nglis. She sat, bare to the waist, wrapping long strips of bandage around her shoulder and chest. She swore loudly every time her movements pulled at the wound in her shoulder, which was every few moments. The wildlife seemed to ignore her loud curses. They went on with their lives. The bird calls and the chattering of the squirrels only succeeded in blackening her mood further. She muttered under her breath about traps and bandits. Mostly incoherent sentences. If any of the animals had cared to listen to her, they would have thought she had gone mad.
        
        Lucrecia Airas Faeyt was a slender female of twenty and four years. Her long, thickly curling hair was tied back at the moment, mostly to keep her hair from getting into her wound. Her usually pretty blue eyes, were narrowed in anger and irritation, glaring down at her shoulder as she wrapped it. She was lucky she had brought bandages along with her. She usually forgot such trivial matters. She made a vexed sound in the back of her throat. Trivial... She had thought that the last time she had decided to go wondering, and had almost died of blood loss. She had been laid up for three days with a high fever, hallucinating all the while. She shook her head to clear her mind of the memories. She hadn't liked what she had seen. Not at all. Her father, the slavers, her pseudo-family of mercenaries, the countless people she had slain in battle, and... her mother. She was sure the last been something her mind had made up. She had never seen her mother's face before. The woman had died giving birth to her.
        
        Lucrecia's mouth twisted up into a grimace. She disliked thinking about her mother. Her father had refused to tell her exactly how she had caused her mother's death. But she often dreamed... dreamed of the burnt ruins of a village, blood soaking the rough dirt roads, and a ancient oak tree, heavy with the hanging bodies of the villagers. And beneath that tree, a squalling child.
        
        She pulled a little too tightly on the bandage around her arm and winced at the pain. Red stained the cloth beneath and she cursed again. She hated thinking about that dream. She had had it several times since she was a child. She had no idea what it meant, but she always awoke, sweat-drenched and shaking. Even now, that dream sent shivers racing up her spine.
        
        "You did not cause her death, you know," a rumbling voice told her from behind.
        
        Lucrecia leapt to her feet, thin sword in hand, and turned on her heel to face a man clothed only in a deerskin loincloth. His skin was sun-kissed, a dark bronze with a hint of green beneath. She noticed only faintly, that the man had a pair of antler's atop of his dark curls. She shook her head violently, remembering the man's words. "Who are you?" she demanded. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and gooseflesh rose on her arms. The words meant nothing. It had only been a coincidence that she had been thinking of her mother.
        
        The man looked amused, his lively green eyes dancing merrily. He crossed his arms over his sculpted chest. Lucrecia tried to focus on the man's face, one hand on her sword, the other ready with a throwing knife "I always did like my Chosen to be feisty," he said, his voice a deep rumbling in his chest. Lucrecia did not like the way he said 'Chosen.' "Come here, girl, so as I can bestow my Gift upon you." The way he said it made it seem like it should be such an honor for her, she almost laughed. Instead, she remained silent, tensed and ready to attack should he might the slightest move against her.
        
        The man no longer looked amused. "You're testing my patience, Mortal," He advanced on her, his long legs bringing him within reach in a matter of seconds. Lucrecia didn't wait a moment longer, she lunged at him, sword aimed at his broad shoulders. She hit home, making a mirror wound to hers in his left shoulder. She pulled back, putting distance between the two of them. It had only been a warning. Next time she would aim for his heart. Her grin slid off her face as she examined the wound she had made.
        
        It did not bleed.
        
        She watched, wide-eyed, as the wound closed before her disbelieving eyes. Something clicked in the back of her mind.
        
        No blood.
        
        Antlers.
        
        Her knees gave way beneath her and she stared up at the man, no... God before her. A name whispered in her mind. Haern, the Hunter. The God of the Wilds. He approached her and placed one massive hand atop her head. "Now that you're finished with your foolishness," He said with a grin. "Accept my Gift and do my bidding. The path will be made clear to you."
        
        Heat flooded her body, to the point of absolute pain. Voices and images pressed in on her mind, drowning out her own thoughts. She opened her mouth in an agonized cry, but no sound emerged from her. When she thought she could bare no more, blackness took her, and she saw no more.
        
        [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[dready]

Conahoy Jackson crosses his book staff over his heart as he finishes his self-prayer to the cosmos, hearing feet running down the hallway which echo into his room. "Relinquish," he whispers as the room glimmers for a few seconds and then seems to be calmed, the student running in and then calming down quickly. "There's a man outside who wants to see you... *pant* he said that he'll raise the church to the ground if he can't see you quickly," the child pants out before kneeling onto the ground. "Thomas tried to take him away but got injured, and the bedding loft is on fire because of it."

"Come out and face me ye Priest of Balance!" the stranger calls out, his outfit made from darkened mettalics as well as keeping himself to look rather insane even with his akward positions and stances. One of his hands generates a ball of fire before he throws it into the stone gate to the church, watching as it spreads over the gate and blackens it to be almost indescript.

"Stop stranger, for we have not done anything to deserve such violence," Conahoy calls forth from his courtyard entrance, the book staff in hand with his other already generating a spell. Within a few moments the fire in the bedding loft exstinguishes to smoke before his attention is returned to the apparent pyromancer. "What's your purpose here traveler?"

"Oh I'm here for you," he says while slowly making a gait to the priest, one of his hands growing fire from it before lengthening into a sword as he makes a quick swipe to hit the priest. "I'm here to make you burn priest!"

"Reject," Jackson whispers as the flame blade screeches through it's swipe torwards the unarmored man, the flame disintigrating before fizzling out just out of reach to the robed figure. "You won't be able to conjure your fire in payment for the chaos you bring with it. If you leave now nowthing will become of your oblivious actions."

"You think i only have fire?" the man asks before drawing his short blade, flicking his wrist and then making an attempt to bring it down on the priest for a quick kill. "You think wrong if any assassin only has one weapon."

"No, you thought i was only prepared for fire," he says and lifts up his book staff, the cross section capturing the blade and with a flick of the staff it closes on the blade as well. "Shatter." From Conahoy's now hammer-like staff emits a high pitched scream, the assassin clamping his ears before his blade splinters and breaks apart into innumerable pieces. Before the assassin's ears allowed him to move out from his partially doubled over position, Conahoy fully closes the staff and with both hands smashes it into the assassin's gullet. "Be smited from the cosmos!" he calls out, the grey gem on his stave gleaming before blasting a foot wide hole through the man's body, leaving behind no trace in that area.

The assassin falls to the ground, his body beginning to fade and break apart just like his weapon did recently. "There's more of us to take you away, we can break you, we will keep you from keeping Twilight from freedom... and not even those in the Capitol can save you." with that last breath the assassin fully collapses to the ground, dissapearing in the breeze from the powerful attack even if it did take it's toll.

"Thomas, sell what items are in my room, I leave for the capitol this evening and i wish to donate what i have to the church," Ceej says before brushing his hand over the gem, images of the past persuing into his mind before he turns to face the capitol's direction. "May the cosmos allow me to succeed."

Meanwhile, Belakai smiles to himself as his messenger returns, his body mending back to normal already while he walks up to his master. "The message is recieved master, he's on his way to the capitol as we speak."

 

[prettylykSIN]

• • • • • 
          Lucrecia awoke to darkness, the glow of the full moon hanging above her in a starless sky. Her head ached mightily and she swore loudly as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She was still bare to the waist, just as she had been when that man, no... Haern, had come. She almost did believe what she had seen. She shook her head, the airy locks of dark air tumbling over her shoulders and cloaking her naked self. She had obviously lost more blood than she had thought and dreamed the entire thing. Yes, that's what had happened. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed tiredly. The bandages encasing her torso pulled at her, and with him fascination, she realized that she had used her injured arm without hurting herself. Carefully, she pulled away the stained cloth to reveal a small pink scar that looked months old instead of a wound inflicted only hours ago. A cold chill ran down her spine and her quickly got to her feet.
          
          She tore the now useless bandage from her, and pulled her shirt on, buckling her sword belt on over that. Fully dressed, she looked like a knight rather than a common mercenary. She looked very grand and eloquent indeed. Once again, she ran her fingers through her dark tresses, a habit she had developed whenever she was uneasy or worried, or to simply feel the silky smoothness of her softly curling locks. She was worried now. Something had transpired between Haern and herself. His voice echoed through her mind.
          
          Accept my Gift and do my bidding. The path will be made clear to you.
          
          Well, it sure as hell wasn't clear to her now. And what gift? He had obviously healed her shoulder, was that what He had referred to. And so what? The wound would have healed on it's own anyhow. These thought swirled in her mind as she gathered her things and shoved him into her saddlebags. Her chestnut gelding has waited patiently for her through the long hours, grazing on the lush grass available to him. He seemed all to eager to continue their journey, and she patted his flank absently. Something was bothering the gelding, she could tell by the way he pranced about in place, shying at her touch. This confused her. Tarquin, as he was called, was not a skittish horse. He had rode into battle with her, showing as much valor as any warhorse, and had not shied away from the enemy then. Lucrecia gripped the reigns tighter, and prepared to mount.
          
          The sound of voices reached her from behind. She twirled, a knife flashing in the moonlight. She could see no one in the darkness, but they could obviously see her, as they spoke of her.
          
          Female two-legger. Should we kill it? No, she is different. She looks of two-legger, but feel her mind.
          
          Lucrecia's skin crawled as two large wolves entered the clearing, staring at her with amber colored eyes. They did not seem hostile, but genuinely curious about her. The approached no farther than ten feet from her, simply looking at her. Tarquin stamped his feet nervously, eyes rolling. Lucrecia could do little more than stare.
          
          Different. Smells of the Horned One.
          
          These came to her, not as words, but as flashes of images in her mind. She saw Haern, standing in the midst of a pack of wolves, staring at her. She blinked and the image was gone, but the two wolves remained. Utterly bewildered, she took the reigns in hand and jumped into the saddle, spurring Tarquin into a gallop. She looked behind her, expecting the wolves to have chased after them, but they remained where they were, simply looking after them. Wolfsister... The word was a distant whisper in her mind as she rode hard for the capital city.
          
          She made it within the half hour, slowing their pace to a brisk walk. She had to bribe the guards to open the gate for her. Once inside, she felt relieved, and shamefully safe. She brought Tarquin to a lavish inn down the main street of the city. Corus was a wonder of a city, full of shining white walls, and the Palace could be seen from anywhere in the city, as it was built on a hill. Lucrecia stayed in the Lower City, filled with the lower and middle class of Corus. Further uphill was the Temple District, and finally, the Upper City and then the Palace itself. A grand city indeed, though she had no love for it. It was just another city to her.
          
          She paid the stable boy to stable and brush down Tarquin before heading into the inn itself. It was quiet, a few lone people were seated at the many tables in the commonroom. Lucrecia seated herself and waved a serving girl over to her. She place ten gold coins on the table.

• • • • • "Food, and your best room for the night." The girl took the offered money with a curtsy and left Lucrecia to her thoughts, disturbing her only to offer her the key, location of her room, and her plate of steaming food.
          [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[Mr Master]

In one of the seedier parts of Corus, in a dimly-lit tavern, a tall, slender, dark-garbed man slid into a booth opposite a short, slender, dark-garbed man. The flickering candle on the table made their eyes glitter as they gazed silently at each other, faces unreadable. Then the shorter man slowly reached into his vest and withdrew a short, tighty-wrapped cylinder of broad dried leaves. He sniffed along the length of it, his eyes half-closing (though he never took them off the other man), and then he held it in front of him. His other hand came up, a small blade somehow now held in it, though he hadn't seemed to draw it. He snipped the end off the cylinder with an efficient, practiced motion, and leaned toward the candle to light it.

"You'll forgive me for being suspicious," the shorter man said around puffs, his foreign accent thick and relaxed, although his words were clearly fluent. "It is rare that someone knows just where to find me. If your information is that good, why would you need to hire me in the first place?"

"Simply knowing things does not mean one has all the other skills needed. Your services are still desired."

The shorter man, Salazaar, raised an eyebrow and let the ghost of a sardonic smile show. "Why not just ask your God for the favor?" Now it was the other man's turn to raise an eyebrow, so Sal felt compelled to explain. "My procedures for protecting my identity are proof against normal investigation, which leaves only magic. In that regard, I'm protected against divination of most sorts. The only forms of magical location that can find me are too powerful to block, and that means either an arch-wizard or a deity. You don't have the trappings or the demeanor of an arch-wizard or a trusted servant of same, so that leaves deity. Then the question becomes, what would a God need with little old me?"

The taller man spread his hands. "Why, to hire you, of course!"

Sal grinned. "Certainly, certainly. Why recruit for free from the faithful of all sorts, when you can hire a stranger."

"You're no stranger to us. And your skills are unique."

"Meaning I'm the best there is at what I do... in the local area, at least. I don't pretend to think I'm top of the game the world over, but locally, I can lay pretty good odds. Fine. So you need my talents, but who knows me well enough to trust me?" Sal leaned back, puffing on his cigar. The taller man regarded him silently.

"Iosyne? The Muse finally heard some of my poetry? Lanos the Truthseeker has taken notice of my research? Niuri of the Mysteries, for... well, for the same research? Or... oooh!... Mischief-maker Khepri, for obvious reasons!" Sal grinned and raised his head, inviting the other man to reveal the truth.

"Slyphe," the man intoned solemnly, naming the God of the Sea. As Sal blanched, the man couldn't keep a straight face, and broke into a wide grin. "Nah, I'm just fucking with ya. It's my Lord Severn, master of Artifice."

"Ah," Sal's face fell back into an unreadable mask. "And what does Severn want with me?"

"There is a task that must be completed..."

Sal interrupted. "The punished God, Twilight, is awakening, and Severn is recruiting agents to stop it." Now it was the taller man's turn to blanch. "Oh, come off it. If Severn is running this show, I have no doubt that our conversation is protected from eavesdroppers. The Lord of Artifice wouldn't allow others easy access to His plans. And anybody who has kept an ear to the street knows something is up. Murders that look suspiciously like sacrifices, special ritual materials being smuggled in through underworld channels; if you put all that into perspective, the conclusion is inescapable."

The tall man leaned forward. "I thought you didn't use magic."

Sal blew a cloud of smoke in the man's face. "I don't use spells. I'm quite familiar with magic. Don't mistake preference for ignorance. Now, how can you possibly expect me to be able to stop Twilight's awakening by myself?"

"Lord Severn is offering you gifts." There was no more dancing around the subject in the tall man's demeanor; now all the cards were on the table, and it was negotiation time.

"What kind of gifts."

"Powers and abilities to make you more of what you already are. Gifts to make your job easier."

"Won't be enough, I wouldn't think."

"Also, knowledge. Knowledge of where to find others who have been gifted and called to the same task."

"Others, eh? Spell power, muscle, healing support... and me. Am I missing any roles?"

The man shrugged. "Not all the Calls have been returned, as yet. You will receive more information as the situation changes."

"If Severn is recruiting like that, why not just drag all of us together first? Why hand out bits and pieces of data?" Sal raised a finger. "Ah. It's not just Severn, is it? Twilight was supposedly put down by a coalition of deities, and now it will take a coalition to do it again. Why work through agents, though? Why not just do it directly, once again?"

The man looked steadily at the spy. "Ours is not to guess the motivations of Gods."

Sal snorted. "Of course it is. If they didn't want to be second-guessed, they shouldn't have given us free will to do the second-guessing with. Hmmm. I'm guessing they're too weak to handle things directly, but strong enough to enhance the efforts of mortal agents. I suppose it could be worse, depending on what the gifts turn out to be."

The man nodded. "So you are agreed?"

"Just a moment. What's the catch?"

"You receive gifts and knowledge, to keep, and if you succeed, the Gods will be grateful, and grant you your heart's desire. It is the same offer all the other agents are receiving."

"Okay, but what's the catch?"

"The catch is, you have to stop Twilight from awakening."

"That's it?"

"Isn't that enough?"

Sal thought for a moment. "You've got a point." He sighed. "Okay. This needs to be done, and if the Gods think I'm one of the people who can do it, I suppose I'll have to try. It seems like a decent deal for a shitty job, anyway. I'm in. So, what do I have to do?"

The taller man stretched his hand across the table. "Shake my hand. Then go and do the job."

Sal gazed meditatively at the man's outstretched palm. Then he sighed, gripped his cigar between his teeth, and muttered "This may be one of the stupidest things I've done in a long time" before he took the hand in his own.

A flash of light filled the tavern, but nobody seemed to notice it. A few patrons may have noticed an odd smell, like the air just after a lightning strike, but there were some strange humanoids from out of town in the place, and they chalked it up to them.

Sal sat alone in his booth, his hand still outstretched. All the little hairs all over his body were standing up, giving him gooseflesh across his entire skin. Slowly, he let his hand drop to the table. He blinked, then took up his drink. As he took the cigar out of his mouth to down the rest of his mug, he noticed the fine Southern smokeable was now just a stump. "Damn!" he said, and finished off his ale. He gripped the stub of the cigar in his teeth, and sighed. He was right; it was one of the stupidest things he'd done in a long time. Now that he had a glimpse of Severn's information and plans, he knew just how outclassed he and his compatriots would be. It would take cleverness, skill, and luck to win out; he hoped they had enough of all.

He left a few coins on the table as he left, pulling his cloak tighter around him as he departed from the tavern, blending into the sparse crowd outside. He had to get to the main street, to find a particular inn, and hope that one of it's patrons hadn't finished her meal and turned in for the night. He didn't feel like waiting until morning to get this project underway...

 

[Midnight]

Darkwood.
One of the last places in the land untouched by man, the great forest far from the Capital itself stood ominously still, it's trees with their black bark standing silent guardians to the forbidden place. Villagers had avoided this place for as long as anyone could remember, legends of an ancient civilization lost within it's borders, a grand kingdom that awaited those who were valiant and powerful enough to reach it. Of course such a kingdom had long faced into the treacherous terrains and deadly creatures of the woods. Beasts with razor sharp claws and a hunger for human flesh lurked in every shadow, creatures that not even the mind can conjure. It was a forbidding place, a place of mystery, a place where no one dared enter alone, and those who did never came back.

For Vincent Valtiere, It was home, the place where the gods exiled all the darkest things in land, the more vile monsters. It was where he was born, where he was raised, where he became a man. Vincent's lone figure stood by the entrance to his forest, perched in one of the great trees overlooking the great plains and hills separating his forest from the human world. It was peaceful, night had not quite yet fallen and shadows had gathered around his home, twilight setting in. Vincent lay in a cradle of branches, relaxing peacefully in his solitude, both of his eyes closed. This was his favorite time of day, the time before the day and the night, it was poetic really, the peace. Vincent's dark form lie draped over a couple branches of the tree, his dark robes separating to show the red clothing underneath, the tree held Vincent's body almost like a throne would hold a king, yet the forest had always embraced sweet anarchy, He did not rule the wood, it simply lived with him.

Vincent had distracted himself with a raven that had taken perch in the branches of the tall tree he had climbed, perching mere inches from his hands. They had so much in common, the shiny black feathers and Vincent's long dark locks, the red eyes, the reputation of a thing of the night. Vincent stirred when a noise could be heard from below, a soft light coming from the darkness of the woods. Vincent opened a brilliant red eye, keeping his demonic one shut "Reveal yourself, spirit" Words slowed from the man's lips, silent as a stream, yet almost like rolling thunder, the powerful voice of a mage.

THe spirit turned to him, coming out from where it was watching, it was no spirit, it was something else. Vincent's eyes narrowed and he corrected his body, dropping from the tree with the black bird following him down "What brings you here, lady of mystery" Vincent recognized a deity when he saw one. The figure stepped forward toward him; a feminine form shrouded in a robe, Vincent was unable to see her face.

"Dark one" A voice echoed in Vincentâ??s head, almost causing him to flinch

"You are needed, Twilight is returning, we need your aid"
The voice was beautiful, feminine, and unmistakably divine. The words were silky and smoothe, practiced. "You have gifts, and we need you as one of our chosen. Go to the capital, there you will meet others, They need you shadowwalker" Vincent turned away a little "I don't answer to gods" he spoke softly, but no answer came, the goddess was gone.

Vincent turned to the forest, he wasn't being given much choice, he had to at least see what was going on in the capital. The warlock walked into the forest, traveling on the trail deep into the wood to his him, a large tree, one similar to the one he grew up in. The male entered the grove, lifting his staff and speaking to himself, a red light shining from the gem on the staffâ??s top. The nearly impenetrable thicket parted for him, allowing passage deeper into the woods, and closing behind him. The male entered his home, walking down the stairs he had carved from the earth and the wood and entered the place where he had been living most of his adult life.
Once inside, Vincent traveled to his room, his home was rather comfortable, despite being inside a great tree and under the earth. He gathered his things, changing out of his silken robes for weatherproof cloak and strapping the bits of armor he wore. The male spent some time fastening the gear he would need to his body with straps and buckles, his sword, souldrinker being the last addition. Before he put on the layered robes he always wore, finally taking up his staff and potions before leaving, opening the way and heading out to the road to Corus, joined by the very same Raven, the creature alighting on the manâ??s shoulder.

Darkness had set in fully by the time Vincent made it to Corus, A dark figure; alone save for a single bird perched on his broad shoulder. Under the hood, he could have been any traveler, even though his stave gave him off as a practitioner of the Arcane arts. The men at the gates of course stopped him, as travelers at this time were rare. A tall, burly guard approaching Vincent wordlessly, blocking his way â??Now, stranger, where do you think you are goingâ? The burly man was full of confidence, perhaps used to being bribed or paid to enter by lone travelers, the shadows within the hood remained silent except for when the night guard decided to lean in

A single piercing blood red eye rose, appearing from behind silken black locks and the guard jumped back with a yelp â??Oh shit!â? Even this far, the redeyed watcher of the forest was recognized, the guards opened the gates for Vincent without even bothering to confiscate his weapons and he entered the city, looking about at the posted signs, his target was a particular Inn, he could feel it. The man walked through the streets, people giving him a wide berth as he walked; using his staff to aid him as he walked In his black cloak he almost looked like a priest. Finally, he found the inn he was looking for, the one he had felt was right, he entered, and looked around. From under the hood, only half of Vincentâ??s face showed, his right side covered with his bangs, as he preferred it.

Vincent stood tall and looked around, stepping forward only enough to practically smash into another person. â??Watch itâ? The raven that rode on his shoulder cawed and he hushed it, no need to start a fight this late at night. Vincent looked around, his eye finally catching notice of a female who had just ordered some food. Vincent approached her, giving the serving girl a sweet smile as he approached.
Surprisingly, she smiled back. Vincent forgot he had a different effect on women, in the candle light, the parts of his face that were revealed appeared flush and lively, his smile pure and his nearly alabaster skin glowing, his eye color only complimented the long silken hair that framed, and partly colored his face, when he smiled, he was actually quite attractive.

Vincent ordered something light, he had after all packed food for his trip here. He sat down at a table nearby the female and looked her way â??Beautiful night isnâ??t itâ?

 

[Mr Master]

Salazaar stayed as nondescript as he could, which, given his skills, was as good as being invisible. He entered the inn's common room like a gentle breeze; nobody looked up or even noticed he was there. He stood by the fire, apparently warming himself, but cast evaluative glances at the beautiful woman, this Lucretia Airas Faeyt. He was still amazed at the sharpness of his new senses, but the sensation of wonderment was kept percolating in the back of his brain, while his attention was on the clues and cues.

Hearty appetite, from how she looked at the food as it was delivered, possibly indicative of being out on the road recently. Indeed, traces of road dust and forest leaves, still clinging to the clothes. Also several signs of blood, not yet flaked off or dried entirely to brown. He saw her sword, and detected other weaponry concealed about her person. The Warrior of the group, or one of them; it never hurts to have several who can carry the battle. As she had apparently done, recently, it seemed, and from the un-patched rips in some of her clothing. The blood spoke of an injury, and the location of the small stains suggested it was hers, but there was no impaired movement. Her Gift had come recently, he knew that, so the recent healing was potentially part of it. Based on the somewhat haunted look about her that he could glimpse under the tiredness, it was likely she was wondering about that too. Sal drew his conclusions as to who must have Called Faeyt, and felt pretty certain about her role in the coming difficulties.

He had decided to wander over to greet her when someone else entered the inn. Unlike Sal, he made an appearance, with his all-enveloping black cloak, his ebony staff with the gemstone header, and the raven perched on his shoulder. His hair draped across his face in that careless-yet-artful way that you had to either be blessed or purchase appropriate spells to accomplish. Sal could sense this was another Chosen before he even saw the face, and glimpsed the hint of red in the eye. His Gift informed him this was Vincent Valtiere, and he didn't need any divinely bestowed knowledge to know the man's reputation as a warlock and the only reliable guide into the Ghostwood. It had been many years since Sal had been anywhere near the Ghostwood, well before Valtiere began operating, but he still remembered the place... and not happily.

Whatever he thought about the man's subtlety (and indeed, the Black Mage couldn't have been less subtle if he'd ensorcelled glowing letters to float above his head reading "I am a wizard of skill - do not fuck with me"), Valtiere at least could back up the image he was projecting. Sal noted the hidden length of the special sword - and wondered, not for the first time, how one could possibly look at a weapon with a name like "souldrinker" or "lifestealer" or the like and not immediately think "evil evil evil", but he acknowledged the true evil was in the use, not in the name - and also detected the hang of various gear and bits of armor. He was dressed for journey, and for action. Good; from what Sal was aware of, there was never going to be enough time for comfort.

He knew Valtiere had also recently received the Gift, or at least the Call, and briefly wondered who had given it. Did the shadowwalker even know? Sal was under the impression that he was the only one as yet who had been given knowledge and direction, but it was entirely possible Valtiere's mystical senses were leading him where divine Gift was not. There was more than one path to the same destination, after all. He watched the black-robed mage sit down at a small table nearby and just look directly at Faeyt. Sal sighed. Amateur tactics for observation, but it's not like the kid was trying to be sneaky, anyway.

He then considered joining them, making the kernel of the eventual group for the first time, but paused. He glanced suspiciously at the door. Was someone else going to walk right in? He'd expected to have to do some more detective work; he was uniquely well-equipped for it, now. But if they were all just going to walk into this inn at the same time, it would save him lots of effort...

 

[dready]

Conahoy was walking along the dirt path towards the capitol, watching the smoke ahead and knowing that there's no way it's a fire under control. With silence he walks with a slightly quickened pace, stopped by a pair of figures who jumped onto the road, both of them with swords on their hip and a grim smile on their face. "Let me pass through, I mean no harm," Ceej says as he thumbs the clasp to close his book stave, his feet resting under his legs lightly while his long white, grey, black, and red traveler's robes hide that he's ready for a fight if they charge.

"Just because you mean us no harm," says the one on his left. "Doesn't mean that you won't bring the knights down on our heads." finishes the one on his right, though both of them rest their hand on the pommel of their swords, showing that he's going to fight again, though he will definitely need to rest and pray after this fight if it isn't finished in one fell swoop. "Prepare to die!" they both call out before charging towards him, brandishing their swords which both have runes, one holding fire and the other holding ice sheathed along their blades, showing that Ceej wouldn't be able to shatter the two of their weapons since they're both magically enhanced.

"Prepare to pay," Conahoy says before resting a hand on his tome, his robes flowing lightly in the absence of wind before looking up to the two, then spotting the dirt that they would be resting their feet on in front of him. "Shatter." he whispers and the pebbles along the road erupt into a large cloud of dust, the two bandits charging through and swinging their swords down at the same time to find that he's no longer in that spot. Seconds later Ceej's now closed stave slams down into the one who was on his lefts head, sweeping it to the side and grazing the ice wielder's shoulder enough to make him drop his arm in pain. "I banish your existence from the cosmos," Jackson calls forth and plants a hand on the now injured shoulder, which suddenly tears wide open to show more injuries and scars opening up over the bandit's body. "Now I leave you to your own admittance," he says while walking away, the cloud of dust falling to the dirt path again as he heads into the town, watching as it burns around him while he fortuitously keeps traveling, soon finding refuge under a tree for the night, sleeping in his robes with his stave opened and blank in the evening wind.

 

[prettylykSIN]

• • • • • 
          Lucrecia sat at her table, chewing on the mutton given to her by the serving woman. The meat was well-spiced, though overcooked, making it a task to chew through. She ripped through the tough meat with more force than was ladylike. She almost asked the woman to take it back and bring her something... bloodier. She pulled herself in check before she opened her mouth. What was she thinking? She hated her meat bloody. She shook her head at herself and silently dismissed the other woman.
          
          Lucrecia looked a little worse for wear. Her dark blue eyes kept darting around the common room in a half crazed manner. She could swear that people were talking, but no one's mouth moved. All were silent, minding their own business. The brunette simply tried to block out the voices and concentrate on her food, but it seemed to be in vain. The voices continued, like whispers in her mind. Her ears heard nothing, but she could definitely 'hear' people talking. Broken sentences, fragmented words. The entire experience send chills down her spine, and put a strain on her nerves.
          
          A tug on her pant leg got her attention. She looked down under the table and found a large rat tugging on her pants, looking up at her, head tilted curiously as it looked at her with its tiny black eyes. Horned One in female human guise? She flung the retched thing away from her with a cry of disgust, sending its furred body sprawling across the common room. The creature got up and stared at her. She could hear a string of curses thrown at her by the rat. The rat! She put her head in her hands and stared at the rough wood of the table. What was happening to her? Could she really hear these animals' thoughts, or had she gone mad without knowing it? She could probably handle being mad, one had to be a little insane to be in her profession, but to actually hear these creatures' thoughts! She wanted nothing to do with it.
          
          She didn't notice when Vincent entered. Didn't notice.. or didn't care. She had her own problems right now. She planned to ignore everyone until she finished her meal, and then she planned to sleep. Maybe this was just a product of too little sleep. She touched her shoulder gingerly, she could feel the fresh scar under the thin material. If its just lack of sleep, then how did this heal so quickly? a traitorous little part of her asked. Once again the image of Haern, the Hunter flashed before her eyes. No. She didn't want to see Him. She didn't want the think about Him. She had never truly believed in the Gods, but this had been like a slap in the face.
          
          She heard Vincent speak to her, actually heard him. She could tell how different hearing a human voice was compared to the voices of those animals she had heard speak. She pulled in all her composer, which had fled her since her encounter with the wolves, and gave him a cool look. Unlike the serving girl, Vincent's looks did little to affect her. She preferred her men to be warriors, muscular men whom she never had to speak to, Most of the time, she didn't even know their names. She didn't care for relationships, she couldn't afford one, so she slept with whom she pleases, and never thought of them again afterwards.
          
          "Depends on your definition of 'beautiful.' Personally, I think its a shitty night." She practically growled at him. She was not in any sort of mood to get hit on. She glanced at the raven on the man's shoulder and winced, not wanted to hear the feathered being's thoughts. She had had enough of hearing voices in her head.
          [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[Mr Master]

"You and I both, Ms. Faeyt," Salazaar said softly, but loud enough for the other two to hear him clearly, and drawing their attention to him for the first time; it was as if he had magically appeared between the two tables. "But then important events are rarely comfortable."

He drew up an unoccupied chair from another table, and sat next to Lucrecia. "Mr. Valtiere, would you and your avian companion please join us? Good friends, I believe you have both been summoned and charged with a mission, in the same way that I have been, but unlike myself, neither of you managed to demand information as one of the gifts you were to receive. Therefore, it falls to me to inform you both, and the others that will arrive, of our purpose as a group." He held up a hand as Lucrecia started to object. "In a moment. I know meeting Haern is something of a mind-bender, and whatever gifts he gave you must be difficult to cope with, but if you listen to what I have to tell you, it might make it easier."

He spoke softly, with intensity, but quietly enough to be certain they were not being accidentally overheard. His special senses would alert him if anyone were intentionally overhearing them, so he trusted that their conversation was private. He felt confident enough about his conclusions to just drop the name "Haern," but he had a couple of other candidates in mind if she corrected him.

He waited until the other two were settled and listening, then spoke swiftly. "The ancient God of Corruption, Twilight, is stirring in his prison beneath the mountain the Gods placed upon him. Though powerful, the Gods no longer have the kind of direct influence on the world that they once had. Therefore, they are forced to work through intermediaries: their faithful, if they can find any with appropriate skills, or through those they recruit, otherwise. Such agents of the Gods are granted special powers and abilities, on the condition that they must work to defeat Twilight's servants and keep the Twisted One asleep and imprisoned. Both of you, myself, and others that I have been made aware of have been chosen. If we succeed, the Gods have promised us the fulfillment of our heart's desires. If we fail..." he paused. "Well, if we fail, I would presume that would mean death and/or unending torment under the cruel fist of Twilight." He shrugged. "I don't intend to find out, personally."

"Ms. Lucrecia Arias Faeyt, you are most evidently a warrior, and a skilled one. Mr. Vincent Valtiere, you are most evidently a mage, of some skill," he did not give any hint that he was aware of Valtiere's reputation independent of the knowledge he had been given; wouldn't do to have the kid get too much of a swelled head. "I am Salazaar Dominguez Aerowyn el Nomianias Greywood, professional discoverer and keeper of secrets, and it has been more than 5 years since I've told anyone my real name like that, but we are a select group. I have little choice but to trust you, and so I have." He paused, realizing they needed a little time to absorb the knowledge he'd dropped upon them like a toppling library shelf.

"It's a lot to take in," he admitted. "But you must."

 

[dready]

"Brother Jackson..." a voice whispers through the dankess of the priests dreams, bringing his eyes to open in awe from the sight of partially wravelled specters around him, no walls, floor, or ceiling to keep him standing but yet he's just floating in the air. "By the cosmos..." his lips utter as his mind and body both are stunned through the vision before him. Suddenly his body is whisked forward, stopping in a room open to the anomoly behind him and halting before hitting a table with a large fabric ontop. Multiple colored threads coelesqued in one area while a figure works on two, one a dull grey and the other a vibrant silver-blue mettalic colored thread. "You are probably wondering who I am, but that won't matter for now," the figure says, it's fingers working on a knot which has been made on the grey thread, setting it down before peircing the knot with the silver-blue thread.

"Then what are you going to tell me, that Twilight is coming back?" Ceej says in a half-serious tone, knowing that something has to be wrong in the future of this reality to be taken through such a vision and allowed to see the symbolic representation on such a fabric. His gaze traces down a few threads, seeing that they combine over the coat of arms detailed to signify the capitol. "You're closer to the truth more than you know Brother Jackson," the figure speaks with a slight melodic tone to it's voice, vibrating through the air and warping the appearance of the objects nearby. "I've given you a choice earlier in your life, and you took the first path you found. Unfortunately, if you continue down such path you'll end up dying at the hands of Twilight. I'll be giving you another choice, young killer, to both redeem yourself and to set what you seek back into this world: Balance."

"Belakai?" Ceej asks and steps closer, the flooring under him bursting up before he's grasped by tendrils made from shadows, his hands gripping onto the floor as best he can, though his grip won't out last the tendrils. "Belakai!" he yells out, slamming an elbow into the ground and trying to crawl out of the hole. "You show the composure of a bard, but yet the fighting spirit of a true warrior... your willpower might be stronger than most people could manage, but yet how your only bluff leaves you at a disadvantage will keep you from acheiving your goal..." the figure speaks while stepping around the table. "I'll unfortunately need to help tip the balances back into the betterment of reality's favor..." with a hand lowered down torwards the priest, a trio of threads shooting from it's sleave and digging into Ceej's left arm, threading through into a heavy weave which looks much like a bracer.

His eyes widened as he reached out with his right arm, noticing the threads injected into his other arm, looking back to the figure as he felt his body falling down with the tendrils dragging him away. "What did you do?" he calls out over the pain, though it's quickly numbed as he looks down to his feet as they're bare of tendrils before falling through the moon. Conahoy Jackson jumped from his rested sleep, falling forward from his praying stance as the moon is high, his eyes dialated as he tries to comprehend what had happened. "My... bluff?" he pants out as sweatdrops trickle off of his nose before hitting the dirt infront of him. His eyes look to the stave which fell forward as well, the gem gleaming a little brighter in the moonlight. His gaze quickly turns to his left arm, his right hand baring his sleave as he sits back and looking as a tripple weave that seems like tattoos along his forearm, though it continues up to his shoulder before he changes where he's looking through, unable to see where one of the threads go along his back, but able to spot that the red thread that goes to his heart is what looks like a sundial with the shadow warped. "This can't be real..." he says to himself before falling back against the tree, a leaf falling from it's branches and his eyes glare at it, watching as it freezes in place.

"Thank you Belakai..." he whispers to himself as he closes his eyes, greatful for being given both such a gift and a second chance.

 

[Midnight]

"Beautiful, as in the way the darkness has settled" Vincent tilted his head a bit, smirking at the female's reaction, people were so hostile sometimes.

Vincent frowned with the female's reactions, shrugging to enough of a degree to unsettle the raven on his shoulder, even when the spy joined in. The raven had been eying the man, missing nothing in the room, Vincent however was somewhat surprised with the other male's sudden appearance. Still hidden in the shadow of the deep hood Vincent looked over at the other male when he addressed him "Very well" He spoke quietly as he moved his chair over to the table that the two were now sitting in before resting his staff against the table and moving his hands from the cloak, resting them on the table. while he watched the other male speak.

The newcomer was well informed, perhaps too well, he knew Vincent's name, and he knew a lot more than even he was letting on. Vincent took a moment to fold his arms, the raven turning it's gaze from the male to the female. It was a strange looking bird, larger than the ravens of the northern mountains and considerably more attractive, it was sleek and graceful, just like the man it was accompanying, but still, there was something unsettling about the bird, it's eyes were red, dark and dull but piercing. Adventurers had told stories about these creatures, the Crebain. Vincent's only showing eye moved from the spy to the warrior, keeping his other eye hidden behind long bangs as they spoke, even in a place like this, Vincent had no trust for the common people, he had no trust for anybody. The raven's eyes were focused on Lucrecia, locked on her

The newcomer went on about their mission, or what was to be their mission would be, Vincent resettling himself when he spoke, raising a dark glove to his chin The other male was able to pick out that he was a mage of some skill, but that observation was obvious, Vincent made no attempt to be secretive or subtle, after all, he had a reputation in some parts of the world, and that was enough. Vincent waited until the other was finished to speak "So, Mister Greywood, tell me why the gods would have chosen a simple hermit as a champion?" Vincent was no ally of the gods, his mother had told him to stay away from any priest and he had taken her advice to heart the day the villagers of that small farming village tried to burn him alive.

Vincent couldn't help but wonder what the other two chosen gifts were, while he had his own magical senses, he was not a scryer or a telepath. The raven which had previously been perched on his shoulder hopped down his arm and cawed loudly. He was curious, this man knew a lot that was for certain. Vincent resettled his staff, then reached out to pick up a feather which had fallen from the bird.

 

[Canvasofwhite]

[ � ]_Get up! Let's see what you're made of � � �
____________Bring it on! Know that I'm not afraid � � �
_________________It's time to show you what I'm all about � � �

"I told you we took a wrong turn!"

"Don't look at me! You're the one with the feet!"

A couple of travelers peered over at the voices that argued and found not two people, but a single person. A girl no less. The travelers were stalled at the fork in the night road. A wooden sign post stood as a marker right in between the split roads. An arrow pointed to the right showed the way to the capital, as even the city lights and the gated checkpoint was seen off in the horizon. To the left, lead to path north into the Norjaal Mountains. The couple however, had their attention on the strangely dressed woman, as she argued with no one except for the hand doll she held in her right hand. The doll was rather large, and seemed to possess a rather distinctive personalty, so much that they couldn't tell if the girl was talking for it, or if the doll had life of its own. It was hard to tell when this world of Terre A'nglis was filled with all sorts of strange magics.

The man grabbed a hold around the woman's shoulder, and lured her away from the scene as they tried to ignore the noises of both the girl and the doll fighting. Hits could've been heard after a dozen profanities, and some slamming had been taken place. They tried to ignore the strange girl who they dubbed to be to insane, and left her alone to fight among herself. It would bit a good ten minutes before the girl would stop her fight against the doll. Once again, they stood in front of the sign post. Her body a bit scratched upon and dirtied as the doll had a few good sized bumps on him from repeated attacks to the head. The girl used her index finger to scratch her eyebrow as she looked up at the two directions. "Well, where do you think we should go, Roger?" she asked.

"It's your choice mistress. And don't call me Roger. It's Doma Shadowweaver, faithful servant of the God of Hell himself!" The doll told her, a bit of demonic pride in his voice. "Why do you insist on calling me such a degrading name?" He replied, puffing his cheek angrily.

The girl ignored the doll's words, and looked down the path to the capital. She hadn't intended to circle back here for quite a while, but it seemed like she had little choice in the matter since the Norjaal Mountains were a place of dire creatures and supposedly, inhuman thieves that eat humans for breakfast. Then again, the capital wasn't the best place either since a couple of years ago when she found herself here she gotten into a bad crowd of sorts, and fell into trouble, making her leave the city grounds as fast as she could. There was always the option of turning back and going back to a side track, but she didn't leave her home to go backwards. In her mind, the only option was to move forward. With a determined look on her face, she reached back and tied the ribbon on her head tighter around her hair, and tightened her fist as if she was queen of the world at that moment. "Watch out, Captial city! Genesis has come back!" She announced rather loudly for an open road. With that declaration, she head down the path ready to face what fate threw at her.

[ Come on! Don't tell me that's all you got! ]​

 

[prettylykSIN]

• • • • • 
          If Salazaar's appearance startled Lucrecia, she didn't show it. She was very good at that, hiding her feelings, when she wanted to. Her face was now set in icy displeasure, her dark blue orbs shifting to the newcomer. Lucrecia hated surprises, and the day had been full of them. It was enough to put her in the foulest of moods. She was about to protest the man joining her table when he motioned for her to be silent. She scowled darkly at the older man, but remained silent. That he knew her name immediately made her suspicious, but that he knew her encounter with Haern made the hair on the back of her neck raise on end. She didn't like people knowing her affairs. For now, she remained silent and listened to what the man had to say.
          
          She chewed on her mutton, eyes passing from one man to the other. She deliberately ignored the raven's presence, carefully avoiding looking at it. Usually, the thing would not have bothered her, but seeing as she had developed some unwanted powers, she didn't want to be anywhere near an animal. She had too many problems without adding on some power that Haern had just decided to so 'generously' bestow upon her. She listened in silence as she was told of their 'mission' to stop Twilight. Their heart's desire, hmm? Well, at the moment, her heart's desire was to be rid of this so called Gift and get on with her life as she saw fit. That did not include saving the world.
          
          As far as Lucrecia could tell, this mission could take months, if not years, to accomplish. She didn't see any point in getting involved. Oh, sure, the world would be destroyed or some such, but way she lived her life, she very much doubted if she would live to see that day anyways. Nonetheless, she stayed quiet and let the men talk, biding her time. Once she had finished with her meal, she pushed the plate away from her and stood, her palms planted firmly on the table. "This isn't my fight." Simple, as always. That was Lucrecia's way.
          
          She moved away from the table, tucking the key to her room behind her belt. She stretched languidly and crossed her arms behind her back as she walked to the staircase. "Good luck with the mission, boys," she said over her shoulder. She passed the serving girl as she walked to the stairs, ordering enough booze to drown out the day's memories. And maybe deafen her to the sounds of the animals around her.
          [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

[Mr Master]

Sal favored the shadowwalker with an evaluative glance. "To be honest, I have no idea what their criteria were. I know why I was chosen: proximity and skills. As to why Ms. Faeyt is preferable to, say, Thorvad 'The Hammer' Naiytersohn, I have no idea. There must be some reason why she was chosen, just as there is some reason you've been chosen. Mages aren't that common, true, but you have the appearance of having come some distance, Mr. Valtiere. I'm sure you must have some special skill or ability, some quality that made them choose you." He kept a straight face, innocently nodding to the young man.

"Whatever the reason, you've been tapped. You each have. And, as a result, your destiny is in motion. No, I'm not sure I like it any more than you do, based on the set of your shoulders, but I am a pragmatist at heart."

<insert further exchange as necessary until Lucrecia is done eating>

Not your fight? Sal thought, as the gorgeous woman stood up from the table. Ah, I remember when I used to think that way. The glories of youth... But he said nothing, just watched her get up and listened to her go, noting her drink order. He held up one finger to Vincent, asking for a moment as he took out a scrap of paper and an artificial quill of his own design, its delicate metal point embedded in a cork. He used the quill and a tiny stoppered bottle of ink to swiftly write a short note, and managed to catch up to the serving maid before she carried a bucket full of bottles of fine local spirits up to the room. He dropped the note in the bucket of booze bottles, and tipped her a gold piece as he placed a finger to his lips, then smiled as she continued on up the stairs.

Turning back to Vincent, he sighed. "Well, good sir, it appears the lady has retired for the night. Are you tired after your journey? I can arrange for a private room, if you would care to rest. I, myself, have to make some more inquiries about the others I have been told of." He shook his head. "It's been a busy hour since I got my Gift. And so much more to do." Glancing back at Vincent: "You're welcome to accompany me, but I'd appreciate it if you'd take my direction when I'm trying to make inquiries; not everyone appreciates having a mage lurking about when someone is asking for sensitive information. It's your choice; the innkeeper is handy, and so is the door."

Sal would not be taking a room for himself; he no longer required sleep. He wondered if he would miss it...

The note, when Lucrecia gets it, says "I will pay 1,000 gold a month for a bodyguard and wilderness guide - Sal"

 

[dready]

Minutes passed as Conahoy was stuck with no rest, seeming to feel that his body is fully rested and wondering if maybe it's both as punishment and gift to be left for him to be tortured with. "Alright, apparently I'm not meant to be sleeping whilst work can be done," he says to himself and walks down the pathway, his feet seeming to almost float along the ground as he looks around, the stave in hand while he makes his way down the path. Under his robes glows the time piece with the crooked shadow, which is going at twice the speed it normally would, though his gaze is set on the road more than where he was glowing.

What seemed like an hours worth of walking was in fact almost a day's worth, with Ceej finding himself at the gates of the capitol before he checks through the back of his prayer book, finding his notes for the estimated travel to the capitol. "Huh, thought it would be longer..." he says to himself before walking up to the gates, feeling his feet down on the ground now and waving lightly to the gaurds before walking by, one of them laughing at him for some strange reason though then again priests aren't normally seen traveling on their own, especially since he is rather young. Imbicile... he thinks to himself whilst heading into the town, looking around and then remembering the dream, heading to the area near where he saw all of the threads together and wondering if maybe he was meant to go there.

 

[prettylykSIN]

• • • • • 
          Excusing the serving girl from her presence, Lucrecia closed the door to her chambers, the basket of whiskey and ale tucked under one arm. She set the basket onto the table before grabbing a bottle and falling onto the straw mattress. After two weeks of sleeping on the ground, this was like heaven, though the walls seemed to press in on her. She suddenly longed to be out under the open sky with Tarquin as her only companion. It used to be so simple. All she did was move from battlefield to battlefield, earning money and sleeping with those she deemed worthy.
          
          Our heart's desire...
          
          Salazaar's words rang in her mind. What was her heart's desire? She honestly didn't know. She didn't have any ambition or dreams. She just wanted to fight, to forget. She took a long drought of the whiskey, downing half the bottle. The effects were immediate, she could already feel the tingling of the alcohol enter her brain. She laughed suddenly, a high desperate sound. Did those fools really believe that the Gods would give them anything they wanted? And what did she want? Nothing! She wanted to be left alone!
          
          An image of a young girl appeared in her mind. A beautiful dark skinned girl with a dazzling smile. It took Lucrecia offguard, this image. She downed the rest of her bottle and groped for a new one. No, show me anything but her. She tried to banish the girl from her mind, hurriedly drinking from the new bottle. Liquid spilled down her chin in her haste, but she did not move to wipe it away. She could hear that girl's laughter. It sounded like bells.
          
          Stop. She didn't want to see. Didn't want to hear.
          
          "I love you Lucy. Will you stay with me forever?"
          
          She had gone through five bottles already, unknowingly. She could see and hear this poor beautiful girl perfectly, as though she existed in the flesh before her. Lucy. How sweet the name had sounded on her lips. "Forever and ever," she whispered to no one. The girl wasn't here, Lucrecia knew it only too well. That beautiful girl was buried beneath two years of time. There was no coming back for that girl. None at all. "Melisande...."
          
          She drank herself into oblivion. Only when she had reached the last bottle, did she find the note. One thousand gold a month for her to protect them on this foolhardy expedition. What did she care? They were all going to end up dead anyways. Maybe in death she could be with Melisande in peace. What what right did she have to peace? None at all. She deserved misery until her dying breath.
          
          It was with that thought that she decided to go along with these people, if only for the money, and for that dark skinned beauty.
          [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
          
          
          
          

 

[Midnight]

Vincent remained quiet when the warrior spoke up again, stating that this was not her fight, the deliberately avoided eye contact with the fiercely intelligent bird, something Vincent payed only minor attention to it, even as the raven stood on the table it's gaze unbroken on the female. It was only a short bit before the bird lost interest and climbed back onto Vincent's arm, staying close to him while the female stood and left the table, heading towards her private room. Vincent himself stood and looked around the room, the raven fluttering it's wings to propel itself onto his shoulder. The warlock looked out from his hood at sal when he spoke to him, offering him a private room.

"Yes, I am afraid the journey has taken quite a bit out of me, but I do not think I will be needing a private room" Vincent looked out from under the hood at Sal, the single dark eye peering out from under the hood before he turned around "I will remain here for a little bit, I hope your associates wouldn't mind that" Vincent gave Sal a small smile before turning away from him and walking over to a chair nearby before sitting down "I will retire when I am ready" Like Sal Vincent had never really slept all that much and when he did it was never in a bed. The man had found the comfiest chair he could and sat down, holding his staff to prop himself upright so he could meditate on the situation at hand.

It was a lot to take in. Vincent could clearly remember the beautiful face of the goddess of mystery as she spoke to him as she told him what he had to hear, she told him she had been watching him, and by following these people Vincent would be able to learn what he had wanted. What was his heart's desire? Perhaps he did not even know that. Vincent did not trust these people still, he knew the woman had been chosen by the hunter, but what had the older man been chosen for vincent did not know, though he had to trust him. He was also unnerved by the fact that he knew Vincent even this far away from the forest was also stunning, his reputation was restrained to traders and merchants this far out. And the woman, a beautiful, mysterious woman that almost reminded him of someone he had known, she had been through a lot, events in her past that not even Vincent could look into, thee memories were well hidden within her mind, and even to a skilled mage they were still cloudy, the other male's memories were likewise guarded, but by force rather than buried.

From his new seat Vincent tilted his head, for the first time the brilliant glow of his other eye emerged from the hood. His right eye had a brilliant glow, one that shone through the hood he wore. This glow only lasted for a second before once again being covered by the dark locks of hair that covered half his face. The warlock turned his vision down and closed his eyes, focusing inwardly as he meditated. While he did so however the raven perched on his shoulder served as a lookout for him, it was a Crebain, no being, magical or non could get close to him without Vincent knowing.

He always wore his hood in town, the townspeople being none too friendly with his peculiarities, the people of the big cities had closed minds and superstitions, seeing a man like Vincent would cause a scare, his demonic looks standing out. Vincent's eyes remained closed as his gloved hands came up, lowering his hood and showing the full of his face for the first time in the night. the silence of the common room allowing him to rest fully in the chair. Vincent was able to extend his consciousness beyond the walls with his eyes closed, seeing if only for a few moments what was happening around the city, viewing his two new companions, Lucy in her room and Sal outside, vanishing into the night. Vincent turned his focus inward, rebuilding his energy, tomorrow was likely to be as hectic as this evening. Satisfied with himself he finally was able to fall into a light sleep in that very chair with the bird perched on his shoulder, his arms folded and his eyes closed, his stave resting in the crook of his arms and his blade, wrapped in leather at his side. He would remain like this until morning most likely his dreams coming to him lightly, dreams of dark things, dreams of solitude.

 

[Mr Master]

"As you wish, good sir." Sal sketched a bow, and turned to leave. He paused only to drop a few coins to the innkeeper, asking him to take care of the strange man in black and his raven, and then he left.

Out in the dark street, Sal melted into the shadows as if he was one himself, not because he was particularly trying to, but just because that's how he was. In the street, the odd tickling sensation in his mind eased, and he wondered if that had been Vincent, using his magic to try and read Sal's mind. Even before the Gift, Sal had been good at hiding his thoughts and memories; he'd searched the wilderness once in the far-off land of Wo and paid a princely sum to the mental magicians he found there in a secret kingdom to teach him mind techniques to hide his true thoughts and motivations, which he used habitually. Now, however, with Secretive Severn's particular blessings, he didn't seem to need those anymore.

Not that he could really stop the habit he'd cultivated over a decade, but it was reassuring to think he probably didn't need it any longer.

He definitely felt mystical eyes on his back as he strode from the inn, and recognized the sensation of Vincent's magic, but soon it faded. Another sense of his, now, a benefit of Severn's habitual paranoia. Such a sensible God, Severn...

Sal made his way through the Lower City, to all the places that never closed for the night, murmuring a few words to a bartender here, slipping a few coins to a street vendor there, buying some city guards some drinks in yet another place. He asked about certain people, certain names, certain descriptions. He listened to what news there was, and promised further compensation for better data. He canvassed the city, putting out the word that he was looking for certain leads. This was not unusual; people were looking for other people all the time. And he was occasionally known amongst his contacts for looking for leads. The only difference was how widely he was casting his net.

As the night began to lighten toward dawn, he strode back toward the inn he started from, feeling almost human again. Of course, he wasn't, not anymore. The Gifts of the gods had changed him; they were natural powers, now, and he was never to be a normal human again. Still, he knew what felt "normal," and he was adjusting to his new status, normalizing. He only hoped the others would come to grips with their new abilites as quickly as he had. He had no specific data, but he had a bad feeling that they'd need their wits about them, possibly sooner than he'd be comfortable with...

 

[dready]

Ceej headed torwards an inn nearby the entrance that could support his rather cheap needs, which turned out to be more like mats of bedding in small shacks. With his door closed and the hammer book stave next to his mat, Conahoy Jackson lays down on the bedding, feeling it poke through his robes as he tries to sleep, his eyes not even close to being heavy though his body urging for rest. "Come on... go to sleep already..." he says to himself, his legs tingling as if he was just running twice as fast for an hour straight.

A few minutes after resting, he checks his money pouch which he keeps around his neck and under his heavy robes, seeing that he only has a few gold coins with a pair of coppers leftover from paying for the room. He holds up one of the copper coins and feels it stiffen against his fingers when it gets tired. "Huh?" he asks himself as he noticed a flash along the green strip of ink on his arm, letting go of the copper piece to see it slowly slide down in the air. "... well this just might get worse..." he says to himself before catching the coin a minute later, feeling whatever caused it to slow down suddenly fade off.

 

[Mr Master]

Come the dawn, it was time to survey the local inns. He started at the ones near the gates, the busiest ones with the most variety of traffic. He went round back of each one, where the day staff congregated around dawn, starting preparations for the guest's breakfasts. He asked each of them who was sleeping there, if anyone matched the descriptions he could give. He went through the five closest to the southwest gate into the Lower City, then beat feet to the full-south gate. He wanted to check as many as he could before all the guests got moving and he missed his opportunity to find them at rest.

Third one in from the south gate, he found a nibble. A gold piece (worth nearly a month's wages to the kitchen help) got him access to the inn before it opened its doors to the public again, and silently he stole up to a closed door. He knew this inn; these cheap rooms were more like closets with straw mats, and not thick ones at that. He listened carefully at the door, hearing... Good Gods, he could hear breathing, maybe even a heartbeat through the closed door. Remarkable. Someone was in there; and they seemed awake. He knocked gently, using the name attached to the description the staff confirmed.

"Mister Jackson? Good priest Jackson? My name is Salazaar. I believe I may be able to answer some questions you might have at this point."

 

[dready]

Ceej was still awake, and the knock made him look to the door slowly, his gaze hazy for a few seconds before seeming to glow red for a few seconds. "You must be the thread which connected to mine," He calls out, knowing that the figure pulled one of the threads to meet his grey dyed cloth on the table. "Though what makes you believe that I have questions?" Conahoy stands from the mattress, his stave in hand before stepping to the door, his hand resting on the bar.

With a click of a latch and the bar lifted, Jackson opens the door and steps out, his hand running down the middle of his opened book before the straw that stuck to his robes slowly pull out and fall to the ground in their light fluttering. "I came here with well enough knowledge to support my own motivation, I do not require anything more." He looks to his visitor and tilts his head. "I thought you would have been a little shorter though..." says the barely 18 year old priest of balance, definately making both a joke for the fun of it.

 

[Mr Master]

Sal quirked an eyebrow up at the younger man (less than half his age, Good Gods...). "Much shorter and I could have made my living in a traveling circus, Mister Jackson. And I'm uncertain of what 'threads' you speak of, but I can surmise the metaphor. I know you have been Chosen, Mister Jackson. I know a God must have appeared to you by now, perhaps set you in motion to come here, perhaps gave you a Gift or two already? One of the Gifts I was given was knowledge of the other Chosen Ones, and it has therefore fallen to me to gather everyone together. I would like to ask you to come with me, right now. I have paid well for your lodging, and I can offer you, well, much more comfortable surroundings, at any rate. Would you be willing?"

<one way or another, they will eventually be away from prying ears, and that's when Sal will get a bit more detailed>

"Mister Jackson... may I call you Conahoy? I have no doubt that you must be dealing with some strange reactions. Your new patron God or Goddess has Gifted you with some unique abilities, no doubt. Thanks to the brief peek I was given at the plots and plans of the Gods in this situation, I have some idea of what we may be preparing for. It's likely between the two of us, and the others I have and will be contacting, we can discover and master our new abilities in the course of pursuing our ultimate goal. Has... that goal been shared with you, as yet?"

 

[dready]

He remained as quiet and attentive as he could, though when asked the question he faked as if he was reading through his book and looking for a specific page before looking up. "Huh? Oh I've been told of such things, but everyone has their own gifts granted by the gods, yet those same gifts just might end up being as equal to a curse to themselves," he slightly preaches, not yet noticing the irony of his words. "Yes I know of such things, and have achieved such a peak at what the future holds in store."

"Belakai has given me such things as well, though being both a rationalist as well as bender of realities he hasn't divulged exactly what I can manage yet..." he says and holds up his left hand, the appearance of the ribbon trio of tattoos starting at his wrist and hand before dissapearing under his sleave. "I'm meant to do two things, one personal yet a favor, and the other for what maybe be the price to pay for a darkened past..." Ceej says and closes the stave before shouldering the hammer-like weapon onto his shoulder, the dull grey gem gleaming slightly in the light provided. "I'll help with the journey of you and the others, even if I'm to sacrafice myself into such an endevour." With a smile he looks to the man who has visited him. "Feel free to call me Ceej, tis an alias that is more appropriate to others outside of the cloth."

 

[Mr Master]

"As you wish, Mister Ceej. We are on our way to a nicer inn. I may have more private quarters come sundown. The others I have found so far are Mister Vincent, a mage of excellent skill and some renown, and Miss Lucrecia, a warrior of note. I have found she is a mercenary of reasonable repute, and while she refuses to follow the path we have all been given on her own, I believe my offer to hire her for the duration will be accepted. I have seen a fraction of the plan, you see, the design in which our various threads are woven together, to borrow your metaphor. And I have seen the consequences of our failure, or at least what the Gods believe will be the consequences, and I, as a mortal, have little cause to doubt them. What they haven't told me, maddeningly, is how they expect us to prevail. And, unless we can all pull together in the same direction, I fear we cannot. And that..." He shuddered. Death, ruin, unimaginable horror, all crammed into his brain like twenty pounds of nightmare in a ten pound dream. It was probably good that he didn't need to sleep.

"I'm not asking that you lead the group, Mister Ceej. But you appear to have some idea of what needs to be done, some vague commitment to the plan. I merely ask that you help me in trying to get everyone traveling the same direction. Because trust me, there is absolutely nothing balanced about the way things will turn out if we do nothing."

"Ah, here we are, that green door up ahead."