"But a darkness has fallen over the world once again. An alliance of thieves, scoundrels, and rogue spellcasters has risen from the shadows to oppose the peace wrought by Imperial rule. Through intimidation, subterfuge, and political assassination, this alliance has developed into more than a simple nuisance, sowing seeds of rebellion in the smaller cities. Small pockets of resistance are even starting to crop up in the larger cities - Ren included."
"Amidst this dissidence, adventurers from all corners of Aris have come to Ren, summoned by the newly-appointed Chancellor of Justice, Aranor Baal. I have been summoned to these proceedings myself, charged with the record-keeping of their exploits and guiding them on their way. As Ren's foremost expert on all manner of legend and lore, I, Acheron Halcyon, consider this a request impossible for any bard in my position to refuse."
CHAPTER ONE: A KINGDOM IN NEED
The Stairs of Council, a large staircase with exactly 1000 stairs leading up into the Grand Hall of the Arisan High Council, were an imposing sight to everyone that stood in front of them. The building itself rivaled in magnificence even that of the Imperial Palace. From the outside, its ivory walls, embedded with star tears, miniature crystals that shiny only at night, reflect the Soleil's warmth down onto those who marvel at its beauty. When dusk approaches, however, and the Heart of Natal rises, the star tears ignite, bathing the Grand Hall in an eerie yet breathtaking glow.
The sound of footfalls - distinctive of boots to stone - signal the ascent of heroes into the Grand Hall. The smell of blood, bile, ichor, and sulfur fill the Grand Hall for only the second time in history - the first being the War of the Gates when heroes, like those gathering within the Council House, were called to war for the first time under a unified Arisan banner. Armored boots clank against stone and robes sway to and fro as heroes walk fervently forward, entering the Hall of Councillors where gargantuan statues of Ren's past councillors stand, carved in rememberance of a history long forgotten by most outside these walls, directing those wandering its halls towards the Grand Council Chamber.
The entrance to this chamber is guarded by a massive door of gold and platinum - a door large enough to allow the passage of dragons and which at one point had. A hospitalier greets heroes as they enter, dictating to each that Chancellor Baal will take the stand soon. Around the room, armed guards of Ren patrol, keeping the peace amongst the varied adventurers present. No weapons ordances are in effect now as would be on most normal days. Emerging into the Grand Chamber, the first thing of notice is the black marble floor - sheened to such an extent that it mimics as a mirror, reflecting the identities of those who now grace its presence. Looking around, the chamber walls are decorated with tapestries depicting the history of Ren. These walls give way at various intervals to reveal alcoves where the Altheiri, master archers loyal to the Imperium, stand guard over the proceedings below, bowstrings at the ready and arrows nocked. At the far side of the chamber, five oversized thrones rest comfortably, signifying the seats of the five High Chancellors - the Chancellor of Justice included - who make the decisions that are for the good of Ren and its people.
Thral's steel-grey eyes scan the Grand Hall, coming to rest on his reflection in the remarkable black marble floor.
"I had thought my time in cities well done with." He says under his breath. Indeed, his scale mail armor -- built from the scales and hide of a green dragon he himself helped defeat -- was dyed the colors of the deep woods for greater camouflage, with blotches of browns and yellows like leaves and branches arrayed all over, for such is the terrain where Thral has been earning his coin these days -- protecting caravans, clearing trade routes, rescuing kidnap victims, beating back mundane raiders and magical monsters alike. While not glorious, there were certainly worse ways to make a living.
The archers in the nave have Thral on edge; they remind him of that fateful day, some 8 years ago now, when he was young and on his watch his king fell, and his land was cursed to shadow. He has to make a conscious effort to keep his hands off the hilts of his swords Look-First and Glad-of-War, or his recently-acquired bow, or to just plain keep from slinking into the shadows, into a better tactical position. Out of sheer habit, he begins to speak the incantation of his favorite spell, a shielding spell, one of a very tiny number his innate magical talents bless him with, but stops himself short. He is unsure of the customs regarding magic-users in this land, and would not wish to knock himself out of the running for the promised rewards because of a simple breach of etiquette.
"These are allies." Thral mutters to himself. "These are like-minded adventurers. Relax. Iridian was long ago. You've nothing to fear here, by Isaura's breath."
Thral wishes Varyndabelle, or Duma, or better yet Ulf were here. Anyone from the old gang would be a welcome sight, to be sure, but none of them wished to answer the call from Chancelor Baal, each for reasons Thral had to respect. Still, companions would make being in this...place easier to bear.
Sighing, Thral finally gives in and allows himself the luxury of sticking close to the darkest corner he can find by the door. The elven half of his parentage blessed him with superb hearing so he doesn't need to be right up front to hear clearly, anyway. At least in this spot he feels a bit less exposed.
Nonetheless, Thral remains on guard, scanning everyone who enters the room, watchful of his surroundings at all times. He can't help himself.
The Stairway was but another test, a test of endurance for him to climb to the hall in his journey. It had been long, and tiring, but his journey to Ren had been well worth the investment. It was a sight to look upon the mere doorway of the Grand Hall, where nefarious and virtuous deeds alike could have been conceived. This made the Templar smile.
Knight-Templar Luc, that is. Having served his share of time, he had his own war medals and signs of office, from which it became apparent he was a man of the Church. Amongst his features, one would first notice his platemail, golden and forged by empowered smiths and most likely blessed by a priest. It fit him firmly, allowing for maximum protection in his line of work. This was covered by a red tabard, made of fine cloth, and presented a large symbol of Caelum boldly on the front. It covered the majority of the armor he normally walked around in. These were most obvious, but the most telling of all was how he carried himself. Even amongst these many heroes, young and old, he was sure to stand out in his attire, appearance regal with dark brown hair, loose but neat atop his skull. His scabbard and blade had been tied off and in keeping where it would be safe, since the ordnance had been put into effect. With the sword was a sturdy shield, made of similar gold metal, and it too had the holy symbol of Caelum upon its surface, emblazoned with care.
As the male walked further down the hall, he could only wear a firm grin - so many men and women off to die in war, ready to toss their lives for a lord they know little about. Everyone has their secrets, and Luc had his shares too - as he found a pillar to lean against, he pulled out a small, spherical topaz, stared at it a moment, and put it away before anyone could grab a good look. It seemed precious to him in ways that one could not understand fully. The Templar wore a more serious expression now, staring up at the throne as he clasped his hands behind his back and awaited the approach.
Here Luc seems impatient, as if he has better things to do - and notices the man in the dark corner - a possible assassin-type person. Suppose it attracts men of all lives, he thought to himself, and continued to mind his own business afterwards, wondering how he was to find others to aid in his goals, for better or worse.
Tristan walks through the large doors into the Grand Hall. His eyes flashing red as he walks through shadows then back to normal when he steps back into light.
His gait that of one who has stared death in the face since he first drew breath. A large white and black tiger padding along silently on his left. His wife Aria (spanish pronunciation) walking on his right. The silvery blade strapped to his back looking to be apart of him almost as much of him as his own limbs, worn in spite of the usual no weapons ordinances.
He glances at the other people in the room and gives a mirthless laugh his pointed canines flashing.
These humans all think their here for riches and glory, but they don't realize all they will find is fear and death.
He says looking over to Aria as he looks over the people gathered here.
He notices the man standing in the shadows though he might as well been in broad daylight for all the good it did him Tristan can't help but give a small grin at the pointlessness of trying to hide in darkness when he is around. Though he definitely understands the want to stay out of to much light he thinks to himself. Almost in the same instant he notices the holy man of Caelum and can't help but think of his mother...then crushes any emotion before it has time to truly form as it would only bring pain.
Upon seeing the templar Tristan couldn't help but think of the men who had attacked him a couple of years ago mistaking him for an undead though it would have turned out better for them if he had been. He thinks to himself with a sarcastic grin.
Thral watches as more and more people continue to file into the room; warriors, witches, brawlers, archers, every kind of mercenary one could imagine was here, yet even amongst this group there were those who stood out, like the big warrior over by the pillar. He's religiously caparisoned, but he's no cleric. Thral thinks to himself. There was suddenly an instant, a flash, where the golden-armored warrior seem to have something in his hand, but if he did, it was gone before the half-elf could get a good look. He's quick, and a spellcaster, I'd wager. I'll keep my eye on him, a warrior like that could make for a powerful ally. I wonder what his angle is, though, he doesn't appear as one who'd need the money…
Thral's thoughts are interrupted by a mysterious couple entering the Hall, the man possessing an exotic silver blade flanked on one side by his...wife? Partner? Friend? Captain?, and on the other by a massive, black-and-white tiger, its steps eerily silent. Thral's eyebrows shot up.
"Talk about powerful allies." he says under his breath. Then as he continues to take in the incredible variety of heroes around him he shakes his head. "I really have been in the woods too long."
As each of you mingle amongst the adventurers gathered within the hall, pondering as to the reasoning behind your presence here, you feel a strange energy surrounding you. Though the feeling itself is foreign, you feel that it is not harmful and is, in fact, benevolent. As the sounds mingle in the Great Hall, time itself seems to freeze around you as all activities cease around you and the world goes silent. As you continue to move freely amidst the frozen heroes, a voice from somewhere unseen begins to speak to each of you in your native tongue. Everyone else is unable to move as well. It is only you.
"Each of you has a destiny that you are to fulfill in the coming days. For this, you will need the strength to overcome adversity. I give you now this strength.
As the voice dissipates the strange energy overtakes you and wraps you in its power. This lasts for several minutes during which you become paralyzed. When it ends, time returns to normal and all activity starts back up where it left off.
Tristan walks over to one of the many pillars in the hall and leans against it and calls Zero over and whispers something to him.
I need you to do a little reconnaissance my friend.
He then closes his eyes and slows his breathing as Zero pads off allowing Tristan to see through his feline eyes. Zero walks throughout the gathered heros allowing Tristan to get a closer look at the people who had been brought here marking most as useless and a few as possible pawns.
The first thing that comes to Luc's mind is this fortitude he feels within his body. It's as if he felt tougher in some manner, and he could only think it from his source of power. In turn, he prays within his head, and then looks around at the many sorts of people within the corridors.
It's here he notes the man, with a woman and an animal, and watches the action for a while, not even minding if he gets caught - for he is safe here, at least for now. He watches the animal vanish into the crowd, and begins to move closer to the front, his steps heavy and ensuring those near heard his movement to part ways - perhaps he would be recognized if seen, perhaps not - and continued until he was at a pillar closer to the front of the congregation. He clears his throat, and looks around the room further, adjusting his gauntlets accordingly.
I wonder who is worthy amongst these peasants. Surely there are a number of possible vassals within my reach today, he thought to himself, and took one more look around before facing the front and waiting for further movement.
Thral watches the large, golden-armored man make his way to the front of the gathering, his heavy footsteps causing those nearby to instinctively move.
"SOMEthing about him..." he thinks to himself, "He reminds me of my time in the military, of the squad leaders."
Noticing the tiger has padded off on its own, Thral squats down so his head is at its level, and just watches it as it makes its way around the room. Thral has long been in the deep woods, amongst wild things, so at this point he is perhaps more comfortable being around a tiger than all these other people. He loses himself in the moment, appreciating the tiger's fluid grace.
Zero notices the half-elf watching him and decides to approach. First noticing the green scales he wears, second the the two well made swords hanging at his waist, and last the small pouches he carries.
After almost brushing past the half-elf's leg. He silently approaches the gold armored human sensing that this one is just as dangerous as the half-elf only in a more calculating and cunning way.
Interesting there seem to be a few here who are more than the common rabble. Tristan says to Aria as his eyes pop back open as he breaks his connection with Zero. Though what that means I couldn't say. He says as he leans against his wife allowing the feel of her next to him sooth his tormented soul.
Still spellbound by the tiger, Thral circles around Zero, Tristan, and Aria so he can approach them from an angle where they can see him coming. He doubts surprising anyone in this room could possibly be a good idea. As he approaches, his steel-grey eyes flick from Tristan to Aria, unsure who he should be addressing. He ends up speaking sort of generally to all three of them, Zero included.
"Hello, I...forgive me for intruding...I'm called Thral. Your...companion. The Tiger. He is amazing, I've not seen his like. Yet neither of you appears to be a druid, how is this possible?"
he pauses awkwardly
"I'm sorry if my manners are poor. I've been living in the wild, working the roads in the old woods of the world for some years now, and what little I knew of courts and kings and..."he gestures around him at all the finery "...and Grand Halls has been forgotten."
Tristan walks through the large doors into the Grand Hall. His eyes flashing red as he walks through shadows then back to normal when he steps back into light.
His gait that of one who has stared death in the face since he first drew breath. A large white and black tiger padding along silently on his left. His wife Aria (spanish pronunciation) walking on his right. The silvery blade strapped to his back looking to be apart of him almost as much of him as his own limbs, worn in spite of the usual no weapons ordinances.He glances at the other people in the room and gives a mirthless laugh his pointed canines flashing.
These humans all think their here for riches and glory, but they don't realize all they will find is fear and death.
He says looking over to Aria as he looks over the people gathered here.He notices the man standing in the shadows though he might as well been in broad daylight for all the good it did him Tristan can't help but give a small grin at the pointlessness of trying to hide in darkness when he is around. Though he definitely understands the want to stay out of to much light he thinks to himself. Almost in the same instant he notices the holy man of Caelum and can't help but think of his mother...then crushes any emotion before it has time to truly form as it would only bring pain.
Aria nods her head in agreement with what Tristan said. She kept looking around observing the lavish tapestries and taking in the sheer splendor of her surroundings. Seeing them only reminded her of home. She looks over at the tiger and winks at him. Her black hair swaying behind her as she walked trying not to let her feet fall heavy on the marble floor. The only sound that emanated from her were the soft tinkling of metal from the jewelry she wore. A faint scent of perfume lingered behind her as she walked. With her right hand she clutched her gun tucked in her pocket and with the other she clutched her fist nervously.
"What do you think they have in store for us?"she asks Tristan quietly in a barely audible whisper. Arias kohl-lined eyes shifted around trying to see who all was there. She kept herself guarded and did her best to hide all curiosity.Every now and then she would slip her hand over to her husband's side for reassurance, patting gently as if to remind herself he was there. She notices Tristan has his eye on one of the fellow allies and sees him walk towards Tristan and Aria.
Still spellbound by the tiger, Thral circles around Zero, Tristan, and Aria so he can approach them from an angle where they can see him coming. He doubts surprising anyone in this room could possibly be a good idea. As he approaches, his steel-grey eyes flick from Tristan to Aria, unsure who he should be addressing. He ends up speaking sort of generally to all three of them, Zero included.
"Hello, I...forgive me for intruding...I'm called Thral. Your...companion. The Tiger. He is amazing, I've not seen his like. Yet neither of you appears to be a druid, how is this possible?"
he pauses awkwardly
"I'm sorry if my manners are poor. I've been living in the wild, working the roads in the old woods of the world for some years now, and what little I knew of courts and kings and..."he gestures around him at all the finery "...and Grand Halls has been forgotten."
Tis quite alright, no worries!
Giving him a reassuring smile, she proceeded to speak.Tristan found him when he was a wee cub and raised him.I thank you for your kind words towards my husbands furry friend.
She then felt at ease and realized she was in polite company, a good ally. She had a good feeling about this one.
Tis quite alright, no worries!
Giving him a reassuring smile, she proceeded to speak.
Tristan found him when he was a wee cub and raised him.I thank you for your kind words towards my husbands furry friend.
Thral smiles what he hopes is a winning smile and inclines his head politely towards the three of them. "That's...amazing to me. I was raised in a circus -- of sorts -- for a time, and I learned the hard way to have a healthy respect for creatures such as he. I'm certain I wouldn't have had the wherewithal to attempt to befriend one, much less raise him." Thral looks at Tristan "You must have nerves of steel, sir, or similar."
Tristan glanced up at the approaching man his blood tinged eyes boring into him. "I am a ranger and this is my friend Zero." He says as Zero lays down looking at Thral and giving a great yawn teeth flashing in the light. "My name is Tristan Delacroix and this is my wife Aria. I am not offended by your manners believe me I know what it is to leave on the fringes of society."
"Its more of an understanding between two predators and of mutual respect."
Tristan says with smile revealing his pointed eye teeth.
Luc managed to keep walking, even as he approached the front. It was followed by a turn, from which people still parted for him as waters might for a saint - just, not from reverence. He wore a grin, and ran his gauntlet over his chin, ensuring his face was still clean as it should be, and followed through.
It's here he spots the tiger, and follows the movements back to its source, and resumes his path. This gives him time to contemplate on things, and he approaches the group with a comforting smile, something that seems to almost fit his face perfectly.
"Greetings to all of you - I presume one of you three is the beast's owner? If I may be so bold, it would be wiser to keep him close to you in these halls - you never know what scum might attempt to undo all the work you might have put into that animal."
"Ah, but where are my manners! I am known as Knight-Templar Luc Arkenstol, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
Here he does a gentle bow, right arm crossing across his midsection to do so. He stands straight up once more, allowing his appearance to soak in.
Thral looks from Tristan's fangs to Zero's fangs. Raising one elegantly arched eyebrow he says "I believe I understand you, Tristan, and I thank you. Aria, Zero, well met, all of you. May I ask how you came to be here? For my part, I confess I merely saw a general posting on a signboard outside a hamlet I was defending with some friends. The villagers had a...problem...with basilisks that we 'solved' for them."Thral pats the hilts of his twin, magicked blades. "My reason for being here is just that mundane; I find I still seek my purpose in this life, and the reward and promise to distinction involved in this quest seemed too good to pass up. What about yourselves? I mean, if I may ask. For as you say, Master Tristan, as one also accustomed to being on the fringes, I can certainly respect one's need for priva--."Thral cuts himself off when he hears Luc begin speaking. He was curious about the clean-cut, heavily-armored warrior, anyway, so his timing was perfect. Returning his bow, but still watching Luc guardedly, Thral speaks:
"I am called Thral, Master Arkenstol, pleased to meet you. I confess I was wondering what rank your garb indicated. I've not seen armor like this before, but your station must require it. What is it made of?"
Tristan glances at the holy man sneering as he approaches. "He is with us but I wouldn't claim to be anything more than his friend. Besides I'm sure if any of the dregs of civilization decided to attack Zero they would soon find themselves as his meal. He says with a short laugh. Hmm a templar definitely explains his attitude.
Tristan thinks to himself as Luc finishes speaking. "We are here for more or less the same reasons. He says turning his attention back to Thral.
Bluff:
The thought gave him a smile on the inside - that kind that warms your heart just right, and makes you feel good again. Sadly though, it was removed as he had to break the moment. Still, he would recall this one's courtesy.
"Please, Thral, call me Luc. As I said earlier, I am of rank in the Templarate of Caelum in these parts, and it gives me some honors and special privileges. The armor itself? Well, good sir, it is crafted from the finest steel 'round this coast, forged with care and set to my frame as all plate armors generally do. It took on a golden hue once the enchanter from the Church took a hold of it, and handed it to me like so. I daresay it has saved me many times in my fight against the tide of darkness."
He pauses now, and awaits anything else to come up - but resume shortly after.
"And of your armor? Could it be the scales of a drake? Or perhaps a full-fledged dragon? I'm sure even this tiger would have difficulties cutting through such defenses!" He gives a bit of a chuckle, to show a gesture of a tease. Now he awaits a new development, and keeps his eyes around the few before him, prepared should anything go awry.
Luc warmly nods at the man who seemed to own the beast. He outstretches his plated hand, and looks him dead in the eye - but all he can express is a warmth in meeting new people.
"Maybe soon the lot of us could become friends as such - it helps to have strength and cunning in this endeavor, whatever it may be."
Tristan back at Luc as he extends his armored hand eventually taking the extended hand. Yes in times like this it is always good to have allies available. The dhampir says as Zero let's out a low growl at what seems to strangely be at the thought that Thral's armor could hold the might tiger at bay.
Thral looks at Zero with mild alarm. When he notices that neither Tristan nor Aria are disturbed by the tiger's rumbling, he relaxes. He smiles wryly at Zero and says "Well, friend, I've no desire to test your claws or teeth against my armor, if it's all the same to you, so let's just assume you could get through it and leave the matter lie." Thral is completely sincere when he says this.
There is the briefest moment when the half-elf thinks he notices something pass over Tristan's eyes, the faintest flickr of darkness, as the Dhampir speaks to him, but he simply nods. Thral is content to let people keep their secrets, and does not inquire deeper. There are great depths in him. If there's something he wishes to keep secret, then I'm happy to let him do so. If I am to know, then one day I will know.
He turns back to Luc and inclines his head politely: "Luc. Well met, sir. My armor is indeed built from the scales of an ancient green dragon, gone mad from eating assassin vines loaded with toxin. It was some years ago now that I and my four companions, with whom I traveled and worked up until just recently, destroyed that dragon, though it cost us dearly, at the behest of the luckless halfling denizens of a pair of towns in Tomo. As part of my reward, they built me this armor from its hide and scales, then one of their wizards enchanted it and one of their rangers helped me paint the camouflage pattern on it. Much as your armor has served you, this beat up old pile of dragonskin has seen me through…many trials."
He shakes Luc's hand.
"And I certainly agree; strength, quickness, cunning, and powerful allies all are necessary things and crucial ingredients for any endeavor to be a success in our line of business. So tell me, as a Templar, do you have any insight as to just what our endeavor is to be? What will be asked of us here today? My curiosity is beginning to get the best of me."
Luc shakes both hands firmly, his strength given in each grasp and affirming them that he can pull his own weight, armor or no. It's here he can only continue to smile, and put his arms back to his sides.
"Why, I have a few ideas. There will most likely be some form of speech, informing us of the task at hand, the difficulties, things like that. All inspiration in intent, but knowing most of us will die in the resulting chaos. I would enjoy knowing more about the targets in question, and why they are so shorthanded - why does the military require our strength?"
"I believe there is something else going on. Something far more sinister than one can fathom - and perhaps, perhaps! we might be involved in its uncovering. That's a reason for my being here, amongst some I'd rather not discuss right now."
He crosses his arms over his chest, covering the tabard. He seems confident, and turns to face the front of the hall, as if awaiting the speaker to appear.
Speak softly and carry a big sword. Words to live by. Loren does his best to keep his head down. He was no master of stealth; the large shoulder spike protruding through his long hooded cloak made has lack of prowess obvious. Fortunately, it was irrelevant. He had changed his cover story upon arriving and discovering that no weapon ordinances were in effect, and furthermore, there were a host of interesting characters attracted by this “call to arms.” He is certainly more relaxed than he had expected to be. How out of place could he be compared to the mismatched group mingling in a corner? One of them even has a tiger as a companion, and as far as he is concerned it is the most trustworthy creature in the room. If anyone questioned him-- and he expected to be questioned; a rugged looking man wearing a hooded cloak that bears a symbol of the Imperium with a large shoulder spike and an enormous weapon that could not possibly be wielded by a creature of his stature was sure to draw attention— he was just a simple man who aided in the defense of Imperium officers. One of the officers perished, and he took up the cloak as a gesture of patriotism and camaraderie.
Loren laughs to himself at the concept of showing patriotism for Ren and the Imperium; his main goal maintains a constant grip on his psyche. The Imperium will fall, or at the very least it will pay for its crimes in his eyes. He is no fool, however; an episode of anger here would surely end his life and, more importantly, his plans. Ever the still mind, he stays his rage. And besides, he has no way of knowing what motivates the others who have responded to this call. No, it would be best to wait and practice patience. Perhaps some likeminded allies can be found amongst the crowd.
With this in mind, he begins heading towards the tiger, its master, and those they are interacting with. After all, the friend of a friend…
The room began to divide amongst itself as strangers came together from all walks of life. Amidst the aromas blending together in the air, old allies were reunited and new bonds of friendship were formed. It becomes noticeably quieter in the room as conversations begin to die down. All laughter and bemusement seems to soften as the large gong of a bell supercedes the dialogue present in the Grand Hall. As all heads turn towards the source, five individuals step forward into sight upon the podium. Only four of them proceed to seat themselves. The fifth one remains standing.
"Trusted patriots of the lands of Aris - many of you are probably wondering why a grand summons was issued from this council to all citizens of this land. Many of you have come of your own accord, this is true. Some of you have come in regards to the 100,000 Gold Pieces offered for assistance. Some of you have come out of the sheer patriotism in your hearts, a much nobler cause in the grand scheme of things. I will bring haste to my words though, friends, for I do not wish to waste valuable time."
"The kingdom of Ren is in peril. Enemies from within seek to tear down its precious walls and burn its lands. Traitorous vagabonds are inciting rebellion amongst our fair people and they are attempting to amass an army capable of destroying the republic we have spent so many hundreds of years building. This new enemy has no face. This new enemy has no name. This new enemy is dangerous beyond all recognition. This is why myself and the other Chancellors decided to send out a call-to-arms to all adventurers. Whether you have come for gold, glory, or honor, you have come. For that alone, the Council and us Chancellors extend the greatest gratitude awarded to guardians of Ren. We are asking you to risk your very lives in service to your kingdom and its people. We are asking you to solve the mystery of this rebellion. We are asking you to discover that which we could not. We are asking you to do the honorable thing."
"Some of you in here may not be as honorable. Some of you could very well be the enemies we are fighting so hard against. If you are, know this, the free nations of Ren and its neighboring allies will not go silently into the night! We will not give in to tyranny and the fear that you breed with your lies. We will fight and we will win!"
Many in the crowd cheer for their High Chancellor. Many agree.
"Those who accept this most epic of quests will be accomodated and the one who captures the leader of the rebellion and turns him over to Imperial authorities within the Arisan High Command will be rewarded beyond their wildest imaginations. Those who seek to accept this daring task may do so from just outside these walls where the Imperial Hunter's Guild has set a kiosk housing the Writs necessary for the given task. Thank you."
And with that the High Chancellor turns and takes his seat. Immediately the hall explodes with more conversations - all of them focusing on the turn of events. Talks of wealth and riches. Talks of fame and glory. Talks of simply having a challenge. Each man in the Hall now has a reason all his own to take up arms against this resistance.
Listening intently to every word, he can only stay vigilant. He removes his shield from his back, and straps it firmly to his left arm - a mighty piece of steel, the same color as his armor, and well-polished, bearing the symbol of Caelum itself! - and continues to listen.
As the speech winds to a close, Luc nods to his new acquaintances, and begins to move towards the entrance - he did not seek any writ, but he had to scope out the obvious ones from the others. It's here he passes the large man who seemed barbaric at most, and gave him a friendly nod as he passes by.
Once outside, he checks his blade, and only half-draws it, checking the steel blade within, and sheathes it after. It was as if he did not trust anyone in that chamber, and for good reason. With that said, he leaned against the wall, facing the kiosk from near the doors - awaiting further developments.
Thral watches Luc move to a position near where he himself had been just a few minutes earlier. He opens his mouth to speak, but sees Loren approaching. Thral's eyes narrow as he checks the massive size of the man's Falcata in comparison to the man himself. This fellow is more powerful than he looks, and that's saying something, as he looks plenty fierce, he thinks. Thral steps forward and inclines his head politely towards Loren.
"Hello friend, I'm called Thral. These are Aria, Tristan, and Zero. The friendly fellow who passed you is Luc. We've been discussing what brought us here, and what the future may hold. It seems Ren is in dire need of our might."
Thral begins to walk back to his original position
"Tristan, Zero, Aria: I am returning to my original post by the door. Round rooms give me cause to fear ambush. You are of course welcome to come with. Strength such as you three must possess would be invaluable."
Tristan stares at the large man as Thral
introduces them. He notices the man has more in common with him than most of the people here, yet he can't quite decide what that is. He is definitely mortal Tristan couldn't feel that innate sense of corruption that he would normally get from undead. "And you would be?" He says as a shadow passes over his crimson eyes.
Feeling more at ease with her husband,zero and new friendly allies: Aria couldn't help but agree to urge her husband to join Thral. She knew that it would be of interest to not only her but others to strengthen numbers. She knew that the more there were, the stronger the team would be.
It would be an honor to join you, I thank you for the offer and we will definitely take you up on it!
She gave a nod over to Tristan to see if he approved. She let another smile escape her lips as she had a sudden though. She realized that the men around her talked about as much as the ladies at the brothel on a good gossip day. She couldn't help but laugh inside. She felt excited about working with everyone she just met.
Tristan listens to Thral and then to his wife as they talk of joining forces. He then notices her nod towards him and shrugs his shoulders completely out of his element on this one. "I don't see any problem with it. Come on Zero." He says as he lays his hand on the massive tigers head. Upon reaching their destination the ranger slides his hands behind his trench coat his fingers brushing against the cold metal of his twin pistols.
I am curious what is your specialty? I notice you carry two swords. Tristan asks Thral as he adjusts his coat to more properly cover the two guns then checking the hidden daggers on his wrists.
Of course. A mass bribe to coerce otherwise noble heroes to stamp out any opposition to their corrupt institution. Even he could not deny that 100,000 gold pieces was quite the reward. They must be desperate. Loren had never heard of any such rebellion, and with the chancellor referring to it as “nameless,” his interest was aroused. He must be the one to “capture” the leader of this unnamed rebellion if there was any hope of his plan being successful; he must ally himself with an entity that causes this much fear in the Imperium.
Allies. He would need allies. The opportunity to obtain some had just serendipitously presented itself. Unfortunately, while lost in a haze of thought, he had missed not one, but two chances to introduce himself. Ah well, better late than never. Looking in the direction of the one called Thral, Loren attempts to steel himself and begins walking. He had never been one for meeting new people, but he would have to stave off his discomfort. Reaching his destination, he sticks a rough-skinned hand out awkwardly, trying to remember his manners. “I am Loren Ashnor Stillmind,” he says shakily and to no particular person amongst the group he has just walked into. The depth of his rugged voice is certainly out of sync with his current demeanor. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.” An unsure smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he glances around at those in his immediate vicinity. He relaxes visibly as his eyes meet the tiger’s; at least there is one creature in the room that he is sure he was sure he could trust.
As the four of them take up positions in the area just inside the door, giving them an instantaneous view of anyone who might come in, plus a good overview of everyone currently in the Grand Hall, Thral answers Tristan's query.
"Growing up in the Northern Deadlands of Gare, my mother told me that somewhere far back in her lineage the Goddess Isaura herself, Goddess of Air, blessed her bloodline with swiftness and balance, and taught her small tribe of cliff-dwelling elves a fighting style called Þannig vindur, which in my native tongue means 'Way of Wind.' It is a fighting style characterized by the Goddess' constant motion, the swirling of the air and eddying of zephyrs. It requires great agility to master. Þannig vindur mandates the use of light, or preferably no armor, and always two weapons, as a Þannig vindur master's weapons become his armor, and are used to deflect blows in the same motion they bring death to his enemies."
"I myself am but a journeyman, not a master, though I am far along in my training. Being out in the world for so long has taught me to adapt the ways of Þannig vindur for use with slightly heavier natural armor, like this dragonscale mail I'm wearing, and some day I will return to the Deadlands, to teach what I know, and to finally complete my own training with a True Master."
"And what of yourself, friend? Your blade, it is made of a metal I thought only used in armor; mithral, yes? What techniques do you use to deploy it to its maximum advantage?"
Thral finishes this explanation as Loren walks up and introduces himself. Thral immediately shakes hands with him and again inclines his head politely.
"Ah, Loren! Well met, friend. It is a pleasure, I'm glad you chose to gather with us. As with Tristan's mithral sword, I am deeply curious about the weapon you wield as well, and was hoping to witness a demonstration of your fighting style. You must have massive strength, to accurately use such a beastly-looking weapon. I feel there is much I could learn from you, as well."
"And! While I am inquiring, Mistress Aria, What are your specialties? Judging by some of the items you carry I'd guess a spellcaster, but judging by others I'd guess a buccaneer, or a duelist of some sort...?"
Thral looks around and smiles. Yes, the five of us, he thinks, and possibly Luc, depending on his allegiances. Let anyone try to stand against this group. Quick will be their demise.
"Yes, both blades are created from mithrial, the metal runs all the way through connecting both blades." Tristan replies to Thral as he draws the
blade and twirls it between his hands the blades glinting in the light as they spin. "I was taught by my mother how to fight with such a weapon. Though its not the only one I use." He says as he places the sword back in its harness.
She smiles and answers the question to the best of her ability.
"You see, it is a bit complicated..."
She trails off trying to figure out the best way to put it to Thral without confusing him. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and looked down at the floor a bit and responded wryly. She looks back up at him with a glint of humor in her eyes.
"Well I am a bit of a gun-mage, years of working with the carnally distorted sorts will do that to ya."
All the while giving the "ya know what I mean" look by raising a brow and giving a quick grin. She chuckled a bit and continued with,
"I was the brothel's guard hound, always chasing off the unwanted guests. Sometimes they came for more than what they paid the ladies and overspent our hospitality. I was usually the one to give them a parting gift by giving them a brand new third eye right between the two old ones. Not many lived to thank me for their new eye, what a pity!"
She let out another small chuckle and studied everyone's face to see if she got a little shock out of them. She especially made sure to smile at her husband. Tristan always seemed tense around other people, especially when she was involved. She figured he was always protective, and thought it made him even more adorable. She couldn't help it, at the end of the day she was still a woman and found things about men amusing, especially that which pertains to her husband.
Tristan just looks over at his wife as she looks over at him and smiles and can't help but smile back. As you see we each have our specialties. Tristan says as he flashes his usual unsettling smile pointed teeth showing.
"Yes, both blades are created from mithrial, the metal runs all the way through connecting both blades." Tristan replies to Thral as he draws the
blade and twirls it between his hands the blades glinting in the light as they spin. "I was taught by my mother how to fight with such a weapon. Though its not the only one I use." He says as he places the sword back in its harness.
Thral nods appreciatively."I assumed you had other weapons, and other talents yet to be revealed. Still, the double-blade is impressive enough for me. Remarkable craftsmanship, and such a fluid weapon, in your hands."
"Well I am a bit of a gun-mage, years of working with the carnally distorted sorts will do that to ya."
Thral's eyebrows shoot up at this, then he relaxes and smiles lopsidedly back at Aria's winning grin.
"I was the brothel's guard hound, always chasing off the unwanted guests. Sometimes they came for more than what they paid the ladies and overspent our hospitality. I was usually the one to give them a parting gift by giving them a brand new third eye right between the two old ones. Not many lived to thank me for their new eye, what a pity!"
Thral laughs at this last statement."Hahahahaa! How rude! And after you'd gone to such trouble. Tsk. People have no manners these days."Thral watched the subtle interplay -- what bits he could notice anyway -- between husband and wife, and was impressed by their bond, their closeness, and the power that seemed to come with it.
"as you see we each have our specialties."
Thral finds himself smiling again, and nods in agreement. "Indeed. I am very thankful to have chanced across such company as yours."
Marveling at the fine display of swordplay, Loren takes a moment to study the man Thral had named as Tristan. His flesh certainly smelled off. As if part of it was dead or dying. There is certainly more to him than meets the eye. When he talks, he says only what is necessary, and his skill with his blade is obvious; Loren could respect this. He was the companion of the tiger after all, and chances are that he is to be trusted as well. His wife, just as intriguing as he is, gives off a similar scent, and has a humor about her that he is quite familiar with. These two definitely had him curious.
“The blade is called Ira,” Loren says, turning his attention back to Thral. “It is a gift from my father, a man of… massive strength as you say. I do not have his strength, but I have been trained to use the blade somewhat effectively when necessary. It is a bit oversized as I’m sure you can tell, so I prefer to make use of the spike on my shoulder. Alas, I have no display of prowess as Tristan here. I was taught to never draw Ira unless I planned to use her to her full extent. Besides, like I said, I lack my father’s strength. I cannot use her properly.”
Looking again at Tristan, “You have quite the majestic creature at your side there,” Loren says. He squats down to pet the tiger, looking deeply into its eyes and smiling a genuine smile.
Standing back up, Loren glances back and forth between Tristan and Aria. “I apologize if this seems too forward, but what exactly are you? You are no mere humans. That is for sure judging by your scent. I make no claims as to your origins for fear of jumping to conclusions, but your scent is a very strong indicator... My father also gifted me with a strong sense of smell. I have been told it is very unique and a… ‘Life saver.’” He laughs uneasily, obviously unsure. His words are very deliberate and carefully chosen, but his curiosity is apparent.
“The blade is called Ira ,” Loren says, turning his attention back to Thral. “It is a gift from my father, a man of… massive strength as you say. I do not have his strength, but I have been trained to use the blade somewhat effectively when necessary. It is a bit oversized as I’m sure you can tell, so I prefer to make use of the spike on my shoulder. Alas, I have no display of prowess as Tristan here. I was taught to never draw Ira unless I planned to use her to her full extent. Besides, like I said, I lack my father’s strength. I cannot use her properly.”
"I have a feeling you use your sword as well as I use my blades." Tristan replies easily telling by the man's movements and mannerisms that he has no problems using that oversized sword.
Looking again at Tristan, “You have quite the majestic creature at your side there,”
"Just don't let him know that." He says using a low conspiring voice. As Zero stares back at Loren with inquisitive eyes much more so than your average animal.
Standing back up, Loren glances back and forth between Tristan and Aria. “I apologize if this seems too forward, but what exactly are you? You are no mere humans. That is for sure judging by your scent. I make no claims as to your origins for fear of jumping to conclusions, but your scent is a very strong indicator... My father also gifted me with a strong sense of smell. I have been told it is very unique and a… ‘ Life saver. " He laughs uneasily, obviously unsure. His words are very deliberate and carefully chosen, but his curiosity is apparent.
Ah...well you see my mother was human, but my father. To hell with it....was a vampire. Do you know what a Dhampir is? I'm a hunter its what I am and what I do a predator. Not human but not undead but surely enough that most holy men would see me dead. Also I can tell you aren't human either my large friend though I can't tell what you are. Tristan says with a tight expression on his face.
Thral can't help but look surprised when Tristan lets slip this last sentence. He folds his arms across his chest and looks back and forth between the two supernatural warriors sizing each other up.
Nonetheless, he is still smiling. "For my part, and being a half-breed myself, I've always been of the mind that one's lineage matters not. If your heart is true, and you are brave and do not quail in battle, then you will always be able to call me 'friend,' if you wish."
Tristan is able to contain his surprise only because of the skills he has picked up surviving as an outcast. I have to say I'm surprised not to many people say that when they learn about my heritage. The last people who figured it out was some priests unfortunately for them they have never faced something like me. He says with a menacing smile eyes flashing crimson.
Bluff:
Thral looks down and says softly "If there are cultures that would judge you poorly based on...parentage, then I have no time for them. I left behind 'culture' long ago. Also, I am no priest; I have faced down many creatures in the Old Places of the world, and found allies where I thought only horrors lie, and horrors where I should have been at ease. I wear the very flesh of a defeated enemy. So I fear little, and do not judge on outward appearances or preconceptions but on your skill, your heart, and" Thral gestures towards Zero and Aria "the obviously noble company you keep.
So: no. Your heritage does not bother me. Quite the opposite; I am sure it will be a boon in battle for those who do fear your kind.
Upon hearing Thral's announcement Tristan's demeanor cracks and the burden fate has dealt him shows clearly on his face for a moment before his icy demeanor returns as he responds. "I.. Thank you my....friend" He says slowly seeming to taste the word as he says it.
"Yes as you said who can stand against us; A gunmage, a fighter, a holy man, a warrior, a tiger, and of course me. He says as he motions to each first Aria, then Thral, Luc, Loren, and last Zero before extending both arms wide to indicate himself.