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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ghostknight" data-source="post: 3427803" data-attributes="member: 15338">Part 3 Confrontations.  Chapter 19In the palace, the king and his family mourned.  They sat in silence, eating only bread and drinking only water.  For thirty days they sat on the floor and slept on beds of iron, symbolic of the anvil on which the Forge Father created the souls of his children.  The city outside moved to the sound of the forges working continuously, the din of metal taking shape, a background noise that never faded no matter if it was night or day.  The city prepared for war. Within the embassy of the Tower Arcane, Angel and Devil lived in an uneasy truce.  New servants had come to serve within, but the stories of what had happened at the funeral had spread far.  Those who came were wary of Eria, far more so than before the masses had seen his real form.  In comparison, as much as the fear of Eria had grown, Sister Egrit had grown into a figure of awe.  She found herself unable to leave the house due to the crowds she drew whenever she walked the streets.  The first time she did, it almost started a riot as hordes of people tried to get close and bask in the presence of one of the fabled celestials.   Her mere presence , the physical presence of a celestial amongst them, a beacon of hope unheard of in the last three thousand years. "Eria, we need to do something.  I grow tired of waiting.  After so long and so much hiding, I long for action.  It is time!"Eria laughed.  "Impatient?  You? I find it interesting that my kind always carries the blame for the inciting of impatience and the desire for war.  Do you find it as ironic as I that we find ourselves with you urging haste to action, to war while I wait patiently, mindful of those who mourn the death of a hero?"The face of Sister Egrit went red, its colour approaching that of Eria's skin. "How dare you!  I have sat in hiding for centuries.  I came here as a new born babe, the only way to pierce the Veil set up Jeria to block the descent of any carrying the power of the Celestial spheres, being to send us through stripped of all power and our connection to the spheres severed to avoid detection.  It took centuries of hiding, slowly growing to regain my power.  Even now I do not posses the full extent of my abilities, I ."  She stopped and her eyes were those of the hunting hawk of her natural form.  The thin, narrow, yellow pupils regarded him.  "Do you have any idea how many of us were killed?  How many were tortured and subjected to the diabolical whims of your friends before we discovered the Veil?   That diabolical trap that detected all attempts by those of the Celestial Spheres to come through, stripped them of their power, and dropped them, literally, into Jelial's lap?"   Eria watched her with interest.  Her anger was blatant and beautiful to his fiendish eyes.  He could see her emotion, the way it boiled and seethed, making her breathless as she vented her frustration and anger at him.   "No.  We don't know."  Eria spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, "In fact we did not know of the Veil until recently.  The discovery of it was the trigger for our involvement.  We never understood why those of the Celestial Spheres stood idle and allowed Jelial his victory, and the corruption of this world.  We had intended to remain aloof, let the Celestial Spheres expend themselves and their resources to save the world.  We were bemused, and bewildered, at the seeming indifference to the pain and misery that seemed to be the attitude of those that always stood proclaimed as the paragons of virtue and goodness.  The discovery of the Veil gave us an answer, but at the same time showed us how badly we had miscalculated and misunderstood the level of Jelial's power, and his cunning!" Eria started pacing the room, stopping occasionally to crush a petal of a flower from the vase in the room.  This mindless act of destruction seemed to be something he was not even aware of, a calming action for him.  He stopped, twisting around on his heels, his face against that of Sister Egrit. "You know what is really painful for us?"  His voice was low, pain evident within.  "We get summoned by some puny, mortal mage and forced to serve his twisted, demented little desires.  No thought or imagination to them, they are always so petty and, often, vindictive.  No grandiose vision drives them, merely the same little desires and twisted dreams that you see repeated so often across the millennia.  A slave to his magic, you serve, and die, at the hands of some despicable little mortal, only to be reborn, in pain, in Hell." Sister Egrit looked at him, her eyes clouded and giving away nothing of what she was feeling.  "Oh, you are so misunderstood, aren't you?  Poor little devils, abused by the mortals that you corrupt.  Do you really think that I would fall for such a story, Eria?  I may have been forced to shed my power and come through to this existence as a babe, but I am as old as you." Eria laughed, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her.  "You can't blame a devil for trying.  It really would be something if I could return to Hell with you as my consort.  Are you sure you do not want to let yourself be seduced?  We devils are very inventive you know." Sister Egrit's snort of disgust was all the answer she gave.  He did take my mind off the wait for the king and his family to emerge from mourning.  Wonder if that was his intention, if his confession of pain was just a ruse or not or if his latest offer is genuine?  I hate devils and their subterfuge, their inability to communicate plainly!  Sister Egrit watched Eria, but could determine nothing more, the devil's emotions and expression as enigmatic as always. ***Within the palace, the king sat on a low, hard, stone bench.  At his side was his wife of many years, her eyes swollen and red from crying.  Others filled the room, the families of all that had died that day brought together to mourn within the king's home, a place to honour the fallen dead of that day.  D'Fir sat cross-legged before the king and queen.  In honour of his brother, he had shaven his head and sworn that the braids he wore from that day forth would be in remembrance of his brother.  At his side sat his younger siblings, the three boys and four girls all too young to assume the mantle of adulthood and shave their heads in mourning. The light of a scant few candles lit the room.  The mourners sat in the shadows, comforting the souls of the dead as they moved through the shadows to their ultimate destination within the Forge Father's halls.  Time passed in silent contemplation of the deeds of the dead.  No words left their lips, except for those in remembrance of the departed.  D'Fir felt his mind drifting as fatigue overcame him.  He shook his head to wake himself; to sleep now would be dishonourable.  He looked around, and noted that everyone seemed to be drifting off, that slumber seemed to be overcoming them all. Perplexed he looked around, and noted, with alarm, that even the guards were sleeping.  D'Fir jumped to his feet. "Wake one, wake all!  We are under attack!"  His voice boomed out, those in the room raising groggy heads to look at the prince as if he were mad.  Not for long did they doubt him though, for a low growl came from the roof, followed by the sound of scampering feet.  As the noise faded, the lethargy that had afflicted them passed; carried away by whatever had come to attack, foiled by the prince who had not succumbed. An alert, awake king stood up.  His eyes held barely contained fury as his hands opened and closed rhythmically as if they grasped for an axe, which was not present. "We seem to have no time for mourning!  Very well, let the scum that would deny me even the time to mourn my son in a proper fashion learn what it means to incur the wrath of the family of Wevern; to rouse the anger of Fort Livian!"   With his right hand, he reached out, and gripped D'Fir's shoulder.   "You shall be the War Marshal, my strong right hand to lead our forces to glorious victory!  Go, now, and prepare the troops.  I shall discuss with those who know best where we should strike first!" D'Fir sank, his head rested on his knee briefly, before standing and exiting the room.  Behind him came Kutil, Captain of the guard and a life long friend.  The two strode through the corridors of the keep, heading towards the high tower that marked its centre.  Up the winding staircase they went, climbing, rising above the tallest of the buildings in the city below.  At the top, D'Fir stood before a massive horn.  Each end had a brass ring to which chains of silver-steel, from which the horn hung, were attached.  Kutil bowed his head as D'Fir stepped forward and blew.The note was long and, as it continued, the activity in the city below ceased.  In homes, in the marketplace, amongst warehouses and business that made up the life of the city by day, people came to a standstill.  Heads turned towards the tower, listening as the single, long note continued.  Tools were set down and haggling ceased as many turned towards home.  Weapons would be claimed and armour donned.  The muster had begun. Within the Embassy of the Tower Arcane Eria and Sister Egrit heard the horn.  Both understood its significance.  Eria looked at Sister Egrit. "It has begun, but early.  Let us hope haste does not lead to our undoing." *** Gyv, Jeria and Mekior sat in the cell, deep within the bowels of the dungeon.  It was quite comfortable, as far as dungeons went; the walls were dry and the floor was covered with some sort of aromatic plant stalks to mask the smell of excrement and unwashed bodies.  Torches dotted the walls, illuminating it well enough that all could see without too much trouble. No matter how comfortable, though, it was still a dungeon cell. "You think they'll talk to us before they kill us?"  Mekior tried to make his banter sound light, but the others could hear the tension, the stress of their situation getting to him. "I'm pretty sure they will.  I expect they will test us somehow and, once satisfied we are not fiends, will talk to us."  Gyv glanced over to Jeria, "Of course if they use the kind of testing pin we do, it is going to kill you!" And me, though she does not know it!   Mekior looked at his companions, wondering how they would avoid being tested.  Mekior knew that if both Jeria and he were exposed as carrying the blood of fiends, Gyv would die, regardless of any protestations of innocence.  He moved to the door and looked through the bars to the two guards who sat well back from them, alert and attentive every time someone spoke or moved within their cell. "Is there any chance of us speaking to someone?"  The request was met with the same indifference all their utterances had received since the guards had escorted them from the ridge overlooking the market place.  It had all been quite cordial so far.  The guards had arrived and fallen in around them, making it clear where they should go; they had descended the ridge and edged along the outskirts of the market until the guards had led them to the stairs that took them down into the earth, and this dungeon.   So the three sat, waiting for something to happen, with all their equipment and weapons in the cell with them, which kept them wondering what the guards were waiting for.  A day passed, then another two days.  The three fed themselves off the food in their backpacks, idly watched by the guards that changed at regular intervals.   The light had begun to dim outside, and the noises from the nearby marketplace diminishing as traders closed their stalls and headed home, when someone finally arrived.  He was tall and completely bald, not even his eyebrows remained; a large nose was the most remarkable feature of his face, the small mouth almost lost beneath its girth.  His clothing was made of some shimmering material that reflected the light as he moved. "I am Vinian, Master of the Market.  I am sorry it has taken so long for me to come to you, but I have been trying to find out which faction sent you.  We had no notification of your embassy.  If you could please enlighten me as to your faction and whom you represent within it, we can start discussing the terms of our trade within more congenial environments."  Vinian smiled, but his smile was disconcerting, revealing a mouth filled with teeth, row after row of small, sharp incisors visible, extending even into his throat. "Master Vinian, I am Mekior of Harmony Lake.  My two companions are Jeria, also of Harmony Lake, and Gyv, from Gunder's Hall.  We are travellers that arrived here unexpectedly.  We do not know of your factions, we represent the hidden cities of Gunder's Hall and Lake Harmony.  We came here seeking allies, but trade would be welcomed." The Master opened the door to the dungeon, coming to inspect each one in turn.  He reached out, touching the blade of Jeria, tracings its runes and cold iron inlay. "You come well armed and prepared; your packs are enchanted to hold more than they should and your weaponry is worth a king's ransom."  From within the folds of his robe he removed a small box of powder. He looked over Jeria, "It is obvious that you have fiendish blood, but what of your companions, are they what they seem?"  He flung the powder into the air, chanting as he did so. The powder fell on all three of the travellers.  For Gyv and Jeria it felt as if nothing more than dust had been thrown onto them, but for Mekior the effect was dramatic.  He felt as if a thousand needles were piercing his flesh; he screamed, rolling on the floor, leaving a trail of blood from pores that oozed with red.  Jeria and Gyv watched in horror as his form bubbled, as the straps that held his armour in place stretched and then snapped, his true form emerging. As Gyv and Jeria watched, entranced and horrified at this transformation, Vinian watched them, chanting under his breath, eyes glowing as he regarded them. "It would seem that you two are as appalled as I am.  Your companion is obviously something other than what he seemed.  Come, you two shall be my guests while we discuss what brings you to my halls.  Others shall undertake the odious task of questioning this fiend." He smiled at the two, "We are used to half-fiends, and the fiend-blooded, within these halls.  I bear such myself.  But that is no half-fiend or one afflicted by their evils!" Vinian bowed, sweeping his arm to Gyv and Jeria to precede him out the door.  The two guards outside the cell stood at attention and saluted them as they left.  As they ascended the stairs, they saw the two guards enter the cell and pick up Mekior, his blood staining the floor below.  Held firmly between them they could see him being taken further into the dungeon complex and out of their sight. "We will learn who he is, and what he does, why he has deceived you.  Never fear, my inquisitors are very good at their jobs!" Their hearts heavy, their emotions shattered at the revelation of Mekior's true form, Gyv and Jeria followed the Master up the stairs and into the city that now welcomed them into its midst.</blockquote>

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