Fantasy Of Distant Legends

[Birdsie]

Noble Scion Epiphany June Verles Silver Wolf

Prologue
Of Distant Legends​

It was a beautiful day at the royal castle in Glamis. Maids were in the process of doing laundry, the cooks were preparing breakfast in the kitchen, birds were chirping on the branches and windowsills, and the colorful flowers were blooming in the gardens of the slender castle.

KA-BOOOOM!

There was an explosion, and it wasn't my fault.

In response, many of the birds took flight far above the height of the castle towers to escape.

There was a loud groan, followed by a terrible scream: "CESIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIR!"

I sipped my tea calmly, in the guest waiting room. It may have been possible that I was grinning a little under my mask.

Luthandriel marched into the guest waiting room, practically bursting through the door. His usually pristine, white robes were stained in black soot all over them, and his hair looked spiky as if lightning hit him.

"That does it, you one-copper dark mage piece of--" Luthandriel the royal advisor screamed at me, stopping himself before his words reached the level of vulgarity. He settled on giving me a furious glare and waiting for me to say something.

Why would he say that about me, when this wasn't my fault?

"What could you possibly be referring to, Luthandriel?" I asked politely, possibly hiding a shit-eating grin under my mask.

He sneered at me, letting his anger show. "You know damn well what I'm referring to, Cesimir," he retorted, oozing hostility.

"Ah, you must be talking about the--"

"--the gunpowder in the cellar, yes! Could you explain to me why it was there, and why it exploded when I opened the door?"

"Well," I started with frankness, "imagine that I were, HYPOTHETICALLY - an asshole."

He gave me a doubtful look and folded his arms, pressuring me to continue.

"So, if that were the case, it may be possible that I'd put a stockpile of easily-detectable gunpowder in the cellar, knowing you use your diviner powers each morning to look out for any dangers or possible assassins that lurk in the dark to kill the king. And then - if I were an asshole - I would probably enchant said gunpowder to ensure your clairvoyant powers don't tell you anything about it being gunpowder, and only trigger your danger warnings. And then, lastly, I'd put in a safeguard to make sure it doesn't kill you because that'd cross the line between a harmless prank and a felony."

His glare was oozing malice and killing intent, but I didn't mind it.

"Of course," I continued, cutting him off before he could speak, "this scenario assumes that I am an asshole, which I am, quite obviously, not. So, you have nothing to worry about, Luthandriel, my dear friend."

I sipped my tea, like the smug little shit I was.

His left eye twitched for a moment until it cracked open like a saucer. "Why... you..."

"So, why did you call me to the castle?" I asked, digressing before he channeled his rage into a deed most foul.

He tightened his lips, and handed me a document. "Sign this."

I glanced at the document, made sure to read the fine print, and narrowed my eyes.

I gave him a skeptical look. Though it was hard to see due to my mask, he could probably discern it from my voice. "Team leader? I'm sorry, Luthandriel, if I am gravelly misreading the situation, but - it seems to me, like you're trying to 'put me to work,' and I don't really, uh, do that."

"This was the king's idea," he answered firmly. "If it were up to me, you'd be--"

"--lynched and burned, yes, you've told me before."

He waited a moment, before asking, "So, what will you do?"

I glared at the document, reading into the fine lines, trying to discern its value. After that, I shrugged. "Fuck it, I'm in. Looks like fun."

"Fun? Fun?! You'll be representing the kingdom! This isn't fun, this is a duty! An obligation! The king is trusting you! He gave you this chance, because he believes that you can make something great, Cesimir! Something great, something beautiful, that will inspire people and give them idols to look up to!"

"Yes, yes, keep up the good belief in idealism, Luthandriel," I answered, summoning a pen into my hand as I signed the document. I mockfully continued in a hushed tone, "Just as you believe that was the only stockpile of gunpowder I've stashed in the castl--hey, why are you charging up a death ray?"

***
-: The next day, 12th Month of Colors :-​

Cesimir gently massaged the bloated bubble of necrotic tissue in his palm with a creamy balm. He had enough time to make a shield to defend himself from the death ray, but there was just enough energy in the spell remaining to cause necrosis in the same hand the shield manifested out of.

"Something great, huh?" he asked, looking up.

He didn't see anyone yet. His mansion's front garden, devoid of people, dotted in patches of peons, beautiful pink rose bushes, and other flowers, with a single slightly curving path leading to his porch.

He suspected some of them would arrive today, some maybe in the coming days if they were far away from the capital.

Cesimir sent letters - via magical carrier pigeon - to everyone on the team member list that Luthandriel gave him. He invited them to his mansion, on a hill just outside of Glamis. He'd rather have a meet-up here than at the tavern.

He did have golem servants who could serve high-quality alcohol to a bunch of rowdy adventurers, after all. An investment like that should be used when possible.

 

[Birdsie]

June Verles Archdemon Noble Scion Kylesar1 Fable Hanarei darkborn LostHaven Inheritance IamNotLoki Reinhardt

Cesimir // Luthandriel [NPCs] // Azhi - Ludenwick Estate

Luthandriel gave Evelyn a mysterious smile when she 'explained' divination.

Then, Kaizer said her bit.

"Your lives are always at risk," Cesimir scoffed back at Kaiser, earning Luthandriel's ire. He kept his arms folded and turned his mask in her direction. "Isn't that all you adventurers do? Risking your lives? If eight hellhounds are what you consider risking your life, quit now, before we come across a bone devil or a beholder. You don't want children here? Don't take them with you. Anyone here should be ready. If they're not, that's your own damn fault."

Luthandriel closed his eyes, breathed in, and interjected, "Unfortunately, what he said is true. As the premier team of the capital, you'll be working high-risk jobs with a variety of dangers involved. Preparation and awareness of a possible tragedy occurring are... necessary, but please don't worry. I've already divined and minimized all risks involved for all teams across the country. The few blind spots that exist don't seem to produce enough danger to warrant attention, and as long as I'm here, there won't be any problems."

Luthandriel took out a pocket watch from his vestment, flipping it open. "Time is a precious commodity, and I'm running dry. You will be staying at the Ludenwick manor, or, should you choose so, at the nearby inn. There may be trust issues directed at Cesimir due to this..."

"Training," Cesimir stated boldly, with a flair of flippant amusement, folding his arms.

"Incident - which I intend to report to the king," Luthandriel countered Cesimir sternly, then looked at the team. "You will receive your first job tomorrow through my Monodrone. That will be all."

Cesimir turned his back on them, walking away. His voice was bitter as he said, "I'll be in the study. Stay away unless it's an emergency." A door in space opened in front of the archmage, and he stepped through, disappearing.

Luthandriel turned back at the rest of the team, gave them a reassuring smile, and followed it up with a light bow with a hand on his heart. "I look forward to a bright future of cooperation." There was a pressure change and a 'pop,' as he disappeared in a flash of white.

Azhi walked up to his mother, Anri placed on his right shoulder.

He had a troubled look on his face, like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the courage to do it. "Hey, mom... About Cesimir... Do you know how I can see emotions? I've described it to you in the past. See, the thing is..."

"He's... not normal, I don't think. Less normal than you, at any rate," Azhi started the explanation. "He said he did it for amusement, and he acted cocky, but I didn't see even a smidge of that. Not once. In fact, his aura is all over the place with emotions. I've seen red, blue, yellow... the whole rainbow. Also, it's really weird. It feels like it's strong, but it's not. It's really pale and translucent, and it keeps flickering on and off, like he's about to disappear from existence, or doesn't exist in the first place. I'm not sure what to make of him... Do you think he might be an automaton? Maybe his feelings are fake, and that's why the aura is so messed up?"

END OF PROLOGUE

Results:

- Killcount: (8/8 Hellhounds, 0/1 Baby Tarrasque, 2/8 Innocent Golem Servants, 0/5 Golem Musicians)
- Gauntlet Completion (1/5 Rooms)
- Forced Luthandriel to Intervene?: Yes
- Impressed Cesimir?: NO
- Cesimir's Views (of the Team): Hateful, Distrustful (-100)
- Luthandriel's Views (of the Team): ??? (???)
- Secrets Found: 1/2

Interlude
​

Cesimir Interlude

[Optional OST]

"What?" Cesimir asked, dejected.

Luthandriel's hands were behind his back, and he shook his head. "Nothing."

Luthandriel walked up to stand beside Cesimir, on the balcony. The sun was setting slowly on the horizon, painting the sky around it into a beetroot-red circle.

Cesimir looked away from Luthandriel. "Are you going to lecture me?"

"No, but I will report this. The king should know."

"I agree," Cesimir stated, bitterness letting itself show. "He knows, and should respect the idea that I'm not a team player."

"I realize that, and I think he does too. That's why he did this, maybe," Luthandriel said, and Cesimir didn't argue this time. "Life is a series of cogs. When something doesn't work, you need to oil it, even if it gets your hands dirty."

They kept quiet for a moment. Cesimir's head sunk low, as if giving thought to what Luthandriel said.

After another short moment, Cesimir gave Luthandriel a meaningful look through his mask.

Luthandriel faced him, expectant of what answer the dark archmage came up with.

"That's a shitty metaphor," Cesimir said.

Luthandriel sighed, and Cesimir broke out into laughter.

After a moment of mocking Luthandriel with ha's and he's, Cesimir stopped abruptly. "Wait. You didn't see that coming? How?"

Luthandriel shook his head. "You're leaking, and it's scrambling me. Even that boy - Armitage - picked up on it. He's realized something's off about you, in more ways than extremely asocial and insane."

"Did he figure me out?" Cesimir asked, unperturbed but simply curious.

"No."

"Let's keep it that way," Cesimir said. "The last thing I need is a little brat getting curious about what my face looks like. The whole family is full of dipshits, at any rate. The succubus is the worst, though. She deserves the crown of idiots. She's harming her kids, not protecting them. They need to become stronger. Weaklings are the universe's punching bags... Well, not that they're not becoming stronger on their own, but you understand."

Luthandriel soured at the philosophical soliloquy. "Shriandriath is protecting her children, it's a maternal instinct. I wouldn't expect you to understand that..."

"But?"

"But give some thought to it. These people aren't like you. I know the idea of understanding others is like an alien science to you, but try it."

"I am, but it's not working. Most of the team is composed of idiots. That Brom person seems to get it, to an extent. He's eager to fight, eager to become stronger, too, I think."

"There you go again," Luthandriel sighed. "That's not how empathy works, Cesimir. Other people have their own experiences, they're not idiots. You just find it hard to understand their perspective because you don't have context for it, which is why you should respect it. How many times do I have to explain this to you?"

"As many as the number of gunpowder stashes I've put in your room," Cesimir snarked.

"I've dealt with that already," Luthandriel answered smugly.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Cesimir turned.

Luthandriel's brow dropped as he practically growled out, "Cesimir...!"

Then, Luthandriel paused when he saw Cesimir's body wavering.

"You're shifting already? Go get a new mask."

Cesimir shook his head. "Soon. Not unstable enough yet, and these babies are expensive. I can keep going a day or two longer."

"I can't see your future if you're unstable, and I'd rather not be caught in the blast radius. In fact, I'd rather no one is caught in the blast radius."

"Fine, I'll go change. See you later, Precognitive Engine."

Luthandriel frowned. "See you later, Asshole."

Cesimir grinned under his mask, before teleporting.

*​

Cesimir hung his coat on the hanger. Underneath his robe, he wore a leather shirt with intermittent links of chainmail. He then proceeded to stretch, cracking his knuckles as walked in the direction of his desk and tumbled, performing aerial cartwheels and finally landing in his chair.

His desk didn't have much. A picture of his fianceé was the only thing of note, as was a diary he kept since he was ten years old. It was full of nonsensical things.

He flicked his desk open, where a new grinning mask and a pair of black, leather gloves waited for him. He picked them up, and made his way to the middle of the room, away from any furniture except for the cheap textile carpet that laid there.

He took in a deep breath. Cesimir wasn't afraid of things most people were afraid of.

Death. Oblivion. Apocalypse. These things at best put seeds of anxiety in his mind, but didn't outright make him pause.

But this? It unquestionably made him pause.

Cesimir took off the glove on his right hand, and in that moment, space broke and the heavens screamed.

It was impossible. The universe began to fail, as if it couldn't calculate what was happening. Thousands of paradoxes flying in the air, invisibly. The molecules of objects vibrated, heating up, and they also slowed down, cooling - both were true. The changes, originating from his hand, were impermanent, and untrue, only a reflection of possibility, of what his soul could achieve. Furniture broke, and it repaired. Fire roared, and it was extinguished. Water flooded, and it was evaporated. Earth trembled, and it became stable. Air stormed, and it slowed. Flickers of energy floated through his hand, reflecting the engines of his soul.

A soul was an immaterial thing, never meant to exist physically. It was a terminal of the universe, not existing in the three dimensional model of geometry humans use. The raw energies it converted were not to be taken lightly, as they could smite the patterns of existence and alter perspectives and objective truths much like one snaps a twig.

This is what happens when a soul is forced to blend with the body. In his hands, and some of his frontal skull and face, Cesimir's body and soul became one, existing in one space. The paradox of being anchored made the soul freak out. It began to fire off all of its known commands - casting fire, earth, water, air, ether, ectoplasm; everything - and at the same time, not executing those same commands.

They were reflections of what was happening. Possible variants and expressions of power, not easy to understand, because whatever designed 'souls' never intended them to be.

His hand didn't conform to physics. It was, at the exact same time, the size of a normal human hand, and the size of Glamis itself. It was a color that has never existed, something between Magenta and the color of breath. It had five fingers, and each fingertip split into five more fingers, which each broke into five fingers, which broke into five more fingers ad infinitum. One could hear the movement of the hand with one's eyes, and the smell of its flesh was very similar to spiced rum, or gumdrops, or stale bread, or the distinctive smell of pine trees, or even an infinite void. His fingers were made from filaments and fibers of photons, but they were made from a green mass of crystalline data, and yet black dragon scales harder than diamonds, and yet styrofoam.

He slipped the new glove back on, and the world became normal, as if his hand was never a source of insanity. He did the same with the other hand, where the situation was identical, except it wasn't, except it was.

Then, he took off his mask. His face, each eye a swirling portal into an infinite amount of omniverses, and yet also diamonds that petrified everything into stone. In an iris color that doesn't exist, and a sound that is unfamiliar to the mouth. He put on the new mask, and the world snapped back to normalcy.

Cesimir sighed in relief.

One of these days, he wouldn't have the willpower to put the gloves or mask back on. One of these days, he'd get lost in the limbo, and it would consume him and whoever else was near him at the time.

That's exactly what happened before before he was saved by someone strong. Someone prepared for anything.

But no time for that. Time to be an asshole.

"Now, I wonder where's my gunpowder supply?" He grinned deviously, except he didn't.

 

[Birdsie]

June Verles Archdemon Noble Scion Kylesar1 Fable Hanarei darkborn LostHaven Inheritance IamNotLoki Reinhardt

IamNotLoki and Archdemon are encouraged to complete their current scene before reacting to this update.

"Man, I don't get this economy," Jonas complained, huffing out smoke as he passed the cigar. "There hasn't been a war in these lands in over a hundred years, and foreseeably, there won't be one for at least another two decades. The land is mostly devoid of harmful wildlife, and the last murder I remember was like a year ago. This entire nation is basically King Ozirmok's happy-ever-after, happening after his heroic journey has come to an end. He married his princess, he's surrounded by his friends, and we're prospering, so I don't understand why we're so fugdamn overstaffed!"

Graug, his half-orc partner, shrugged, swapping two cards. "There's still crime, there's still place for a guard."

"Yeah, but..." Jonas trailed off, sighing and supporting his chin with his hand, "this isn't how I imagined things would be. I wanted to save lives, not chase cabbage thieves."

"Poor life choice, sweetie," Anna, a corporal, said, smoking the cigar and breathing out a pair of white clouds through her nose. She gave it to Graug. She gave Jonas an apologetic look. "I'm sorry this isn't what you were expecting, but it's what it is. You're doing your part for the system - don't beat yourself over it."

Inuya cut into the conversation like a knife. "Why's there cabbage thieves, anyway? In this economy, homelessness borders on being impossible. If any of the brass so much catches a whiff of the fact you don't have money for rent, they assign you a home and a low-paying job. Even then, it's survivable, no?"

"Cabbage thieves are a plot intended to fool the guard into dropping its, uh... GUARD!" The conspiratory remark was offered by none other than Traj, a Dragonborn, and the team weirdo. He changed one card for another, then laid them down. "Calling it, by the way."

Everyone showed their cards. Jonas had a two pair, Anna had a full house, Inuya a flush, Traj a high card, and Graug...

Graug flashed the people at the table a toothy grin, his two tusks showing. He laid down his deck, presenting a royal flush. He yelled, "He-he-hell yeah! I win, baby! Gimme those gee-pees!" He scythed his arms around the middle of the table and dragged a mass of copper and silver coins toward himself.

Jonas sighed. "I'm--"

Someone walked into the room, and the guards stood up at attention. "Sir!" they said, all at once.

"Bank robbery at Third Street. Witnesses say there's a monkey and an illusionist involved!"

They all looked at each other, like he was joking, but he reprimanded them with a stern look, like he was about to boil his armor with pure rage. "I'm serious, get moving! NOW!" he yelled, and at that, the guards all flinched and ran out of the room in a single-file line.

The captain closed the door after them, then looked back to make sure no one was watching. After a moment, he grinned sinisterly and laughed to himself. "Suckerzzz!"

His form wavered until he turned into a human-sized monkey, wearing mage robes and with its skull opened to show the brain in plain sight, safely contained in a glass tube. He scooped up the silver and copper coins, and began to pack them into a big, leather bag. The monkey kept sniggering at his successful heist.

That was, until the door opened and he looked back.

A man stood there, not noticing him because his vision was obstructed by a wooden box labelled 'MAGICAL GUNPOWDER,' with a 'high-explosives' mark below it, and several lines of legal safety precautions. The man stopped when he felt the money-wizard's presence, and his head went to the right, looking past the box at the monkey-wizard.

"What." Cesimir stared, eyes wide beneath his mask.

"What?!" the monkey-wizard asked guardedly. "I do what I have to! This economy doesn't hire monkeys!"

Cesimir blinked, then threw the gunpowder crate at the monkey-man. "It does now! You are now under my employ; you get paid three silvers a day and will live in my mansion in the servant's quarters. Follow me, we have a lot of gunpowder to set up, and we have to do it before Luthandriel wakes up."

The monkey-wizard blinked. Now, he was confused. After a moment of consideration, he shrugged and accepted the circumstances. "Three silvers isn't bad. Okay!" He walked after Cesimir.

-: The next day, 13th Month of Colors, 8:02:32 local time :-

CHAPTER 1
Rattle of Bones​

Cesimir handed his coat to the monkey servant, now named Sebastian by Cesimir's insistence. Sebastian hung the coat on the hanger near the wall, and Cesimir clapped his hands twice. A golem butler approached.

"Teach Sebastian over here your craft," Cesimir said. "This economy doesn't allow jobless NEETs to exist, so I will give Sebastian an education and a job."

The golem nodded and motioned for Sebastian to follow.

Cesimir, meanwhile, went to talk with the Monodrone that Luthandriel left in the mansion's foyer. Cesimir named it 'Luthandrone,' and the lawful creature had happily taken to the 'beep-boop, designation, beep-boop.'

"What's on the agenda today, Luthandrone?"

Luthandrone flipped a page in his notebook and said, "Gather the team at eight and--"

"Woo, shit, we're running late! Time to test the emergency messaging system!" Cesimir bleated, a little pressed. His solution - he clapped his hands twice and spectral pigeons flew out from his cloak, carrying gray capsules in their graspers.

He looked at Luthandrone and calmed down. "Continue?"

-=|:|=-
​

Pigeons flew across the sky at velocities approaching the speed of sound, trailing blue behind them. When they approached a designated window - the windows of the abodes of the various team members, to be specific - they would drop in small capsules through them.

Overall, the dropping of said capsules would be comparable to a bullet flying in through one of said windows, due to the speed at which the pigeons were moving.

Inside a capsule was a letter addressed to 'DEAR GLAMIS TEAM MEMBER!'

And it read:

GET TO THE ESTATE FAST, THERE IS AN EMERGENCY.​

​

Free teleporter attached.​

By the way, this is not a trick, I promise. Luthandriel already told me spam mail pranks aren't allowed.​

​

Xoxo,​

Cesimir​

And indeed, in the capsule, next to the letter, was a small ring that, when touched, would transport whoever touched it to the mansion.

 

[Birdsie]

LostHaven Epiphany Hanarei June Verles Reinhardt Inheritance Noble Scion

Two days later...
Cesimir's Mansion

After not hearing from Cesimir for a day, the team was finally called back to his mansion.

Now, everyone stood in a small meeting room, with Cesimir propped up against the table without his staff and in visibly lighter robes; casual wear for a magician, rather than strictly businesslike, but still wearing his signature mask and gloves.

"Hello everyone," Cesimir grunted, Lady Runagate enjoying tea in a seat behind him with Sebastian the monkey butler serving her refreshments. On the table, there was a small, elegant wand from cyan enamel.

"Before we begin today's meeting, I'd like to officially congratulate you on ruining my lif--" ZZZZAP! Cesimir screamed out in pain, dropping to the ground as he was mercilessly tormented by a torture device, Lady Runagate holding up her wand but not aiming it specifically at him.

"A-as you can see," Cesimir said blearily, getting to his knees, his legs too wobbly to stand, "The king has provided my lovely spouse with a very nice toy, which I intend to destroy the moment I get my hands on-" ZZZZAP!

Lady Runagate smiled at him. "Lord Luthandriel devised it, I doubt you will be able to do anything about it."

"When I'm done, they won't find the body," Cesimir threatened, then held his hands up in surrender when Calista raised the wand. "Wait, no, please, no, I'm sorr--" ZZZAP!

After thrashing on the ground for several seconds, Cesimir used the help of a golem and the table, slowly standing up. The golem kept its hands under Cesimir's armpits to ensure he wouldn't sag back down to the ground from a lack of vitality in his legs.

"Let's begin," he said, revealing some enmity and ignominy. "His Majesty, let us bask in his radiance, has contracted you, specifically, with a dungeon crawl to retrieve the dreaded Goblet of Malice. I'll teleport you there, but that's as far as I'm getting involved in this disaster. Knowing how life goes, it'll probably result in the kingdom's inevitable destruction, but, hey, you didn't hear that from me, and Luthandriel is weirdly confident about this. Any questions?"