Fantasy Discordibus Mundi | The Clash of Worlds

[DrakeAlistair]

Location: Tower of High Sorcery: Personal Quarters


Feeling: Focused


Interacting With:Just chattin' with meself

Nikomis Crimsongaze



​

The door swung shut behind him. His cloak billowed around his feet and he went; the Council of Archmages convened at the highest point in the tower. It would be a long walk, but it was all for the best. The extra time allowed him to compose his thoughts. He took in a deep breath and focused himself. It was easy to solidify his outer shell: every day of his life was nothing but a mask; people saw what he allowed them to see: a cold, unfeeling, evil mage. He donned this mask as he began his assent.




The inner calm was harder to find. His thoughts flitted from worry to worry, never quite settling. His mind buzzed with a thousand questions. What had happened yesterday? Were his worst fears come to light? And if so

how

? He had stronger walls than the Tower fortress--he would have been surprised if all the whole Council of Archmages could have broken through his mental fortifications. Was it possible? Could

He

have slipped through, without Niko noticing? And then there was Lindzi, beyond that. The girl was becoming a burden--an actual (dare he think it)

attachment

. He might even regret letting her go. And that simply would not do. The only way to stop was to push her away. But when he pushed her away... he tried not to think it.




All these thoughts and more raged beneath the calm exterior. Outside: deadly Black Mage Inside: nervous wreck. He wrapped these thoughts up, one by one, and burried them deep beneath the surface. There was nothing. He

felt nothing.

The only thing that matter were his plans--his progress. Everything

would

procede as he had planned, regardless of the Council's decision. If they disapproved, which he suspected they would, he would simply find another way around. He could make preparations on his own; he did not need permission.




When he reached the Chamber of Council he was empty, inside and out, filled only with a cold hunger for

power.

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

What was otherwise meant to be a forceful blow, there came no reaction from the man before her. It scared Marcella. Her hand grips tightly onto the knife, she's heaving through shallow breath's and the sweat drips down the side of her face, skin glinting and blood glistening under the low light of the fighting rings. The sour smell of cigarettes only makes breathing all the more difficult as the woman lets out a feral growl before launching herself yet again at the man with renewed vigor. Her head is pounding, rushing with blood as she slashes out at his right thigh before curling an arm protectively around her middle at the strike she expected to come, when in actual fact it did not.


In the end the worn out soldier finds herself on the filthy ground, in unfavorable circumstances. This was not how it was supposed to turn out. There's a frustrated hiss that slips through her teeth, Marcella rests her forearm on the gritty sand pit, as it digs into her arm, causing the stinging to become ever the more unbearable and steadies herself, enough to lift her heavy head from the ground. Strands of dark hair hangs in strands, clinging from perspiration and dried blood. Marcella lets out a flustered breath, her cheeks are ruddy from the exertion and her unlit eyes are an abyss of hatred and bitterness. How was it that the private had not earned a single nick from their scuffle and her, with a gash in her arm and aches all over. It was impossible. Mars shakes her head in disbelief as she brings herself to a stand.


She spits on the ground near his feet. Outwardly seething. "Next time I see you Donovan, I'll be seeing to your lack of respect-- There's not enough cultured gentleman around here." The woman grumbles, upset with the loss. Which, in truth, was advantageous now that the brunette had no choice but to accept the interviewee into the battalion.


What exactly was this man. His strength was otherworldly. Like nothing the woman had experienced before. Marcella shoves past the carousing crowd, swearing as a bloke careens towards her in his drunken stupor, she jostles the tippler away before sitting herself down by the wooden bar table and then fishes a battered pack of cigarettes from her pocket, hands fumbling as she lights the end. The wound burns with every movement and drips with crimson. Mars means to deal with it later. For the meantime, it was time for some lunch.


Finally, the woman draws in a long wheeze of breath, "Pie and a pint, thanks, love.” Marcella pipes up as the smoke curls through her damp chestnut locks. Hungering for the food, long awaited.


The table cleaning woman straightens, flapping out her rag. "Won't be a minute, love."

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Mercenary for Hire

​

Reiner laughs a bit, not derisively for once, as the woman gets to her feet and spits at him. Regardless of what she might say he had fun and to him, that was pretty much all that counted at this point. Given that he didn't need sustenance or sleep money wasn't really all that important for him. He really only used it to buy weapons and equipment at this point. As such, along with how long he's lived, amusement and interest were Reiner's two most precious commodities and since this woman let him have some fun he intends to repay the favor.


Walking over to his gear Reiner puts it back on before following Kensey to the bar and sitting down next to her. "I'll be paying for those," he informs the bar lady, rather conspicuously not ordering anything for himself, before turning to Kensey with a grin that was, for the most part, genuine. "That spar wasn't half bad," he says, draping an arm around her shoulders as if she were a close friend, "And since you let me have my fun I figure I ought to reciprocate. As such I'll answer a few questions about myself If you like." He pauses and his grin grows a little sly, "Oh, and in case you're wondering, I'm single," he says, only half jokingly. He is a healthy male after all.


In terms of the questions Reiner doesn't intend to go too in depth about his past but since he doesn't dislike Kensey, though his actions might have given the opposite impression. Rather, if anything he respects her a bit, again, not that he's shown it. At least, he respects her abilities, had it been your average soldier in that ring she would have won. Unfortunately for her, Reiner was just about as far from your average soldier as you could get, both in terms of ability and physical prowess so she really got the short end of the stick there. Even so, Reiner enjoyed the spar, even if it was a little on the short side for his liking, he's willing to give a little back. He figures that she'll likely ask about his combat skills or the markings on his back first but he's been surprised before and he's curious to see if she'll differ from the norm as well. Even if she doesn't that's fine as well as those two things do tend to be quite interesting to those in her positon after all, and he can't blame them. He'd ask the same questions in their shoes.


All in all, he hopes this won't end up being troublesome. That said, if it is, it could be an interesting change of pace. Well, whatever, he'll just cross that bridge when he comes to it. For now, he'll just try to chat with Kensey and see where that leads him.

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

Eyes roll as the private lopes over to where she sits, the lieutenant does not spare him a glance and instead grips the beverage tightly between her hands, offering a slight nod to the lady and then issuing a muffled 'thank you' through her teeth at the compensation. The glass is smooth under her fingers, save for one spot that’s a bit sticky - it’ll do nicely. She does stare at it a long moment, the caramel-coloured liquid bubbling inside, wondering if her stomach will let her drink it down. Her shoulders sloped, the woman had obviously relaxed her stance to one of a less hostile nature.


She takes a drink and stabs into her pie. "Fun.." Marcella grumbles into the golden, bubbling liquid. This was all a game to him wasn't it. "I've a feelin' you won't take a single instruction seriously-" there's a pause and then comes a gravelly chortle that rattles around in her chest, her breath smells of cigarettes and mediocre pie. "The generals will have a tough one when you get sent for. Oh, I can't wait to see that."


Marcella sure wasn't pleased with private Donovan either, this meant the soldier would be in her battalion and she would have to deal with all his idiocy. She shoves his arm off with her shoulder and winces as a sharp pain shoots through it. Marcella grits her teeth. "Just because we sparred does not mean we're chums," her voice drips with distrust as the woman reaches for a napkin to dab the blood, slowly curling down to her elbow.


"First off, what are those...tattoos on your back," Marcella waves her fingers vaguely around the area before turning back to her pie, the crust is flaky in her mouth and the meat rather tough but it settles in her stomach contently. The soldier is in a better mood until the private cracks his disgusting joke, Mars digs her fork into the pie, all stormy-eyed. Jerk. To think his mind even wondered there was abominable. Her figure whirls to the side and her hand raises to meet the side of the man's face.

 

[Elephantom]

GEN. RILINGTON


William noticed the shift in change from a calm conversation to a colloquial exchange of words — colloquial actually may not be the best word to describe the argument as there was really no slangs involved, yet one could verify the tones being rather rude and hostile. A tonal shift would be the best word for it. Martin really wasn't the most quietest person, and he may have to agree with the battlemaster. For now, he was leaning towards not agreeing to this idea involving — from want he could observe — large amounts of forbidden magic which can be used to control this... Shadows. Hiding it would be useless, but he was feeling somewhat extremely sceptical of this demonic entities, perhaps because he never encountered one? Needless to say, he didn't see the need to dwell on that subject any longer.





Before he could reply with a stupendous remark, he was roughly interrupted with the appearance of a random soldier. One he figured had entered with a bit of haste and nervousness, evident in her sudden alteration of stances. His gaze focused up on the new arrival, his eyes slightly furrowed from her sudden albeit rude arrival, which left him a bit on the dumbfounded side. Seeing that nobody was saying anything, he decided to speak, with a more-than-polite tone, not befitting to the situation, yet one may notice that he was slightly annoyed. Everything happened just too fast and in complete haste. Time really wasn't on his side anymore, nor did it attempt to appease him or the people around him, or just about anyone in this damned tower. The only thing he could say about the soldier that just arrived, was that this was a very awkward situation, mostly for her.





"Do you have any business here?"


He felt the sudden urge of saying something irrelevant amidst this confusion, and further boost it, yet he wasn't seeking to cause unruly behaviour amongst the people around him. Part of his job included setting himself as an example amongst his soldiers, one which Marton often seems to fail it, taking it into consideration that he was always a very shrewd man, even though most of his attempts at being witty crashes down terribly.





@Quantum Leek


@DancesWithVulcans

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Mercenary for Hire

​

Reiner grins as he leans out of the way of the slap, he'd been expecting some reaction after all. Without missing a beat he begins to answer her question, "Well, to begin with, they're not tattoos. They're curse runes, and fucking strong ones at that." He then pulls a wry grin before continuing on, "You know when I said I had more combat experience than you? I meant that very literally. I'm much older than you are... that is unless you've got some curse-type shit going on as well of course. It's also the reason for my eyes in case you were wondering." As he's been talking Reiner has been approaching the incredibly serious topic of being cursed in an extremely lighthearted and casual manner, as if it really wasn't a big deal. "Course, I've got some other tricks up my sleeves, but we don't know each other well enough yet for me to be baring everything for you Kensey," he says, intentionally, in a way that can be easily misinterpreted, "That said, should we get more intimate I wouldn't mind revealing more."


Despite the joking and innuendo Reiner is actually being truthful. If Kensey befriends him, or at least gets to know him better, he is willing to answer more of her questions, especially since he's practically the only source of information on himself out there. The main reason he's not being completely up front right now is that he doesn't want his life to become troublesome. Back near to when he was cursed, probably 7-10 years afterwards he carelessly mentioned his curse to a mage and subsequently was nearly captured to have experiments run on him. Then, there's the general fear most people have for cursed things, a fear that's easily transferred unto him given that he's part of that category. That said, Kensey doesn't seem like a mage and she's, hopefully, braver than your average person, being a soldier and a lieutenant at that. Though, that last part doesn't necessarily mean much as rank has often had an inverse relationship with courage in Reiner's experience. Even so, Kensey seems to be an exception to this rule, she did fight him of her own volition, with some gentle prodding from him, after all.





@Lady Ravenshade

 

[Quantum Leek]

Battlemaster Rigarius

​

No sooner had he quieted his bickering generals than an unexpected interruption barged in. Rigarius lifted his eyes toward the entrance of his tent, surprise clear on his face as he beheld there none other than the Mage they had recently been arguing about. Was it coincidence? He was inclined to think not, but he wasn't one to accuse without evidence. Her master was doubtless in the Council room meeting with the Archmages, it would not have been surprising if Lindzi had been left to her own duties as a messenger without her Master's supervision. He noted that she did, in fact, wear the band of the messenger tied around one arm.


But when she neglected to address anyone with a message, his suspicions grew. That she was a messenger he granted. That it was possible that she would show up with a message for himself or one of the generals just as they were discussing her master, he would accept. But that she would just happen to show up unbidden while people were saying unscrupulous things about the man that she gave an unwarranted amount of loyalty to? That he was not comfortable accepting.


General Rilington spoke first, asking her business. He, at least, did not know whose apprentice she was. Perhaps he had missed the band on her arm, as well, but either way, it was rather odd for a messenger to come unannounced and without delivering a message. All four set of eyes in the room rested on her. Rigarius, who suspected she had little love for him, neither attempted to explain her presence, nor voiced his suspicions that she was eavesdropping.

@Elephantom


@DancesWithVulcans
​

 

[DrakeAlistair]

Location: Tower of High Sorcery: Arcmages' Council


Feeling: Focused


Interacting With:Just chattin' with meself

Nikomis Crimsongaze



​

The council chamber was a large round room. It must have taken up the entire area of the tower’s crest, saving space for the stairs up. The walls were stone, like the rest of the tower, and narrow windows were spaced around it, just like in all the rooms below. But there the similarities ended. The floor was an elaborate mosaic, depicting the Octagram of Unity—two overlapping squares producing an eight-pointed star to signify the unifying of the eight cardinal magicks. The only furniture in the room was a long, curved table, perfectly aligned around half the perimeter of the room. Behind the table sat eight Mages: Earth, Weather, Fire, Water, Light, Dark, Spirit and Psi.




The great double doors into the room banged open and in swept the black-cloaked man. He strode to stand in the middle of the room--he steps brisk and even. Most who came to stand in front of the Council exuded less arrogance.




In spite of having been left swinging open, the doors to the Council Room shut of their own accord. Silence fell on the nine mages within. For what seemed like minutes no one spoke within, nor looked anywhere but at Nikomis Crimsongaze.




They knew of him, by reputation if nothing else. Some had had the misfortune of having crossed paths with him in the past; as with most people who met Niko, they were left with a sour taste in their mouths, and a distinct impression that something needed to be

done

about him. So far, no one had done anything.




The White Mage in the center of the table spoke first, breaking the long silence. Niko knew him--by face and reputation, at least. Master Lightstrike. He was an old man, but not overly ancient. He had a thick white beard, trimmed neatly, and short, well-groomed white hair. It matched admirably with his white robes. He was the most powerful White Mage in Fydine.






"Nikomis Crimsongaze,"

He said the name as if it was a vile thing, as if he didn't even want the taste of the words in his mouth. The corner of Niko's mouth twitched--a split-second smirk before his face returned to stony-neutral. It pleased him to be so hated by Master Lightstrike.






"You know why you are here."

It wasn't a question, so Niko didn't respond. Master Lightstrike continued, this time he referenced an old book that was sitting open on the table in front of him.

"This spell that you want to cast... where did you find it?"






"It is of no consequence."






"It is of

significant

consequence. These are the writings of Tihm'Shi Coldeath--the necromancer that

still

has a following who maintains he could never die. This, in spite of the fact that he has not been heard of for over three hundred years."




Again the smirk. Ah yes, now he remembered.



"I found it in his tomb, along with his corpse."




There was a murmur among the Archmages then. Master Lightstrike quieted them, in spite of his own surprise.

"That would be an extraordinary discovery, if it could be substantiated."






"I will give you the location of Tihm'Shi's tomb, in return for permission to perform my spell."




Master Lightstrike's brow furrowed,

"We do not hold that power--and if we did, we would not be likely to bargain for the world's fate with academic knowledge."






"Pity..."

Niko said, tone greasy and arrogant now,

"I only took two things from the tomb--including that book... all the rest was undisturbed. Or at least as undisturbed as I was permitted to leave it."




Displeasure showed clearly on Master Lightstrike's face, now.

"Enough! Let us speak of this spell in question."






"Indeed. That is, after all, why I have come..."

 

[DancesWithVulcans]

The Apprentice Lindzi

​

Where: Tower of High Sorcery: The Battlemaster's Tent

How: Nervous/Foolish


Who: @Quantum Leek @Elephantom

Lindzi had no doubt that the entire tent could hear her heart hammering in her chest, despite her outward façade of calm. In fact, she was drawing on previous performances of Niko impressions to keep herself as still as possible. She slid her eyes over each of the generals in turn, attempting to gauge their reactions to her sudden appearance, but only Rigarius wore his surprise so strongly. After a tortuously long moment however, one of the generals spoke up, and she immediately matched his voice to his earlier comments.


“Yes.” She replied, clearing her throat. “I apologize for interrupting, but I was given a message for the Battlemaster from a soldier who did not give his name. He wishes for the Battelmaster to know that the sparing sessions near the West gate have gotten out of hand and that lieutenant Kensington was seen fighting with another solider in a way that suggested an actual fight as opposed to a match.”


In the moments between when she had first entered the tent and when she was addressed, Lindzi had frantically searched the wind for a plausible message to deliver. She was terrible at lying, as she had no practice in the art, and instead chose to keep her fabrications to a minimum. She’d managed to pick up the name of one of the combatants from a passing group of soldiers discussing the lieutenant’s performance, the sparing match she’d heard was apparently not the soldier’s first, but it had apparently been the last. Rumors were already spreading around camp about the man she’d unsuccessfully fought, most prominently about allegedly glowing tattoos on his back. The ‘nameless solider’ bit was easy enough to get away with, as she had seen multiple messengers grabbed mid-stride and given information to deliver without any specific instructions. It was up the messenger then to figure out who exactly they were looking for and where they were; which was an especially difficult challenge for those who had just arrived at the Tower.


“However,” Lindzi continued, “I can Hear that they have finished their match and retired to the mess hall.” She tucked her hair behind her right ear, fully displaying their pointed tips as explanation for those who would question how she knew this. She praised the Gods petty gossip as it floated past on the breeze she had circulating about herself. Never before had she been so happy that the manifestations of her magic were all but invisible.


Well done! Self-congratulations were certainly in order in Lindzi’s opinion, given that she was currently so nervous that she was sure her knees were shaking. Rigarius was the one to worry about, she figured, as she currently suspected that he was the only one in the room who actually recognized her. Whether or not he would call her on her unusual behavior was something else altogether, but then again, Lindzi had never acted like a traditional apprentice.

 

[Wandering Grim Hollow]

Ser Elise Rook


How curious. How very curious indeed. Elise thought to herself as she strolled towards the Tower of High Sorcery. She was impressed the moment she laid eyes on the tall, slightly imposing tower. Such a thing simply does not exist in Naloma or anywhere in Itamaar for that matter. Of course, its not suprising given how everyone there shunned magic.




"And yet we use it ourselves..." Elise bitterly muttered to herself, pulling the hood of her traveling cloak up before pulling out her ocarina, thinking back on the time the messager dove came. She was just leaving a village on healing duties when the white bird fluttered down on her shoulder. The message tied to its leg was simple: "Noble Paladin, Lord Afflatus has tasked us with new Holy Duties. We are to assist in the banishing of Dark Forces. Head to the Tower of High Sorcery and assist in anyway possible. May the shining light guide our way."




"Banishing of Dark Forces... It must be really dire if Lord Afflatus himself wants us to help the people we shun..." Elise muttered as she started playing a light, chirpy tune on her ocarina. The song drew the attention of some marching soldiers as she strolled past a column of them. But it wasn't the song that drew the most attention, it was the crest on her thin breastplate that did. The holy symbol of Afflatus that identified her as one of his Paladins from Naloma.


"Oi, take a gander at that lass. She's a paladin." She heard a soldier hiss to his companion. Elise ignored that and simply continued on towards the Tower's gate, slipping in with a couple of soldiers to not draw any more attention. She stopped playing her ocarina for a moment to look around. People busy with various dities and tents set up around the main Tower itself. She figured she might as well report to whoever is in charge. But the question is who was in charge?


"Um... Excuse me, Mister? " Elise was about to ask a passing mage when he glanced over at her armour, did a double take and run off. In that order.


"...... Why must I come from Naloma...?" Elise sighed before she started to just walk around and play her ocarina. Unbeknowst to her, she just happened to walk pass the battlemaster's tent as she started a new song. A rather chirpy folk song from Naloma.
​

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

"I'll have you know, if you intend to act so..impudently, here is not the place to do so." Comes the nonchalant reply, as her head swivels away from the mercenary, roughly chopped hair bounce at the movement. The tip of her cigarette glows bright as she sucks down nearly a quarter of it in one go. It gives her something to do besides contemplate Eric's to-the-point explanation. Friday's were a hell of busy days for ring fights. Had the entire city come out to beat each other's faces today?


It wouldn't be surprising to spot someone she knew here - certainly enough of Marcella's friendships had been made in such places, but fortunately her path had not crossed with any of her comrades so far. Otherwise, it would be incredibly bothersome and incredibly frustrating. She'd prefer them not to witness such a humiliating defeat against the stuck up bastard.


Teeth fly from a man's jaw, and the crowd roars!, thank god the private hadn't gone so far as to punch there, or surely and most certainly there'd be consequences. "I've got money on six teeth this fight," Bright and brassy is the voice coming from behind the pair, Marcella huffs a laugh through her nose at that. The attacker's stance was already off-balance, the entire weight of her body pitching forward with the movement.


"Six teeth my arse," Marcella's voice grates as she turns to search for the source of the voice. Only to meet the cheerful Private McGallen with his back facing toward her. There's an inappropriately loud gasp that slips from her blood stained lips as the woman munches on the last of her pie, the mushy bits nearly falling from her gaping mouth. Luckily for the soldier, her voice was hardly loud enough to oppose the clamorous cheers of the fighting rings.


The statement is returned by a gruff grunt from the soldier next to him. Whom Mars recognized as Private Nelson. "Never mind this one. Lieutenant hadn't a chance against the bloke. 'Bet money on her too. 'couldn't even land a shot. The wretched devil."




"The lads'll have a good laugh when I tell 'em how she got all beat up, swearing and all. Damn all those drills, thinking she's all tough and all when the woman can't even beat the darn fool." The lieutenant was close to choking them right then. Marcella stubs out her cigarette and slides off the bar, crouching low with her head down. Now was just the time for an escape. No longer was she eager to stay a few minutes more, Mars was determined to be out of there faster than ever.


"You're paying, thank -you-very-much." The words tumble together in a hurry as as she gathers up her discarded armor, hastily fitting them onto her form. Something nagged at the back of Marcella's mind, something particularly strange about what Private Donovan had mentioned at the bar. There wasn't time to linger now, perhaps later she thought.

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Mercenary for Hire

​

Reiner watches in amusement as Kensey panics at the sight of two men whom he assumed to be her subordinates, his amusement mounting as he hears what they're saying. As Kensey begins to fumbles with her armor he puts some coins on the table to pay for her food and walks over to the two soldiers, a wide grin on his face. It was time to have some more fun after all. Draping his arms over their shoulders he addresses the two men, "Hey there, I couldn't help but overhear you calling me a devil and a fool. I found this very offensive, I mean, you hurt my pride and all by insinuating that I'm weak. That made me feel bad," Reiner pauses and his smile suddenly turns bone chilling, "How're you going to make up for that?"


"The fuck d'you think you're-" one of the soldiers starts to say before he abruptly goes pale, makes a strangled choking noise, and collapses. Even though he can't tell what, the other soldier, correctly, figures that Reiner has done something bad to his comrade. He begins to try to go for a knife before succumbing to the same fate as his friend, looking as if he's in agony as he crumples like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The people around Reiner step back as they can almost feel a sinister aura around the man, though it might just be their imagination. Either way, none of them really want much to do with the man with the twisted smile who had just downed two men, and possibly killed them, seemingly without doing anything.


The entire altercation having finished in less than a minute Reiner walks back over to Kensey, his grin returning to normal. "Very rude weren't they? I simply cannot believe the nerve of them. Reflects poorly on your army's discipline you know?" he says in a mock-disappointed tone to the Lieutenant, not seeming to really care about the two men whatsoever. It should be quite apparent to Kensey at this point that Reiner, or Eric Donovan as she knows him, is motivated almost solely by his desire for amusement and has no real regard for much else. That said, he's not a malicious person, he doesn't intentionally go out to hurt others. Rather, he just generally doesn't much care about the consequences of his actions or those he might hurt unless he has a specific reason to.





@Lady Ravenshade

 

[Quantum Leek]

Battlemaster Rigarius

​

Rigarius studied the pixie with veiled suspicion. Was it possible that it was a real message? Perhaps, but it struck him as highly unlikely. That it was true he had little doubt--had she been caught lying to the Battlemaster, the consequences would have been rather worse than they would be for eavesdropping and time-wasting. But he suspected that no one had asked her to deliver that message. For one thing it was foolish--dealing with rowdy soldiers was not worth his time. Nor that of his Generals, truly. It would be up to this Lieutenant's Captain to discipline her, if such action was necessary--unless it turned out to be a more substantial problem that required whatever General she was stationed under to intervene.


"It is hardly worth note--but if her General cares the discipline her...?" The Battlemaster glanced at his Generals, wondering if any of them wanted to pick up this report.


Rosenfeld shook her head in response, "She's not one of my Lieutenants."


"Nor mine," Said Marton, in a tone that suggested he would never allow such unruly behavior in his Division.


All eyes turned toward General Rilington. It seemed either she was in his Division, or no one really knew what Lieutenants were theirs and which weren't. Rigarius wouldn't have been surprised, frankly, if that were the case--things had been rather chaotic, and in all the commotion an army had been thrown rather haphazardly together. It wasn't really even one army, but a patchwork of armies; now they just had to work like they were one.


Rilington had two choices, as far as Rigarius could see: dismiss the matter--as it did seem rather insignificant--or take notice. Either way, if the fight had already stopped, there was little point in halting their meeting just to see to fighting soldiers. Unless there was something bigger afoot than tempers running close to the surface, Rigarius could think of no real reason for interrupting their meeting. Of course, he did not know this Lieutenant Kensington--it was possible she had caused Rilington some trouble before.


Rigarius cleared his throat, "Unless you have some message to send, General, I suggest we dismiss the apprentice so that we might get back to work."





He wasn't going to call Lindzi out for her mistake. He suspected she knew that one had been made and regretted it. Hopefully that would be enough to keep her in control next time. He fixed Lindzi with a serious stare--a warning to leave when dismissed and not linger outside his tent again. He would let her off for this offense, but in the future would be less forgiving.

@Elephantom

@DancesWithVulcans​

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

Marcella is too busy racing up the stairs, two at a time to realize the commotion starting down below her. She glances behind her shoulder when swearing and the sound of bottles smashing against thick heads erupt from behind the tavern door, a bar fight. One the woman had no intention to join in on, the breeze outside is a nice change from the atmosphere in the fighting rings, it invigorates her and Marcella stops in her tracks to breathe deeply. Private Donovan is trailing after her and a puzzled expression graces her features as he blabbers on.


Her tone is condescending. "What on earth are you going on about? Now, don't tell me you caused that racket downstairs." She tugs roughly on Mint's reigns to lead the disobedient horse on his way, he snorts and gives a shake of his large head. Mane flying and hooves pawing dirt from the cracks in the cobblestone ground. "Hush.." The woman strokes the sturdy neck, muscles tense. Her stallion obviously becoming agitated from the piercing noise. It's best they went their separate ways.


"Battalion." She corrects. "My battalion are professionally trained and none of your business," There's distrust that crawls like ivy on the edges of her mind, Marcella is beginning to dislike the man and his haughty personality. "In fact I encourage their participation in sparring, it'll teach 'em some lesson. During their free time of course." It was definitely a far more favorable option than spending their day offs in brothels. Marcella scrunches her nose at the thought.


If she could've, she would have firmly declined Eric's requests of joining. No, she certainly did not wish for him on her battalion. But something held her from doing so, and fair's fair and he had won and there was no backing out now. Mars could not deny it, he was vital to the battalion, he might even make it out of this battle alive she thinks. That is, if his rotten personality did not eat away his insides before that happened.


Before they knew it, the lieutenant and private had arrived at camp. Trudging to a stop, Marcella turns to the private. "Trials begin at first light, I expect you'll be able to arrange your own accommodations," Brown eyes sweep across the scatterings of make shift tents wafting with the smell of fireplace smoke and the dried up scent of old parchment. Most were already filled to the maximum amount of soldiers, medics, elves.


She curls her fist, "-And for god's sake wipe that awful smirk off of your face."

 

[Elephantom]

GEN. RILINGTON





"Yes, the lieutenant happens to be in my division, or so I think, my memory's getting so very hazy as the days pass by without notice."


He replied back to the battlemaster's question, yet being quite late, as the other generals were done with their statements, he glanced at the many eyes pointed at him, before continuing on with his words.


"Ahem, sorry if this happens to be a budding nuisance, but I'll as to it that this problem is properly fixed, as I tend to do it personally."


He paused again, taking momentous glances at everyone, before clearing his throat, and proceeding to speak again, with a more hasty tone.


"I don't have any messages to deliver, so you may go, messenger. Although I must advise to not rudely interrupt an important meeting without any further permission."


He took a look at Lindzi, before hastily hurrying away from the tent, pushing back the heavy drapes in the entrance and entering the legion of camps that so bothered him. It was like jungle, only that the trees were replaced by tents, and the soldiers and the cavalry were replaced by insects and monkeys! Although he couldn't just be that critical of it. He could hear the chitchat of the newly armed garrison reserves all out from the barracks to participate on the war, and quite excited too, seeing that they never faced the heat of war, and it would be best that they were kept that way, wouldn't want to turn the place too dark.


But thinking about of the past events more precisely, he did actually hear the sounds of an ocarina playing, which was quite awkward, as most soldiers seemed to use ocarinas and other musicians instruments in places more informal, like the tavern or the barracks, for example? Nevertheless, it would be foolish to ponder about it any longer, seeing that he found the source of the sound, a soldier was playing it whilst walking past the tent. After a bit of quick inspections, he discovered that this was a paladin. Remembering that a reinforcement and a platoon full of them were supposed to arrive later on, he decided to ask her a question.


"Are you part of the Itamaar reinforcements that were supposed to come?"





@DancesWithVulcans


@Quantum Leek


@Wandering Hollow

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Mercenary for Hire

​

He could hear the sounds of a bar fight occurring behind him but decided against participating in it. Not that it wouldn't be fun mind you, he usually quite enjoys bar fights, nice change of pace from single combat after all. However, there's far more amusement to be found with Kensey at the moment.


Upon hearing her speak about her battalion he chuckles, "If that's professional now days I'd make a great fucking battlemaster," he comments, somewhat offhandedly before bringing his attention back to the lieutenant, raising an eyebrow at her encouragement of "sparring". To his mind, the rings down there tended more towards "brawling" but whatever, it was probably closer to real combat down there anyways so he's not going to argue that point. In the end, he didn't much care what her battalion was like, it just gave him a lovely avenue to mess with Kensey.


At the mention of accommodations Reiner pulls a mock-disappointed face, "What, you mean to say that I don't get to spend the night with you? I'm crushed. I really thought we had something here Kensey. I don't know if I can ever recover from this blow," he says holding his hands to his chest. At her next bit he simply grins wider as he turns away, waving over his shoulder at her and walking away. Of course, given that he doesn't need to sleep he's not actually looking for lodgings, but rather for something to do until morning.


Looking around he takes in the tower and all the mages around. He's never been fully comfortable around mages ever since he was cursed. It probably ties back to something that happened fairly soon after he was cursed. He carelessly mentioned it some mages and was attacked and taken captive later that night. He was taken to the tower where various mages tried to figure out how the curse worked, soon learning of Reiner's weakness to light magic. They then proceeded to conduct experiments that seemed more like torture to Reiner until they apparently killed him. Not knowing about the curse's revival abilities the mages simply threw him into a storage room for later study. The next day, when Reiner came to he hid in the room and waited for the mages to come back. Once they did he killed all three of them by surprising them with his boot knife. That done he retrieved the rest of his gear and left before the bodies were discovered. He doesn't hold a grudge anymore since that happened so long ago and much worse things have occurred in the years past. That said, this is the first time he's come back to the tower and he really hopes no one can tie him to the event. It has been over 150 years but still, it would be troublesome if they did tie him to it. Well, if they do there isn't much he can do about it so he might as well not worry too much about it and just try to enjoy himself some while he's here.


Continuing to walk his thoughts turn to Kensey. She's definitely fun to mess with and a nice change of pace from those he's used to associating with. Usually, the people he talks to and works for would just as soon stab you in the back as talk to you, that's even happened to Reiner a few times. This isn't to say that he thinks she's some kind of saint, she's only human after all, or that he's got any real sort of attachment to her. He simply finds her straightforward, if abrasive, nature to be refreshing. Besides, who is he to complain about abrasiveness given his own personality?


@Lady Ravenshade

 

[Wandering Grim Hollow]

Ser Elise Rook


Elise was reminiscing her past. The song she played held plenty of happy memories for her such as her first festival, the time she became a Paladin, and even her old friends back in Naloma. Fitting given the fact that she's playing an old folk song. Which also explains why she seemed to not notice the old General at first. His steady, calm voice cut into her melody like a hot knife and actually startled her.


"H-huh? O-oh! F-forgive my lack of manners, Sir!" Elise quickly stammered, performing a hasty and rather sloppy salute, placing a fist, which is still clutching her ocarina, over her heart and bowing. Upon noticing that she still held her musical instrument, Elise quickly stowed it away in her pack.


"Ehem... Y-yes. I, Ser Elise Rook, am a member of the Itamaar Paladins and we have been given the Holy Duty to assist your forces in any way possible by our Lord Afflatus. Unfortunately, I must have been the first to arrive. Not surprising really. I did choose to take the solitary path while performing my duties." Elise respectfully explained while doing her best to not make eye-contact. She never felt comfortable looking someone in the eye and would actively choose not to do so but she did take the time to study General Rilington's armour. She made a guess that the man is not to be trifled with and that he might be somewhat high up in the chain of command given that he was expecting Itamaarian reinforcements.



​

@Elephantom

 

[DancesWithVulcans]

The Apprentice Lindzi

​

Where: Tower of High Sorcery: Atop a small building.

How: Relived/Worried


Who:

Stillness was an unnatural state for pixies; they were by nature creatures prone to near constant movement. Which is exactly why as Lindzi watched the generals mull over her ‘message,’ she found that the urge to fidget was becoming unbearably strong. And yet she felt that if she were to begin shaking her leg, or shifting her weight it would give off either an air of impatience or worse yet, guilt. Neither of which would accomplish her current objective of drawing as little attention to herself as possible. Come on, come on, lemme go... The longer the generals took to deliberate, the safer she felt, but there was still one person in the room she was worried about.


The Battlemaster himself.


Riggs totally knew. Lindzi was keeping her eyes off of him for that exact reason- she’d crack like an egg if she looked at him and he was throwing her a knowing look. The ‘I Know You’re Lying But I’m Not Going to Say Anything…. This Time,’ look.


But finally, after what felt to her like an eternity, the older General claimed responsibility for the lieutenant in question and hastily excused himself from the tent. Guilt washed over Lindzi’s heart, as she feared he was going to reprimand the woman, but she brushed it aside quickly. It was unlikely that Lindzi would run into her, and even less likely that she would find out that Lindzi had been the one to throw her under the bus.


With the general’s departure and the subsequent silence, it was clear that Lindzi was dismissed. She dropped her head briefly, but lifted her eyes to risk a glance one last time at the Battlemaster. He was, as she had feared, giving her a look full of warning. Lindzi froze and visibly gulped, before abruptly turning and all but fleeing the tent.


Once outside in the not so fresh air, she wasted no time in taking to the air. With a few beats of her wings, she was comfortably hovering above the small village of canvas tents and busy soldiers. It truly was a sight to behold, and had the circumstances been different, Lindzi would have been ecstatic to explore the maze of alleys and corridors. However, when she centered herself to truly listen to the voices below, all she heard was news of fear and violence. The human soldiers seemed to be by far the most afraid, but she couldn’t really blame them, they were dealing with forces far beyond their scope of experience. But, she had enough of them for now.


Now she desired to be closer to other magic users, even if most of them were strangers, so she shot back towards the Tower itself and perched herself atop a small wooden building which was apparently serving as some sort of sundry storage. Crouched there, Lindzi was clearly visible to those below and to anyone walking on the walls above.





“And now we wait.”

 

[Quantum Leek]

S E R | E Y C I L | o f | L L Y N B E C K

​

The Gods had spoken, and Their servants marched to war.


The nation had been buzzing a week ago; by now the whole continent was in exodus. Every able-bodied soldier marched to the Tower of High Sorcery, and the Paladins were no different. They rode, in columns of blue and silver, gold and white, with the sun glinting off their armor and the banner of Afflatus rising high above their ranks. At the head of the column rode Ser Thotiln Shieldheart--the head of the Order.


Three rows from the front, with the others of her rank, rode Ser Eycil with her head held high. She had misgivings about this Tower and joining forces with the Western Mages, but she kept such thoughts to herself. Everyone was doubting, just now, but the last thing they needed was to voice those doubts, to have them validated by the others. The Lord Afflatus had spoken to them--He commanded they march to the west and fight side by side with the Mages, and that was what they would do. She reminded herself, not for the first time, that west of the Genji River magic was not outlawed. These Mages had done nothing illegal by the laws of their country, and they had violated no laws of Afflatus. They were innocents, even if they would be put to death in her home.


Magic was a dangerous tool, but she wielded it, as did her fellows, and the Clerics of her country. If these Mages could use it safely, then she would leave them to their devices.


The Tower loomed on the horizon long before they could make out any other signs of civilization. It stood high and sharp, shooting up out of the otherwise flat landscape. As they rode closer, walls rose up, then smaller buildings, banners, and tents. There were enough tents to house a massive army. And so they must, if all of Fydine had come to help.



​

 

[DancesWithVulcans]

The Apprentice Lindzi

​

Where: Tower of High Sorcery

How: Worried/Curious


Who: The Gatekeeper

Impatience quickly drove Lindzi from the her crouch at the top of the small building to the top of a flagpole positioned closer to the wall of the compound in the hopes that her unusual perch would garner her the work she desired. However, instead of gaining attention, she gained the height necessary to pick up on the characteristic sound of metal against metal off in the distance. She rolled her shoulders back and perked up, confused as to just what would cause such a ruckus. It certainly wasn’t the sound of a spar or of a blacksmith at work. It sounded more like…. Armor.


Lindzi launched off the flagpole, causing it to sway and swing wildly and startle its owner, if the shouting she heard (and dismissed) was anything to go by. She made a bee line for the top of the wall, landing hard enough to send a human guardsman jumping several feet in the air with wholly undignified squeak. While she normally would have laughed, Lindzi completely ignored him and raced to the far edge of the wall to gaze over the side.


It was just as she suspected; there was what appeared to be an army approaching the gates. The pixie’s heart leapt into her throat as she immediately feared that the group had originated from the Void. Her hair began to lift, piece by piece, a sign that she was so preoccupied with her fear and thoughts that she lost control of her powers. Lindzi jumped to stand atop the wall and leaned far over the edge, not at all concerned about the height or the possibility of falling, and shielded her eyes from the sun with her hands. Lavender eyes narrowed as she attempted to will herself to see farther, to pick up on anything that would tell her just who the army was.


There!


After a moment, the company came into clearer view and she was able to make out the symbol of Afflatus on their bright banners. Which meant that they could only be Paladins. All at once, Lindzi’s hair dropped back to bounce around her face as she realized that her initial fears were unfounded. The apocalypse would start another day apparently, although she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of being in close quarters with those who would have, under different circumstances, put her and her compatriots to death.


A small frown contorted her lips as she turned her back on the approaching army and leapt from the wall. Paladins had a less than stellar reputation; tales of the horrors that befell mages and magic users on the other side of the river were common scary stories shared by apprentices in the dark back at SCME. Still… she had to inform the gate keeper.


He was easy enough to find, as he was in the middle of giving orders when she arrived and hovered just above the heads of his small company of men. When he saw her and registered her bright yellow messenger band, he immediately dismissed them, and she landed with a small smile.


“There’s a small army of Paladins approaching your gate, sir.” She reported.


The Gate Keeper blinked down at her before bending from his not inconsiderable height to stare her the eyes.


"Ya sure? Paladins?"


"I don't know of any other group that wears such bright armor and bears the God of Light's banner that would be coming from that direction." She replied flatly, unimpressed with the Gate Keepers skepticism.


The man snapped upright and abruptly turned before running for the gate. Lindzi danced backwards as he shouted to men atop the wall to open the gate and the doors began to slowly groan open. The Gate Keeper jogged up a short set of stairs to a huge horn mounted on a great wooden frame. Something about the way the man several deep preparatory breaths told her that the sound from the horn was going to be incredibly loud. She flicked her wrist out, warping herself in a protective bubble of air as she covered her ears in time to miss the ground shaking blast from the mighty horn. Even from within her protective sphere her highly sensitive ears could hardly take the sound and she back peddled in an attempt to escape the noise. The Gate Keep sounded the horn four times, and even before he finished she could see that a crowd was beginning to gather in front of the opening gates.

 

[Mykinkaiser]

Reiner Fulke

Reiner was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of a horn, the gate horn to be precise, goddamn that thing was loud. Given that the thing was used to announce both friend and foe Reiner had no real idea which of those he could expect to find should he make his way over, though it didn't matter much to him in the end. If anything Reiner actually hoped it was the enemy, get straight into the fun rather than wait around any longer. Alas, this was not to be for when he arrived at the gate he made out the banners of Afflatus signifying the group of armored people approaching to be Paladins, some of Reiner's least favorite people. They could somehow always tell that he was cursed and never took kindly to it. Now this wouldn't really be a problem if it weren't for the fact that they all used light magic, a trait that made them beyond troublesome to fight. That said, they were supposed to be friends, or at least allies in this war so he should be fine, right? That is unless they, sensing his curse, declare him a demon and try to kill him. He'd like to avoid that if possible, painful things are painful and he's not a masochist.


Reiner sighs, they would find him eventually so he might as well get it over with. Thinking thus Reiner leans casually against a wall near the gate as he waits for the holy warriors to arrive.

 

[ladyaliciaaa]

M A R C E L L A


K E N S I N G T O N


Lieutenant soldier.

Regal and tall, waves and waves of silver-washed soldiers gleamed in the distance, Marcella hadn't been notified of the Paladin' arrival until the blasted trumpet made her head ring. The air was heavy with their impending approach, with their flags rippling tall in against the blue skies. They truly were the keepers of Light, Marcella smiles small as she strides over in an attempt to gaze at them from a closer angle, inky locks bouncing with each step. How admirable a fleet, turning their curse into a gift and utilizing magic for something good at least. Her own troops, bearing no magical abilities, would crumble to dust if ever they were to train together. Seeing them was enough to make her weak in the knees, though never would she admit that. Fighting alongside the Paladins in battle would be nothing short of tremendous, they would most certainly be victorious now.


Mint knocks against her arm, huffing warm air through large nostrils with each flick of his head. The lieutenant attempts to muscle her way past the heavily gathering throng of people, all craning their necks and standing on the tips of their toes. The woman protests with an 'accidental' stepping on a soldier's foot alongside her stride who aids in the effort with his great build, it takes a while before Mars manages to elbow her path toward a decent view in a gap between two moderately short shoulders with grumbles trailing after her. She folds her arms across her chest, the haughty nature of one of a higher rank emanating from her being. With a small nod of her head, she settles comfortably watching the troops march ever the more closer.


Marcella was powerful in their presence. Joy blossomed from closed buds. Rich blue and fragrant, evil would be banished once and for all.

 

[DrakeAlistair]

Location: Tower of High Sorcery: Arcmages' Council


Feeling: Focused


Interacting With:Just chattin' with meself

Nikomis Crimsongaze



​

A silence fell over the gathered Mages. No one seemed to want to be the first to speak, the first to bring up the subject of Niko's proposed spell. With a touch of amusement, Niko noted that this was because no one wanted to actually

say

what he had proposed to do. As if any description of the the spell would be, in itself, a vile thing that they would prefer to leave unsaid. At last, it fell to Master Shadowbane, the Dark Archmage, to speak of the Black magic.






"Honestly, I am astounded by your arrogance. How could you possibly think that anyone could, in good conscience, advise that the Battlemaster let you cast this spell?"

Her first words were not a favorable start, but Niko's smirk remained. Arrogant was a suitable word to describe him with at that moment.






"You propose to

open a Gate to the Underworld

, while the walls between our world and that world are already cracking and crumbling around us? As if the very prospect of

summoning

the demon army to prevent them from destroying us was not absurd enough, surely the fact that this Gate will further weaken what walls bridge the gap, leading to our accelerated demise, is enough to veto this suggestion right out. How, in your narcissism, could you believe this might work out in anyone's favor?"






"Or is that your plan?"

Master Lightstrike interjected.

"Your history is hardly favorable and no one has any guarantee that you would, indeed, use this spell in our favor--if it were to succeed at all."




Another silence fell, and it seemed they were waiting for Niko's defense of his plan. He allowed the silence to stretch before he began, methodically, organized, as if he had anticipated every remark and prepared his rebuttal previously.






"Account one: how can I be sure that a summoning Gate will not, in fact, cause the walls between this world and the Underworld to crumble? This is a

ridiculous

question. I should expect my apprentice to know the answer. That Lansimar is in the hands of such fools.... There is, and never has been, any evidence that the worlds are separated by walls of any sort. Since they are

not

, there is no possible way for them to crumble. The Underworld is another dimension--one bridges that Gap with a Gate. The demons have done something similar, but messier. The physical cracks we see in our world are a growing manifestation of their own Gate. This is not without precedent. The reason why the Underworld is envisioned as being below us is because such things have happened, historically. It is possible to form a physical Gate in the earth--at least from the other side. Let us waste no more time on the idiotic assumption that a large number of Gates or summonings in a particular region would someone destabilize it.




"Account two: that it is somehow a foolish idea to take advantage of the fact that we could control an entire invading force before it even invaded. If this was a mortal army invading, we would not hesitate to employ mass mind-control, if such a thing were made possible via powerful magic. Think of the lives that would be saved through such a spell; there would be no war, only understanding. This is

exactly

the same. Why is it different that they are demons, rather than humans? I would control their minds. With even more energy, they could be banished back to the Underworld, the Gates closed, and all crises averted....










"So let us move on to the

real

reason why you all object. It is not the spell. It is not the origin. It is not even the cost--which, I note, you have yet to bring up--it is, rather, the fact that

I

would be the one to cast the spell. The fact that the whole world would hang in the balance for a brief moment... and I would control how the dice fell.




"That is a terrifying notion to you, isn't it?"










Niko smirked. The Archmages looked taken aback, both with his upfront responses, his casual confidence, and the fact that he seemed aware of their thoughts before they even voiced them. But over all, they were terrified that he could talk so casually about controlling the fate of the world... and smile.








"I have no intention of destroying this world. Subjugating it, perhaps, but not likely. You may not all know me personally, but you know me by reputation. 'Nikomis Crimsongaze craves power,' that is what is said, is it not? And I do. But not control. I have no desire to be in charge of this world. It gains me nothing. But these are just words. There is, as you have said, no reason for you to believe me.




"Instead I leave you with this question: what other choice have you?"

 

[Wandering Grim Hollow]

Ser Elise Rook


"And I would believe that the horn would signal their arrival, Sir." Elise said upon hearing the loud horn blasts. She politely bowed and quickly blended into the gathering crowd that was starting to swarm towards the gates. Elise tried to tiptoe to see above the crowd but was stuck behind a couple of particularly tall soldiers. All she could see were the banners bearing the crest of Afflatus, fluttering proudly in the gentle breeze. The sight brought her back to her training days.




"Magic is a blessing given to us chosen by the Gods! Remember that young Paladins. Only those who choose to serve the Gods have the right to wield their gifts!" An instructor barked out to the assembled trainees. A young Elise frowned slightly upon hearing those words. A gift? Don't make me laugh. That 'gift' took away a precious friend of mine! She thought bitterly as she glared at the banner that flew nearby. The crest of Afflatus, God of Light. She figured the instructor must have noticed her glare as she was immediately called out.


"Now what's this? Is there something on your mind, Miss?" He asked in a soft tone. Elise slowly turned to stare into his eyes before feeling sick. For the briefest of moments, she remembered the dead, hollow and bloodshot eyes of her friend as her life was choked out by the noose. Elise fought back the urge to puke and shook her head. "N-no Sir.... Nothing's.... the matter...."




Her reminiscing was broken by a jolt she felt as someone tried to push their way to the front to get a better view of the Paladins. Elise quickly took this opportunity to follow the gap they made to the front. After some jostling, feet stepping and apologizing for said feet stepping, she made it to the front of the group. Even though she was a Paladin herself, the sight of a well-disciplined column of them in shining armour was a sight to behold. Compared to her dusty and tattered traveling cloak and slightly tarnished armour, their armor shone brightly in the sunlight. Befitting their role as Afflatus' servants. Knights out to dispose of evil and to help the weak. She politely did the salute, placing a fist over her heart and bowing slightly. After all, most of them are her superiors.
​

 

[Quantum Leek]

S E R | E Y C I L | o f | L L Y N B E C K

​

The horn blast echoed through the valley, easily reaching Ser Eycil's ears over the metallic sounds of armor-on-armor. Had they been slightly closer, she might have hear the ruckus that followed the announcement of their arrive. But any sounds from the Tower were too faint to be heard across the still-shrinking distance, or over the sound of their horses' hoofs and clanking armor. They rode onward, a stiff and glorious sight for all who beheld them, until they finally reached the gate. People crowded in on them as they passed through the wide doors--massive enough for four horsed riders to move abreast comfortably. There were so many people; they pressed in on her legs, reaching out as if just touching a famed paladin would bring them some blessing. Others held back, wariness written on their faces. It was easy to tell the Lansimarians from the Itaamarians.


Inside the gates was nearly too crowded for all of them to fit--especially with the crowd of onlookers. But they managed with care and grace, controlling their horses with a deft ease that spoke of countless years of practice. No one was allowed to be trampled under foot, many nods of acknowledgement were given, and finally the bulk of their force was inside.


At the head of the column stood a slender man with haphazardly groomed brown hair. He looked young--perhaps Eycil's own age--but the more she looked at him the more she felt that guess was terribly wrong. He held himself well, poised confidently, elegantly, but without arrogance. He rested one forearm across the hilt of his sheathed sword, and looked up toward the still-mounted Ser Thotlin Shieldheart.


"Ser Shieldheart," Said the man, his voice pleasant but strong, "We were unsure when to expect you--but I am pleased to see your paladins here sooner, rather than later. We could use your expertise."


"Battlemaster Rigarius," Ser Thotlin's voice boomed over the crowd, a deep baritone that carried well. The perfect voice to come out of that walking wall of a man. "My troops are at your disposal."


Rigarius... the name sounded familiar to Eycil. She considered as she watched Ser Thotlin removed his helm and dismount. He was speaking to Rigarius, but she wasn't really listening. Where had she heard that name? She fixed her eyes on the Battlemaster, catching sight of his astoundingly blue eyes, and suddenly she remembered.


Ah yes, Rigarius.... the one they say courts Saphrin, the Daughter of Afflatus. Many more things than that had been said, in fact, most of them outrageous. None of those things, it should be noted, had been said amongst the Paladins. The most outlandish of the things she had heard claimed that the paladins were shirking their duties and ought to put Rigarius to death immediately, for no mortal ought lay a hand on a God.


That was certainly ridiculous. The Gods did as they pleased, with or without the mortals involved. If Afflatus had concerns about this man, none of them had been passed on to his earthly servants. They had been given no information about the man, and so it was assumed that there was nothing to note about him. If Afflatus had withed the man dead then he would have been dead. But he did not, and so he had nothing to fear from the paladins--from the way he interacted with Ser Thotlin, Eycil suspected that he knew this. Perhaps Ser Thotlin, as The Hand of Afflatus, knew more about the situation than she. But perhaps not. The Gods kept no council but their own. The paladins were merely servants.
​