Orup nodded grimly. Unfortunately he had no concoction to speak with animals and beasts, so they were going blind, then. Keeping up the pace alongside Rua, Orup glanced at him before asking, "What do you want to do, if she's already with the Stamarians?" The thought of hostages was not at all appealing to him.

---

Confirmed.

Standby.

[]--END--[]

A moment later, the edges of the Wolfram would begin to buzz and glow, slowly at first and then encompassing the entire ship. It was not a portal, like the ship had observed before, but rather a pulling force, grabbing the ship and its crew directly and tearing them from one point in space to another. The whole thing was over after only a few moments.

Imperial Citadel - Kallagulia

As the ship appeared within the docking bay, deep beneath the ground of the Stamarian city, someone was already waiting. A young, clean-cut, secretary-type woman stood at the far end of the docking platform, silently waiting for the ship's commander.

"That..."

Rua grimaced and shook his head. "That I don't know," he admitted as they trailed after Relayia. "We'll wing it, I guess."

He left out how he was bad at winging things. He usually left that to Matt, and Matt didn't play this game; Rua had tried persuading him to try it, but then the nightmare of the last month had happened. "Hopefully Terrel knows not to say anything damning, but I swear, the girl's like origami."

It was with practiced ease that the Wolfram settled neatly into the airship dock within the Citadel only moments after appearing within Kallagulia airspace--such transfers had been common for the Paragon's flagship, and Jordan left the crew to what they knew how to do.

"Standby for further orders," he told them as he exited the cabin. Outside he could hear the din of machinery within the underground facility beneath the Citadel proper, drowning out any possibility of hearing the hustle and bustle of the Stamarian crown city above them. The White Devil kept himself out of his armor, and only had a customary blade rifle strapped to his back--it wouldn't be necessary here, nor would his main weaponry.

Walking down the boarding ramp and across the dock's ramparts, he greeted the secretarial figure with a Stamarian salute, fist over heart. "DuValle Reporting for duty," he confirmed.

Encouraged by his partner's confidence, Orup clapped a hand on the back of his companion, "I've got a great feeling about this, then, my boy. We'll wrangle up the whole lot of them, if need be!"

---

The secretary only nodded to DuValle. Not a part of the military, her place was in handshakes, not salutes. Turning briskly, she led the way out of the docking area at a quick pace, her heels clacking against the hard floors as they went.

As they walked, though, she inclined her head toward the Paragon, eyeing him coolly before asking, "Your reputation precedes you, Mr. DuValle, but an audience with the Emperor is a rare privilege. Have you met with him before, or should we discuss etiquette briefly?"

There was no shame in it, truthfully. Those with a face-to-face relationship with Aurinar Stamarin comprised a very short list, and it would be foolish for someone to suffer simply because no one had told them how to kneel.

A great feeling, he said. Rua fought the urge to sweat. Nothing about this day had felt great so far. Stayed up all night reading and talking with a mysterious benefactor with dangerous warnings, Rogueport exploding, Maia harassing and then betraying him, and now this mess with Terrel?

The swordsman almost envied the alchemist's cheer.

It wasn't too much longer before Relayia had stopped flying ahead, instead circling around a particular tiny clearing and chirping excitedly. The two of them came to a halt as Rua looked about, seeing nothing of--wait.

He spotted something on the ground, almost obscured by the wet grass that he wondered how he spotted it at all. Rua plucked the hair tie up off of the ground, studying it. He recognized it as the one that Terrel had pulled her hair back with, and frowned. "Did she drop it?" he asked himself aloud. He looked about, but couldn't find any other indicators of where she went.

Jordan kept up with the secretary's brisk walk easily; in fact, as he was a good deal taller than the woman, he found himself having to slow his own pace lest he overtake her.

"I've met him before, with others, and never in a closed setting," he admitted to her question. "This will be the first time his majesty has called for me alone, however. Perhaps a refresher is in order."

"That's odd," Orup remarked, looking at the ground as well, "the potion's footsteps stop here. One of its weaknesses is that it can't follow more than one track at once, which'd mean she wasn't the only one here..." He trailed off, some of his cheer lost at the prospect. Thankfully this Rua seemed to know what he was doing--a good sign--but being an adversary to Stamarian soldiers was no treat in any case.

---

The secretary maneuvered them into an elevator, pressing the button for the royal quarters and then scanning her face against a screen.

"Kneel once the door shuts, and keep your eyes on the floor until he tells you to stand. After that, look him in his eyes as consistently as you can. You may refer to his character as 'your majesty' but when speaking with him directly, he prefers 'sir' from his soldiers. It's much worse to lie than to admit fault--he can see through a lie, but he'll respect the truth. He's a practical man, so don't bother with fluffing up his person, empire, or mission. Just stick to the facts, answer his questions, and keep it simple. Any questions?"

"Well, I know she's alive and unhurt, but if someone's already found her..."

Don't think along those lines, Rua warned himself. He didn't want to think about what Maia would do to him if her sister had been apprehended by Stamarians willing to blow up towns, villain-hive or no. But there was really no other explanation, is there?

"If someone's already found her, it's probably the Stamarians I saw before," he finished grimly. "Maybe we can negotiate with them, I dunno."

Rua stuffed the hair tie into a pocket and started to pace a circle around the tiny clearing as Relayia alighted on his shoulder with a chirp. "Gotta be a sign of where they went," he muttered to himself.

Jordan flashed the woman a reassuring smile and shook his head. "I don't think so, not unless you have any inkling as to what his majesty requires of me," he told her.

Which was rather unlikely, he felt. It was the Emperor of Stamaria, and the White Devil thought the list of people who got private audiences with the man was rather short.

Tsuminar



Another bite of the noodles, another second to think. The elevator was the obvious choice. Painfully, hellishly obvious. The odds of it being a trap were so high it was essentially a certainty.

A second bite, the noodles were cooling rapidly and time was ticking by. Going out and scaling the building was the far more obvious choice. But what was the true risk?

A moment later he'd summoned first one, then the second elevator, finishing off his noodle bowl while he waited for them to arrive.

As the bell rang for each of the elevators, he walked up to the first, reaching his arm in through the bars of the gate, pressing the roof-top button, then yanking his arm out with a hiss of pain as the elevator started up. Annoying, but it at least made him feel a bit less stupid for what he did next. Hopping into the second one and ascending directly after. roof-top. Here he came.


_____

Rogueport



"Dead or alive. Either way, something interesting." Sera shrugged, finishing off her food and dabbing at her mouth with the cleanest part of the grubby napkin that had come with the plate.

"I wish you luck, finding the weapon. And that you get out of the game."

____

Jungles Outside Rogueport



"Whatever we need. He's the highest ranking Stamarian military commander on the continent, needs to travel with the might of Stamaria at his back. Where he steps . . .Stamaria steps." Raiph almost guffawed at that. "Listen to me, I'm getting sentimental. You want to ride on one of the trucks? Better than walking. We've got horses too."

Edited by Ajax on October 9, 2014 at 5:56:17

Fille merely chuckled at Sera's attempt to part ways. "I thank you for it, but I'm not leaving your side just yet," she told the bard. "You still have some singing to do tonight, after all."

Reason, which had been temporarily sidelined by the onset of panic, reasserted itself, and Branwyn looked up. The creature- was it a child? Its voice was high, and its body was so small- stood over her, and it wasn't making any moves to hurt her. Besides, it was talking, and nothing Branwyn had ever read about Thebas had indicated that the undead prowling the streets below were anything more than zombie-like creatures possibly controlled by a central AI. If this person was one of them, surely she would be dead by now?

She pushed herself into a sitting position, reaching up a hand to dry her eyes before remembering the mask in her way. "You're not good at reading?" She couldn't say why this thought, out of all the wonderings whispering around in her head, was the one her mouth chose to articulate. She hiccuped and stood, feeling a little less vulnerable now that she was off the ground.

Edited by Quill on October 9, 2014 at 15:22:21

The secretary gave a small, wry smile at that, "I suspect no one knows that besides him, at the moment." The elevator arrived shortly, though, and she led the remainder of the way down a hallway toward a pair of huge, double doors that ascended straight to the vaulted ceilings. As they arrived, she took a notable step back, leaving DuValle standing closer to the doors than herself.

"Whenever you're ready, Mr. DuValle. Just remember--kneel once that door closes, even if he has not shown himself yet." And with that, she gave him one more brisk nod and turned the other direction, leaving him there.

---

"Can't say no to a free ride," Terrel said, nodding at the trucks with a sheepish grin. For a little while, she could almost forget her other issues as she pretended to be someone else. Maybe she wasn't the best people-person, but she could play a part for at least a little while.

---

Elle'n crouched in wait on the roof, well concealed from anyone glancing around but still primed to confront the elevator should it come up...

A noise tensed her immediately, and she clutched her firearm like a safety blanket. Normally she considered herself above such brutal measures, but Pius had left her no choice. Closing her eyes, she waited for the sounds of someone getting off the elevator, but nothing came, making the sound of her heartbeat all the more deafening. Had he sent up a decoy? What was he on about? Luckily for her, this time, she could just wait for the next one, if he were on it.

Still hidden, she waited all the longer.

---

As the girl turned to face him, Skild gasped at the sight. "Is--is that mask?" he inquired desperately, wanting to reach up and touch it but recoiling his hand at once, not sure of the boundaries--she had just been weeping a moment ago, after all. "Don't lie to me, I know a mask when I see one!"

"Can I see it? Oh please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please let me see it! Where did you find it? Did you buy it? Or maybe you made it? Are you a mask-maker?!" Groaning in anticipation, he stomped the ground almost at once, hardly able to wait two seconds for a response, he was so excited.

---

Orup looked around hopelessly, not much of a tracker himself. "Stamarians aren't often the lightest on their feet," he offered unhelpfully, "maybe there are some tracks not far from here we could find?" Though, if Rua couldn't spot any, their best bet would be to just keep heading for the hill.

"You're right," Rua agreed, glancing at the alchemist. "They were on horses when I saw them. Just need to find... ah!"

He pushed aside some tall, exotic-looking grass and found a damaged bush, branches and twigs snapped inward. Someone's leg breaking through an impedance? "Must've gone through here," he said, waving Mepple over to follow. "Now let's just hope we don't run into a Stamarian armored column or something like that."

That'd be magical, wouldn't it?

Jordan took a moment to check himself over and straighten out his uniform, check the weapon on his hip. When he found that all was well, he took a relaxing sigh and sifted in hands through his hair. With a nod, the White Devil strode through the doors as they opened before him.

He found himself in a magnificent hall fit for an Emperor. A long carpet the color of blood was laid out over center of the dark stone tiles of the throne room, leading from the one end of the room to the doors he had just passed through The Imperial guards were at their posts, faces obscured by ominous masks, standing attentively against the far walls. Even though they hadn't moved upon entering, Jordan could feel their eyes watching his every move. Above them, against the walls, rested massive banners bearing the insignias of the ruling families of the various territories held by Stamaria.

The Onyx Throne itself lay ahead. The seat, raised above the pavilion, was made of the same metallic stone of the Citadel proper, its back shaped like a large triangular wedge, inlaid with a darkened gold metal and inscribed with runes and lines that seemed to glow red--or was that a trick of the light? Its top branched out into two separate pillars, almost like another wedge, and held the symbol of the Empire between them, inlaid with more dark gold and ruby set into its middle. A symbol he recognized from his own armor.

The throne rested unoccupied for the moment, just as the secretary from before had reminded him. Jordan took his place at the respectable distance from the Onyx Throne and knelt as he heard the doors behind him close. He saluted fist over heart with his right hand, and rested his left on the stock of his blade rifle in the customary fashion, his eyes carefully staring at the floor.

All that was left to him was to await the Emperor's appearance from behind the voluminous curtains beyond the throne.

"Ah hah!" Orup agreed triumphantly, shrugging his massive pack up a little ways on his shoulders as he grinned at his companion. Picking up the pace again to keep up with Rua, he beamed at him affirmingly, "You're onto it, my boy! Now let's go see what rascal's have taken your girl."

---

Only a few moments after the door resounded shut, the curtains behind the throne parted to reveal a man, though the term almost did not do him justice. Tall and broad with thick hands and neck, he was almost inhumanly imposing, an edifice of a man. His black hair was full but short, combed back over his scalp, and streaks of white adorned his temples. No crown was on his head at the moment, but it did not seem necessary.

For a time he stood in silence, his dark eyes looking past a broad nose at the room, twin onyx gems mounted to a face of stone. Everything from his complexion to his attire to his posture demanded respect--obedience--and every inch of him seemed to understand that.

"First Paragon--the White Devil, they call you--Jordan DuValle, you may stand," he said instructively, his voice like a soft peal of thunder through the blackened, rainless night. "I trust I have not endangered Stamaria by asking you here on such short notice?"

The gasp seared her like fire, and Branwyn flinched back. Even underneath all these bandages, she was still repulsive to look at. He reached out a hand for her to shake, but he withdrew it before she could take it. Her throat stung, her hand dropped, and she looked down, shuffling her feet.

The boy was talking. Branwyn shook her head, trying to scatter her thoughts like flies, hoping that the motion would force them to take flight, to buzz and flit somewhere that wasn't her head, and tried to focus on what he was saying. It was difficult; he was saying some very strange things.

"A mask-maker?" Branwyn frowned, realized that he couldn't see the expression beneath the corpse-flesh, and shook her head. "No, I bought this. And shhh!" She motioned with her hands for him to quiet, shrinking back still farther into the shadows. "Don't let them hear you! I can't give you this, see? It's the only thing keeping them from attacking me- well, it and these wraps. Please, keep your voice down!" She tugged a little on the ends of the wreeking wrappings, which dangled from her wrist like a morbid charm bracelet. "Please, keep your voice down! If they hear us-" She glanced behind the boy, almost expecting to see shades that weren't shadows shuffling through the gloom of Thebas.

Edited by Quill on October 10, 2014 at 21:47:13

Man, he wished he could have his companion's confidence. Maybe he had something special that'd turn the tide of a battle, but Rua wasn't sure what they'd do if it turns out whoever Terrel left with was part of the military.

But above all else, he didn't want a repeat of that time, weeks ago. He couldn't stomach the thought of that happening again.

"Whoever they are, they don't seem interested in hurting her," Rua told Mepple after a quick glance. "Hopefully that's a good sign."

Jordan rose to his feet smoothly, taking in the view of the Emperor of Stamaria as he did so. Jordan himself was notably tall; many had commented on his own imposing stature. He felt small before this man, however. The man before him was power incarnate--he demonstrated it in his stature, his appearance, and even his voice.

"You have not, sir," he replied in as confident a voice as he could muster. "My crew was wrapping up an investigation on the disappearance of a gunship when I received your summons."

"That gunship vanished thanks to the Luma Code on board," Aurinar replied, a hint of a regret in his voice. "With such things there is always a balance and a price. On the one hand, we deter strikes by avoiding notice. On another hand, we cripple our men by not telling them what they face. But such is war--she is not the reason you are here."

Turning his back on DuValle, the Emperor walked toward his throne, running a hand across it fondly before walking past it, toward those curtains again. "The Paragon of Stamaria are not hindered by needs of secrecy or guile. You are an iron hand, a force for light, a battalion against the evil of this world. The time has come to face our enemies in the day, outside the shadows. For this reason you are here."

He walked the rest of the way to the curtains, parting them with one hand while raising another and beckoning toward his soldier before walking through.

"Come."

---

Orup nodded slowly. Yes, that was good. At the pace they were going, it would only be a little ways further toward a clearing, if he remembered rightly. The road he had been on had taken a different direction, though, so his memories were from months ago, when he had first left Rogueport.

"I don't suppose you could try sending her a message?" the alchemist asked on a whim, wondering if the swordsman had perhaps gotten too caught up to think of it. "If you have her contact information, that is..."

---

Skild blinked at her, though she wouldn't be able to see that because of his own mask. Masks were so useful like that. He really wanted to try hers. Why couldn't she let him? Didn't her mother ever teach her that sharing was good? It wasn't fair.

But she seemed frightened by something. This place? Only outsiders were scared--and with good reason, too! He'd tear the bones right off any dirty, trespassing outsider. That's why it was so good to live with friends.

"Protect you from who?" he asked, wondering who else it could be. Maybe she was afraid of outsiders? That was silly though too; they all died when they came here!

Stamarian 7th Armored Legion. Cher Plek Roadways



"Eh, good girl." Raiph nodded, smiling for the first time with something like kindness. "Sounding like a soldier, you are. We never turn down free rides." He jogged ahead, thumping the side of one of the trucks, "Got a rider for you, Trickster, open up your hatch and let her hop up. I gotta report to the Warlord."

The heavy truck slowed for a few moments, its tailgate opening and revealing a cheerily lit interior with a few sleeping soldiers and what appeared to be at least a dozen sacks of potatoes spread around inside, cots and bunks lining the lengthy truck's bed.

Raiph spun, nodding up towards the truck, "Hop aboard, miss. If you need anything, ask one of the troopers, I've got to find the Warlord, make a report." With that, he was already turning, waving his light-footed scouts forward. The Warlord was somewhere in the column . . but knowing the boss, he was more likely riding a horse up ahead than in the heavy tank that was supposed to be his personal ride.

Raiph sighed, sometimes, he wished the boss would actually care about his safety. Just once. It would lessen Raiph's stress.

_____

Tsuminar



With a cheerful "ding" announcing his arrival, the elevator came to a stop at the roof. The gate opening automatically. He half expected it to spout some sort of cheerful farewell phrase. But no, this was a simple model. Nothing so annoying. His eyes scanned the rooftops from his tiny personal kill-box. Everything about the area made it abundantly clear that if she wished him harm, she could easily follow through. Limited field of vision on his part, lots of places to hide for her, and it would take an absolute moron with a gun to miss his elevator.

So he leaned back in his box, foot halfway extended, just enough to make sure the gate didn't close again. It wouldn't do to have some waiter downstairs ruining everything by dragging elevator and spy all the way back down with the press of a button. His left hand still idly clutched the noodle bowl, hard eyes scanning what little he could see. Was she long-gone? If not, would she pop her head out to see if he was in the elevator? Decisions. Decisions.

______

Rogueport



Sera chuckled, "So eager to hear me sing?" She questioned lightly. Having determined they would not stay companions for long, and Fille seeming to think she was committing a form of suicide, the Bard wasn't sure what she felt, about having her along. On the one hand, it was amazing, having someone to talk too. On the other hand, Fille was equal parts mother and concerned citizen, it sometimes seemed. Neither of which Sera wished to have along, or to put the girl in danger any more.

But then, there wasn't a way to politely extricate herself from the partnership, not until the night was done, it seemed.

Rua had thought of sending her a message for a brief moment before remembering what Terrel had admitted to him in Minervum's Grand Library, and dismissed it right out. He shook his head. "No, wouldn't work," he said. "I could send her a message but she wouldn't read it."

He refrained from saying she wouldn't be able to read it. He doubted she'd appreciate his revealing that to a complete stranger. "Best I can do is monitor her health meter, since we're in a party. She hasn't canceled that out."

God help him when she finally remembered to. That'd make his life a whole hell of a lot harder.

"Oh, I think I owe you that much for putting you through all of today," Fille remarked in return, before gulping down another spoonful of her soup. She lowered her spoon for a moment, her momentarily jovial tone of voice fading a bit. "Besides, there's still a few things I need to ask Audra about."



Jordan followed at the Emperor's command, filing away the term he used before--the Luma Code? he wondered--and turned his thoughts on to what the Emperor currently desired of his guild. He was positive that Aurinar Stamarin was aware of his existence as a Player. It was no secret; in his rise to power, so to speak, the White Devil had been too open, too publicly himself. Players simply had resolve and abilities that the natives of this world could never hope to match.

Was the Emperor deciding that it was Players that the war needed? As he stepped through the curtains with Aurinar, Jordan figured he would soon find out.

Terrel murmured something about not being a soldier, but before she knew it she was getting shuffled into a truck. Nodding complacently to the troops around her, she did her best to not freak out. If they knew who she was, it'd be a very different kind of ride. She doubted most of them cared, but her experience told her the Stamarians were out for blood. From here on out, it would be a guarded silence and pleasant replies. She could manage it for a little while, especially with how deflated and off-kilter she really felt. Silence, for once, seemed like comfort.

---

OOC: For reference purposes:

Orup pushed aside a few more branches, able to see a clearing beyond them, but he stopped at once when he exited into the light. With a low whistle, he glanced at Rua uncomfortably, not sure whether he should be fixating on what was in front of them or... well, a retreat.

"This may be a few too many heads to knock, boy," he said softly, his confidence gone at once.

---

Elle'n waited and waited for noise, but no came. As she was just about to stick her head out to check, the noise came again, and she almost cursed aloud. Was it him, this time? She heard the gate open but not close, but what did that mean? Was it dysfunctional, and he'd pop out on the third one, guns blazing? The only thing left to do was wait just a little bit longer.

---

The personal quarters of Aurinar Stamarin were not spartan or lacking in comfort. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was lavish beyond reasonable measure, but it still spoke of a certain practicality. He maneuvered through the room purposefully, taking a quick cut across it toward a mirror taller than he was. Here he stopped, turning his head toward DuValle plainly, "Are you familiar with the Arcanum Relics? A man who foolishly calls himself 'Oracle' has made their pursuit a popular conversation of late, but their history is deeper."

"Y-yeah," Rua stuttered, mentally kicking himself for his own rotten luck. Of course that damn woman had to run off! Of course she'd have to find her way into a bloody armored convoy!

He hunkered down, trying to keep low and out of sight while still being able to see the armored column trundling up through the rainforest. What did Kalia say that things like this have?

Ah, right. Scouts. They had scouts.

Rua fought back the urge to curse again. "Whatever we do, we better figure it out quick," he told Mepple as he began to shift aside. "We don't want to be spotted like this."

"I'm... somewhat familiar with them," Jordan told the Emperor. "Seven nigh-mythical objects that no one's managed to find in recent history." Best to avoid saying things like "the start of the game."

"What does Oracle have to do with them?" he asked. The name sounded familiar to him, but its significance didn't seem to warrant an instantaneous recollection.

Orup glanced at the swordsman, not much wanting to try and lower his profile--that pack made things difficult, sometimes. "Err, what was that girl's name, again? I may have an idea. Also, can you stow that sword of yours in your inventory?"

---

"Oracle is just a man who knows far less than he thinks he does," the Emperor replied, his tone damning above all else. "But he is not a threat--not directly. There are many pieces moving at once, Paragon. Some of those pieces have become rebellious. Do not move for a moment."

The large man looked at the mirror again, locking gazes with himself. Raising up his right hand in a fist, he waited a moment and released his grasp, a light flooding from his palm at once, filling the room and blinding both men for an instant.

When vision returned, they were in the room no longer; instead, they were in a place of infinite being. A stone path stretched out under their feet with torches flanking it on either side as it went. This path stretched on and on, but an end was faintly visible in the distance, though the light was too dim to distinguish it.

On every side of the path, though, past the torches, was complete darkness. It stretched forever, clawing at the light and trying to consume it in vain. The void lasted an eternity in any direction, and even Aurinar looked at it disdainfully. He did not like coming here.

"This is a place of Shadow," he said simply, beginning to walk the isolated path. "Do you have questions, Paragon? Of this, or of other things. I give you permission to ask now."

Rua glanced at Mepple for a moment, wondering if he had a plan, and the nodded. He didn't like the idea of being unarmed here, but probably better if they didn't look armed if they were spotted. "Her name's Terrel," he informed him as he stowed the blade away in his inventory, punching a few buttons on his game menu. "That's all her username says, at any rate."

"What... is this place, sir?" Jordan asked, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. He may oft be considered the strongest player in the game, but he didn't become that by diving headfirst into dangerous situations or realms he knew nothing about.

This blackness seemed to stretch on forever and stare right back into him.

"Right. Terrel," Orup repeated, shifting his pack unconsciously as he girded himself for what came next. "All right, boy, stick behind me and look plenty anxious. Shouldn't be a problem, all things considered," he said and then turned down to face the war machine below. Well, there was not much else for it.

"Help! Help!" he cried at once, waving his arms in the air and sprinting toward the military vehicles, "oh, light, help, it's urgent!"

---

The Emperor considered the question a moment before answering.

"There are six realms of darkness, in varying places as they descend from the light. This is the first and safest, with few entrances and little life, though I tell that is for our benefit. The mirror is but one path here, but it is the only way to this place specifically. You may have heard stories of the other realms, though--namely the Netherworld, Hades, and the Nightmare realms. There are two others still, but I have only observed them from afar.

"What else?"

Not a problem at all, that's for sure. Rua was already plenty anxious at seeing those soldiers, and even moreso when the obese alchemist rushed out into the open, waving his arms frantically. He dashed out behind him, wondering for all the world if they were going to get shot.

The White Devil frowned thoughtfully, bringing his hand up to his chin and trying his best to ignore the unnerving stillness that surrounded himself and Aurinar. He had many questions, but only a few that may be relevant.

He settled on one question. "In my time in Ymaggion, there's been plenty of talk of the Arcanum Relics. Anyone can check the artifact databases in Minervum to know the basics of them, and that's all the thought most would put into them," he spoke, turning to the Emperor. "But you say that their history is deeper."

He looked aside, peering back into the blackness for the briefest of moments. "Is there something significant about their history that I should be aware of, sir? Something about their history that's relevant to what's going on in the world at present?"

Narhari raised an eyebrow at the rhymes of the undead that stood before him. He'd never have guessed; how absurd it is, that a it would be rhyming as it spoke. But he did not have the luxury to ponder on that. The danger was certainly real, especially now, as the other living humans around him bristled. He hadn't intended to make a sacrifice of them, but it seemed that was how the undead took it. He had no choice but to accept those terms. He wondered if today's events would put him on a dozen PK-on-site lists.

"There is not much that I have to offer, and even less, I think, that would interest you. Instead, it is a promise that I proffer, hoping that instead of payment now, you would accept that in lieu." Narhari struggled with the rhyme. "I came for an Arcanum Relic, I spoke. I do not crave its power, only to verify it exists. Should I find it, it is yours, an offer I hope you will not resist. That, my promise then, a swear on my life, I cannot revoke."

-------

Bec wished he could understand Duff more than half the time he spoke. He would have to ask the taller-- much taller-- man what exactly he was speaking, and where he and Bekka had picked it up. It certainly was indecipherable to him. His thoughts were interrupted by Khordus.

"I suppose, yes, those two would be the only logical choices for my, erm, height. I prefer magic, though. I've not learned many direct damage spells, but I have enough to get by. My specialty is with utility magic."

Rogueport


"Don't you have it all twisty?" Sera asked. "I think it was "I" who put you through all of this today." She waved a hand, indicating the smoke still rising in the distance. "But wouldn't say no to the company. It's been . . .sort of lonely, these past weeks."


______

Tsuminar


Well. she hadn't popped out of cover to blow his brains out. Then again, she technically might not be "in" cover. She could be three rooftops away.

It was a good thing he didn't mind seeming silly then. "If I step out of the elevator. Will you shoot me?" He called out loudly, still leaning against his wall.


______

Stamarian 7th Armored Legion. Cher Plek Roadways

As the big man came running out of the treeline, a second man following close after. No less than eight armored vehicles slowed to a crawl, dozens of turrets of various sizes creaking and squealing as they turned to put the pair in their sights.

Lead Scout Wilson glance up, giving a sigh and unslinging his rifle. He and four other soldiers made a beeline for the two newcomers screaming for help. The entire situation screamed on its own, and it screamed "trap". But on the off-chance it wasn't . . . and if the man was a Stamarian citizen . . . "You, Stop now. If you have weapons, DO NOT draw them. Hands in the air. Do it now!" He barked to the pair. The entire column going on alert all around. Turrets tracking and soldiers offloading from their trucks.

Edited by Ajax on October 12, 2014 at 6:59:37

Edited by Ajax on October 14, 2014 at 4:33:38

"Then help you will, for good or ill, to deep, to dark, to silent's chill. Yes! The relic exists--this answer is yours. Now you will help us open our doors. The great Lich watches, the great Witch locks it. Only humans can touch the key; now humans no longer are free. But you have agreed, you have concurred! Your life is now ours, the cost is incurred," the undead finished with a smile, then nodding to his companions.

"This one is mine, those ones are yours. Eat them quickly, you insatiable whores," he instructed, and they seemed not at all offended by the term, instead cheering with pleasure. The undead leader turned to leave, beckoning Narhari to follow him up the roads of the city. "Welcome to Thebas; call me Korresh."

---

Khordus nodded good-naturedly at the short man, always appreciating another mage. "We may be down here for three or four days, at the current rate. The Architects are the greatest earth-movers in this world, and we'll happily teach you our way, should you wish to learn."

He looked at the rest of the group, examining them for a moment. More magic users among them was doubtful, by the looks of it. "I hope you won't be too bored," he added as a small confession, "we've not had many encounters down here since we hit that nest of venomous badgers a couple of days ago."

---

So there he was. Elle'n didn't care for the situation one bit, yet here she was too. The time for waiting was done, it seemed, and she moved out of her cover, raising her weapon toward the elevator. Was he not armed, then? Perhaps that was only what he wanted her to think.

"You could just hit that button and head on back down," she replied, having to raise her voice against the wind that buffeted the rooftop, so high up. What was he on about?

---

"No, no!" Orup cried out in return, keeping his hands well above his head, "I'm only an alchemist--look at my pack! The problem's my niece, good sir. My boy and I have been looking all over for her, but in these jungles we can't find a ruddy clue. She's a darker-skinned thing, desperate look in her eye. Have you seen anyone like that? Something spooked her and she ran off, and I promised my sister I'd make sure she was safe."

---

"You choose your words carefully, Paragon. It suits you. Yes, these relics are as old as this world, originally created to slay a demon where the Maelstrom now resides. Seven heroes broke into battle with it, but when one fell, he died not just here but in the world that sent him. The gods interceded at the behest of their prayers, sealing this demon, recovering the relics, and building a Great Wall to guard the land forever. Now some are saying these relics are the key to freeing the captives so recently bound to this world. Perhaps this demon is the reason they are bound in the first place. I cannot say."

Aurinar's gaze turned to the blackness for a short while, as if he could see something in there, but soon he reverted it back to the path. "But the people who seek them do not understand them. They consider them like other weapons, to be used on a whim by the greatest in strength. Indeed, they are foolish. Perhaps a great man discovers one--then what? Will he share his power with the world, when the time comes? Ymaggion needs a uniting force to make the decisions no individual can make on their own. We will collect these relics, unite the nations, and conquer the frozen north. For this purpose, I empower the Paragon of Stamaria today. Your feats precede you--they call you unstoppable. I will make you invincible."

Rua also brought his hands over his head, looking all the world like he was fearful. He was, and he still wasn't convinced they weren't getting out of this without getting shot. He hoped that Mepple's story worked out, for them, because it was too late to change the tune.

Not that he had a better idea.

Fille nodded, thinking back to the days leading up to the present moment. She had spent them alone too, and since that time weeks ago... she made a little cynical smile. "Yes, it has," she agreed.

She finished off her soup quickly, able to enjoy it after getting that weight off her chest. "Well, I guess we can spend the time figuring out what you'll be singing tonight," she said, her lilting voice regaining some of its cheer.



The tale that Aurinar described set the White Devil on edge, because while it was a story he had been unaware of, it was clear to him just what was going on in it. As he focused on the idea of the Relics themselves, and the statement that the Emperor made, the motive of those searching for them, made him realize the truth of necessity in his words.

Acquiring them and using the Relics for any purpose would require a united effort, and so far, the Emperor of Stamaria had proven to be unparalleled in such leadership. As such, it was with sincerity that the White Devil saluted him, stating, "I am honored, sir. With your blessing, I will commence this mission at once."

Edited by RisingDragon on October 13, 2014 at 20:42:27

"I will bless you with more than words," the Emperor replied with a touch of satisfaction in his voice. The path was nearly finished, and they were coming up on the circular platform with a dais on top and a pedestal centered in the middle of it. Atop the pedestal, though, was another object, circular in diameter with rounded edges and a mounded top, not dissimilar to a smoothed river stone or a curved gem cut for a piece of jewelry. It was a deep blue, like the edges of dusk, and, like the darkness around them, this gem-like stone seemed infinite in depth.

As they arrived, one could see runes etched into the sides, surrounding the thing in perpetual script, but the stone itself was no more than three or four inches across. Aurinar raised his hand, palm up, and it floated off its stand and into his grasp.

"This is Svalinn, the fourth Arcanum Relic, capable of defeating any attack. Have you heard the tales?"

"... I have," Jordan admitted slowly. Svalinn, an impenetrable barrier that the mightiest of weapons would shatter upon. A chilling sanctuary that could harness the power of those who clash against it and turn that force upon themselves, ensuring that life would thrive beneath its breadth. An Arcanum Relic.

They call you unstoppable. I will make you invincible.

How long had Aurinar had access to Svalinn? Was this one of the reasons that he had come to power--because no one could ever hope to slay him?

The Emperor nodded affirmation, satisfied with the answer. He had watched Jordan DuValle from the beginning, and now he would be the chosen champion for Stamaria's most important mission yet. Turned his eyes back to the relic in his hand, now, and it lifted itself up once more. Raising his other hand, Aurinar Stamarin waved it through the air, a golden chain appearing behind it that fastened itself to the relic, turning it into a wearable necklace. He plucked it from the air and offered it to his man.

"Wear it well, Paragon. Stamaria will need you in the weeks to come more than ever. As men and women uncover these relics, you and your forces must be first to pursue. With this in your grasp, no mortal may best you."