Communing

It was time to being again, the process always possessing the subtle changes that recurring dreams seem to have, clinging to its edges like wispy strands of a tattered intangible cloak. There is a robed figure, standing alone in the clearing of a dreamscape forest, trees barren and flickering like candles. Every sound is crisp as an icy breath. The long black fingers of trees creaking and scratching against each other, dry grass crumpling under foot, soft earth gently compressing with each step. As I approach the figure, he is outlined by a sharp white light, and my surroundings become blurry and distant. What little color was present before fades until there is nothing left but the deepest shadow or the brightest white light. I grab the figures shoulder and it turns to me.
A crow's face. Eyes unblinking as it stares back. It opens its beak, and a pure white fog begins to roll out of its mouth. It floats downward and curls along the ground and around my feet. Nine wings of black smoke unfold from the figure's back, stretching out to their fullest span. All around me, shapes begin to rise out of the fog. Animals, humans, monsters, nothing clearly defined, only vaguely recognizable. They all stand alert, featureless faces turned to me.
My mind empties itself of all thought, it feels like dying. Once I am empty, the figures all begin to walk towards me, and I can remember no more. Idwel's eyes flicked open, his crow, sitting in front of him, raised its head up to him and shook its feathers. They sat there in silence for another moment, before a thought shared itself between them.

Time to go.

Geldazar

The Oilstone mountains were home for a short time. Six months had past since Geldazar bid farewell to his friends and went up into their rarefied heights. Unoccupied caves were hard to come by in the area, but after searching for days he found a cold damp hole in the bottom of a crumbling cliff. More of an overhang than a cave, it suited his purposes. Alone, inside, he waited.


A healed world without wounds, iron rusts while hearts grow, golden red the sun blinks no eyes, darkness or light have no end here

Violent gifts from the Gods are given to them, when they tremble at the foot of the soft white calf, beckon forth the laughter when shown, it bleeds as they do and dies just the same

Do not deny them this, they gave it as a gift and asked nothing, they gave you salt they gave you sugar, fickle whims try to guide you to drink, but only the lion will drink such blood here.

Foreign shores will bear you now, stand up and see the land of the Gods, breathe the air and your heart moves the ground below, this is where you will make them notice, in this here, the divine mirror

Arren Illiathan:

Meldin crept through the dark cramped corridors of the Couatl. The ship was only a few days outside Andmar and Arren, his mark was still alive. He wasn't sure why he'd let the man live for so long, perhaps he had grown feelings for the man's sister, Alia. But the game had run it's course, Meldin's employers were near at hand and the warm promise of gold filled his stomach with a giddy glow. He fingered the dagger hidden in his sleeve, he'd just sharpened it, and the poison coating the blade made his skin tingle just thinking about it. Arren would die this night.

He opened the door to the deck. Meldin had made sure to grease the hinges with lamp oil earlier in the evening while giving the crew a hand. After the death of Nerro, the rest of the crew had taken a liking to him, he caroused with the crew and being a particularly smart man, had picked up the trade of a sailor quite easily. Unfortunately, Arren seemed to have inherited the old captain's prejudices, but it didn't matter, for Meldin had done what he did best: won his way into the hearts of those around them, so that when the knife finally fell, he would be the last suspect.

The deck was completely empty, silent as the bottom of the sea, but below was filled with the sounds of snoring men and rum bottles clanking together with the gentle sway of the ship. Meldin looked up toward the aft of the ship and found what he expected: there was Arren, staring forward steering the ship. He looked like a statue, proudly steering the helm toward adventure, the great war hero preparing for his homecoming.

He resented the man. How could he have done what they said he did? Not what "they" said he did, but the people who were there: who saw him? Sure, he looked the part, strong physique and proud face with a clean manly moustache, but once he opened his mouth: soft spoken, bookish, sensitive and, well, boring...not to mention the spectacles. Even the men on the Couatl avoided him, said that he was the last boy in a litter of three, and might as well have been born a woman. But time seemed to have changed him. In truth Meldin feared the man; for often, such contradictions are dangerous. Meldin needed only to look at him self for affirmation: blood of the angels flowed in his veins, but his heart had rotted out.

"Good eve Meldin, slinking in the shadows?" No, he wasn't slinking, if he was, the blind bat never would have seen him.

"Ha! No friend Arren, couldn't sleep, too many sailors singing in their dreams."

"My sister's the worst of the lot, eh? I always knew she'd fit in with sailors." Arren smiled, attempting to hide his dislike. For all his prejudice the man seemed to try awfully hard at kindness. "Come up here then, I've mixed a drink the Alk'Harans call Kafeh, it'll make sure you see the sun rise." arren raised a spouted pot full of a dark liquid.

"Does it go well with rum?" Meldin produced a bottle from under his arm. He approached his prey and unstopped the bottle taking a long swig. This was how he preferred to work. Some people used stealth, he used deception, and alcohol, alcohol made it fun.

"I'll stick with the Kafeh." that's why he had to die. Men who don't drink can't be trusted. "So, you're from Andisine? What's your family name again, it seems to have eluded me."

"Leltrex, maybe you've heard of us? We own substantial land around Andisine." It was an easy lie, Danmerian nobility was so obscure after the mages took control.

"Funny, I would have thought medicine. I heard you took a particular interest in the health of the captain." Arren gave him a peculiar gaze.

"No, something I learned from my family's nurse, she taught me tenderness. A remarkable woman." What was he on about?

"I never thanked you for looking after Nerro, he was like a father to me. I was sad that I couldn't see him one last time. But he did write before he died."

"What?" he was right, this man wasn't to be trusted.

"Apparently he regained his wits somewhat before he fell into Gharlamaal's hands. The man wrote only a short letter, but it said enough." What was he getting at? What did the captain say?

"Oh? Say, I'll take some Kafeh, I don't think I'll sleep much tonight." He'd heard enough.

Arren was quick to oblige. and reached out with the pot, handing Meldin a tin mug. His hands were trembling, he reached for the cup and fumbled it, falling to the deck, it began to roll toward the edge of the ship.

"Shit!" Arren sprang for the tin cup, and Meldin sprang after, drawing the dagger from his sleeve. As Arren grasped the cup, Meldin plunged the blade down between his shoulder blades, but by some strange twist of luck the clumsy man was thrown off his feet by a jeer of the ship. Meldin stumbled too, but stayed afoot, unfortunately he was unable to hide the poisoned blade in time. Arren's gaze went up to him, and a look of complete realization crossed his face.

"I knew Vex would send his dogs." Arren growled. They sprang immediately for each other and like the meeting of two waves crashed, flesh against flesh. Meldin cut with his dagger and felt the pleasing sensation of success as it glided across flesh.

Arren's face went pale, the poison was quick to act. But his expression turned to a grimace as he drew the blade at his side. A gold curved dagger of Alk'Haran make. Suddenly his visage was turned to that of a wild beast, the poison didn't seem to matter, he lashed out with the furiosity of a raging hippopotamus and drove Meldin to the ground with enormous strength. Who was this man? He felt the dagger enter his own body and tear out, he felt his very life being sucked out with the removal of the blade. Arren stood over him, covered in blood, tiny cuts rending his flesh. This man was a monster worse than he. Then, suddenly as he had drawn the bejeweled dagger, he dropped it, and collapsed.

Meldin lay there bleeding out under the stars. He should have kept up the act. He should have married Alia and lived happily ever after. Perhaps he was in love after all? He'd never know. For the first time in his life, Meldin died.

_______________________________________________________

Arren set the letter down. He'd shown it to no one and had been holding it in the breast pocket of his jacket for nearly two weeks. Alia would be back soon, from her voyage to Dornheim. He'd barely talked to her since Meldin attacked him. She knew the truth of events, but the look in her eye when she had left showed that she blamed him.

After Alia had left, Arren was soon well enough to walk and took up his former place in the family. His parents were proud. He had scarce realized how much he missed them but there was something that lingered in his heart. At first he was happy to be a merchant's son again. Doing the books for the family, sorting out business and new cargo for the Couatl was a happier life than that of a warrior but he felt empty. When merchants came in from the docks he heard news of Alk'Hara and Lionne, he heard of strange doings and new heroes rising while he was here securing his familie's fortune. He though again of the look in his sister's eyes before she had left and knew what he had to do. He took a deep drink from the bottle of wine in the messy office where he had locked himself from the world and got out pen and paper.

The words spun as he wrote them, this being the last of a particularly potent vintage. He quickly finished the letter, got up and gathered his things. There were only a few items he needed and those were close at hand. Alia couldn't hate him any more than she did already, and the family would be better off in her hands. Arren had to flee.

Sister,

I must leave, my heart has left and I must find it, for without it I cannot bare your scorn. You know better than I what to do.

Love, Arren

Moss Beard

Korick Leaned back on his cot and began to to think of his time since he returned to Remitex. It had felt good to return, the familiar smells and sounds. The open skies of the Human lands had begun to feel oppressive, it was good to be home. He had lived off his savings long enough to case a couple of houses that would bank roll his later operations. From there he found a run down little shack that once held a smithy for his base of operations. He then began setting in place the network of connections needed to "acquire" an fence specialty goods. It had taken some time and a considerable amount of coin, but in a matter of weeks he was up an running. He had set in place the name of Moss Beard for his operations. That required a Little cosmetic change but such was the price of his profession.

After a couple of months he had group of thieves working under him, an impressive clientele and was living the high life. It was quite the set up he had, he used his lads for the more mundane Jobs an drops. While he himself took on the high end jobs, normally one thing a noble wanted from another or the planting incriminating evidence. All the while spending the rest of his time drinking and feasting, an then there were the lady's. That's where things went wrong.

Her name was Thay'eina. He had met her at one of his party's. She had long golden hair, deep emerald eyes and finely trimmed mutton chops. She was beautiful! He had sauntered up to her an introduced himself. Naturally she was flattered to meet the Mighty Moss Beard. They started off by a casual drinking contest, she could hold her liqur. It wasn't easy but he was able to beat her. his prize was a kiss. They shared tales of their lives and wondered the streets for hours. Naturaly I left some key details out. When he awoke it was in a soft bed with her worm body next t his. She leaned in and whispered in his ear "My husband will be home soon". That woke him like a thunder bolt. "Husband?!?" He started looking for his clothes. "Who exactly is he?" he said putting on his pants and boots. "Kroknar Doomgate" she said it so casually.

"Pisst Mossy got a letter for ya." Korik shook himself from his revere. "A letter you say." He waled over to Dimdle's smiling face and snatched it out of his hands. Hmm, a smile began to spread across Korik's face. It seems it was time for him to leave for another adventure. First problem first how to get out of this cell.

Introduction: Macinar Isles- Dawn of Discovery