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Author Topic: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.  (Read 3290 times)

Ross Vernal

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Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« on: February 05, 2015, 02:44:48 am »

I would normally have revived the old thread, but it's been two years. I don't engage in thread necromancy. It's... postmodern post-apocalyptic dungeonpunk, which will someday be an epic in the literary sense. Book 1 is the story of how the mortal protagonists of the series meet. The change comes from a desire to stay stylistically consistent - I have to jump narrators in Book 3 and 4, but didn't have plans to write 1 and 2 with multiple narrators until I put some thought into it.


ANYWAY. Here we go.

Act 1- Zane

Narissara looked like trouble from the first moment we met. She was a tall, voluptuous woman dressed in the traditional red-white Bodyweaver's robes with a hip-length braid of straight black hair that bobbed when she talked. It was as captivating as it was annoying. I studied her for a few seconds, trying to guess just what she was. I wouldn't buy human; she had to be at least a quarter fey to be that attractive. Her features were just too... artful, but shy of perfection. Deliberate, almost.

"Centurion Deustrages."

Roaken clearly wasn't her first language - the accent was wrong. I still wondered why Consul Drusus had personally ordered me to escort the priestess, but orders were orders, regardless of our gods and her attitude. Still, it rankled me to have to be at the beck and call of Illeni and Vijer's servant. Lawful good types tend to be a real drag, and healers like her tended to look on soldiers like me as "uncultured murderers in uniform."  Well, no, let me rephrase that: calling a Bodyweaver a 'healer' was something akin to calling a Wizard a 'person who dabbles in magic' or a hundred foot wave a 'minor coastal anomaly.'

"Take me to the rest of my escort."

Naturally, it wasn't a polite request. It was looking to be a long day, and her high-pitched voice wasn't helping me any, annoyingly cute as it was. If I ever had headaches, I'd probably have one now - trying to reconcile the voice and words falling from her full lips... I shook my head. No, she was off-limits, just another person with piece of paper certifying her grandmastery of the healing arts that clearly meant she knew everything about everything. You know how leeches and doctors work, and the more the knowledge, the more the ego.

"They're off-duty at the moment." I told her, trying to keep my sneer from showing. She probably would catch the minor insult of not calling her by her title, and I hoped it pissed her off. Narissara shook her head, and I waited for a few seconds be fore she spoke again, a poisonously sweet smile revealing her dimples as she spoke.

"Then take me to Eyilana's alcove in the Parthenon. Praetorian."

Her deliberate pause was as much insult as mine. Still, I was disappointed that we had a Goddess in common. Now she'd have a decent reason to talk to me. A two-denari tribute to Ingram's luck I'd made earlier in the day gave me hope that the bodyweaver would be less of a priestess than I was a priest. Maybe. Hopefully. Given how well Ingram was treating me this day, I wouldn't have the luck. Next time I'd make a bigger tribute... shoving the thought aside, I looked into her deep green eyes, which shone with intelligence and - Dammit, no. It was my job to guard that wonderful body, not to lust after it.

"You follow the Seer too?" I asked her grudgingly. Keep the talk on business, everything would be fine.

She grinned and leaned forward on the balls of her feet, head and shoulders above me. I swallowed and looked up to her face, not wanting to give her the wrong impression as I quietly bit the inside of my lip. Just a little closer, just a little more shift of her robe... argh. No. Business. I tapped my finger and thumb together a few times.

"The Aspect of Secrets. It was part of my Bodyweaver training."

I had to wonder how in the hell she didn't fall over. It was impossible not to notice her... endowments, if you will, and the way she was looming over me couldn't be easy to keep balanced. It was a damned shame that she didn't feel a calling to be a Hedonist at her coming of age. I gave in and looked down as I turned from side to side, sweeping my gaze across her breasts as I looked for any dangers around. Roak Val was a fairly safe place, especially where we were, but one never knew. Maybe there was a pickpocket around. Or maybe I just wanted to admire her breasts more. Whatever.

"Ah."

Normally, I'd have something more to say, but this whole situation was getting on my nerves and if this conversation lasted one more minute I'd go decapitate someone just to relieve the stress. This whole... Praetorian political soldier job was a mixed blessing. Officer's pay, not too heavy on the combat duty, really terrifying and awesome combat when there was duty, and the chance to make contacts with Citizens. Unfortunately, it came with the duties of playing toy soldier for important barbarians. Though I couldn't call a Bodyweaver a barbarian, now could I?  She made me nervous in some way I didn't quite understand, deep in my stomach. Like dragonflies, only without the fire.

"Let me guess. You follow the Aspect of Books."

I blinked, taken off-guard. Her smile broadened, and she settled back down on her feet before giggling and punching me in the arm, hard. Again, I had to wonder just what in the hell she was - not human. She was maybe a part-fey, but I didn't sense any traces of glamour about her. And aside from a few notable exceptions - namely, the Duchess Vernal and the Winter Queen Akasha - fey did not have breasts that large. Some were certainly as pleasantly round as her, but... I found myself looking again, and blinked again, blood rising to my ears as I looked away.

"It wasn't hard to tell, really. One doesn't rise to your rank at your age just by following Shin's Aspect of War... at least, not just that."

My confusion at the name must have shown on my face, because she tapped Portraikos's deaths-head insignia on my right shoulder with a smirk. I shrugged, noting the bowstring calluses on her right hand and the sea green polish on her deliberately pointed fingernails. This small talk was getting a little old, and the sooner this was over with, the better. I didn't know if I wanted to screw her, kill her, or kill myself, and I still felt that strange combination of a deep, primal gut-fear mixed with a warm, tingling sensation where my heart would be if I'd had such an organ. This woman was dangerous, and I liked that *entirely* too much to keep considering.

"How long is your stay here in Roak Val?" I growled, voice surly. Narissara's smile didn't fade a whit, but the venom in it faded to nothing as her eyes sparkled at me knowingly. She stuck the tip of her tongue out at me, giggled, then continued talking.

"About a week. I need to find books in the Mage Towers, and there's a... mold... no, a... a fungus, that only grows in the Undercity that I need for some of my alchemical experiments."

Well then, everything made sense now! My role was clear, and I was flattered. The captain of Marius Drusus's personal guard – Aurelius, or something like that, anyway – was retiring to enjoy time with his family and his remaining limbs, so I was being groomed to step into his role. Perfect. Consul Drusus was not the type to take his free time as rest time, probably from his time in the Untold Legions of Portraikos. This woman - who gave every sign of being as stubborn and reckless as our patrician Consul - was a test of my abilities and a gift to my senses. I took a deep breath and noted that she didn't have perfume on - not even the expensive kind or the scented water either. Strange.

"Alright, off to the Parthenon, then. I'm looking forward to be of service to you, Bodyweaver Dairana."

I gave her a smile right back. A real one, this time.

"My name is Narissara, and who's the third god of your trifecta?"

"I'm a Citrinitas of Mingan, and call me Zane."

She held up a long-fingered hand as she closed her eyes, and I waited patiently, taking the time to be sure she didn't poison those nails and mostly admiring how her robes hugged every last curve of her luscious body while she wasn't looking.

"Blood, Chaos, and... Darkness, if I'm not mistaken."

Well then. Maybe she did know everything about everything. Narissara had clearly done her research ahead of time, and this only confirmed my theory. I could practically taste that promotion. Primus Pilus from the Consul's orders, then from there it was only a matter of time before I'd become a Tribunus Laticlavius and be eligible to lead the entire Roak Republic's army as Legatus Legionis or run for the Senate. Maybe someday, rise to the plebeian Consulship myself, and the key to it all was the woman standing in front of me and her report on my performance. Or the report of the spies who were undoubtedly watching us now and already seeded through my century. Not that I was accusing any man of being a traitor - simply of being loyal to those who have bought him, like a good Roaken should.

"I'm currently studying the Aspect of Magic, since Potraikos – erm, Shin - forbids me from Necromancy." I replied, my voice much warmer as I noted to myself to use the name for the death god whenever I was around her. We started walking north from the Campus Martia uphill towards the Pantheon and continued our little conversation. As it turned out, Narissara was the niece of Marius's second-in-command when the old Consul served in Shin's Untold Legions. So, she was at least partially an Elementalkind. I filed that away for future reference.

"I forgot to ask you, Zane. When are your... erm."

Narissara stopped and pouted, moving her lips from side to side as she stared up into space.

"Your commander subordinates... Optico and... Tresseris? Opto and Tesserian?"

Hehe. She did look cute when she didn't know things, and it did confirm that her grip on Roaken wasn't as strong as I had hoped. I chuckled a little, and prepared to field her inevitable questions.

"Optio and Tesserarius, Nari - do you mind if I call you that? Allen is my optio candidatus-"

"For you? Nari works, between us. In pubic, you *will* call me by my name. Optio candidatus?"

"My second in command, my deputy, who is being groomed to take my job when I get promoted. I'll miss the big bast- er. Lug. And my Tesserarius... Renn is the man who makes sure our century keeps to their schedule. He's coming with me when I get promoted, and we'll meet them both tomorrow morning, actually. Allen is probably off in the South Tower with a bottle of wine, and Renn is probabl – oh, nevermind, he's right there. Gistos! Get over here, old man!"

I indicated the gray-haired gunmage walking towards us. Renn was a tough old campaigner and an Adventurer, covered in scars and wiry muscles mostly hidden by his faded old Drall-skin duster and the straw hat with a feather on the right. He must have been at least sixty, but he still carried himself like I do – hell, he had better posture than I do. And even though he was about as Roaken in the blood as I was, nobody would disagree that he was as fine a soldier - and man - as any the Roak Republic could come up with  The old Hedonist smirked and bowed to Narissara, greeting her with a kiss on the back of her pale hand before giving me a flippant, lazy salute, which I returned.

"Well, Zane, I'm impressed. Who's this lovely lady you're with?" Renn asked me, not taking his eyes off of Narissara. Well... part of her, anyway. I never did understand just how he managed to come across as being charmingly lecherous (much less succeed with women more often than I could) but some folk had all of Ingram's luck. Then again, I outranked him and I was about thirty-eight years younger than he was. Ingram was tricky like that sometimes - one had to expect that from the god who tricked the other gods into letting him steal Luck. Anyway, it wasn't that Renn, like most other followers of Bree, was using the powers of her Hedonism aspect to seem appealing to the person or persons they were attracted to. I loved Renn, but his was a face that only a blind mother could love. And yet, the women flocked to him like wasps to raw meat. Unbelievable.

"This is Bodyweaver Dairana, and she's the one we're escorting around for the rest of the week."

Narissara edged back, looking around the crowded Parthenon, presumably to find Eyilana's alcove. Or maybe to escape from Renn, though she'd be the first woman I had ever known to be immune to his... animal magnetism. Not that I'd really had the chance to enjoy the sights of far-away lands. I tugged on the elbow of her robe and pointed across the atrium.

"It's over there. How long will you be?"

"An hour and a half, roughly; I'm lecturing on the uses of medicinal alchemy to treat war wounds that healed wrong. I don't know how many times I've said that with the proper treatment regimen, we can avoid surgery and even more recovery time... nevermind. I have to run. See you soon, handsome."

Handsome?!

She gave me one of those dazzling melt-your-mind smiles and kissed me on the cheek before winding her way through the crush. Renn watched her backside with a look of awe on his face. Or at least, I thought he did out of the corner of my eye, my own being currently utilized for the same cause I suspected of his.

"A shame she's not a Hedonist with a body like that. I'll tell you what, Zane: I'll be nice and let you have her."

I looked at him and burst out laughing, shaking my head a little.

"You know I'm not a fan of goodie-good healer priestesses. Besides, this is politics: Aurelius or whatever is retiring, and Narissara is like family to Consul Drusus, so..."

Renn clapped his gloved hand on my shoulder.

"Ah, you scheming bastard. If I weren't someone else's client I'd join you someday."

His tone expressed pride. I'd met him years ago during the Water Riots when he was part of a crowd control brigade. He'd stood alone in front of a torch-bearing mob and pacified them without firing a shot; since then, he'd been a father figure to me as well as serving as my Tesserarius. His experience and stories had saved my behind in combat more than once, and it'd been my pleasure to save his a few times. There was nobody I would trust at my back - or side - more than him.

"Always. Learned from the best, didn't I?"

"Hah. No, Zane, you'll surpass me there, too. Anyway, I'll let Allen know about your plans, boy. He's off playing with the kitties again."

He was gone before I nodded. I didn't know how he managed to do that either, but at least Renn was nice enough to let you see him coming. Allen just tended to... appear, and then just disappear. Either way, I had an hour or so to kill - I wasn't much of an alchemist and tended to be more skilled at ending lives than saving them, so going there to hear and admire Narissara was out. The building was as secure as the Campus Martia, given the sheer amount of priests and worship here. I had nothing to do but brood. With a sigh, I walked towards Mingan's alcove to talk to the Vampire God, or whatever celestial minion he foisted upon me instead of coming in person like he was wont to do recently. Oh well, such was a pawn's life.

Wait, why was I carrying a book?
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #1 on: February 05, 2015, 02:45:58 am »

Act 2 - Narissara

Zane looked like trouble from the first moment we met. He was handsome, and had the strangest eyes - no pupils, just hundreds of shifting colors, like broken glass in the moonlight. He was partially sideways to me, and I noticed with feline pleasure that he had an action butt and clearly had forgotten about the book in his other hand. I liked that, although it wasn't exactly what you expected from a demigod.

"Centurion Deustrages, " I purred," take me to the rest of my escort. "

It took some effort to speak Roaken with my old Shasong accent, doubting that he'd think much aside from "She speaks Chi Meng." While I certainly do, it's always good for people to underestimate you.

"They're off-duty at the moment," he replied, and I wondered if he could possibly get his nose any higher in the air. Aristocrat's attitude out of a peasant; I appreciate that in a man since I was the same way. Of course, I wasn't exactly a peasant anymore, and hadn't been since I was a kitten.

I shook my head and bared my teeth at him, wishing I could flick an ear and hiss.

"Then take me to Eyilana's alcove in the Parthenon. Praetorian."

The change from Roaken to Eyil didn't surprise him.

"You follow the Seer too?"

Nice and subtle, wasn't he? I inhaled dramatically and leaned over him, deliberately focusing his attention where I wanted it so he'd be too distracted to think. Seeing that sudden gulp-swallow-eye-flicker would never get old, and it didn't take studying Secrets to figure out how to lead men around by the balls. After a few moments for him to get his eyes out of my cleavage, to tap his fingers, and look up to meet my eyes, I gave him an indulgent smile.

"The Aspect of Secrets. It was part of my Bodyweaver training."

Deep breath, and his eyes did the thing again.

"Ah?" he inquired, looking back up to my eyes.

"Let me guess: you follow the Aspect of Books."

He blinked, blushed, and his hands tightened on the spine of the book as the question mark showed in his eyes. Satisfied that I could toy with him, I settled back down and slugged him a good one in the shoulder to get him back in reality. I would have preferred a nice theraputic slap, but then he'd get the wrong idea about what I wanted out of him and what I permit others to do.

"It wasn't hard to tell, really. One doesn't rise to your rank at your age just by following Shin's Aspect of War... at least, not just that."

Zane looked even more confused, and it was adorable. I reached out and tapped his Death-sigil with the point of my fingernail, producing a rather pleasant tick. He shrugged, looking embarassed and almost boyish.

"How long is your stay here in Roak Val?" he asked in Roaken, trying to sound gruff. I stuck the tip of my toungue out at him and laughed at the attempt, then resumed speaking in deliberately bad Roaken. (I say 'deliberately' to convince myself that the stupid tenses and modes were both inefficient and that the language was not descriptive enough, as opposed to 'I can't make some of the mouth-sounds and it's actually really annoying.)

"About a week. I need to find books in the Mage Towers, and there's a... mold... no, a... a fungus, that only grows in the Undercity that I need for some of my alchemical experiments."

Did I mention that I really didn't like Roaken? I didn't like Roak Val, I didn't like the inefficient corruption, I didn't like the Roak culture and its ridiculous laws that didn't work to my advantage, and that about the only thing pleasant about the place, aside from Zane's butt, was the Undercity, which was quite possibly the *least* pleasant thing about Roak. So, obviously, I had *no* problems lying to a Roaken about the Chaos Temple deep under the city, especially given the chances that it'd be exactly what I hoped it was. Well, I did need the fungus for a certain potion, but that wasn't really why I was here.

"Alright, off to the Parthenon, then. I'm looking forward to be of service to you, Bodyweaver Dairana."

He could be charming, then, so I gave him a smile. A real one, this time, and he actually responded. He also threw out his chest a little, but I didn't think it was on purpose.

"My name is Narissara, and you may call me by that name, too. Who's the third god of your trifecta?"

"I'm a Citrinitas of Mingan. Call me Zane."

Proud little demigod, wasn't he? I liked him more, although he'd have to work for it if he wanted it. If I was taking a bit of personal time to gather rare alchemy for my collection, I could take some time for some of my other hobbies, too. I looked him over, held up a finger, closed my eyes, and waited for the blood to flow back down his body before guessing what aspects of the Chaos god he chose.

"Blood, Chaos, and... Darkness?"

His eyes widened. Good guess on my part.

"I'm currently studying the Aspect of Magic, since Potraikos – erm, Shin - forbids me from Necromancy," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't mean to lecture a Chaos priest about rules-lawyering, but what Shin forbids is the application of necromancy as regards souls in his possession. He merely frowns heavily upon the use of necromantic powers to animate the bodies of the dead, and the Courts of Battle permit post-mortem testimony from eyewitnesses. Well... provided the Caller for Justice can justify the requirement before a panel of True Decaric priests and can find a Defiant Priest willing to sponsor the request."

He gave me a look that was halfway between "How exactly does she know this much about necromancy?" and "Go teach your grandmother to butcher an ox."

"How, exactly, do you know that?"

"Someone called me for Justice. I chose Trial by Arms, and was, naturally, found to be acting in a way that was Just."

He looked even more confused at how this could answer, since a Trial by Arms precluded the need for the other kind of Trial where the law would be applicable, and I smiled at him. What did he expect, to know all of my secrets at once? Trust is earned, not given.

We discussed other topics of philosphical interest, managed to surprise each other a few times, and when he asked where I came from and how I came to be here, he had earned enough goodwill for me to give an honest answer.

"You know Consul Marius, right? Well, his second-in-command at the time of his retirement a few years bacl - you know, the 'Roaken Tsunami' - is the second-sister of my mother. Same village."

"No kidding?"

"By the arrows of the Protector. His death-feast lasted a whole cycle of the moon, would you believe? I don't ever recall seeing so many paper boats."

"Mmh. We had a parade. It was lovely, or so I was told. I was busy being unconcious at the time from... well, long story. Kind of funny up until I took a sword in the gut in the battle."

Interesting. I hadn't known he was there.

"I forgot to ask you, Zane. When are your... erm. Officer minions, what are they called?"

"Optio and Tesserarius, Nari - do you mind if I call you that? Allen is my optio candidatus-"

"For anyone else, I *would* mind, but for you I'll make an exception, although you WILL call me by my name in public. Optical candidate and Tesseract?"

"My second in command, my deputy, who is being groomed to take my job when I get promoted. I'll miss the big bastard-idiot. And my Tesserarius... Renn is the man who makes sure our century keeps to their schedule. He's coming with me when I get promoted, and we'll meet them both tomorrow morning, actually. Allen is probably off in the South Tower with a bottle of wine, and Renn is probabl – oh, nevermind, he's right there. Gistos! Get over here, old man!"

Renn Gistos? I'd heard that name before. The Hedonist Adventurer who freed a bunch of slaves and managed to give one of the Seven Lords an epic black eye over how hard he'd bungled? I approved of the chaos and war it spawned, although I honestly wasn't that sympathetic towards the slaves. I mean, yeah, it wasn't anything I'd permit to be done to me, and I wouldn't keep any, but... it wasn't my problem, it was theirs. When I saw the man, I was surprised by the scars, and had to rethink my position. The story of his scars had more weight than the story I told myself of 'sucks to be them.' I don't like questioning my own superiority. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

He looked me in the eyes and smiled invitingly. I considered it for a second, then shook my head slightly and looked at Zane. His smile grew bigger and prouder, and he nodded in approval.

"Well, Zane, I'm impressed. Who's this lovely lady you're with?"

He bowed slightly to me, and didn't once try to look between my robes. I raised my initial impression of him a few notches and took a slight step back as Zane introduced me by my surname, which I hadn't told him. Subtle, very subtle. He politely and gently tugged on the hem of my red-and-white robe, then indicated where I was due to speak.

"I'll be an hour and a half, roughly; I'm lecturing on the uses of medicinal alchemy to treat lingering wounds. I'm part of the New School of Weaving; we have proof that more frequent, specifically targeted effects on a short-term basis provides better results for our patience than the prevailing theories of healing... nevermind. I have to run, but I'll see you soon, handsome."

I kissed him on the cheek just to be clear that he had permission to pursue, and put a little more swing in my step because I knew he would look. After taking a brief moment to inform my libido that pleasure could wait, I checked my nails, put on my Bodyweaving Professional Face, and made my way to the timid-looking fellow with chalk by the chamber.

Before I went in, I looked back at Zane, and saw him heading towards his temple. I took a few moments to make sure I was thinking about my lecture in the proper verb tense and mode of address, took a breath, and headed in to face the audience, thoughts about amusing distractions shelved until they were relevant.
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #2 on: February 05, 2015, 02:46:58 am »

Act 3 - Renn

I hated being late more than I hated being sober, but here I was in the Parthenon, an unfortunate mix of both and without my flask because you don't drink in a temple, even when it's not your Gods. Especially when it's not your gods. I knew that the Bodyweaver was going to be here with the kid eventually, so maybe I'd look smart meeting them here. Nah.

"Allen is probably off in the South Tower with a bottle of wine, and Renn is probabl – oh, nevermind, he's right there. Gistos! Get over here, old man!"

I waved at him and took in the woman next to him, who was clearly on the hunt. If she had a tail, it'd be wiggling like a cat. Zane's grin was big and goofy, and it warmed my old drunkard's heart to see him falling-on-his-ass in love for more reason than one. Still...

I gave her a smile and she looked interested, sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth before shaking her head and looking at Zane. I knew that look, even if she didn't, and I approved. With that avenue of pursit closed, it was time to be friendly anyway.

"Well, Zane, I'm impressed. Who's this lovely lady you're with?" I asked, giving her a polite bow between equals in acknowledgement.

"Bodyweaver Dairana. She's here for... well, a lot of things."

I nodded.

"I understand that you're giving a series of lectures for the leeches, surgeons, doctors, herbalists, and anyone else who wants to know. About how long are they going to be? I'm afraid I have to miss the first one, as duties elsewhere call, but I'd love to learn something."

She gave me a gratified look, as if I were the first person to actually ask that question.

"I'll be an hour and a half, roughly; I'm lecturing on the uses of medicinal alchemy to treat lingering wounds. I'm part of the New School of Weaving; we have proof that more frequent, specifically targeted effects on a short-term basis provides better results for our patience than the prevailing theories of healing... nevermind. I have to run, but I'll see you soon, handsome."

The last part was clearly addressed to Zane, who, if anything, looked even *more* drunk stupid in love than ever before. To be honest, I was fairly surprised. He was a good kid at heart, just... different. Focused. Not very prone to emotion. Hardly surprising given his past, but it felt good to see this side of him.

"A shame she's not a Hedonist with a body like that. I'll tell you what, Zane: I'll be nice and let you have her," I said in a deadpan voice, enjoying the view of the other side of Dairana. He burst out laughing.

"You know I'm not a fan of goodie-good healer priestesses. Besides, this is politics: Aurelius or whatever is retiring, and Narissara is like family to Consul Drusus, so..."

He said her name like poetry, caressing every syllable. Smart kid, though; if he played it right he'd be able to get that power he wanted.

"Ah, you scheming bastard. If I weren't someone else's client I'd join you someday," I told him, knowing full well that he'd never accept.

"Always. Learned from the best, didn't I?"

"Hah. No, Zane, you'll surpass me there, too. Anyway, I'll let Allen know about your plans, boy. He's off playing with the kitties again."

I rolled my eyes a little. I liked cats because I liked animals, but Allen loved cats. If he weren't a Praetorian, his commanding officer and his fellow soldiers would likely have something to say about that; since he was, we let it slide. I find solace in alcohol, he finds it in feeding every stray animal he finds even if he has to eat less. Good kid.

I stumped off towards the South Tower, pausing only long enough to drink a cheap ale that tasted like it came from a horse destined to be glue and pine sap, from the first place with beer I could find. As I expected, Allen was there with an unpleasantly fishy bag that certainly seemed to be attracting feline attention. After scritching Tough Old Bastard, a thirty-pound one-eyed tom with long whiskers who barely deigned to tolerate me, I looked at Allen and shrugged.

"You know how he is, Allen. Can I trust you to make sure he actually wears pants this time?"

Allen held up his hands in a "what can I do" gesture and gave me a crooked smile.

"Does he like her?"

"Most certainly. How exactly did you get my boy this position?"

"Oh, nepotism and bribery, like a good Roaken. Dinner party with a certain person and an artist... long story."

"Good man. Now, since we know he's a bit of an idiot, let's impress her..."
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #3 on: February 05, 2015, 02:48:28 am »

Act 4 - Zane

Out of all the alcoves in the Parthenon, Mingan's was the smallest. It was actually closer to the literal sense of an alcove. It wasn't an addition to the Parthenon, though; when it was first built, he was among the first gods that it was in honor of, mostly due to his being the brother of Shin. For reasons which any sane person could completely understand, his faith had never really caught on that much, but we had our small rooms. Lesser priests nodded as I entered, and slowly cleared out of the Room of Reverence so as to give me my privacy without my so much as speaking.

As the door ground shut, I procured my needles. Not all of the Aspect of Blood carried blood needles, but I had a full set. Cold iron, steel, jade, copper, silver, and gold, to be precise - if any being had a material weakness, I had a blood needle that would kill it. Presumably. I hadn't yet had the chance to kill many things less human than I was, but a well-guided needle through the heart or head would kill anything. Hopefully. Either way, I had an offering to make, and I used each needle to pierce assorted veins I could see through my skin. It didn't really matter where I did it, so I preferred to use my thigh. I needed my wrists and fingers to hold my weapons and shields, and blood did not help with grip. I kept myself busy by narrating my thoughts to myself as each needle slid in place, then threaded the needles with a small metal cord that worked fairly decently as a garrote.

In one smooth motion, I ripped the needles from my leg and watched as blood began to well up and flow. It burned - not with pain, but with power. My power, my blood; Mingan's power, Mingan's blood. They were one and the same - or at least, I bore his blood with mine. Hence my surname, Deustrages - God's Blood. Yes, I know it's pretentious. No, I didn't choose it myself. Wordlessly, I drew my short, rune-inscribed ritual ivory dagger from its sheath around my neck, put the  edge to the skin, and waited for the blood to flow onto it. When it had, I scraped the edge against my naked thigh, pooling my blood across the flat of the weapon. As usual for the ritual, the blood flowed towards the point, vanishing into the blade until only a single drop of crimson gleamed maliciously on the tip in a start contrast to the color of the blade.

I never did like the next part of the ritual. Fourteen years ago, Mingan gave me the dubious honor of a visit. With a single motion, he changed everything, broke everything. Everything but me - well, no. I simply put myself back together. Maybe it was a test, or maybe Mingan felt like doing what he did that day. I was stalling, and I knew it. In war, I didn't fear. Well, that's a lie. I do fear, but I control my fear. To fall in war is, was, and would always be an honor for anyone who worshiped Potraikos. Shin. Death. But here, alone in the were-light of the Room, I knew fear - not of death, but of an eternity of solitude, the fear of nothing.

I took a deep breath, then put both hands around the hilt of the dagger. I held my hands out, with the dagger pointed towards me, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and with the experience of years of practice, stabbed myself directly where my heart would be. There was no pain. No body, nothing but an nothingness solid enough to be perceivable, my mind shifting into my meditation.

I remembered Mingan's voice as a child, blue fire rippling across their bodies, telling me this was my nigredo, with his face like a raven. He told me he was giving me a wish in return for each of them he took, but that they were gone. Power, love, and family. It wasn't worth the cost. I remembered seeing that my eyes had turned from... whatever it was they were before they became every color. I remembered the years of training in the Campus Martia, my induction and oaths to the Army of the Republic under the silver eagle, when I had a cause to live for again - my albedo. I remembered my first summer bacchanal, and the blonde girl who my faerie godmother had found for my first time...

And then, suddenly, I was choking on beer. With a cough and a splutter, I opened my eyes to find the room halfway filled with beer, with me laying flat on my back, staring up at Mingan, who appeared to be drinking from a stein as he sat cross-legged on the surface, looking like a human for a change. There were times when I enjoyed being a follower - willing or not - of the chaos god. This was not one of those times, and I swam up to the surface and began to tread... beer.

"Hi, Zane. We need to talk."

I shivered. The last time I'd heard that tone, I'd been sitting in the Baths. Or at least, I had been until I suddenly found myself in the middle of a battle at our southern border, naked, in the middle of a tile bathtub, armed only with a scrubber on a stick and a bar of lavender-scented soap. I really hoped that this wouldn't be like that time, but unlike then, I was armed. I had not stopped carrying at least three weapons since that day, in fact, since failure to do so had ended with an involuntary sword in the lung and a nice big scar in front and back. Funny story, really.

"Well, I need to talk, you need to listen, and then ask questions if you don't understand anything. You, my darling little pawn, are going to the end of the world and cease to exist as such."

He waited. I waited. That could mean anything from "I'm going to turn you into a were-woman" to "I'm going to kill you" to "I'm going to give you an island paradise to live on in indolent luxury for the rest of your life."  For some entirely inconcievable reason, I suspected that it was closer to the second definition than to the third.

"Narissara is a lovely woman, by the way, and far, far more than she seems. You like her, don't you?"

"...no. I can't stand her. Arrogant, thinks that just because she was smart enough to become a Bodyweaver that she can use those... flashing eyes... and, and her smile that shows all of her teeth... and those wonderful- AUGH. This is your fault, isn't it?"

The god laughed at me. I hated being laughed at.

"I'm not the one in love with her, Zane, you are. Now, be quiet, I have exposition to deliver. Four hundred-odd years ago, my brother, my daughter and I used Chelan God-King's newly-appointed Defender of the Faith, Archduke Vernal, to kill Caribia, Lisse, and Oraith. Or, as you might know it, the War of the Gods."

I ground my teeth together. Every child had heard the story. You learned it in school, or picked it up from storytellers. I had a few first editions from the era, in fact. I had no idea why he was wasting my time with this little history lesson.

"Patience, Deustrages. What you don't know is that the Archduke has no loyalty to Chelan, and, in fact, hates him."

Well, then!

My jaw dropped, eyes going wide. I couldn't conceive of a situation when any god would elevate a person who hated him to be the official head of his cult, especially given that the Defender of the Faith embodied the Faith as the god's avatar. Well, maybe Mingan himself would, but to know that the King of the fucking Gods had done this was an utter shock. I struggled to articulate words, and after a few spluttering attempts, I shut my mouth and looked at him.

"Fascinating, isn't it?  Anyway, I have need of his services again. You, my child, are going to go find him and recruit him. Or kill him. Or get killed by him. It's up to you."

He had no right to call me his child. Renn did, Mingan didn't. I would take "child" over "pawn" any day. The former was just slightly less accurate and added to my reputation, while the latter was, unfortunately for me, the truth. Or perhaps fortunately - it was rather hard to tell, following a god like Mingan.

"Anything else?"

"Is there anything more you want, Zane?"

His tone was mocking. He knew the answer, but asked anyway, and knew that I'd reply like I always had.

"Family."

"I have better things to do than cater to your every whim, or to provide information to the many."

"...the many? Who are the many?"

"Who are you?"

He was gone. The beer wasn't. Short of drinking the entire room, there really wasn't a whole lot I could do about that without causing one hell of a mess. Well, looked like I was bound to get chewed out fairly soon. Which was okay - I had been chewed out before. One of the highest guiding principles of being a high priest of the Chaos god was the unofficial rule of "Obey whatever laws and orders help you, ignore whatever laws and orders hinder you." As would be expected, this did not endear me to the command. I'd seen my file, and had noted the word "insubordinate" written about eighty times. On the other hand, though, I commanded a Praetorian Century, I was still alive, and the men and women up top were not in a hurry to argue with success. Especially when I made sure to give them full, glowing credit for their valuable support in that anti-corruption scheme that had (likely) gotten me into this mess in the first place. There was more than one reason why I hated politics.

"...this is good beer," I commented wryly to nobody, then submerged myself, swam down, and opened the door. Beer rushed forth from the room to flood the rest of the alcove until it was knee deep. I sighed, turned around, and had my sword halfway drawn before I recognized Allen standing behind me.

"Stop doing that!"

"Zane, I've heard of drowning your sorrows, but this is ridiculous."

I had no idea how he did it. He was taller than Narissara was, and had a neck the size of my entire thigh, putting him heads and shoulders over most Roaken men. He was more like a midget fire giant than a human, stood out like a sore thumb, and you would never see him coming until he was right there. Seeing as how I was in a room with one door that had beer flowing out of it, which I was watching, I had no clue how he'd done it. I gave him a glare.

"Oh, you're no fun. Orders, sir?"

His face shifted, all trace of humor and personality gone as he stared down at me. I sighed and shook my head. He meant well, and it wasn't fair to take my frustrations out on him.

"...don't worry, Allen. It's just been a weird day."

The life restored itself to his eyes, and he slouched back, losing maybe an inch from his height as I ran my palm down my face and sighed, shaking my head from side to side as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Mingan tends to do that. Listen, I've arranged a schedule for tonight's entertainment, since you know absolutely nothing about it - there's chariot races, and you're sitting in the same section as the Consuls - though only Verginius Caeliomontanus is expected to show, as his favored aedile is putting on a show. You'll have ten minutes to reach the theater near your apartments - a highly under-rated foreign group is coming through for two nights only. You'll be a little late to my dinner party, but I'm sure I could convince the philosophers to debate until you show up to escort the lovely lady. And you had better change - dress uniform. No armor."

I blinked, then remembered that for some odd reason, people actually cared about how others chose to dress, and actually spent their money on owning several different items of clothing to wear. Which struck me as plain silly, but there you have it. I didn't have time for anything other than reading, training, magic, whores, sleeping, and drinking - the only things that mattered, as far as I was concerned. Fortunately for me, I'd been blessed by a thoroughly competent subordinate in Allen, and even though I admired his efficiency, it was a little disconcerting that my chosen one was a much, much better administrator than I was. Allen was a merchant's son who had my eye for details about people, only for politics and numbers. He saw patterns in everything and always seemed to be in the right place at the right time.  At the moment, though, I was just glad that he preferred the company of men to women, and I felt a little stab of jealousy even thinking about him possibly becoming more than casually interested in women when he saw Narissara. What spell had the woman cast on me? Ye gods.

"Mmmh."

"It has been a weird day, huh? Look, don't worry about it - whatever trouble comes up, you have Renn, you have me, and you have ninety-seven men willing to die for you at a moment's notice. You'll be fine - now, with all due respect, sir, move your ass. Your uniform is being brought to the barracks by one of our new recruits, and if you're fast, you'll have time to rinse, change, and make it back here in time to catch the conclusion of Narissara's lecture."

"Don't call me sir, I work for a living. Dismi- gods dammit, how does he keep doing that!?"

Gone again. Either way, he had a point, and I hustled. The crowd held me up, but I had time to get rid of the scent of beer and dress like a proper citizen-soldier instead of a drunken mercenary legionnaire.

Technically, I am a drunken mercenary legionnaire... eh.

Taking up a position against the curved wall, I made my way through the packed room with a minimal amount of jostling and minor pain hexes until I was to Narissara's left, just in front of the stage. After idly removing some hair and what appeared to be a peanut shell from my shoulder, I looked up at Narissara, admiring her profile as she spoke, not hearing a single word she spoke, with a damn goofy grin on my face that I couldn't hide no matter how hard I tried to look serious.

While it was certainly fascinating to watch the tip of Narissara's tongue caress the back of her bottom lip whenever she took a break from speaking, and no matter how many sparks I felt coming off of her, something nagged at me. Maybe it was what few memories I had before Mingan had claimed my life for his, or the stark impossibility of what he'd asked me to do. Or maybe I was just grumpy from hunger or had a vague sense that I was violating some obscure point of eittiquite. Either way, I eventually turned away from her and looked over the crowd, face serious as I thought about the past and the future, tapping my finger and thumb together again out of habit.

I barely remembered my mother's face. Her voice... that I remembered. She was a gifted singer, and she always used to sing lullabies to my older sister and I at night, no matter how much we protested. She always knew how much we appreciated it - come to think of it, I didn't remember much about my sister at all, aside from that I had one who was younger than me. And my father, I remembered his hands - big, thick, calloused, horny-knuckled, as suited to the plow as it was to affectionately tousle my hair - or smack my backside, depending. We were freemen and landowners - not much to brag about for a Denca, where every soldier was given a plot of land to keep with others of his squad, but I had always wished that I'd never grow up to be a farmer.

As it turned out, I got my wish. Late one night, I woke up to a cold, arcane blue flame dancing on the tightly-curled bodies of my family, slowly turning into a real fire as I watched, helpless. Mingan was there - in fact, he was the one who'd started the blaze. He had offered me a simple choice - whether he should take my life then, or if he would take my life in the form of service. Even then, I knew better than to argue with the god of unlife - it was better to be a living servant with at least the illusion of free will than an eternally unliving slave.  I might not be the sharpest sword in the armory of human intelligence, but my mother didn't raise any fools, either.

He had seemed impressed by my rapid choice to serve him alive, and had offered me three wishes - one per life. As much as I wanted my family back, I wouldn't want them back how he would return them, so I told him what I wanted: love, power, and a family of my own. So far, I had been given - or possibly grown into - a love for books, an incredible amount of sheer magical power, and an unstoppable, ruthless, calculating and ice-cold battletrance that had not only saved me, but apparently spread to any man - or woman  - who'd served under me.  Oh, right, and he'd also ripped my heart out, then poured his blood into the giant, gaping hole in my chest, making my blood flow without the proper organ to do it. It was not quite what I had expected, but, then again, Chaos god. It had worked decently so far, as far as it went. Oh, and of course, I had men and women willing to die at my words. It was a giddy power, a sacred trust, to know I had the lives men and women in my hands, and that they trusted me - or the strength of the armies of the Republic - to actually be responsible for those lives.

I smiled at that one, hearing Narissara lecturing about the potential benefits of smaller, stronger, more frequent doses of potions and tinctures and assorted whatnot I understood on the most basic of levels. I'd love to have her on the most basic- son of a bitch! I shook my head and looked back at the audience, again. Apparently, her occasional fumbles in Roaken were amusing to them.

Allen was technically correct when he said I had ninety-seven men willing to die for me. Women were not actually allowed to serve in the Roaken army, so any woman who enlisted was legally and temporarily declared a man. As far as I had seen, men tended to be physically stronger and more warlike in general than women. On the other hand, women were better with magic than most men and fought just as well even without the chest-pounding. Actually, the former had been proven - most of the legendary magic-users of the world were women, and one of our Emperors before the Roak Republic was a republic had tested twins with boys and girls - the women, even those without so much as a day of magical training, were almost universally more powerful than their brothers.

Not that possession of power - or strength - meant that one knew how to use it, mind you. All other things being equal, it is the smarter who beats the stronger. Anyway, at the moment, I had a little under half of my force as women, with the battlemages spread throughout the ten divisions  of my century. My personal division  had six women and three men - as the commander, I spent more time in the back of the lines than at the vanguard, and having a fully dedicated squadron of battlemages - and me - to throw their power behind any squadrons at a moment's notice had proven to be quite decisive.

I found that I was woolgathering, thinking about things I already knew about while staring directly at Narissara, watching the way she held her weight on her right leg, pushing her hips and the curve of her ass in a perfect profile for me to admire. Again. She hadn't hit me with any love spells, so I was forced to conclude that Mingan had done something to me. But, gods, what a woman! The lecture was winding down. Narissara looked serious, sounded like she knew what she was talking about, and somehow or another managed to keep the place quiet save for her voice, the occasional laughter and a few shouted out linguistic tips when she did that cute little pout... mmh-hmm.

Eventually, I'd gotten over my hazy, dizzy feelings when I looked at her, and had taken the time to study the audience. I wasn't much of one for socializing - or social situations at all, given how little of them I understood, but this was a tactical assessment of a battlefield, not an awkwardly polite dinner with accompanying philosophers.  Roak Val's four Bodyweavers were attending in the front row, occasionally taking down a line or two - the rest of the crowd seemed to be other healers who hadn't yet or would never qualify to be a full 'weaver, and a few alchemists and assorted lay priests. I could have sworn I had seen Allen sitting three rows back, dead center, but when I blinked, he was gone, his seat taken by someone with ridiculous-looking goggles and frizzy white hair. Interesting.

"-techniques and hints help you save at least one life. Thank you for your time... do questions have... er. If anyone has questions, I'll be near my escort."

I snapped back to reality as practically everyone there turned to look at me as she gestured towards me. I hadn't even known she had noticed me, but I guess she had seen me out of the corner of her big, pretty green eyes. Mindful of my reputation among the city, I touched my right index and middle finger to my forehead, just above my eyebrow, in a pseudo-salute and gave them my biggest, most charming "fuck you" grin. They started getting to their feet and otherwise not paying attention. It seemed my gesture was appropriate for the situation.

Narissara turned towards me, a confident little smile on her face, a spring to her step, and a sparkle to her eyes as she approached me. Mine? Not hardly. Maybe she was playing nice...

"Zane!"

I could practically taste the joy in her words, and it confused the ever-living hell out of me. This woman had basically taken my life and stood it on its head. First, she was cold, then she was nice, and now, from the way she spoke to me, apparently she... I was lost for words, and the rest of the world slipped away as we walked towards each other nice and slow, watching each others bodies move. At least, I could feel the heat in it, and my breath sped up as my blood raced through me. We stopped, inches from each other. She reached out and put her right hand on my chest, and looked down into my eyes as I looked up into hers, as we looked into each other. I didn't know how to describe what I saw, what I felt. Burning, vividly alive, thrilled, lustful, hopeful of having my wish come true and terrified of her even more. I felt alone, but alone with her. It was weak but strong... it confused me, intrigued me, and sent shivers through me. I'd never felt anything like this before, but whatever it was, I could see in her face, in her soul, that she felt it too.

"Zane...?"

"Narissara...?"

We stared at each other for a timeless moment, both of us stepping closer and our faces growing closer, her tongue running over her lips-

"Bodyweaver Dairana, your audience has questions for you."

Our moment shattered, and we took a few steps back from each other, a blush rising to her cheeks as I shifted my stance slightly. The Bodyweaver - I didn't recognize him, so he was probably the private Bodyweaver of our tribunes - took Narissara by the upper arm and gently steered her towards the eager crowd. Still, though, as she went, she turned to look at me, looking slightly regretful on top of her eyes promising that we'd continue what we had started later, when both of us were more... alone. He tugged at her arm a bit more, and she sighed, standing still. He kept trying to pull her, but when he realized that there was no way he could possibly move her, he turned around and opened his mouth, but before he could so much as get a word in edgewise, she'd already grabbed his arm with her left and squeezed. Judging by the smell of adrenaline and the look on his face, it hurt him to the point of scaring the pretentious little bastard.

"Stop. Touching. Me."

I blinked again. Her tone was cold steel, and she jerked away from him, letting me see exactly how pissed off she was. It was pretty intimidating - apparently, she'd spent a lot of time looking at herself in a full-length mirror and practicing. Everything about her - from the angle of her head slightly to the side and up to catch the flash of the green inferno of her eyes, the way she curled her upper lip, and-

"And you! Centurion Deustrages! Get out of here - you've already caused enough... bad, and I need you no - rrgh. I don't need you!" she growled at me, giving me a personalized glare that screamed blame, dislike, a sliver of pity, an ocean of emerald anger, but most of all, contempt. Eyes widening, I stepped back as I raised up my hands, trying my best not to let my shock show.

"...I'll wait outside, then."

What the actual fuck just happened?

"Shoo!"

She flicked her wrist at me and turned away, Mouth slightly open by the sudden, abrupt change from loving to bitch, I turned and walked out too, shaking my head.

Etiquette.

Women.

I didn't understand them at all. Well, no - my women. Men. Son of a bitch. After passing out from Eyilana's alcove, I moved to the side of the door and slowly, lightly hit my forehead against the wall a few time as I took one long breath and sigh. I got along well enough with my women. Of course, my women were either either soldiers I commanded, assorted widows with fortunes or daughters, and a few of the Tokee "priestesses" - or, as I preferred to refer to them as, "expensive whores." As I continued to vent my frustrations at impossible fucking women being fucking crazy and stupid rules of society like clothes, politeness, and lying, a sudden warm whisper came to my ears.

"My little one."

This wasn't quite the time I had expected my faerie godmother to show up, but now was a good of a time as any. The best woman in my life could help me with the craziest one. No, second craziest one. The fey had a different version of the word sanity than most people did, and the Duchess Vernal and I had many long nights discussing the finer points of magic, wanton slaughter, and how intriguing it was to watch two women have sex. Going to my Unseelie faerie godmother for relationship advice was probably not the strangest thing that was going to happen to me today.

I am so fucked.
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #4 on: February 05, 2015, 02:49:45 am »

Act 5 - Narissara
I mentioned how I hated Roaken, right? If I haven't, just assume I have. At this moment, I especially hated it because out of the entire audience, four Bodyweavers included, approximately six people were listening, and only two of them were my peers. The rest appeared to be engaging in buisness, politics, or something else that involved money circulating. I also didn't have my stupid tenses right, and I couldn't get Zane out of my head, so that didn't help my credibility either, but it wasn't my job to give speeches, it was my job to save lives. Murder was more of a hobby of mine, but I was seriously considering making it a full-time profession, starting with my alleged audience.

"I hope that these techniques and ideas help you save at least one life. Thank you for your time... do questions have any you? Wait, shit. I'm sorry, Roaken is not first language. If anyone has questions, I'll be near my escort."

I pointed at Zane. I hadn't noticed him, but I suppose I was too busy translating and curbing impulses to commit justifiable homicide. I looked at him, he looked at me like I was the center of the universe, and I fell in love with him.

"Zane?"

"Narissara?"

I put my hand on his chest, and was slightly surprised to not feel a heartbeat. I licked my lips, stepped a little closer to him, and was caught entirely off guard by a polite cough and one of the Bodyweavers saying something about questions. Mollified by the reaction I'd had out of nowhere, I blushed and stepped back. The other fellow decided to take me by the arm, and having none of that, I stood my ground, grabbed his arm, sunk my pointed fingernails a quarter-inch into his fleshand firmly ordered him to take his hands off of me. He almost didn't, until I clenched just a bit harder and he noticed the blood. I gave him a sweet smile, healed the wounds perfectly, and made sure my smile communicated the fact that I was hungry and he smelled like prey. He backed down.

"And you! Centurion Deustrages! Get out of here. We've already caused enough... bad, and I need you no. Arrgh. I don't need you here!"

He looked hurt, and I gave him a look.

"I'll, uh, wait outside, I guess."

"Shoo." I told him lightly, touching his arm and gesturing him away. He wandered off with his tail between his legs, looking like a sad puppy. To be fair, he did deserve it, but I wouldn't bother to correct him unless he bothered to find out why he deserved it. I turned back to the audience, most of whom had noticed that they no longer had to almost pretend to pay attention, and then fielded a few questions from the Bodyweavers and their assistants.

I won't bore you with the technical details, but the Keldaani Bodyweavers were divided in their opinion. This shouldn't come as much of a surprise to you, or anyone, but I was a member of the New School. Instead of focusing on the mysteries of the past, we sought to question the ways. Don't get me wrong, I can certainly respect tradition when it works, and discovering some of what was lost before the War of the Gods would be discussed for decades if not centuries, but we couldn't do what we always did because we always did. In this case, I pushed for taking a series of small steps in a shorter period of time while increasing the energy expenditure of the physicker, contrary to the prevailing theories. Proponents of the Old School argued that it allowed for more people to be treated, while we argued that it was more effective to triage and treat fully. That, at least, was the official reason I was here. There were maybe a few hundred of us in this fraternity who were outside of the Islands of the Gods; I was here to present our theses.

Scrub that, I suppose.

Zane wandered back in the midde of an argument. It wasn't going anywhere, and after exchanging a few more polite insincerities, I looked at him, annoyed.

"Strages. I'm sure you think you have to do something you doesn't know about to impress me. Do you know how- mmmmh."

I shook my head, annoyed at the language barrier, and strode outside, not really giving a damn if he followed or not. I didn't hear him following, but after about ten minutes of being lost, I looked to the West and squinted.

"Am I seeing something, or is some idiot on top of the Mage Towers? Gods above... imagine the view from up there."

I sighed. I needed a drink. Seeing a likely-looking place to start, I started walking that direction when Zane suddenly fell out of the sky in front of me, bounced off the ground, did an undignified roll into a garbage can, sprung up, brushed himself off, and demanded to know where I was going. I had to admit, accidental hilarity aside, I was almost impressed. I looked at the Mage Towers and the sunset, realized that the idiot was Zane, raised my eyebrows, and looked at him.

"That's none of your business. Why are you here, Deustrages?"

"It is my business; I'm your bodyguard."

I twitched, waiting for the joke, and then relaxed when he didn't make it. He had a pretty face, I would almost had regretted the necesity of rearranging it. I sighed, shook my head, decided that while he was an idiot, he was a charmingly persistent and subtle idiot, and I could work with that.

"Do you speak Common, Deustrages?"

He grinned at me.

"My friends call me Zane."

I jerked my head for him to follow, and he did.

"Look... Zane. I don't like this country. I don't like the attitude. It's hard enough that I'm not from here, but look at me. I'm one of the best damn healers in the world, and yet the other ones - those who should know perfectly well that they don't name people Bodyweavers unless they fucking well deserve it - look at me and see a woman who forgot her place. And Gods only know how much money changed hands in the audience while I talked. How many secrets sold. I hate this place."

"But-"

"But women can serve in the military, and machines need grease to run, and that makes it okay. Only they can't, because they get declared men, because women can't fight and your stupid fucking government can't even sign a fucking document without a bribe, so it doesn't even work!"

"I don't hold your being a woman against-"

"Don't you even start, soldier boy. I know you're attracted to me, but not enough to put any effort out to get me."

Okay, that really wasn't fair, but it was. There was some flirting, but he was a bit self-centered. Yes, I am aware of the irony, thank you very much. He clearly understood what I meant to say, because he gave a weak chuckle.

"You were right, Narissara. I did have something all fancy planned for us, because my friend told me it was a good idea. Wear clothes, go to the races and enjoy the company of one of our tribunes and some of the more important patricians. And then putting on different clothes to see people in fancy clothes pretending to be someone else, based on what clothes they're wearing. Oh, and then, putting on different clothes, and going to a 'formal dinner' that seems to revolve around politely turning down food people put special effort into preparing and serving, not eating food they had someone go to an effort to prepare to be eaten, and listening to people in 'formal' oversized towels talk angrily to each other about things nobody really understands but them, while we decide which of them is saying things that make the most sense."

I laughed. I hated formal dinners. Formal outfits were certainly enjoyable, and I liked knowing what the modern fashions were, but I would never let that get between me and a perfectly good meal. Maybe I could get drunk enough to understand the philosophers?

"Sounds utterly, deeply boring, Zane. What else?"

"We're supposed to be sober for these events."

I flung my hands up in the air.

"No. I am absolutely not going to tolerate this. I come from a small little farm village where we grew rice, raised oxen, fished in the sea, and talked about dirt and waves. And we have our own ways of dealing with too much day at the end of work, which is more or less my only fond memory of the place. Let's go to some of these taverns I've read so much about, we get drunk, and see if I can put up with this shit better with a few sheets to the wind. How about that, mmmh?"

That got a real laugh out of him. Finally, we were speaking the same language! After he assessed me for a few moments, he tilted his head to the side and asked

"Are you sure you want to go to the taverns?"

"Yes. Absolutely. What's the matter, soldier boy, can't hold your booze?"

He looked indignant.

"Bitch, please, I will drink you under the table."

I laughed, doubling over and smacking my thigh a few times. This wine-swilling soldier thought he could outdrink a Sashong peasant sailor girl? HA!

"Why, that sounds like a challenge, Zane. Do you think your friends will mind if we show up drunk?"

"Yes, they'll mind."

"Good! Then, as your employer, I'm ordering you to come to the tavern with me. To keep my body safe, of course."

Yes, I'm allowed to make the joke, shut up.

"And, as it's quite rude to not  drink with a lady, you're going to drink with me. And pay the bill."

"As your ever-so-devoted retainer, lady, I think it only sporting that the loser should pay both her way and mine."

"Fair enough, but I hope you have enough money to pay."

"We'll see, crazy lady. We'll see."

I smiled inscrutably.
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #5 on: February 05, 2015, 02:53:19 am »

Act 6 - Zane

I turned around to see the Archduchess standing there. She had a big grin on her face, her tri-colored eyes gleaming with amusement, her short, vivid red hair in thick spikes. What  most got my attention, though, was an emerald pendant that dropped down to a sparkling almost-transparent cerulean and silver dress that started most of the way down her breasts and ended less than two inches below her ass that she was barely wearing. And those boots - snakeskin, going up to mid-thigh, leaving a few inches of her sun-kissed thighs uncovered. As usual, she'd worn clothes that matched her eyes, and that somehow managed to conceal her perfect body and yet leave absolutely no doubt as to how exquisite it was or what it looked like without the clothes. And I did mean perfect - Narissara had a nice body, but it was human - a belly, big hips,  those calluses I'd seen, one of her front teeth was pushed just a little forward- augh! I had to stop thinking about Narissara like that.

Anyway, the Duchess Vernal was perfect, beautiful, utterly female - not a single flaw, not a single hair out of place, every last move, expression, gesture, and word rehearsed and planned with hundreds of years of intimate practice, even though she was quite possibly the most masculine-featured and muscular woman I had ever seen. It was almost disturbing to me, but then again, she was like family.

Rephrase: completely disturbing.  Looked too human to be human. Ye gods. I tapped my thumb and finger together again, rapidly.

"Something's wrong, isn't it? Talk to me, baby."

Her voice was deep and like honey, and I grinned back at her reluctantly.

"There's a priestess woman. Built sort of like you, only... more curvy, shorter, not as well built. And lighter-skinned. She's driving me crazy."

"In which way?"

Her eyes sparkled merrily at me. The funny thing was, she wasn't even using much of her glamour, and none of it was aimed at me. She just... sparkled, naturally. All fey did, and it made my brain hurt to be afraid of something that sparkled and shined. There was something profoundly wrong with the whole concept.

"She's crazy. First, she's this arrogant, pushy woman. Then she starts being friendly enough to me, and... we nearly kissed just now. But then she just totally went cold and pushed me away."

The Duchess didn't seem to buy it, and she stepped closer to me, taking my face in her long, inhumanly soft-yet-firm hands as she looked directly into my eyes, boring in. This time, I could feel the glamour - she wasn't going to force me to be completely honest, but she knew very well I wasn't giving her the whole story.

"Zane, we're family. You can tell me anything."

I did. After I had finished, she arched an eyebrow and pinched my cheeks, laughing a bit more.

"Oh, you're so helpless it's cute sometimes. Of course she likes you, my darling idiot boy; surely you don't need me to teach you how to please a woman."

She chuckled, as did I. No, the two of us hadn't, although she certainly hadn't made any attempt to hide the fact that she would if I didn't happen to be her faerie godson with serious, serious issues about how wrong that would be.

"But why was she so... If she likes me, why doesn't she just say it?"

The faerie sighed, smiling a little.

"So, she's coming to a city she hasn't been in before, in a language she's halfway competent at, and finds that her personal bodyguard is an attractive, powerful, and good-looking man. The problem is, he's a different religion, and she usually feels about as much emotion as, say... oh, let's go with a knife."

I frowned. That wasn't anything I'd mentioned, or guessed. Maybe she knew Narissara?

"And he's being a jerk about it - you have the manners of a lunatic - so she tries to find something in common with him. He starts being less of a jerk, she starts liking him more. Then his friend just happens to show up and make an ass of himself for her escort's benefit. And she's not stupid, so she's going to wonder if you did it deliberately. She goes away to do a lecture, giving him a biiiig hint that she wants him to be there. Then, he just doesn't show for most of it, then shows up late just to give her hope he wasn't a total fuckup - and then spends more time eying her like a piece of meat than listening to her. Do you know how that makes her feel?"

Somehow or another, this had turned into a lecture, and I was feeling extremely stupid. This was one reason why I didn't socialize outside of the army much - all these rules about what to say, when to say it, what to look at, how to look at it, and different ways to cover it up.

"Uh, no?"

"Of course not. Angry, sort of flattered, insecure. Oh, and hurt, a little stupid, and embarrassed. And proud, a little vengeful. Most of which, aside from "angry" and "proud" are mostly new. Maybe he had a woman to visit, or maybe he just wanted her for her body. After all, he didn't care enough to escort her there. Then, she goes to embarrass him by calling attention to his negligence, and he somehow doesn't get called on it, which pisses her off. But maybe he's just a little shy, or figured it out late, or sacrificed basic skill for awesome training, and hey, maybe she was just over-reacting, because SUDDEN ILLOGICAL EMOTIONS. And then she saw the way he looked at her, they got close, and then she got dragged away and he refused to stand up for her, and what would people think of her now that she almost kissed him in front of them..."

She went on for a bit longer, then stopped and looked at me again seriously.

"Did any of that get through to you? Say something, love."

"Oh."

"And what are you going to do about this?"

"I guess you want me to apologize?"

"No, I want you to do what you think is best. Wash your hands of her and request a transfer. Go back and apologize for being a jerk and try to get in her robes. Go back, refuse to apologize, just do your job to the best of your abilities, and write her off as being more insane than attractive. I'm not telling you what to do, baby, I'm asking you what you, as an adult, are going to do about this hole you dug yourself into."

I thought about it for a second.

"Any advice?"

The Duchess looked amused.

"A philosopher once said that from the deepest desires often come from the deadliest hate," she told me enigmatically, then winked at me. "I think you've already decided, and I have to get back to my work, love."

She gave me a kiss on the forehead, then walked slowly and gracefully out of the Parthenon, drawing attention as she went. I could practically see the smirk on her face. It was rather unfortunate for me that the Duchess Vernal was extremely familiar with the Archduke Vernal - part of me suspected they were married. If faeries COULD get married, I had no idea. Orgies and marriage seemed rather... impractical, for lack of a better term. The task was for me to find the Archduke, so as ridiculously easy as it would have been to simply ask her to carry the message on, or to just somehow magic me there, or had her doing anything that would make it easy, it would mean that she was doing it. Unless it was asked as a bargain, which was a bad idea, and if not, it would not technically be me finding him and asking him. It was generally not a good idea to try to rules-lawyer the Chaos God, so I was left speechless with the profound inability to do the stupidly obvious.

I returned inside and stood by the door, arms crossed. Narissara seemed to still be chatting with a group of people, and when she spotted me, she leaned her weight on one side to just slightly brush the side of her breast against the shoulder of the man next to her, almost-but-not-quite meeting my eyes. Even though I knew she was just trying to make me jealous, I still felt a pit of sick anger at my stomach at the thought of someone else having her. Maybe I wouldn't apologize after all. They didn't speak for much longer, and I could tell from the tick in her jaw and her not looking at me at all that she was still furious. It was sort of appealing to see how she looked, but I could even feel the thick air between us. She came to my side, a few feet away, then looked at me and did that pout again.

"Deustrages. I'm sure you're the kind of man who would plan some... fancy, clean... thing he doesn't know about to impress me. Do you know how- mmmmh."

She shook her head, and it was clear she wasn't exactly thrilled with what Allen had planned, although I didn't know how she knew it. He wasn't the type to be divided in his loyalties - he was far too meticulous to complicate his life, even if he'd get an advantage from turning on someone and would not only get away with it, but have a parade thrown in his honor for betraying the poor son-of-a-bitch. Or at least, I thought so. Maybe... whatever, she knew, it wasn't worth my time to wonder about it, as she was taking long, fast strides towards the exit. I followed her out the door, out of the Parthenon, and down several streets before I realized she was trying to ditch me. I broke into a jog, and after a few more minutes and several turns, I finally caught up to her - she hadn't looked back once. I raised my hand and almost immediately remembered that poor bastard she'd gripped. He should have had a bruise-

Wait, hold that thought. I fell back a distance and kept shadowing her, reviewing the scene in my mind once again.

Judging by the smell of adrenaline and the look on his face, it hurt him to the point of scaring the pretentious little bastard.

"Stop. Touching. Me."

I blinked again. Her tone was cold steel, and she jerked away from him, letting me see exactly how pissed off she was. It was pretty intimidating - apparently, she'd spent a lot of time looking at herself in a full-length mirror and practicing. Everything about her - from the angle of her head slightly to the side and up to catch the flash of the green inferno of her eyes, the way she curled her upper lip, and the way her tongue moved and her jaw did. And I could sense that she'd drawn blood, and see the bruise on his arm shaped like her hand, but it was already fading as I turned to look at her.

"Ye gods... what am I getting myself into?"

Ehehe, into. But, there was no time for jokes, I had a crazy probably-not-human bitch whose body I was supposed to be guarding who was currently getting fucking lost in a city she'd never been in before, apparently headed right for the slums that had one of the entrances to the Undercity. With a smirk coming on my face, I looked back towards the Parthenon and the Mage's Towers floating above them. I knew the scent of her blood, I had felt her soul, and I knew the city like the back of my hand. Most importantly, however, I really wanted to jump off of an extremely tall building.

Five minutes later, I was climbing my way to the top of one of the towers, the topmost of the intricate bridges connecting the two hundreds of feet below me. It wasn't an easy climb, and the assorted rods and whatnot on the top shot up even higher than where I could stand. There was actually room for about four people, if they were comfortable with heights and the cold. And winds. I didn't bring many people up here, given that most people didn't want to risk dying from a very long fall. Apparently it was bad manners to endanger someone's life on a first date?

Narissara would probably love it. I wonder what she'd think of the view.

As I pulled myself onto the flat top, I laid there for a minute, just breathing. It took me a little time to get used to the feeling of the air, especially after the way I'd climbed. Finally, I rose to my feet and pulled out two blood vials from one of the many secret, padded compartments in my formal wear. Just because I was looking nice was no reason to not have at least a little bit of armor, several weapons, and at least thirty vials of my own blood. I flicked my wrists and the blood flew out, then hovered in midair, just on the edge of my aura, sort of glowing in the sun. It was awfully clear up here.

"Where is she?"

The blood formed into the figure of a bird, whirled into the air, and vanished as the vials hit the roof, bouncing and rolling across the top. I kneeled and grabbed one that was about to roll off the edge, then picked up the second one from behind me before putting them back where they belonged. As I straightened up, I closed my eyes, held out my arms, and thought about her. Images flashed before me, and I felt a yanking on my soul to my left.

With a big, big, smartass grin on my face, I tossed out another three vials and kept a hold of them, feeling the magic flowing through my veins. I took a few steps back, got low into a sprinter's stance, then ran right towards the edge and took a giant leap of faith in her direction. I took a certain pride in my approach to blood magic - focus really hard on what you want, then throw your power at it until it worked. Some may have called it brute force; I called it efficiency. My hair whipped in the wind as I curved up into the air, then harder as I plummeted down and forward closer to her, the ground rushing and my blood rushing through me - I'd learned that gravity was an extremely harsh mistress at a young age, and my commanding officer at the time had refused to quickly heal the bones I'd broken in my arm. Nor did he have any sympathy for my injuries, and took great delight in having me go around to every last man with a big, steaming hot potful of soup for them all. Since then, I had taken the time to ensure that I could partially exempt myself from the laws of the physical universe. Malu wouldn't tolerate anything that bent his laws for too long, but there was some wiggle room here and there. Not a whole lot. It varied.

Judging by the fact that I was falling more downwards than forwards at this point, I was pretty sure that this was not going to be my best landing. On the other hand- wow, the ground was getting close, real fast. I brought my knees up and my hands up, looking for a landing spot. By the coincidences of magic, it looked like I'd get up to my feet about a half a foot away from Narissara, who very obviously did not see me coming, given - oh, she was looking at me with a very confus- I hit the ground rolling, and sprung to my feet in front of her. A bit further than I had guessed, since she'd stopped moving.

"Where are you going?"

Oops, it came out a little bit less in a concerned tone and more of a petty one. Fuck it.

"...that's none of your business. Why are you here, Deustrages?"

"It is my business; I'm your bodyguard."

Narissara looked upset and twitched her eyebrow, then sighed.

"Do you speak Common, Deustrages?"

I smiled, and replied to her in said language.

"My friends call me Zane."

She looked a little less stressed, then indicated with a jerk of her head to follow her off the side of the road. I did, and she took a step closer to me and spoke back in Common, much more fluently. Still accented, but maybe this was her second language.

"Look... Zane. I don't like this country, or their attitude. It's hard enough that I'm not from here, but look at me. I'm one of the best damn healers in the world, and yet the other ones - those who should know perfectly well that they don't name people Bodyweavers unless they fucking well deserve it - look at me and see a woman who forgot her place. And Gods only know how much money changed hands in the audience while I talked. How many secrets sold. I hate this place."

"But-"

"But women can serve in the military, and machines need grease to run, and that makes it okay. Only they can't, because they get declared men, because women can't fight and your stupid fucking government can't even sign a fucking document without a bribe, so it doesn't even work!"

I wasn't quite sure if she was angry at me, or in general. True, her words said one thing, but maybe this was one of those manners things?

"I don't hold your being a woman against-"

"Don't you even start, soldier boy. I know you're attracted to me, but not enough to put any effort out to get me."

There was silence for a minute. Personally, I thought jumping off of a tall building and flying halfway across the city constituted putting out effort, but then again, what did I know?

"You were right, Narissara. I did have something all fancy planned for us, because my friend told me it was a good idea. Wear clothes, go to the races and enjoy the company of one of our tribunes and some of the more important patricians. And then putting on different clothes to see people in fancy clothes pretending to be someone else, based on what clothes they're wearing. Oh, and then, putting on different clothes, and going to a 'formal dinner' that seems to revolve around politely turning down food people put special effort into preparing and serving, not eating food they had someone go to an effort to prepare to be eaten, and listening to people in 'formal' oversized towels talk angrily to each other about things nobody really understands but them, while we decide which of them is saying things that make the most sense."

She let out a half-laugh.

"Sounds utterly, deeply boring, Zane. What else?"

Well, at least she's not totally pissed at me anymore.  Maybe she realized that jumping off of a building was effort?

"We're supposed to be sober for these events."

"Okay, no, I am absolutely not going to tolerate this. See, I come from a small little farm village where we grew rice, raised oxen, and talked about dirt. And we have our own ways of dealing with too much day at the end of work, which is more or less my only fond memory of the place. Let's go to some of these taverns I've read so much about, we get drunk, and see if I can put up with this shit better with a few sheets to the wind. How about that, mmmh?"

I laughed in an extremely pleased and surprised manner, and so did she. Well, hers was less surprised and more amused at my expense. Apparently, I'd been forgiven, so I guess I hadn't had to apologize after all. Good thing... and it was a good sign that she liked to drink. Still, I wasn't quite sure it was a good idea. Robes like that meant you had money, meant you'd get some bravos trying to shake you down for it at swordpoint. Or down the barrel of a flintlock. Likely both.

"Are you sure you want to go to the taverns?"

"Yes. Absolutely. What's the matter, soldier boy, can't hold your booze?"

This time, it sounded like a pet name instead of a derogative. Well, sort of both - hey, she was giving me shit about my drinking?

"Bitch, please, I will drink you under the table."

She laughed, doubling over and smacking her thigh a few times. When she came up, still laughing at me, I could see that her anger had blown away. Or at least, hidden itself under a pleasant facade - I still didn't entirely trust her and wasn't quite sure whether or not this smile was one of those socially acceptable lies or not.

"Why, that sounds like a challenge, Zane. Do you think your friends will mind if we show up drunk?"

I didn't hesitate to answer. Would Allen have issues if both of us showed up reeking of wine and clearly drunk, making a mess of everything? HA!

"Yes, they'll mind."

"Good! Then, as your employer, I'm ordering you to come to the tavern with me. To keep my body safe, of course." She winked at me. "And, as it's quite rude to not drink with a lady, you're going to drink with me. And pay the bill."

"As your ever-so-devoted retainer, lady, I think it only sporting that the loser should pay both her way and mine."

"Fair enough, but I hope you have enough money to pay."

"We'll see, crazy lady. We'll see."

She offered me her arm, I took it after a second of figuring out what the gesture meant, and we set off.
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #6 on: February 05, 2015, 02:58:18 am »

Act 7 is later, and it's from the perspective of Ross.

I was tempted to have Allen be a narrator character, but it's not the right time yet.
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #7 on: February 07, 2015, 08:03:13 pm »

Act 7 - Rhoslyn

Hello, reader. I'm Ross, usually. The rest of the time I'm Rhos, but sometimes I'm someone else. Not the Author, though; I'd quite like to kick him in the shin particularly hard under the table a few times at the party I'd throw in his honor.

I can't smile at you from the pages of a book, but imagine it. I wouldn't know, but I imagine you mortals would feel some sense of unease in knowing that somewhere in their mind, a possibly insane person exists only as an arrogantly friendly disembodied grin. I must admit, I am tempted to let you imagine me from how the others describe me, but what good would that do? Zane, my darling godchild, is a young man of simple lusts and would describe my outstanding physical beauty (and quite possibly his reverential horrorterror of me); Narissara, perhaps, would see me less for who or what I appear to be, but would limit herself to describing my power and the aesthetic pleasure of my physical appearance, possibly with an eye for the exquisitely tasteful and expensive garments I chose to decorate my body with.

Why am I going on about this instead of getting to the story, you ask, with assorted other secondary questions? I'll answer the first one; you figure out the others,

Appearances are important.

Perhaps labels would help you? Personally, I am a connoisseur of boredom. Being an immortal faerie wizard-lord has its downsides, although they're fewer and more annoying than you'd imagine. (Try it someday, I'd highly recommend it.) What else? I'm a stubborn child-of-a-bitch, a realistic optimist, told the Gods in great detail all of the potential locations they could shove the burden of Godhood they tried to shackle me with and suggested seventeen different alternatives as to the manner in which they could do so. Aside from that, I adore children, I'm a master carpenter, a decent guitar player, a damned good cook, and I like to fight. Oh, yes, and I'm also the Erlking. You know, Spring, the season? That's me. I may or may not be sorry about your allergies, depending on my mood and how much I like you. And I do mean Spring.  Your universe's Spring, mine, everywhere. It used to be my mother, who is a true Unseelie, but I proved myself more fit to be Spring. I look forward to my eldest daughter deciding to prove her worth to the Alder Throne and the Wild Hunt. If she survives, she'll make an excellent Erlking.

I'm shiny. I like shiny, especially expensive shiny. I usually choose to have red-black hair, and sun-kissed Unseelie golden tan skin. My eyes are always emerald, cerulean, and silver, and my physical form tends to be a solid combination of muscle and fat. A lot of people tell me I have too many teeth, but for some reason, nobody who has tried to count has survived the attempt. I stopped encouraging people to try after the first fifty years; there's only so many ways you can hear people going violently insane before you get bored and file it under "useful information."

I have many intricate tattoos and sigils covering my body from ankle to neck, some of which I did personally, and they move around as they please. On my front right hip is a red (No, more vivid and closer to blood, thank you) heart with the names of my three daughters and four sons in black and silver, all of whom I am immensely proud of; on the back right hip is the mirror image in black and silver with the names of the three people I most held dear, the other parents of my children. None of them are alive, and although I know it's not my fault, I can't help but feel I am responsible anyway.

So when I felt Zane hurting, even from a distance, I decided on a whim to help. I appeared on the edge of his awareness, basked briefly in the attention of the mortals admiring the female form I'd chosen, and strutted my way towards the young demigod I'd taken under my branches, who was disconsolately banging his forehead against a wall. I wondered for a moment whether the skull or the wall was thicker, then dismissed the thought and cleared my throat.

"My little one, something's wrong, isn't it? Talk to me, Godchild."

He looked back at me, and I grinned warmly at him.

"There's a priestess woman. Built sort of like you, only... more curvy, shorter, not as well built. And lighter-skinned. She's driving me crazy."

He certainly made some interesting hand gestures there to describe her, and I was both slightly impressed by her voluptuousness and amused by the way she'd tied a knot around him.

"In which way?" I asked sweetly, knowing full well what it was. I sparkled cheerfully at him.

"She's crazy. First, she's this arrogant, pushy woman. Then she starts being friendly enough to me, and... we nearly kissed just now. But then she just totally went cold and pushed me away."

I raised my eyebrows, stepped close to him, and grabbed him by the head. I was halfway tempted to shake it and see if there were any thoughts rattling around in there, or if the blood flow to his nethers had impaired the flow to his brain.

"Zane, we're family. You can tell me anything."

I quietly added a loving and affectionate "you  idiot" to that sentence, and shined at him affectionately.

He told me the story, and I had to admit, I was actually intrigued. She was possibly worthy of him. I'd had hopes for my youngest daughter Saren and Zane, but it looked like Narissara Dairana was going to move in a decade ahead of plan. Maybe their kids and my grandkids; my son Wesley and his wife Lillian were expecting soon. I had absolutely no idea what their kids would look like, since Wesley's mother was a Rabbitkin named Delia and Lillian was a Felikind and human mix, and I had no desire to bend time a little to see how adorably destructive  they turned out.

(For your sake, I hope your future hypothetical children, or current children, aren't telekinetically potent enough to fly or magically inclined enough to start throwing pretty fireballs around. If they are, I have both sympathies and an extremely powerful wand for you, if you're good enough to find me.)

I pinched Zane's cheeks. He was cute when he was in love.

"Oh, you're so helpless it's cute sometimes. Of course she actually likes you, my darling idiot boy; surely you don't need me to teach you how to please a woman. You've been to enough Court functions by now."

I chuckled and he did too. I'd invited him to at least one formal Audience at least once per year starting when he was thirteen and Summer had a new Titania from the Seelie branch of House Destali, distantly related to the Vernals; by now he'd attended at least twenty.

"But why was she so... If she likes me, why doesn't she just say it?"

I explained to him in great detail why he was an idiot.

"Did any of that get through to you? Say something, love."

"Oh."

"And what are you going to do about this?"

"I guess you want me to apologize?"

I sparkled maliciously at him and tried really hard to not roll my eyes. I raised a finger and started ticking off points.

"No, I want you to do what you think is best. Wash your hands of her and request a transfer. Or go back and apologize for trying to fuck her. Go back and do your job, assuming she is more insane by your standards than she is attractive by your even pickier standards. I'm not telling you what to do, baby, I'm asking you what you're going to do about this hole you dug yourself into, dolt."

He thought about it for a moment. See, he was learning!

"Any advice?"

"A philosopher once said that from the deepest desires often come from the deadliest hate," I quipped at him, and watched him try to figure it out. I winked, gave him a kiss goodbye,  then walked slowly and gracefully out of the Parthenon, feasting on the attention. One of these days, I'd have to appear to him in a male form; while it certainly was still amusing that Zane truly did not understand the enormity, magnitude, or scope of my existence, it was getting old fast. (Bonus points to those of you reading this who know the actual definitions of those words; even more bonus points to those of you who understand why I'm using the words correctly.)

I rounded the corner and shifted glamour and blood; the Duchess Rhos Vernal vanished and the Archduke Rhoslyn Vernal appeared. From the top of the Parthenon, a raven crowed, then swooped down at me. I watched the Knight appear in a rush of feathers and long, black hair, and returned her salute before gesturing her to fall in. As long as I was in Roak Val, I had work to do and a puzzle to solve.

When nobody was looking, I bent reality a little and sat in on Narissara's lecture, looking like a professor-mechanic from Woodwynne County, complete with the brass clockwork magnifiers. The best way to avoid notice was to be noticed and filed in a box; Zane didn't even look at me twice.  I took lots of notes, in case you're curious. Even the most arrogant old faerie wizard lord sociopaths could learn new tricks. It seems the Author wants me to get back to the story, so I'll let you chew on that one for a while. Until next time.
« Last Edit: February 07, 2015, 08:09:07 pm by Ross Vernal »
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #8 on: February 08, 2015, 06:34:21 pm »

Act 8 - Zane

Most of the good bars weren't in the city, but in the fenced in, almost-safe part of the Undercity. I didn't mean fancy. Those were too clean. You needed to find one that was sensibly dirty, but with a clean kitchen, good food, and excellent bread. Good bread was really important, as was a good hearth. It needed to be somewhat seedy, in case you wanted to gamble or knock someone around, but not the kind where someone wouldn't even do the courtesy of having a drink before stabbing some poor fellow.  Naturally, I'd found one, and sensibly bought the owner by teaching his family how to read and write, as well as tipping generously. It was a pleasant client relationship, where all involved enjoyed profiting from a quiet, sociable association without the burdens of feigned friendship. We'd never even bothered to exchange names, and liked it that way.

In order to get there, we had to backtrack a little to the nearest entrance to the Undercity. After striding into the building and taking the first left downstairs, followed by a left and a right, I slid aside the fake wall panel to reveal a small crawlway. Narissara sniffed at me, but gestured for me to go through first. After a moment of wiggling, the passage opened, although Narissara had to duck a little.

This particular entrance wasn't convenient for entering, given that we had to go down a lot further, but it came out close to what was probably the original Campus Martia and its forbidding, alien architecture. There was a particularly bad curse on the area - most of the people who lived nearby had large tumors, and anyone who went in long enough died of either burns or wasting. I didn't understand why it affected hair; seemed to be a particular bit of pointless cruelty if you asked me. I had asked Mingan; he suggested in no uncertain terms that I get no closer than where I stood now unless I felt inefficiently suicidal.

I didn't mention this to Narissara.

We quickly moved down the stairs, out the broken glass-and-metal door, and uphill, which would reveal the size of the Undercity. The highest of the buildings nearly scraped the foundations of the City above, and here and there, bars and bulbs of light burned in the darkness to contrast the torches and hung light spells. Narissara gasped audibly.

"I knew it was big, but I didn't know it was this big!"

You always remembered your first visit. The view was, hopefully, not the best part of the visit. We kept moving, and talked as we walked.

"This is only the part that's safe. Ish. The gangs and the Coranthiian chapters maintain order in the streets while fighting each other and what comes from the outside. The Hedonists spend a lot of time here... so do your people. Protectors, I mean; not many Illenites have the... uhm..."

I tapped my finger and thumb together while I thought.

"Heart?" Narissara guessed, tongue in the corner of her lip.

"No. Yes... no. Sort of."

I shifted.

"You know Roaken politics."

"Hm?"

"You understand how the golden rule operates, correct?"

"Those with the gold, make the rules?"

"Exactly."

"Say no more. I really could use that drink about now."

We fell silent for a while, which is to say she didn't say anything and I didn't know how to reply. Eventually, we came to my place, the Red Eagle. It had pleasantly dingy, solid brownstone walls with very few bloodstains and no graffiti, a red curved light depicting an eagle that almost worked half the time (this was one of those times), a doorframe with a thick faded purple rug tapestry thingie behind it, an interestingly notched and bloodstained bar stool with its occupant missing, and, most importantly, the smell of fresh bread overwhelming the background odors of garbage, waste, and stale death. I watched Narissara take in the image for a few moments,  and a burly mustached fellow with beady eyes, a soft voice, and a big thick bit of hard, black-varnished wood with bands of metal wrapped around it and bent nails sticking through at odd angles appeared around the corner. I gave him a friendly nod and an even friendlier denari, then pointed at the places he'd concealed the rest of his arsenal.

The owner grunted and held open the door hanging. Paying no mind to the ancient dust and soot coming off of it, I entered with Narissara at my side. As usual, the daughter (I really didn't know which, or how he and his wife told them apart) waved us to my favorite table, put a half-burned candle in a chipped red glass on the table, and left us with a jug of water, two smoothly polished stone glasses and several bottles of light golden-white wine. I sniffed the contents of the bottle, enjoying the grape-lavender aroma and the sharp pungency of the alcohol, moved the cups back from the candle, and carefully poured the cups two-thirds full before watering them down.

"You don't need to put water in mine, Zane."

I looked around. The daughter was away, nobody else was paying attention.

"Have you ever heard the saying 'when in Roak, do as the Roaken', Nari?"

She smiled and raised her glass, acknowledging the point, then took a drink and raised her eyebrows.

"We are going to get some of that bread I smell, right? And fish? Good wine."

"Flatbread, garum, olives, cheese, and cabbage... Mice, too, at least to start."

She gave me a very eloquent look, almost surprised.

"You're not serious. Mice?"

"Haven't you ever had a roasted mouse? It's a Roaken delicacy; they make an excellent salsa here, too."

"You're cute, soldier boy."

A wise man once said nothing. I'm not a wise man, but I can look like one, so I just smiled and watched the son, who took after his father, set out olive oil and flatbread for us, as well as a dish stacked high with roasted dormice, a smaller bowl of red vinegar garum, and a small saucer with a  honey mustard white vinegar sauce in it. I loved it. I didn't even have to order - they knew me well enough by now. Narissara gave me another look, shook her head and smiled, then started eating. I'd halfway expected her to be dainty and mannerful while eating, but she dug in without a care, although she somehow managed to avoid spilling a drop. She watched me watch her lick her fingers clean, and I'm honestly not sure which of us was more amused.

What I really liked is that she didn't bother with the small talk while eating. I don't mean speaking with your mouth full, I meant that she shut up and focused her attention on the food the way it was meant to be enjoyed. The family made an excellent seabream with asparagus, and had acceptable oysters that apoligized for their quality by their quantity. We spent most of that meal getting steadily drunker, more full, and looking in each other's eyes and making awkward  but sincere grins at each other, not a word spoken. After enough time had passed that our candle was replaced by another, the light and dry wine bottles had been replaced by heavy sweet wine, and we were both pleasantly full and cheerfully dizzy.

Narissara idly toyed around with an olive, chasing it around the plate with the point of her nail as she sipped at the wine. I didn't remember when we stopped watering it, decided that probably wasn't a good thing, and leaned forward.

"I hope you enjoyed that, Nari."

She gave me a slow, lazy smile and rested her hand on the table, palm up. I wasn't sure I was drunk enough to do what I thought that meant, so I took a drink.

"So, soldier boy. What was that book you were holding when we first met?"

I blushed in my ears.

"Uhm... it's poetry, actually. A collection from about a hundred years ago. It has work in it that's not by the fancy patronized poets. There's a fascinating bit an Earth elemental wrote, although I'm fairly certain it was written in stone and the translation is missing subtle nuances."

For once, I'd taken her by surprise. She blinked, and spoke after a moment of thinking.

"There's a man with eyes like broken glass; reads old poetry and has a really nice ass."

Oh, I liked that smile. And the compliment, too.We locked eyes and leaned in; I decided I was drunk enough to put my hand in hers. She squeezed.

"A woman with eyes like the finest of jewels; the swing of her hips turns men into fools."

"He's certainly strange and curiously subtle; I've never seen someone flirt with a rebuttal."

"She's definitely dangerous and wickedly wise; soft pink lips and lovely long thighs."

Narissara laughed at that one and leaned back, although she didn't let go of my hand.

"Soldier boy, I think you're drunk."

"No kidding, Nari?"

"I think I'm drunk, too."

"I'm not sure. Do you still hate it here?"

"Yes. Are you still capable of sweet and endearingly bad poetry?"

"I've never been capable of good poetry, as far as I'm aware."

"Then neither of us are drunk enough. Let's drink until I like it here and we both sing bawdy songs off-key, hmm?"

I kissed her.

She kissed me back, and I'm not sure what else happened, because the next thing I remember, we were somewhere entirely different in the city, Narissara had obtained a bottle of some particularly nice (read: strong and syrupy rotgut) brandy, and both of us were reciting dirty poetry to each other as I helped boost her over the back wall of Allen's garden.  Not that she needed it; I think she just wanted the excuse.

THUMP

"Ares ya kay?" I asked.

"Doan ya know cats allays landon feet? Cmon, soljer boy."

I climbed the wall and landed beside her in the shadows, then carefully made our way towards the handy table with our objective - expensive fancy wine. We almost made it before I saw Allen looking away from me. I snuck up on him and poked him in the ribs; he nearly jumped out of his toga and glared at me.

"Ya know how longga wanted to do that, Allen?"

He rolled his eyes. He had it coming, he really did. To the side of me, Narissara was pilfering wine. Allen sighed, looked at my legs, laughed a little bit, then looked at me before moving between Narissara and the wine.

"I'm not sure whose idea it was, but drink some water tonight. Go home, you're both drunk, please don't take that bottle, you'd like this one more, thank you very much. How did you get in? Oh, nevermind. Be safe, you two."

That... was quite possibly the most polite way I'd even been kicked out.

"I like yer friends. Takeame home, soljer boy."

"Doancha have a place in the Pardenon?"

She swatted my butt and pretended to glare at me.

"Doan ask stupid queshuns."

Well, who was I to argue?

We went home, managing to not be too loud getting in. Narissara kicked off her sandals almost as soon as she entered, and proceeded to examine my apartment methodically. I didn't decorate much - you know, table, chair, light. I had a few icons up, a nice set of crystalware, and a beautiful red-orange bit of glass made to look like a flame. Aside from that, all of my money went to, well, I told you earlier.

"I smell books," Narissara announced, and walked into the library, swinging the bottle Allen had recommended. After accidentally clipping the door frame with it, she examined the contents, broke the seal, and drank deep before passing me the bottle. I matched her drink, and then followed her in the library to find her delightfully naked in front of me, beckoning me closer with a pointed finger and glowing in the moonlight.

I took a few steps closer, then paused.

"Yer drunk. Dun think it's right."

She took the bottle from my hand, then wagged the neck at me before drinking.

"As are you. Soldier boy." She then made a *very* delightful suggestion as to how I could finish the bottle, mostly involving a lot of tongue.

"I - well, yes, of course. Absolutely. Just... Important. Are you sure?"

She took a step closer, reached down, and did something very distracting and enjoyable.

"Does that answer your question?"

It certainly did, and I nodded, not trusting myself to articulate words. She let go, smirked at me, took one last drink, and then poured the wine straight down for me to drink. I don't think I'll ever forget red wine and pale skin by the moonlight; taking her braid down and the scent of her hair; that book falling on my head in the middle and us laughing so hard we had to stop and ended up reading out loud to each other; the way her thumbs dug right in and left me like putty; or that happy half-asleep pulling someone close, them snuggling you, and falling back asleep.
« Last Edit: February 08, 2015, 06:49:26 pm by Ross Vernal »
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #9 on: February 08, 2015, 08:08:13 pm »

Act 9 - Narissara

Zane had nice shoulders, too. As it turned out, he knew a faster way to the Undercity, although he apologized to me about the height. I didn't mind it so much; if I'd wanted to be shorter, I would have been.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Red Eagle. Good solid peasant food. The bread is to kill for."

I didn't know if the Roaken verb for "to die" could also mean "to kill", but I supposed that made more sense to kill for something than the other way around. He opened up a wall to reveal a crawlspace, and crawled right in, wriggling pleasantly. Since he wasn't looking back at me, I shifted my proportions slightly to fit through, then returned to my preferred form. While shapeshifters didn't need to be proportional to their true body, it was much more efficient to be of similar composition, height, and the like when in a shifted body. I enjoyed my appearance, flaws and all, and made no bones about exactly how little I cared what other people thought about my beauty.

I brushed his hand with mine. He didn't take it, although he did point up and forward as we climbed. I looked up and didn't see anything for a moment, until my brain processed just how far underground we were.

"I knew it was big, but I didn't know it was this big!"

The tallest building there was either in the City's foundation in sewage, or had just missed it. Zane gestured around, pointing out some barricades and checkpoints staffed by groups whose mutual distrust was obvious from their clumps. As I watched, some large toadlike thing approached one of the gates; the mob sent it on its way with a hail of arrows and screaming which I vaguely heard echoes of.

"This is only the part that's safe. Ish. The gangs and the Coranthiian chapters maintain order in the streets while fighting each other and what comes from the outside. The Hedonists spend a lot of time here... so do your people. Protectors, I mean; not many Illenites have the... uhm..."

"Heart?" I asked, tilting my head sideways.

"No. Yes... no. Sort of. You know Roaken politics."

"Hm?"

"You understand how the golden rule operates, correct?"

"Those with the gold, make the rules?"

I liked that rule more when I had the gold, actually.

"Exactly."

"Say no more. I really could use that drink about now," I replied, shaking my head. Zane didn't say anything for a while until the scent of garlic bread drifted tantalizingly close to us. I heard Zane's stomach rumbling as we turned.

I could see why it was called the Red Eagle; the sign was a hint. The man who came around with a big stick had a nose like an eagle and a giant soup-strainer mustache, and had at least half a dozen weapons that I could see from the way his clothes were angled. Zane passed him a coin and took the time to make a few suggestions as to where the man could put the knife that wouldn't be so obvious. Hawkface actually seemed to listen, then grunted and held open the moldy old carpet covering the door. I smelled roasting meat and spices, then followed Zane in. The wine was on the table practically before we sat, as well as a pitcher of water. He opened one bottle, then moved it away from the fire. I didn't blame him.

"You don't need to put water in mine, Zane."

He looked around.

"Have you ever heard the saying 'when in Roak, do as the Roaken', Nari?"

He finished pouring, and I raised the glass in acknowledgement of his point and his respecting what I told him about my name.

"We are going to get some of that bread I smell, right? And fish? Good wine."

"Flatbread, garum, olives, cheese, and cabbage... Mice, too, at least to start."

I looked at him sharply. How in Darshendros's seventh purple hell did he figure out I was a Rakasha?

"You're not serious. Mice?"

"Haven't you ever had a roasted mouse? It's a Roaken delicacy; they make an excellent salsa here, too."

"You're cute, soldier boy," I told him.

He gave me an amused grin as a miniature of Hawkface put a platter with roasted mice, some kind of fish sauce, the bread, some oil, and a mustard-and-honey sauce out in front of us. I looked at Zane again and shook my head. Subtle, like I said. After eating my fill of it, I tilted my head down a little and slowly licked my fingers clean. Zane's eyes nearly popped out of his head when I started, and I watched him watch me with some amusement. After the rest of our meal arrived - which included some excellent regional fish in a cheese-and-pepper sauce, oysters, and pomegranates, we ate in blessed silence, pausing only to give our senses time to appreciate each other and the meal. Somewhere around the second bottle, we stopped watering it down, and a while after that, they brought some fruity red thick enough to chew on. I could taste pomegranates again.

Zane leaned forward.

"I hope you enjoyed that, Nari."

I grinned languorously at him and put my hand out.

"So, soldier boy. What was that book you were holding when we first met?"

He blushed so hard his ears turned red.

"Uhm... ah, I'm not sure... It's poetry, actually, from about a hundred years ago. It, ah.. that's not by the fancy patronized poets of the time. There's a fascinating bit an adventurer elemental wrote about the nature of the Mountains, although it's not a good translation. Ink on paper instead of chisel in stone."
He rubbed the back of his neck, and I widened my eyes. I wouldn't have expected it out of him. Maybe a nice military history, or geography. But poetry? Mmmmh. I liked Zane more now.

"There's a man with eyes like broken glass; reads old poetry and has a really nice ass," I quipped at him. He took my hand and rubbed his thumb against mine; I squeezed it tighter.

"A woman with eyes like the finest of jewels; the swing of her hips turns men into fools."

I was flattered a bit. Eyes and jewels was a little overplayed as a technique, but the mirroring of my form and the return of the compliment was very artful.

"He's certainly strange and curiously subtle; I've never seen someone flirt with a rebuttal."

He tapped his index finger against my hand, smirked back at me, and replied.

"She's definitely dangerous and wickedly wise; soft pink lips and lovely long thighs,"

I laughed at that one. Now that, that was a genuine compliment there. Several of him.

"Soldier boy, I think you're drunk."

"No kidding, Nari?"

I reflected for a few minutes.

"I think I'm a little drunk, too."

"I'm not sure. Do you still hate it here?"

Good question. I thought about it.

"Yes. Are you still capable of sweet and endearingly bad poetry?"

"I've never been capable of good poetry, as far as I'm aware," he deadpanned back, giving me a wink. I smiled to let him know that he certainly was.

"Then neither of us are drunk enough. Let's drink until I like it here and we both sing bawdy songs off-key, hmm?"

I'm not sure what set him off, but he kissed me hard, his other hand briefly rubbing my ear. I kissed him back, and after a few moments, he leaned back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

I kissed him and kicked him under the table, then called for more wine. At some point, we drank the wine. I could tell, because I had cleverly replaced it with some brandy I'd liberated from somewhere, and we were also no longer in the Undercity. After taking a final drink and throwing the bottle to shatter on the wall, I turned to Zane.

"Ya sure we can do this?"

"Why the hell not?"

I agreed. Good logic.

"Gimme a boost up."

I turned around and put his hands on my hips. He took the hint and helped himself, and I scooted over the wall, landing almost gracefully on a tree, followed by losing my balance and falling on my butt.

Zane asked how I was; I told him cats always landed on their feet, and discreetly dusted myself off before he landed near me. I strode confidently to the alcohol before a light came on in Zane's eyes and he took off to goose the biggest guy in the area. Idiot.

"Ya know how longga wanted to do that, Allen?"

Oh, so that mountain of a man was Allen? His... oh, minion, of some sort. Tall and broad, more so than me, but not by much.

"I'm not sure whose idea it was, but drink some water tonight. Go home, you're both drunk."

He stepped between me and the wine, gave me a friendly smile, and noticed I was wavering between two kinds.

"Please don't take that bottle, it's turned to vinegar. You'd like this one more, thank you very much. How did you two get in?"

I pointed at the tree.

"Oh, never mind. Be safe, you two."

He walked us to the door. I liked him; smart enough to tell we're drunk, discreet enough to tell we're capable of walking.

"I like your friends. Take me home, Zane." I told him, voice like honey.

"Doancha have a place in the Pardenon?"

I smacked him in the butt and told him not to be stupid. The "Oh!" light went off, and we went back to his home hand in hand. As soon as he'd finished unlocking his magical protections (well done, by the way; not only did he have the spells to monitor the spells to monitor the spells, but had done a subtle witchcraft to know if someone had changed anything) I took off my uncomfortable sandals, glanced at my foot to be sure I wasn't about to blister, then set about investigating his den. Simple but good taste - nice glassware, clean tile floors, and a fine bit of Rya Meng candleglass from before the War of the Gods. I examined it - Third Dynasty? Very subtle, very good taste. I straightened up and took a deep breath.

"I smell books!"

I nearly ran into the wall in my eagerness, smacked the bottle a good one, and then took a drink. I passed the bottle to Zane, walked into his library, paused for a minute, and then slipped out of my robe and turned to look at Zane, who looked rather as though he'd died and gone to heaven. I beckoned him closer with one finger. He took a few dazed steps closer, then paused.

"Yer drunk. Dun think it's right."

"Oh, I like you. You're drunk too, soldier boy."

I took another drink, almost offered it back, and then inquired if he'd be less shy if I spilled wine down my front and asked him to lick it up. He tried to speak a few times, stuttered, and asked again if I was sure. Considerate of him. I stepped forward, reached down, and grabbed him firmly.

"Does that answer your question, Zane?"

He nodded, I poured, and he was very skilled with his tongue. Somewhere in the night, we found another bottle. Somewhere in the middle of things, my head hit a bookshelf accidentally, and a dozen books fell everywhere, including a good thick tome that made a very satisfying clonk off his head. We couldn't stop laughing and had to stop for a while; I let him take down my braid and play with my hair for a while. In return, I gave him a good, solid rubdown from the neck to the ankles, and curled up next to him. He smelled nice, was very warm, very solid, and between that and the expanse of soft fur covering his floors, I got the first good night's sleep I'd had in a long time.
« Last Edit: February 08, 2015, 08:10:33 pm by Ross Vernal »
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #10 on: February 09, 2015, 12:37:55 am »

Act 10 - Zane

I woke up and immediately closed my eyes, head throbbing. I remembered enough of last night to know that I didn't know if I wanted to remember more or forget it entirely. I must have groaned, because Narissara yawned to reveal her long canines, rolled over, and glanced down.

"Good morning. Is this for me?"

"Not so loud, please," I requested. "Also, yes."

"Oh, good. Did you like it when I-"

"Zane Deustrages, I told you before not to- oh."

I grabbed a book and strategically positioned it, standing up in a hurry. Nari yawned, then rose to her feet, hair providing her the same impression of modesty the book gave me. Unconcerned by the grandmotherly matron who owned the complex, she stood up and looked at the old bat, brushing a few stray hairs out of her face.

"Good morning, grandmother. Are you well?" She gave a polite bow and I watched. Where, exactly, where my clothes? I shifted the book a little and smiled weakly. Down, boy.

"Well enough, young lady. Is this what it looks like?"

Narissara laughed.

"I couldn't possibly begin to answer your question. What exactly does it look like, pray tell?" Wow, I hadn't known it was possible to hide a threat in such polite terms. "I'll have you know that my soldier man here pressed his suit last night and I told him yes."

The world stopped, not literally.

"I don't see a ring."

"The decision was, erm, quite... spontaneous. Zane is very subtle, I almost didn't realize what he was asking at first. I don't think he did, either."

Nari gave me a look, clearly saying "say something, damn you." On the positive side, I had a lot less to cover up with the book now.

"Uhm. I love you?"

I smiled again, made as if to hug her, then accidentally hit myself with the book trying to cover myself back up. I sat down in a hurry and tried not to moan. If this kept up much longer, I'd find out if one could literally die of embarrassment, or if it just made you wish very much you could. She rolled her eyes as I realized that at least part of me was being honest.

"I love you too."

I wasn't sure how she could say one thing and mean the other, although the surprised look on her face told me she had just realized part of her meant it, too.
"Love at first sight, eh? You two remind me of me and my husband. You know, he was a Praetorian like you, Zane... I'll be back."

She left, and Narissara and I looked at each other.

"Did I actually...?"

"Well, technically, yes, but not by your standards. I didn't think you meant it that way."

"Would you, though?"

Wait.

What?!

I was spared from her answering by the old woman coming back in with a box. I didn't know where this was going, but I had a strange feeling that I also knew exactly where it was going and kinda wanted it to. My blood was rushing, and I tapped my finger and thumb together nervously.

"I know how long it took Zane to buy that candleglass he has up front. While I don't always approve of what he does, he's a good man, and in important things, I trust his judgement. I think he'll make you happy, as long as you slap the stupid out of him every now and again. I won't ask if he makes you happy in other ways; I believe everyone in this building knows by now that he does."

As it turned out, embarrassment wasn't fatal, not even while literally bare assed. I tapped my finger and thumb together four times, wondering if that sense of calm, smug satisfaction was the last line of defense.

"So, since he can't..."

Oh, no.

"...then I'll give this to you on his behalf."

Oh, no.

I made a vague croaking sound as she presented a beautiful silver and jade ring to Narissara, who was opening and closing her mouth and licking her lips.

"I... I don't know what to say, Grandmother."

"Well, try it on before you say anything, young lady."

Narissara did. She made a squeaky noise when it fit, then looked at it, at the landlady, at me, out the window, back at the ring, then back to me.

"Zane?"

"Narissara?"

"That question you asked me? Yes."

Time stopped. Not literally. Well, maybe it did, I wasn't sure. I made another incoherent sound, blinked, wiped my eye, and looked at my landlady.

"I... bwuh. Thank you."

I received an indulgent smile in return before she left. Narissara looked back at me.

"Breathe, lover."

I exhaled.

"You mean it? Like, for real, you really mean it?"

"Yes, breathing is important when you're alive."

"Not that, I mean-"

"I know what you mean. Yes, lover, I meant it."

"Uhm. I don't mean to question your judgement, or, uhm... me... but why?"

Narissara kissed me. I kissed her back, and we were just about getting to what we had tried to start when my landlady walked back in on us. I nearly threw a book at her head.

"So tell me, how did you two meet?"

Nari and I exchanged awkward glances. At the same time, we both said, "You tell her."

After a duration of time that felt infinite that was probably about a half an hour, she left. I looked at Narissara again.

"After we finish, would you like to jump off of a really tall building?"

She gave me another smile.

"Lock your door this time, lover."

I did, and so did we. After obtaining clothes, eggs, some watered wine, more bread, some sharp cheese, and a few pears, we walked through the City and towards the bottom of the Mage Towers, which were suspended and hovering far off the ground. Fortunately for those of us who weren't capable fliers, the formulas for a teleport were worked out for weeks in advance. Teleporting was not at all common - you either needed an incredible amount of Wizardly power and will, or to work out some very complicated mathematical equations in order to ensure that all of you reached your exact destination. I had read about the potential fatal consequences, and had decided I didn't want the last thing I saw to be the planet flying away from me as I briefly suffocated and froze.
As usual, the teleport worked. Unlike usual, we'd ended up with our feet on the surface of the disc; I was used to being anywhere from an inch to five feet off the ground, depending on the microformulas used by the person working the spell. After flipping a coin to the attendant as a courtesy, I lead Narissara to the central spire and took the stairs up to the top storage. The door was only double-warded - a spell on the door and a spell to watch the spell, but there wasn't anything watching that spell, and I'd already replaced it with my own that would do the same thing the other had, except for that it wouldn't report when I bypassed the first.
We sat down on the edge, feet dangling off the edge into oblivion, with our food in arm's reach behind us.

"It really is a nice view up here."

"You can see the ocean from here, you know? Sunsets are beautiful."

After passing her a pear, I continued.

"So, Nari... why are you really here?"

She took a bite. It was a particularly juicy pear.

"I'm surprised you don't know, lover. I told you the official reason and the personal reason already; how much of the real reason do I have to tell you?"

"All of it, preferably? All you feel comfortable telling me."

"Those are two entirely different answers. Which do you prefer?"

I wasn't sure how to answer the question, so I shrugged.

"I trust you."

We ate in silence for a while. I watched the wind blow her hair around, and took a sip of watered wine to help me wake up a little. The sun was warm, but the air was cold this high up, and a little bit of alcohol would be the perfect perk-up.

"There's a Chaos temple under the city.  No, not the one Cassiopia knows about; this one is deep, deep in the Undercity. There are objects of great power, one of which in particular I want."

"Oh?"

"The Hide Armor of Amras."

I looked at her.

"I'm not sure you need it. You're already quite powerful."

"Coming from an Elder Mage like you, that means something."

"Wild Mage, please. I'm aware of the distinction, but intelligence and experience trumps strength."

"Mmmh."

"Do you happen to know what a Praetorian does?"

"You're soldier bodyguards for the Consuls on pay and a half."

"Uh, allow me to rephrase. Do you know what *else* a Praetorian does?"

"No, but I'm sure you can't wait to tell me."

I nudged her with my shoulder.

"Some of us have certain skills and abilities that are extremely useful for specific situations."

She nodded, hearing what I didn't say because of the way I didn't say it.

"My century handles things from the Undercity. I thought you knew that. I thought it was why you-"

"I didn't. Zane, neither you and I are good at this in-love thing. I don't have the words to begin to explain why, any more than I could explain why the sun rises in the East. I like you, I find you aesthetically pleasing, adore you as a lover, and I respect you. As long as we have those in common and are willing to work at it..."

She trailed off. I kissed her in response, and we finished our breakfast before linking power and taking a flying leap off of the Mage Tower. Together, we almost had enough power to reach the ocean, although we fell short a few blocks. We held hands down to the beach, and sat on the pier watching fishermen and oyster farmers.

"How soon would you like to go adventuring, Narissara?" I asked as the sun grew near mid-day. She looked back at me.

"No time like the present. How long does your century need to prepare, soldier man?'

"Make it two hours. Would you care to meet outside the Parthenon after lunch?"

"Make it 'for lunch', please."

"Alright. Would you like for me to walk you there now, or can you find your own way back?"

"Meet you there, soldier man."

We kissed again, and I took off to gather the forces.
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #11 on: February 09, 2015, 02:57:29 pm »

Act 11 - Narissara

I heard something that sounded vaguely like cursing the gods, yawned, and rolled over. Zane was half-awake, eyes closed to slits as he held up his hand. I rolled over and glanced down his body, then back up to him.

"Good morning. Is this all for me?"

Zane grumbled a bit more, then nodded at me, eyes opening a bit as it sunk in. I smirked at him.

"So you liked the thing with-"

"Zane Deustrages, I told you before not to- oh."

Zane jumped to his feet and positioned a book in front of himself. I slowly turned over, yawned, and rose to my feet, brushing a few strands out of my sight and blinking a few times. I had no doubt this woman knew what a female body looked like and I had nothing to hide.

"Good morning, grandmother. Are you well?" I asked, giving her a slight bow. I heard paper rustling behind me and didn't smile.

"Well enough, young lady. Is this what it looks like?"

I laughed at that. I knew exactly what she was implying, and although I was a bit insulted by that, I had to admire how politely she asked.

"I couldn't *possibly* begin to answer your question. What, exactly, does it look like, pray tell? I'll have you know that my soldier man here pressed his suit last night and I told him yes."

When in doubt, improvise. He technically had done so with the mice, but I didn't think he meant it that way. Hell, maybe he did; casting a side glance to Zane, I could see very well that he didn't.

"I don't see a ring."

Yes, and I don't see one on your finger either, but I'm not about to accuse you of prostitution. I bared my teeth at her.

"The decision was, erm, quite... spontaneous. Zane is very subtle, I almost didn't realize what he was asking at first. I don't think he did, either."

I looked at Zane, half apologetically and half 'This is at least half your fault, do something."

"Uhm. I love you?" he asked, sounding surprised and surprisingly sincere. He stepped closer to me and made as if to hug me, noticed exactly what he was exposing to his landlady, then facepalmed, accidentally slammed the book directly into his crotch, and staggered over to the bookcase before sliding down and sitting on the floor, shaking slightly and trying not to tear up. If it were anyone else, I would have pointed and laughed; since it wasn't, I gave him a sympathetic roll of the eyes.

"I love you too."

I blinked a few times when my words cut through the pounding in my head and realized I was being at least partially honest there.

"Love at first sight, eh? You two remind me of me and my husband. You know, he was a Praetorian like you, Zane... I'll be back."

She left. I looked at Zane, who gave me a quizzical raise of his eyebrows, shifted and groaned, then looked back at me.

"Did I actually... you know?"

"Well, technically, yes, but not by your standards. I didn't think you meant it that way."

"Would you, though?"

What!?

Before I could even go from "Did I just get accidentally proposed to?" into "Of course I would, idiot", the silver-haired old woman came back in, earrings flashing in the light. I looked, decided it was cheap glass and paste, and wondered if I could get something similar in silver and blue topaz. In her hands was a slightly aged wood box, and my heart sped up a bit. Zane did his little tic a few times, and the woman cleared her throat.

"I know how long it took Zane to buy that candleglass he has up front, and although he's a bit of an idiot, I think he'll make you happy, as long as you slap the stupid out of him every now and again. I won't ask if he makes you happy in other ways; I believe everyone in this building knows by now that he does."

I coughed and looked away, embarrassed. Zane looked mortified and also kind of smug; I made a note to see how loud I could make him as payback.

"So, since he can't afford it right now, then I'll give this to you on his behalf."

She opened the box, and my heart leapt somewhere up around my throat as I saw the ring in there. It wasn't particularly adorned, a simple token of jade and silver with a marquise piercing on the side of a modest little diamond in the center. The old lady looked at me, I looked back, and there was a whole conversation in that simple exchange of glances. Zane made a odd clicking noise and mumbled something; both of us ignored him.

"I... I don't know what to say, Grandmother."

She winked at me, gave a smile that almost brightened the room a little more, and told me to try it on. I did, it fit, and after holding it up to the light, I looked at the woman again. She gave me a little nod, so I turned to Zane.

"Zane?"

"Narissara?"

"What you just asked me? The answer is yes."

I was reasonably certain that the tears in his eyes were joy, mixed with a bit of lingering pain from the awkward fumble earlier. Why not? Zane was fun, there was passion, and it was something new and interesting. Besides, I hadn't felt the sparks from anyone else in at least twenty years.

Zane mumbled something, his landlady tousled his hair, and he turned an interesting shade of purple as she left.

"Breathe, lover butt."

Zane did a few times.

"You mean it? Like, for real, you really mean it?"

I smiled at him.

"Yes, breathing is important when you're alive."

"Not that, I mean-"

"I know what you mean. Yes, lover, I meant it."

"Uhm. I don't mean to question your judgement, or, uhm... me... but why?"

I knelt down and kissed him in response. He kissed me back and started moving down from there; I felt tingling down my back as he kissed my neck, then froze as I heard the old woman entering the damn room again. Zane reached for one of the books we'd knocked over last night, and I put my hand on his before he could throw it at her. I grinned as I felt the cool metal of the ring between his skin and mine.

"So tell me, how did you two meet?"

Zane and I looked at each other.

"You tell her," we chorused. After an extended interrogation, she left, and Zane looked at me again.

"After we finish, would you like to jump off of a really tall building?"

"Lock your door this time, lover, and put a rug between the frame and the door. I'm gonna make you scream my name."

I did.

After lingering in each other's arms, basking in the glow and the sun, we slowly got up, washed off, and dressed each other, mostly as an excuse to touch each other and laugh a lot. He went to the communal kitchen and liberated us some breakfast, and we set out towards the Mage Towers. After a mildly nauseating short-range Transport up in the tower, Zane lead me on a roundabout way to the top floor, looked around, and then entered a room. The security spells were weak, and Zane had already replaced the spellwatch with his own, better version. Subtle, wasn't it?

After going through a trap door and out onto the roof, I grabbed hold of the closest spire. The Tower wasn't steady in the air; it rose and fell, tilted slightly in the brisk wind, and occasionally vibrated and groaned. I drew my robe a little tighter and took off my sandals, then made my way to the edge and looked out at the city of Roak Val.

"It really is a nice view up here," I admitted, looking around at the rings of the city.

Zane pointed East at the ocean barely visible in the distance.

"You should see the sunset from up here. It's... wonderful."

He took out a pair of pears, tossed me one, and took a big bite of his. I watched the juice run down his chin and neck, and briefly considered jumping his bones again. Maybe not here, thinking about it.

"So, Nari... why are you really here?"

I took a bite and looked at him.

"I'm surprised you don't know, lover. I told you the official reason and the personal reason already; how much of the real reason do I have to tell you?"

"All of it, preferably? All you feel comfortable telling me."

"Those are two entirely different answers. Which do you prefer?"

Zane shrugged.

"I trust you."

I had to think about it for a moment as we ate. If we really were going to do the friends and lovers thing on a permanent, exclusive basis, then we had to be honest with each other in everything. It was the only way it would work. Not to say I'd give all my secrets away; part of the fun was in finding out.

"There's a Chaos temple under the city.  No, not the one your vampire priest Cassiopia Bloodkissed knows about; this one is deep, deep in the Undercity. There are Artifacts and magical objects, one of which in particular I want."

"Oh?"

"The Hide Armor of Amras."

He gave me a serious and considering look. Everyone knew about it - Amras was one of the Great Wizards, second only to the Meeryn and possibly the Erlking. He was a shapeshifter, and had spent at least a decade creating the Hide. Allegedly, it was used not only as a focus for mystical powers, but was also a incredibly powerful transmutation device that helped shifters unlock the genetic potential of their ancestors.

"I'm not sure you need it. You're already quite powerful."

"Coming from an Elder Mage like you, that means something."

"Wild Mage, please. I'm aware of the distinction, but intelligence and experience trumps strength."

"Mmmh."

I didn't disagree with his philosophy, but I did disagree with his definition. Power wasn't just 'given', whatever Zane thought; it was earned. If he didn't feel comfortable claiming to be equal in power to the least of Wizards, Saints, Maesters, or, oh, Bodyweavers, then I wouldn't insist on it until I felt he needed to let go of his illusions. Appearances were important, after all.

"Do you happen to know what a Praetorian does?" he asked suddenly.

"You're soldier bodyguards for the Consuls and Tribunes on pay and a half, mostly."

"Yeeessss. Uhm, ah... allow me to rephrase. Do you know what *else* a Praetorian does?"

"No, but I'm sure you can't wait to tell me."

He sighed and bumped me slightly. Of course I had to sass him, and I expected it back.

"Some of us have certain skills and abilities that are extremely useful for specific situations."

I nodded at that, understanding what he meant. Sometimes, in politics, you needed someone dead, a distraction, to get something from someone else, all kinds of things. Made perfect sense to me.

"My century handles things from the Undercity. I thought you knew that. I thought it was why you-"

Was he, now? Interesting.

"I didn't know, actually. And no, Zane. I said yes because... because. We're not really great at this, I don't think, but you want me to explain why water is wet and why the sun sets to the East instead of to the North. We have passion, respect, know how to please each other, you're a good-looking man, and if things keep going the way they are, it was going to happen eventually. Why wait when we both know?"

Zane kissed me. I liked his answer more than mine.

After finishing our breakfast, I looked at him.

"You said something about jumping off, right?"

Zane smiled at me, and offered his hand.

"Link with me, and we will."

If he trusted me, I had to trust him. I took his hands and sent my power questioningly at him; he relaxed his automatic blocks and defenses to let me in. I did the same, and from the feedback of the loop, I caught an echo of what he felt looking at me. I purred quietly and squeezed his hand, and we took a flying leap off the side, carefully drifting down towards the ocean and landing in the middle of a handy street. After dodging a litter borne by a few mostly-shirtless men, who I briefly appreciated, the two of us went to the dock and sat in peaceful silence, smelling the sweet-acrid smoke of the fisher's pipes and listening to the waves, holding each other close. One of the fishers had apparently added something that wasn't tobacco to his, and I chuckled.

"How soon would you like to go adventuring, Narissara?"

"No time like the present. How long does your century need to prepare, soldier man?'

"Make it two hours. Would you care to meet outside the Parthenon after lunch?"

"Make it 'for lunch', please. Fish sounds delightful about now."

"Alright. Would you like for me to walk you there now, or can you find your own way back?"

"I'll meet you there, soldier man."

We kissed again, and he took off. I stared at the water a bit, then laid on my stomach and carefully slid my hands in the water, waiting. Before too much longer, a curious fish swam up; I caught it by hand and stood up, trying hard to not laugh at the sudden attention I was receiving. After tossing the fish in the bucket that the dreamsmoker had, I gave them a polite smile and walked away, proud that I still had it.

It took a while to return to the city, giving me enough time to build up an appetite before entering the shrine. A few of the people glared at me disapprovingly, but the rest of them seemed absolutely delighted to hear the news. After fending off a few dozen curious questions (and answering a few others with hand gestures, to general feminine approval and masculine jealousy), I retreated to the armory and began to change. I liked robes, yes, but I also enjoyed living, and would wear some practical things for a change. Unlike the Hedonists, who could (and did) go out wearing something as impractical as chain-mail underwear (somehow without getting anything pinched) because their faith was their armor, I was fond of actual, solid armor, and the lorica available in my size was close enough to the brigantine I typically wore.  I quickly did my hair up, then picked out some solid steel boots, a padded iron helmet with a nose guard, and a few other pieces. I slid a few daggers in, grabbed a nice short sword and sheathed it, then picked out my massive bow, waxed the string, half-strung it, and crossed it behind my back with a large quiver mostly filled with arrows and a few javelins. After stuffing it full of arrows, I took a few potions from the chest, tucked a few surprises here and there, and set out towards  the nearest food cart to Shin's templefortress, opposite the Golden Chambers from which I came.
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Ross Vernal

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Re: Rewrite of what I have been slacking on.
« Reply #12 on: February 11, 2015, 09:24:17 pm »

Act 12- Ross

I turned to the Raven Knight next to me. Trust me, this is going somewhere - you will get the action you were promised; you just deserve an explanation as to how I tried to stop it and I deserve to finish my part of the story.

"What did you think about her recommendation to use necromancy to prevent infection, Aña?"

My second daughter tilted her head sideways, then looked at me before replying.

"Creative. I may have to use it when I Petition to begin training as a Bodyweaver."

I noted the angle of her eyebrow and replied.

"As a raven, the value of your feathers was too high in terms of color, and the texture a touch smoother. Your aura was properly disguised, but you failed to conceal the efforts. True, there are not more than twenty among the High Sidhe of all seasons who could sense the Maeve, but if you hope to have any success manufacturing your Staff today, you must pay attention to the details."

She nodded, black hair turning back to her natural gold-and-platinum and the blue-white Winterfae skin tone warming to a pleasant Spring pink-and-gold. Like the tilde in her name that indicated the "nya" ending instead of "nuh", Aña took after her mother, built small and lean, eyes glowing the black of night, a deep crimson, and her mother's grey. She had inherited the classic high, pointed nose and delicate features of House Tynan Winterfae, and the Vernal cheekbones of Springfae; when combined with the sharp point of her hair, she had a naturally aristocratic look that befitted her position as the Maeve of Winter, heir to my cousin Akasha, the Mab of Winter. She was still young at sixty-eight, and resented her older sister Callista's two years bitterly despite loving her fiercely both as a sister and as the Maeve to the Erlprincess of Spring. Despite this, she was quite gifted with power and intelligent enough to apply it.

Today, we weren't father and daughter, but Wizard and apprentice. Although she wasn't yet powerful enough to manifest more than the faintest glimmer of her Hat, she had earned the right to make her first acknowledged step on the journey to Power and formally demand acknowledgement by the Conclave. There were precious few of us  - the four representatives of the High Courts of the fey, myself included; three additional faeries, two of them proper Spring and Winter Unseelie and one Autumn Seelie; three humans of varying genetic stock; a sun elf; a blood elf; one of the True Angels or Demons of Arnum, Malu, Mingan, Bree, Chelan, Bree, Sa'ada, and Eyilana who had constructed souls; two representatives each from the Saints, Maesters, Elder Mages, and Bodyweavers; about two dozen or so assorted individuals or entities powerful enough to be recognized on their own; assorted Apprentices who had earned the right to wear robes and take a Seat in the Conclave; and a few who had manifested the Wizard Hat and earned the right to Stand. To be acknowledged, there were several requirements; Aña was applying by Right of Blood (as in, she was my daughter and had learned Wizardry since before her birth) and Right of Creation (creating a Wizard's Staff). After that, it was a simple matter of majority vote, and was almost always unanimous.

In order to create a Wizard's Staff, you not only needed to know how to transform knowledge into substance, manufacture True Components relevant to your Wizardly disciplines, and various other steps you have neither the Right to understand nor to inquire after, but access to a spring of power or a confluence of major ley lines. The city of Roak Val had an excellent Chaos Temple deep in the Undercity that served as the source of a Great Line, and was perfectly suited to my daughter's purpose.

I'm sure you can see where everything went wrong, and bonus points to you if you did. If not, keep reading.

We went to the Undercity, and navigated the temple, easily avoiding the traps. They were certainly well-made and creative, and I wouldn't dare meddle with them, but why bother when you know how to get past them without harm? I took my place at the narrow point of the fractal Chaos-sigil, one leg on each side, and Aña stood opposite me on the curve, hands on the rounded grooves between the impossible spikes. No, if I could describe them, they would be possible; use your imagination.

A Wizardly link is almost identical to two magic users pooling their talents, bears a strong resemblance to psychics tuning their minds to the same mental frequencies, and resembles soul-to-soul contact of the aetheric. It is also nothing like them. More intimate than sex and childbirth, but less tender; it's less two people working together towards mutual goals in a positive feedback loop than it is becoming one entirely different person.

It went well for some time - she had chosen True Fire Opals, had sacrificed and harvested the souls of several Summer Knights, which she infused into Moonsilver, accepted both an Alder Sapling and a Shard of Ice, had been given one of the tail feathers of an Aetheric Phoenix, and various other ingredients; she had expertly combined her Essence of Flame with pyrokinesis and elemental fire; and - well, you don't deserve to know. No offense. The problem all came when, having made the form of the staff, Aña reached out to divert the entire stream of Power from the Temple as she was supposed to.

By the time I was aware of the temporal eddy, it was entirely too late. I looked up and found myself staring at Dairana from Zane's eyes exactly twenty-four hours in the future, and barely had time to race back to today and open a portal to next week in the heart of Winter under Aña's feet. I wasn't worried about her ability to finish the Staff, nor was I concerned about Akky being able to manage the Power I'd sent in to the seat of her Power as a gift and a challenge.  I didn't even have time to tell her goodbye, though, and I deeply regret that.

I screamed, being slowly stretched apart between trying to control the eddy before it could tear the universe apart and the colossal amount of power that would go into preserving even the idea of my existence. I wasn't sure at which point I died (perhaps, 'lost my mortality' would be more appropriate, since I retained a soul and continued to exist), although I certainly felt the mantle of Spring leaving my body and going to Callista, now the Erlqueen in truth and the Archduchess Vernal of Dencaf. I knew it when the power of Chelan failed, and I was no longer his Defender; I could distinctly tell when I ran out of Power and stopped being a Wizard, and finally let go at the absolute final moment I could strain before going from a Soulburn to being Soulbroken. I was afraid that wouldn't be enough, but finally, the assault on reality subsided to nothing, and I blacked out entirely.

When I came back to existing, I stood up and reached out for power. Not quite nothing, but hardly a trickle. I could still feel part of my Wizardly protections in my tattoos, which had gone dull and stopped moving, my Essenses as a creature of Blood and Bone, a touch of glamour, and a few secondary powers. Oh, and my good looks, my brains, and all of my skills, knowledge, and cunning from a thousand years of life. On my left hip was Guindisalvus, my moonblade; on my right, my magelock, and I felt a dozen knives about my person. A dull itchy burn against my leg told me of the small iron prybar at my side, and my hands were wrapped around an alder quarterstaff, nonmagical. I could feel the weight of Faerie-wrought armor on my shoulders, and my scalp felt exposed without a helmet. Ah, there it was; I set it on and scowled.

I looked around, hearing voices. I seemed to be sitting at a campfire in the mountains, made by natural effort instead of magical, and rose to my feet, aware of the Denca longhouse behind me.

"About time you got here, Zane."

He stared at me like he didn't know me. Absurd. He'd changed a bit - one of his eyes was gone and replaced with Rya Meng candleglass, with an interesting scar explaining how he lost it. He'd grown facial hair and was missing the pinky finger on his left hand, and the Death-sigil he typically wore on his right shoulder had been replaced with the Victory-sigil of Death's son Timeus. He looked harder, more cruel, and carried a Chaosblade - a fractal saber. Interestingly enough, his beard had two of the bead-symbols of the Seven Lords worked into them.

I learned later it had been about five years since I had existed, and that from the moment we had encountered the temporal anomaly, the world had changed from what I knew. At the moment, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Zane pointed the sword at me and barked at me to stand down or he'd kill me where I stood. I drew my moonblade and made an indelicate culinary recommendation. Enraged, he rushed in to attack me, and nearly took my head off on the first strike. Crude, but effective - I didn't know he was trying to kill me until then. Obviously, I couldn't let him, and moved in to attack, body sideways and balanced on my feet, moonblade up and point out.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself; that's a different story and I told you how I died trying to stop this story, and that's the end of my part. Let Zane and Narissara tell you the rest - they lived through it.
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