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Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Oct 26, 2014 21:45:17 GMT -6
Drumming her fingers along her thigh, Sarea nervously approached the church. The sky was a blanket of dark blue, dotted with small areas of white that represented the light of ancient elves, gone to the Haivendar. Although tonight, their light was a curse. One that showed her the truth of her actions. The night sky's colour matched with the light of the moon hid nothing at all, even showed what was meant to be kept silent.
She climbed the steep stone steps of the church, remember the message she'd received from the Minister earlier that day. It had only been her, Ibilin, and Lukis that he'd spoken to using the rings, but he was fearful. His hands trembling, his eyes watering.
"He...wishes to speak to you all tonight. In the basement of the church. H-He is here, among us. And he isn't pleased."
'He'. Obviously in reference to the Raven.
Why O'Donnel had agreed to a contract with that rotten assassin was beyond the small bard. He was cruel, taunting all of them as if they were puppets and he were the one pulling the strings. His eyes were unnerving, and his voice had no emotion, which was enough to upset any normal bard, let alone one forced to work with such an unpleasant man. However, as long as O'Donnel knew what he was doing, and as long as he kept his promise to bring back Jennis, she'd continue the façade.
Opening the large wooden doors, she peered in, seeing only the faint glow of blue that always hung over the church. She looked down at her ring, seeing it glow the same hue, she remembered the basement.
Across the hall, the door to the basement was already swung open, making the elf a tad suspicious. She raised her left hand, pointing her bardic ring at the door, and pulled her hood over her blonde hair. Someone was here that wasn't meant to be, she could feel it. Every step creaked with her leather boots, making sneaking a difficult feat, but she continued on.
The integrity of everything was in danger.
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Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Oct 27, 2014 21:32:09 GMT -6
Gods, how long had he been waiting for the Raven to make his majestic appearance? Considering his stomach was empty and he hadn't been...aroused by any woman in quite some time, he'd have to guess he'd been waiting nearly all night for him. Of course that bastard would be late to something as important as O'Donnel had said it would be; Ibilin never was so easily trusting, which clashed with the assassin's personality of being cunning, sneaky, and a pain in the arse to be around. He definitely didn't trust the rogue, or the Minister, but he was getting gold and wenches out of the deal, so it was a win-win.
There was creaking from upstairs, and the warrior turned to the door, which he conveniently forgot to close. Figures he'd do as much, considering he was starving and deprived. He probably wasn't thinking straight, and now someone stupid, brave, or a mix of the two like he was had gotten in. Drawing his rapier, he began towards the stairs, sliding his thumb along the slit of the ring and muttering in cockney what would probably be incomprehensible to normal people.
"Dammit..." he grunted as he lunged forwards in the darkness, hoping to whatever the hell was up there that it wasn't a friend he was attacking. Or a woman. Either would be good not to hit.
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Post by Lukis "Drunkard" Vinterheim on Nov 2, 2014 21:43:08 GMT -6
The Nord opened his eyes and looked around, finding himself in the basement of the Church of Her. How he got here, he had no idea. Except maybe one day. That idea involved being his usual tipsiness and finding a comfortable place in the big storage of barrels for a nap before the conference call with Ibilin, Sarea, and The Raven. How he hated the Raven, especially his stupid mask that matched his name almost as if he wanted to be a fairy tail villain. Maybe it was just a coincidence, or a name that just stuck, but Lukis hated it. The man, he wasn't to fond of either, but what bothered him was that stupid leather mask.
Leaning forwards, he noticed a tunic of red and yellow in the darkness heading up the stair, a silver sword drawn. None other than Ibilin, he assumed. The Frenchman seemed suspicious of something, but Lukis couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary, so he suspected going to talk to him might be a good idea.
He slid off of his bed of barrels and walked towards him, brushing his shoulders as he did so and smiling his regular dopey smile. "Ibilin! So good to see you!" He cried out, breaking the awkward silence.
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Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Nov 2, 2014 21:48:42 GMT -6
"Ibilin! So good to see you!"
That was all Sarea heard from the basement, spoken in a thick Nordic accent that nearly made her jump out of her own boots. She then heard some more angry mumbling in French before realising that none other than Lukis and Ibilin were in the basement. Regaining her footing, she began to smile a bit, but then caught herself in the act, which caused her to frown in anger. Lukis, she could handle. As long as he had a song to sing with his round tummy, he was okay. Ibilin, she could not. Whether it was the constant advancements on her despite her telling him she liked the same people he did, the comments about her rather large bust, or just his creepy stare that made her not want to know what he was thinking, she still hated him.
She stepped into the doorway of the basement, putting on her most aggravated face as she faced the French Knight. "Hello, Ibilin. Pleasure to see you again."
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Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Nov 2, 2014 21:53:16 GMT -6
Ibilin looked away from Lukis in anger after muttering some less-than-nice things in French. God, that Nord annoyed the crap out of him! Thankfully, Ibilin wasn't that bad. After all, he always knew the best things to say, especially when he turned to the door of the basement to be greeted by a big pair of breasts attached to a beautiful young wood elf with a hateful glare.
"Sarea, lovely! Pleasure, of course!" He reached out and grabbed her hand before placing a gentle kiss on her knuckle. Ah yes, Ibilin truly knew how to woo the ladies, and he knew that in time, she'd get over her 'I'm a depressed widow' and her 'I'm super gay' phase.
He then turned back to Lukis and led Sarea towards him. "Been waiting for you lot to show up...mind you, Lukis was apparently already here. Gave me more than a bit of a heart attack. Don't know when we're supposed to start this thing."
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Post by Lukis "Drunkard" Vinterheim on Nov 2, 2014 21:56:59 GMT -6
It always grossed Lukis out how touchy-feely Ibilin was with girls. Especially given the look of his kissers, which just looked uncomfortably thin. Not to say that he wasn't an unattractive young man, but his actions certainly were. Still, he was on business, and so he had to act professionally. Even if it killed him to do so.
"I don't know. He said he'd be meeting us soon, so I hope he'll let us--" He was cut off by the sight of his ring, along with everyone else's flashing. That indicated that someone wished to speak with them in the insubstantial plane. "Well, I guess that answers our question."
He looked down and slid his finger across the small blue slit before his mind went blank. He knew then that he'd be taken to the world of dreams, where they'd engage in a hopefully fine conversation with the Raven. Except he knew the truth.
They were dead meat.
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Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Nov 3, 2014 21:53:14 GMT -6
The wood elf watched as Lukis activated his ring, collapsing in mere moments of the action. She eyed the Nord, noticing that his ring was still glowing slightly. She turned to her other companion, who seemed to be in the same tranced state as Lukis. Their faces remained restful, as if their dreams were peaceful and calming, which only made Sarea more hesitant about the call. After all, if the Raven truly was mad at them, they were in for a lot of scolding, yelling, and threatening.
"Sariel diir monira, ein ara Gur-stil savilar," she muttered as she traced her finger along the blue slit of the ring. Soon, she found herself feeling very faint, and her vision began to blacken. Most of what she felt was a strange sensation of her body continuously faltering as if she was ready to collapse, but never finding her will weak enough to actually let it.
The music of a violin, clear as day and beautiful as a morning sky, began playing in the backdrop of the darkness, accompanied in moments by a cello, then a flute with a melody as legato as caramel. Next came the voices, an elven choir of ranges that far surpassed any human vocal range, singing in the same style as the hauntingly lovely flute. This was what was always in the bard's mind: her next idea for music, or another that had already been heard that she just loved. Usually prevalent in her dreams, and always before mentally entering the insubstantial plane.
Soon, the harmonies all reached their final bar with a soft fermata holding them to their release, and that was when Sarea saw the black accompanied by strings of purple and blue, so dream-like as a summer's night sky would be. She finally felt her feet touching something, and she looked down to see short blades of purple-tinted black grass, swaying lightly from side to side. In front of her was a pedestal, whereupon stood Ibilin and Lukis, both regaining their minds after their own experiences of entering this plane of reality.
"You two might have to think of nicer things in your downtime," she suggested with a playful shrug. She then began to look around curiously, her hand on her tattooed chin. "Now where is that rogue?"
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The Raven
Apprentice Roleplayer
I am Her champion...and I will not retreat from Her will.
Posts: 52
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Post by The Raven on Nov 3, 2014 21:59:06 GMT -6
This world is dark. I am at home here. Here, nobody can see me for what--for who I truly am. The shadows conceal me as they should and as they do. They ask for me.
The plane is void of all life, save for three souls that seek a man in a mask. This man is present, and yet they know not where he is. The first, the elf girl who lost her wife and now regrets her own. The second, the dishonoured Nord. The third, the French Knight with quite the appetite.
I shall inform them. Of my presence. But first, to know their thoughts. Yes, then the meeting shall commence. In this place I call home.
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Post by Lukis "Drunkard" Vinterheim on Nov 5, 2014 17:51:10 GMT -6
Lukis looked about in confusion, his braid constantly hitting the side of his head as he turned left...and right...and left again. Waiting for the Raven never usually took this long. In fact, the silly bird-masked man was usually the one waiting for them. Often sitting on the ground as if he were meditating, just to rub in the fact that he could meditate.
Lukis always wanted to meditate. It looked cool. All the monks did it, and apparently so did a few warriors from other lands. But mostly it just looked--
"What's that?" he cried aloud, stopping the narration in his mind.
He looked in the shadows that swirled madly around them all; he'd definitely seen something in the shape of a man. But it wasn't a man...it couldn't be. Not with the way that he floated, one leg in front of the other, arms outstretched as if he were hung on a cross, a tattered cloak billowing behind him and pointing downwards at his feet.
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Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Nov 5, 2014 17:59:58 GMT -6
God, what was the drunk going on about this time? Like the boy who cried "wolf!", everyone had stopped listening to this village idiot a long time ago. They were in a secret part of the insubstantial plane, almost like a reserved room. No one was there with them. Anyone else who might be there either knew of the meeting--unlikely, of course--or had a ring--also unlikely.
"What are you blathering about this time, drunko? We're the only ones here!" he shouted, smacking his companion upside the head. He spun around and began pointing at the shadows. "All alone!"
But then he saw it. Within the shadows, a small flash of light. Not big enough to even be remotely important, but long enough to show what Lukis might have seen. It looked like someone floating, feet together and cloak behind them. Their hand was outstretched, as if reaching for the group. And behind them...the silhouette of angered eyes.
"Gods..." he muttered, stepping back. "I'm super sorry about that. I didn't realize it was you, Raven."
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The Raven
Apprentice Roleplayer
I am Her champion...and I will not retreat from Her will.
Posts: 52
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Post by The Raven on Nov 5, 2014 18:09:02 GMT -6
This man is a fool. Why he is with me, I do not know. His skill as a knight, perhaps? No. His title is all I need.
The three look upon him with distrust and fear as he lowers himself from the cloud of shade. It looks like a man on a string in a stage play, but in the insubstantial plane anything could happen.
He stands in front of them, looking them all down with aged grey eyes. Despite his youthful, fit appearance, he holds a weathered air to him.
The Nord. Stupid and clumsy, but brilliant. He towers over me physically. A big man. But smaller in status than anyone.
However, the girl. Beautiful. Fair. Friendly. And a hidden cunning that only one of her own can detect. I am one of her own. Not an elf. A trickster. A deceiver.
He stands still, his cloak's feathers dusting the stone pedestal he stands upon. His thin lips are moving, although words do not sound. Then, he makes his thoughts heard. Not just to him, but to everyone. They echo like a thunderstorm, resonating as if he were whispering but louder than a shout.
I must say, I am pleased with the recent turn of events. And I am not. The elf known as Faljere is suspected to be me. The villain known as Clanless is deduced to be him. You've all done a decent job tracking down the target. And to Sarea, I congratulate you. You have done well to deceive him. And to carry out your difficult task. How ever did you find the Clanless, I am most curious. Come, tell us a story, bard.
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Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Nov 5, 2014 18:21:21 GMT -6
He was calling her up. His words like venom, piercing her heart with fear. No matter what he said to her, even if it were kind words, she felt hurt when he did. But she would not keep the man waiting, as she knew better than to do that.
Cautiously, she stepped towards him and placed her hands in front of her chest, her fingers locked in between each other. Her eyes trailed away from him, wisps of light emitting from then light steam. Her head was hung, and her stance was unstable. Regularly, a bard would never perform in such a manner, but to the Raven, his was about as much courage and showmanship as she could muster.
"I discovered who the Clanless was. And old friend, actually. I found out that he was residing in the same Fort as I, and so I went to find him." Her words stopped as she remembered finding Faljere in the Dragon's Reach Fort, battered and bruised, his skin red from cold but pale from illness. His blond locks were tattered and torn, as if removed roughly by a knife, and there were signs of something upon his left cheek--natural in colour, obviously a concealer for his Elderbaden tattoos that he hid when taking the identity of the Clanless. She remembered being there when he awoke, and his smile. It was nearly forced and definitely unstable, as if he hadn't smiled in centuries. But he tried, and that was what made her feel happy to be around him.
"And that's when I used my spell on him," she continued, tears forming in her eyes. "I charmed his mind, making him believe that he was you. I used up a lot of my energies to keep it going for as long as it did, but it worked. He did exactly what I suggested to his mind, and I suggested to his mind exactly what you told me. The mask created his clothes and changed his weapons. And since it is connected to you, as is my ring, I masked my voice to match his and convinced him that he was hearing himself, suggesting the things that would turn him." She stopped and wiped her eyes before quickly bowing and adding: "Master Raven, sir."
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The Raven
Apprentice Roleplayer
I am Her champion...and I will not retreat from Her will.
Posts: 52
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Post by The Raven on Nov 5, 2014 18:30:39 GMT -6
An excellent tale. One that I'm sure will make for a most excellent song. And the voices upon his mental reawakening was an astute touch. The people of Wildgard feared the Raven. And now, with his supposed identity known, they fear Faljere. Rather, they fear the Clanless.
He seems off-put by the name of the elf, putting his hand on his chin and pacing back and forth. A sound like a lightning strike, more tenor than a thunderclap, resounds in the cloud of gloom.
I knew an elf named Faljere. Of the Elderbaden Clan. A peaceful monk of the High Elf Dominion. I'm intrigued by his deception. Almost as well-played as my own. For as long as I knew him, I'd never suspected him to be an enemy of the state. But that is what duplicity is all about, I suppose. I know who he is, now. And he shall never set foot in this city again. Chased out as a criminal, to be killed on sight.
He looks up, as if there were something above them apart from spiraling chaos and hues.
The Minister, Cillian O'Donnel, has his scent. A gift from the warrior of the Silver Scale Guild that haunts me still. We shall conceal ourselves. Hide all traces and cover all tracks with the smell of a dishonest wood elf. And the mask that she stole from his face and placed under lock and key. Soon, it shall be in my possession once more, for it cannot stray too far from its master. All is proceeding as planned.
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Post by Lukis "Drunkard" Vinterheim on Nov 5, 2014 18:57:18 GMT -6
It was definitely a relief to hear that everything was proceeding as planned. Hearing it like a fire giant's angry roar, on the other hand, made the statement almost like a threat. Threats made Lukis angry. But he knew better than to get angry here, for his stronger self would definitely be detached from this realm.
"If all is proceeding as planned, then--" he stuttered, thinking that perhaps his words were too harsh. After all, the Raven seemed like the type of man who easily had his feelings hurt due to all the respect he demanded. "Then, why have you summoned us here, sir?"
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The Raven
Apprentice Roleplayer
I am Her champion...and I will not retreat from Her will.
Posts: 52
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Post by The Raven on Nov 5, 2014 19:06:33 GMT -6
He pauses in his speech to allow them time to understand his statements. The flashing sounds continue in the backdrop. His feet are light upon the glowing stone. Then, he stops. He lookds around, head twitching like a bird but body still like a man. His eyes remain neutral, not conveying any of his true thoughts.
I have gathered you here for I am displeased. We are not alone here. There is one with a ring. Not given to them by any of us. A little girl. You know her well, bard. She has entered this realm without us knowing. She will be among us soon. She sees what we speak of. She knows the Clanless and protects him. I have been too loud. She must have already figured out what is happening. Blonde hair and brown eyes. And a soul contoured in flowers. How long it will be before those flowers die, I wonder.
His head hangs, but in anger. A fear-inducing anger. Then, his thoughts cease to echo, only to now come out as a true whisper from his own lips that booms not in the void.
"This is why our mission is in danger. This girl. We must stop her. Bard, you will go to find her body. Asleep wherever she lies. Wake her."
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