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Into the Icy Darkness II: The Next Generation
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<blockquote data-quote="Emperor Valerian" data-source="post: 1609348" data-attributes="member: 15043"><p>Simeon and Eyrna shivered in the cold, as rain continued to pound down on their cloaks, its droplets sizzling on the pitifully small fire that their two forms clustered around.</p><p></p><p>The trek through the sewers had been long, arduous, not to mention smelly, but just before nightfall, the three had emerged on the riverbanks north of the city. Despite the urges of the two younger ones to wash off, their dark companion insisted they march onward, towards the north. Eyrna guessed it was perhaps two hours after nightfall when they finally made camp, just before the rain began. </p><p></p><p>“I’m cold,” Simeon moaned quietly. </p><p></p><p>Eyrna glanced at her brother, and gave a shivering nod in agreement. <em>We should be sleeping inside a nice manor, covered in silken sheets, our bodies warmed by the fires of a well tended hearth.</em> </p><p></p><p><em>At least the rain is washing the smell off of our clothes,</em> she thought darkly. At least one positive.</p><p></p><p>“’Tis good for your bones,” their companion growled a few feet away. Curiously, he sat with his back to the fire. Eyrna had realized only a few hours after meeting him that his kind did not like the light, and avoided it when possible. “I happen to like the cold.”</p><p></p><p>“You’re right insane!” Simeon complained. “What we need is a nice large hearth, its flames roaring...”</p><p></p><p>“A blaze large enough that everyone within ten miles could see us? Yes, an excellent idea!” the dark man scoffed. His hooded cloak turned slightly, and Eyrna could just barely see the bright, glowing white of his eyes. “I am beginning to think that he does not want my help,” the man said in his damningly calm voice.</p><p></p><p>“We need your assistance, sir!” Eyrna interjected quickly, before Simeon could anger him more. <em>Our cause rests on him and his allies. We shouldn’t anger him!</em> “And we’re willing to pay handsomely for it!” she added quickly.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, I imagine you are,” the hooded man chuckled darkly, before turning back away from the fire. “And you will, before this tale is done,” his voice mused just barely loud enough for Eyrna to catch the sound.</p><p></p><p>And she shuddered.</p><p></p><p>“Sleep now. We have a long week ahead of us,” the man said, in his normal voice again. “Trekking through these woods to where my comrades lay. It won’t be an easy stroll through the Temple Heights, let me warn you!” his voice dripped with sarcasm.</p><p></p><p>“We’ll be ready,” Eyrna replied in challenge, even as her own mind wondered if she really was ready to deal with this dark creature. </p><p></p><p>“I am sure you will be,” the dark tenor replied, laughing. Eyrna wasn’t sure if the sarcasm in the voice was foreboding, but it too sent shivers up her spine.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“M’lord?” a voice called softly through the thickened doors of one of the practice rooms in the palace armory.</p><p></p><p>Valaron closed his eyes in frustration. </p><p></p><p>“I’m on my way!” he called, sheathing his blade in disgust. <em>I come here to get away from messengers, from servants, from everything else.... yet they follow me even here!</em> his mind snarled. With the recent events, Valaron had been looking forward all day to practicing away from the commotion, the noise, the chaos. It was among the few times he truly was able to think without disturbance in his mind.</p><p></p><p>“What?!” he snapped as he opened the door. He instantly regretted his sharp tone, as Raven recoiled slightly. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly, searching for a reason for his harsh words. “I’m used to servants coming in with inane things. What brings you here?”</p><p></p><p>“You’d better come with me,” Raven said quietly, her eyes dancing with a little fear. “There’s something you need to see.”</p><p></p><p>It was a few minutes later when Raven and Valaron came into one of the smaller reception halls near a side entrance to the palace. Vintressa and Royukgan were already there, both looking shocked and horrified. </p><p></p><p>Before them lay the form of a small, elderly goblin, stripped to his waist, bruises covering his drenched form from head to toe. Dried blood had caked along his ears and down the side of his head.</p><p></p><p>More alarming than this scene was the grisly image on his back. Burnt black into his green skin was the form a hand, its fingers splayed open. Val looked to his sister in confusion.</p><p></p><p>“He was dumped off in front of the side steps here,” Vintressa said quietly, walking around the body, looking at it closely. “He had a note pinned to his neck. It’s a little runny from the rain, but it’s still legible.”</p><p></p><p>“Pinned to his neck?” Val asked in confusion.</p><p></p><p>“With a dagger,” Raven added as Vintressa handed Valaron the little note. As she said the ink on its paper had run slightly, though it appeared that most of the paper was dry, as if the goblin’s body had covered it. The writing looked scripted and beautiful, though the words were anything but.</p><p></p><p>“ALAS TO THOSE WHO USE NAGS</p><p>MASTER CHAMOVAL HAS MET HIS FATE</p><p>NO MOURNERS CLAD IN RAGS</p><p>SHALL SEE HIS STATE</p><p>FOR THEY ARE PACKING BAGS</p><p>LOOKING TO DEATH BREAK.”</p><p></p><p>“That makes no sense!” Valaron handed the note to his sister. <em>Sounds like the rhyming of a drunken fool!</em> “Why is this here, in front of us? He’s just a goblin, probably pulled from the city gutters!”</p><p></p><p>“Val... the first line. ‘Alas to those who use nags?’ ‘Mourners clad in rags?’” Vintressa pointed. “Someone just dumped us a clue. A very small and dead clue, but a clue nonetheless.”</p><p></p><p>“Do you really think that this has something to do with those nag-riding people that Raven found out about?” Valaron asked, still not trusting his sister’s logic. <em>That’s an immense leap of faith. And if someone was trying to help us out, why wouldn’t they come in a more formal setting... present the evidence to Diogenes, or father? And show themselves for reward?</em></p><p></p><p>“I don’t know, but it bears investigating,” Vintressa said finally. “And it gets more interesting. Do you have any idea what that hand on his back means?”</p><p></p><p>Valaron shrugged. “There’s so many organizations that use a hand as their symbol. Hundreds probably. It’s rather popular,” the prince scratched his head.</p><p></p><p>“I know there are several mages societies that do. I actually listened to some of the lectures at the Academy,” Raven jumped in. “There’s the Society of Scientific Magic... they’re trying to develop new ways to use the planes of magic, then there’s...”</p><p></p><p>“How many are there?” Valaron asked, sensing the list could be quite long.</p><p></p><p>“Um... thirty or so?”</p><p></p><p>“And I don’t doubt that your realm is like mine, with numerous non-magic secret societies using the hand as a symbol,” Royukgan added. “I can think of six or seven in my home country. Everything from thieves, to assassin’s orders to secret societies for ferriers and smithys. Your larger nation probably has even more.”</p><p></p><p>“Great,” Vintressa sighed. “And that’s not counting any of the less than legal societies. Well, I think it bears looking into. Look at the edges of the burning,” the princess leaned over the corpse rather casually. The others leaned with a great deal more reservation. “See how there’s no blood. He was branded after he died.” She stood back up, flashing a smile of triumph towards Raven.</p><p></p><p>“How do you know that?” Valaron asked the question on everyone’s mind.</p><p></p><p>“I paid attention in anatomy lecture... which <em>someone</em> needed to take thrice before finally passing the final exam,” her look towards Raven beamed. “A wound like this should ooze out blood. This one has none.”</p><p></p><p>“Or someone could have used a bloodbane brand,” Raven pointed out.</p><p></p><p>“Stop stabbing holes into my theory!” Vintressa growled in frustration. She gave a sigh. “I suppose they could have done that. But why would someone use a bloodbane brand? Why would someone waste bloodbane magic on such a thing as a <em>brand</em>?”</p><p></p><p>“Maybe they don’t want to have to keep cleaning their brand off? I mean, there are some swordmasters that use bloodbane swords just so they don’t have to worry about cleaning off the sword to avoid rust,” Valaron offered. “It can be quite an annoyance, especially if one is looking at many fights in a short period of time.”</p><p></p><p>“That still seems pretty silly... considering how powerful and dark bloodbane magic is. I heard Aegrifyr refuses to teach it to any of the Academy students. He says it and other necromantics are too dangerous,” Vintressa said. “Why would someone waste powerful necromancer powers to brand a hand on someone? Doesn’t make sense. I still say he was branded after he died.”</p><p></p><p>“What about this mess here. ‘For they are packing bags, looking to death break.’ That’s the most mangled piece of garbage-“ Valaron observed grimly. </p><p></p><p>“Packing bags is rather obvious… they’re leaving the city,” Royukgan said aloud.</p><p></p><p>“Well, we didn’t need a dead goblin’s note to figure that out,” Raven scowled. </p><p></p><p>“Sounds like the confusing stuff a poet would do for the sake of a lyric,” Valaron replied dryly. Poetry was obviously not one of his fortes or loves. “Why would they pack their bags to ‘death break?’ anyway? Its not like anyone needs a resurrection spell or something. We haven’t caught them yet!”</p><p></p><p>“Maybe it means they’re going back to talk to their ancestors, or a priest that can converse with the dead. Or maybe that Fire Stone gives immortality of some kind,” Royukgan offered. “That would certainly break death… there’s just the whole complication that they can’t carry it. Or who knows… maybe it was supposed to be another word instead of ‘death’ or ‘break.’”</p><p></p><p>“Regardless,” Valaron interrupted, “at this point, I am entirely in favor of bringing this evidence up at tomorrow’s council meeting.” The prince then put his hands on his hips. “Diogenes might be a numbskull when it comes to investigating things, but his underlings have been in security for a while. They might be able to make sense of it.” There was a few seconds of silence, before someone spoke.</p><p></p><p>“No,” Vintressa said quietly.</p><p></p><p>“No? Why not?” Val asked increduously.</p><p></p><p>“Think about it Valaron!” she spun to face her brother. “Someone <em>knew</em> this was the area of the palace we were close to, and <em>knew</em> that at this hour we would be awake for the palace watch to contact. They<em>knew</em> Diogenes wouldn’t be roused to check over a mere body, and that certainly Mom and Dad wouldn’t.”</p><p></p><p>“And whoever it was didn’t go through the normal channels by telling the city watch, or the Guard, or other security people. It was intended for <em>us</em>!” she said forcefully. <em>It’s fairly obvious! They want us to respond to this, not mom or dad or any of the guards or security!</em></p><p></p><p>“You’re talking like someone is trying to give us evidence to <em>avoid</em> normal security procedure. That makes it automatically suspicious to me,” Valaron rejoined. “I can’t think of one legitimate reason why someone would avoid going through sound security channels to relay important information... if, indeed, what you’re guessing about this little fellow is right, and there <em>is</em> a connection.” Valaron crossed his arms. <em>I think this is either a coincidence, or a false lead sent to trip us up!</em></p><p></p><p>“Perhaps they know something you don’t... like the security channels are compromised? Someone paid off someone?” Royukgan offered.</p><p></p><p>“Doubtful,” Valaron added again. “Diogenes is a bulldog. He might not be subtle, he might not be creative, but also he is not disloyal. The main reason he was put in was Father knew that Diogenes would not misuse the position... he’s served faithfully as a general since before we were born!”</p><p></p><p>“How about a compromise?” Raven finally offered. “We inform your father, but not the council. He at least deserves to be kept abreast of the situation.”</p><p></p><p>Vintressa nodded, though Valaron grumbled at the information not being spread as it normally would. <em>Someone is trying to trick us with this mess!</em></p><p></p><p> </p><p></p><p>Much later that night, the long, drenching rain abated. Eyrna and Simeon did not notice, sleep having long ago claimed their bodies. The tiny fire that had warmed them had long since burned itself out. Their comrade did notice, however, and smiled. </p><p></p><p>Gingerly he removed his hood as the moon’s light began to peek between the clouds. The soft moonlight was something his bright eyes could handle, and it cast shadows about his already ebony black face.</p><p></p><p>He rose, and looked to the left, his eyebrows raising momentarily. On cue, several more figures appeared, all clad in dark robes but none possessing the same dark face as him. Silently, he seemed to almost float above the ground towards them. Unbeknownst to them, a few whispered words of power drifted from his lips, directed at them. Satisfied with the results, he watched them all bow in deference and respect.</p><p></p><p>“My Master,” the five dark cloaks dipped in the depth of the night, “we have come, as you requested. Show us, and guide us, our Teacher,” The others did not rise, until their master spoke.</p><p></p><p>“Arise, children. A new night now holds us,” he smiled at hearing his old title now come back to his ears. It had been centuries since someone had called him that, and it was music to his ears. “And our lord above calls us this night to do his work. Metallus, Holder of Secrets?” he asked, and one of the hooded forms stepped forward. </p><p></p><p>Underneath his pitch black cloak, in the thin lights of the ever strengthening moonlight, the thin beard and sharp face of a young human could be made out. The man bowed hurriedly, with great deference. He was a young one in the organization, his life only being prolonged to twice its normal length.</p><p></p><p>“My Teacher, I have safeguarded the location of tombs, as you have asked, keeping the secret hidden. It is written on no paper, or pinpointed on any map. It only exists within my mind, where it shall stay a secret, one which none save our lord can find,” he bowed.</p><p></p><p>“Excellent. You have done excellent work over the past century then... work worthy of a new position. Behold, the Holder of Secrets is now a Keeper of the same,” he said quietly. </p><p></p><p>The effect on the young man was the same as if the words had been shouted during the pomp and finery of a royal coronation, and he quickly fell to a knee again, whispering words of thanks.</p><p></p><p>“My Teacher... those two. They are not of our ranks. Can they be trusted with the secrets of the tombs?” another dark cloak asked, his tone directing them towards Eyrna and Simeon’s sleeping forms. Within its shadows the feral red eyes of a dark creature burst out, his eyes betraying a hunger for more than flesh. “Shall I dispose of them, my Teacher?”</p><p></p><p>“Many times, my child,” the Teacher replied, “in order to obtain a goal, one must use... vessels. Those two are merely vessels we shall use to obtain our goal. Then, you shall have your way with them as you please.”</p><p></p><p>Simeon’s sleeping form suddenly gave a snort, causing the six dark figures to jump.</p><p></p><p>“Follow us for one week. Then reveal yourselves, after I have had time to work on the two uninitiated. Thence, you shall join us. Now,” he looked back at the boy, who had rolled to his side and looked to be moving still, “fly! Fly, guard your minds and keep your mental treasures locked!”</p><p></p><p>Quickly, the six brought their left hands up to their left eyes; a quick yet powerful benediction between their seething magical souls. And in a flash, six turned into one, the night covering her other travelers…</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Simeon was a slow riser, and it was some five minutes later when he opened his eyes, and he saw their dark companion in the moonlight, leaning against a tree. A tiny bit of moonlight shone into the dark recesses of his hood, and Simeon could swear he saw a ghostly smile crossing the creature’s lips.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emperor Valerian, post: 1609348, member: 15043"] Simeon and Eyrna shivered in the cold, as rain continued to pound down on their cloaks, its droplets sizzling on the pitifully small fire that their two forms clustered around. The trek through the sewers had been long, arduous, not to mention smelly, but just before nightfall, the three had emerged on the riverbanks north of the city. Despite the urges of the two younger ones to wash off, their dark companion insisted they march onward, towards the north. Eyrna guessed it was perhaps two hours after nightfall when they finally made camp, just before the rain began. “I’m cold,” Simeon moaned quietly. Eyrna glanced at her brother, and gave a shivering nod in agreement. [i]We should be sleeping inside a nice manor, covered in silken sheets, our bodies warmed by the fires of a well tended hearth.[/i] [i]At least the rain is washing the smell off of our clothes,[/i] she thought darkly. At least one positive. “’Tis good for your bones,” their companion growled a few feet away. Curiously, he sat with his back to the fire. Eyrna had realized only a few hours after meeting him that his kind did not like the light, and avoided it when possible. “I happen to like the cold.” “You’re right insane!” Simeon complained. “What we need is a nice large hearth, its flames roaring...” “A blaze large enough that everyone within ten miles could see us? Yes, an excellent idea!” the dark man scoffed. His hooded cloak turned slightly, and Eyrna could just barely see the bright, glowing white of his eyes. “I am beginning to think that he does not want my help,” the man said in his damningly calm voice. “We need your assistance, sir!” Eyrna interjected quickly, before Simeon could anger him more. [i]Our cause rests on him and his allies. We shouldn’t anger him![/i] “And we’re willing to pay handsomely for it!” she added quickly. “Oh, I imagine you are,” the hooded man chuckled darkly, before turning back away from the fire. “And you will, before this tale is done,” his voice mused just barely loud enough for Eyrna to catch the sound. And she shuddered. “Sleep now. We have a long week ahead of us,” the man said, in his normal voice again. “Trekking through these woods to where my comrades lay. It won’t be an easy stroll through the Temple Heights, let me warn you!” his voice dripped with sarcasm. “We’ll be ready,” Eyrna replied in challenge, even as her own mind wondered if she really was ready to deal with this dark creature. “I am sure you will be,” the dark tenor replied, laughing. Eyrna wasn’t sure if the sarcasm in the voice was foreboding, but it too sent shivers up her spine. “M’lord?” a voice called softly through the thickened doors of one of the practice rooms in the palace armory. Valaron closed his eyes in frustration. “I’m on my way!” he called, sheathing his blade in disgust. [i]I come here to get away from messengers, from servants, from everything else.... yet they follow me even here![/i] his mind snarled. With the recent events, Valaron had been looking forward all day to practicing away from the commotion, the noise, the chaos. It was among the few times he truly was able to think without disturbance in his mind. “What?!” he snapped as he opened the door. He instantly regretted his sharp tone, as Raven recoiled slightly. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly, searching for a reason for his harsh words. “I’m used to servants coming in with inane things. What brings you here?” “You’d better come with me,” Raven said quietly, her eyes dancing with a little fear. “There’s something you need to see.” It was a few minutes later when Raven and Valaron came into one of the smaller reception halls near a side entrance to the palace. Vintressa and Royukgan were already there, both looking shocked and horrified. Before them lay the form of a small, elderly goblin, stripped to his waist, bruises covering his drenched form from head to toe. Dried blood had caked along his ears and down the side of his head. More alarming than this scene was the grisly image on his back. Burnt black into his green skin was the form a hand, its fingers splayed open. Val looked to his sister in confusion. “He was dumped off in front of the side steps here,” Vintressa said quietly, walking around the body, looking at it closely. “He had a note pinned to his neck. It’s a little runny from the rain, but it’s still legible.” “Pinned to his neck?” Val asked in confusion. “With a dagger,” Raven added as Vintressa handed Valaron the little note. As she said the ink on its paper had run slightly, though it appeared that most of the paper was dry, as if the goblin’s body had covered it. The writing looked scripted and beautiful, though the words were anything but. “ALAS TO THOSE WHO USE NAGS MASTER CHAMOVAL HAS MET HIS FATE NO MOURNERS CLAD IN RAGS SHALL SEE HIS STATE FOR THEY ARE PACKING BAGS LOOKING TO DEATH BREAK.” “That makes no sense!” Valaron handed the note to his sister. [i]Sounds like the rhyming of a drunken fool![/i] “Why is this here, in front of us? He’s just a goblin, probably pulled from the city gutters!” “Val... the first line. ‘Alas to those who use nags?’ ‘Mourners clad in rags?’” Vintressa pointed. “Someone just dumped us a clue. A very small and dead clue, but a clue nonetheless.” “Do you really think that this has something to do with those nag-riding people that Raven found out about?” Valaron asked, still not trusting his sister’s logic. [i]That’s an immense leap of faith. And if someone was trying to help us out, why wouldn’t they come in a more formal setting... present the evidence to Diogenes, or father? And show themselves for reward?[/i] “I don’t know, but it bears investigating,” Vintressa said finally. “And it gets more interesting. Do you have any idea what that hand on his back means?” Valaron shrugged. “There’s so many organizations that use a hand as their symbol. Hundreds probably. It’s rather popular,” the prince scratched his head. “I know there are several mages societies that do. I actually listened to some of the lectures at the Academy,” Raven jumped in. “There’s the Society of Scientific Magic... they’re trying to develop new ways to use the planes of magic, then there’s...” “How many are there?” Valaron asked, sensing the list could be quite long. “Um... thirty or so?” “And I don’t doubt that your realm is like mine, with numerous non-magic secret societies using the hand as a symbol,” Royukgan added. “I can think of six or seven in my home country. Everything from thieves, to assassin’s orders to secret societies for ferriers and smithys. Your larger nation probably has even more.” “Great,” Vintressa sighed. “And that’s not counting any of the less than legal societies. Well, I think it bears looking into. Look at the edges of the burning,” the princess leaned over the corpse rather casually. The others leaned with a great deal more reservation. “See how there’s no blood. He was branded after he died.” She stood back up, flashing a smile of triumph towards Raven. “How do you know that?” Valaron asked the question on everyone’s mind. “I paid attention in anatomy lecture... which [i]someone[/i] needed to take thrice before finally passing the final exam,” her look towards Raven beamed. “A wound like this should ooze out blood. This one has none.” “Or someone could have used a bloodbane brand,” Raven pointed out. “Stop stabbing holes into my theory!” Vintressa growled in frustration. She gave a sigh. “I suppose they could have done that. But why would someone use a bloodbane brand? Why would someone waste bloodbane magic on such a thing as a [i]brand[/i]?” “Maybe they don’t want to have to keep cleaning their brand off? I mean, there are some swordmasters that use bloodbane swords just so they don’t have to worry about cleaning off the sword to avoid rust,” Valaron offered. “It can be quite an annoyance, especially if one is looking at many fights in a short period of time.” “That still seems pretty silly... considering how powerful and dark bloodbane magic is. I heard Aegrifyr refuses to teach it to any of the Academy students. He says it and other necromantics are too dangerous,” Vintressa said. “Why would someone waste powerful necromancer powers to brand a hand on someone? Doesn’t make sense. I still say he was branded after he died.” “What about this mess here. ‘For they are packing bags, looking to death break.’ That’s the most mangled piece of garbage-“ Valaron observed grimly. “Packing bags is rather obvious… they’re leaving the city,” Royukgan said aloud. “Well, we didn’t need a dead goblin’s note to figure that out,” Raven scowled. “Sounds like the confusing stuff a poet would do for the sake of a lyric,” Valaron replied dryly. Poetry was obviously not one of his fortes or loves. “Why would they pack their bags to ‘death break?’ anyway? Its not like anyone needs a resurrection spell or something. We haven’t caught them yet!” “Maybe it means they’re going back to talk to their ancestors, or a priest that can converse with the dead. Or maybe that Fire Stone gives immortality of some kind,” Royukgan offered. “That would certainly break death… there’s just the whole complication that they can’t carry it. Or who knows… maybe it was supposed to be another word instead of ‘death’ or ‘break.’” “Regardless,” Valaron interrupted, “at this point, I am entirely in favor of bringing this evidence up at tomorrow’s council meeting.” The prince then put his hands on his hips. “Diogenes might be a numbskull when it comes to investigating things, but his underlings have been in security for a while. They might be able to make sense of it.” There was a few seconds of silence, before someone spoke. “No,” Vintressa said quietly. “No? Why not?” Val asked increduously. “Think about it Valaron!” she spun to face her brother. “Someone [i]knew[/i] this was the area of the palace we were close to, and [i]knew[/i] that at this hour we would be awake for the palace watch to contact. They[i]knew[/i] Diogenes wouldn’t be roused to check over a mere body, and that certainly Mom and Dad wouldn’t.” “And whoever it was didn’t go through the normal channels by telling the city watch, or the Guard, or other security people. It was intended for [i]us[/i]!” she said forcefully. [i]It’s fairly obvious! They want us to respond to this, not mom or dad or any of the guards or security![/i] “You’re talking like someone is trying to give us evidence to [i]avoid[/i] normal security procedure. That makes it automatically suspicious to me,” Valaron rejoined. “I can’t think of one legitimate reason why someone would avoid going through sound security channels to relay important information... if, indeed, what you’re guessing about this little fellow is right, and there [i]is[/i] a connection.” Valaron crossed his arms. [i]I think this is either a coincidence, or a false lead sent to trip us up![/i] “Perhaps they know something you don’t... like the security channels are compromised? Someone paid off someone?” Royukgan offered. “Doubtful,” Valaron added again. “Diogenes is a bulldog. He might not be subtle, he might not be creative, but also he is not disloyal. The main reason he was put in was Father knew that Diogenes would not misuse the position... he’s served faithfully as a general since before we were born!” “How about a compromise?” Raven finally offered. “We inform your father, but not the council. He at least deserves to be kept abreast of the situation.” Vintressa nodded, though Valaron grumbled at the information not being spread as it normally would. [i]Someone is trying to trick us with this mess![/i] Much later that night, the long, drenching rain abated. Eyrna and Simeon did not notice, sleep having long ago claimed their bodies. The tiny fire that had warmed them had long since burned itself out. Their comrade did notice, however, and smiled. Gingerly he removed his hood as the moon’s light began to peek between the clouds. The soft moonlight was something his bright eyes could handle, and it cast shadows about his already ebony black face. He rose, and looked to the left, his eyebrows raising momentarily. On cue, several more figures appeared, all clad in dark robes but none possessing the same dark face as him. Silently, he seemed to almost float above the ground towards them. Unbeknownst to them, a few whispered words of power drifted from his lips, directed at them. Satisfied with the results, he watched them all bow in deference and respect. “My Master,” the five dark cloaks dipped in the depth of the night, “we have come, as you requested. Show us, and guide us, our Teacher,” The others did not rise, until their master spoke. “Arise, children. A new night now holds us,” he smiled at hearing his old title now come back to his ears. It had been centuries since someone had called him that, and it was music to his ears. “And our lord above calls us this night to do his work. Metallus, Holder of Secrets?” he asked, and one of the hooded forms stepped forward. Underneath his pitch black cloak, in the thin lights of the ever strengthening moonlight, the thin beard and sharp face of a young human could be made out. The man bowed hurriedly, with great deference. He was a young one in the organization, his life only being prolonged to twice its normal length. “My Teacher, I have safeguarded the location of tombs, as you have asked, keeping the secret hidden. It is written on no paper, or pinpointed on any map. It only exists within my mind, where it shall stay a secret, one which none save our lord can find,” he bowed. “Excellent. You have done excellent work over the past century then... work worthy of a new position. Behold, the Holder of Secrets is now a Keeper of the same,” he said quietly. The effect on the young man was the same as if the words had been shouted during the pomp and finery of a royal coronation, and he quickly fell to a knee again, whispering words of thanks. “My Teacher... those two. They are not of our ranks. Can they be trusted with the secrets of the tombs?” another dark cloak asked, his tone directing them towards Eyrna and Simeon’s sleeping forms. Within its shadows the feral red eyes of a dark creature burst out, his eyes betraying a hunger for more than flesh. “Shall I dispose of them, my Teacher?” “Many times, my child,” the Teacher replied, “in order to obtain a goal, one must use... vessels. Those two are merely vessels we shall use to obtain our goal. Then, you shall have your way with them as you please.” Simeon’s sleeping form suddenly gave a snort, causing the six dark figures to jump. “Follow us for one week. Then reveal yourselves, after I have had time to work on the two uninitiated. Thence, you shall join us. Now,” he looked back at the boy, who had rolled to his side and looked to be moving still, “fly! Fly, guard your minds and keep your mental treasures locked!” Quickly, the six brought their left hands up to their left eyes; a quick yet powerful benediction between their seething magical souls. And in a flash, six turned into one, the night covering her other travelers… Simeon was a slow riser, and it was some five minutes later when he opened his eyes, and he saw their dark companion in the moonlight, leaning against a tree. A tiny bit of moonlight shone into the dark recesses of his hood, and Simeon could swear he saw a ghostly smile crossing the creature’s lips. [/QUOTE]
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