(OOC: Apologies for the length, but I needed to break off the rust. Hopefully this will also help people adjust to the tone of the RP. Feel free to skip to the last three paragraphs of my second post to get the story hook.)
Scarlet erupted from the back of the man robed in silver as a blade like night ran through him, its blackened point slick with the ichor of the false prophet. Zahariel's face twisted in frustration, he'd still not fully learned to control his Shade's strength against mortal opponents. As the remainder of the cult of the demon Vyndzzick paused, fear grasped them from behind and stalled their deaths for a moment, they looked at their leader as his crimson blood dribbled from his mouth. The color on their faces was almost as pallor as the creature of the Shadow Realm whom they encircled, having planned to waylay him. Purpose and rage had drained from their eyes faster than their master's lifeblood.
"Cultists of Vyndzzick, you stand under the accusation of heresy and perversion - you promised answers to the prayers of the desperate in exchange for their souls," Zahariel repeated. It was the same warning he'd given the cult leader before the sorcerer had lashed out with him using a perverse black flame. The man hadn't stood a chance. Faster than a hummingbird flapped its wings a single time, the Avatar of the One had vanished and reappeared in the shadow of the cult leader, cast ahead of him from the dark conflagration he stood before. It was dishonorable to kill a man from behind, even one who was unworthy of the courtesy. Honor was, after all, for one's self - not the enemy.
Though they served a Demon from some accursed corner of the Abyss, it was clear that the foolish cult mob had never encountered a Shade. Unaware and unprepared, Zahariel's Shadow Step had given their leader virtually no time to react. No normal human could possibly match the movement speed of a being capable of warping the space between shadows, transmitting their being through the Shadow Realm from point-to-point. Where a platoon of warrior-priests would've once been dispatched, Zahariel was now a one-man army in service to the Hidden God Who Hears All Prayers. It was their sworn duty to eliminate all cults who deceived their followers into praying to false beings who fed on the devotion and souls of the faithful, and Zahariel carried out that duty with complete loyalty.
Only a few minutes later, his mission complete, Zahariel stood once again in the shadow the statue dedicated to the Hidden God. A marvel of magical sculpture, the artist who'd designed it had created a sort of enchanted glass which drew in light. It gave the towering monument the appearance of a sun whose rays drew inward, the sacred symbol of the One God. "All prayers fall to your ears, oh Hidden God behind all Gods. Thank you for the gift of my life, may it always be led in service to you," Zahariel whispered with a bowed head.
"Ah, my son, I did not hear you come in," came a familiar, steady voice. The High Priest, Malachi, made his way slowly around the perimeter of the sculpture. Old age had left him bowed but not broken, his staff still mostly for show as opposed to support.
"These days I move swiftly and silently. You know that, father," Zahariel said. Stepping out from the shadow into the sunlight streaming into the atrium, the warrior-priest's form dramatically changed. While he remained a tall, imposing figure, the light evaporated the darkness of his being. Ebony hair gave way to a soft head of gold. The black tattoos vanished, the tanning of a youth under the sun returned to his paraffin skin. Black eyes which glowed yellow cleared like ink being removed from water, and they were once again white with azure irises. Malachi preferred to see the young man he'd raised in the light, as opposed to the Shade who'd lived a century in the Shadow Realm. Zahariel knew this, and considered the pain he felt a meditation.
"That's my boy," the High Priest said with a wide grin.
Pushing past the pain which knotted his brow Zahariel's lips pulled up in a small smile. "His will is done. The Cultists of Vyndzzick are no more," he reported.
Nodding in agreement, Malachi replied, "This is good. Unanswered prayers denied passage to His ears are blasphemy. Blessed be the child whose prayers reached the Hidden God, and called our attention to those false prophets."
Malachi looked upon his adopted son, his expression softened and his voice came again with a hand on Zahariel's shoulder. A grimace made its way across the warrior-priest's lips before it vanished once again. "The light of the sun truly pains you, doesn't it?"
"Yes, father, but I accept it as a challenge. It reminds me of mortality, and while I do not enjoy it there is a certain humility to be found in this form of suffering," Zahariel responded.
A small chuckle escaped Malachi's mouth before he said, "You have always been a pious boy, seeking to find a silver lining to suffering in a way that would make the most orthodox of the most conservative faiths in the multiverse envious. Our god does not demand that we suffer, Zahariel, you know that."
"Nevertheless, I am a being who will never age, never feel the needs of mortals, and many before me have lost their way. Someone who lives for centuries no longer can know the moment, and this pain very much roots me in the moment," he said heavily.
"Indeed...sometimes I forget that you're now nearly twice my age. Your wisdom makes me proud. Perhaps, one day, you will take my place," Malachi said.
"All is as the One God wills it," Zahariel said, more as a way to avoid the subject than as a response. Malachi remained silent for a moment.
"Pray with me, my son," the old priest requested. Zahariel took his adoptive father's hands, remembering how they were in his youth. They'd held his small hands firmly, and they were course from hard work maintaining the Temple. Now, of course, they were softer, but no less firm.
"Oh Hidden God, God of the Gods, you are the One who hears the prayers of all those who call out for succor in earnest. I pray for your favor and guidance, and that you lay forth a path for the soul of your Chosen Avatar. He has made himself your blade, and you have granted him a new and eternal life. As the wheel of time and life endlessly turn, he has risen again to serve you like a black dawn - a dark star which lights the world. Please, oh mighty Sustainer and Giver of Justice, I only ask that you make a place for this child in the blessed illumination of the world. Find and bring to him that which he needs in this hour to walk in the Light and not simply exist as a Shadow of your power," Malachi uttered. His eyes were closed tight, his face was unshakable. The whole world seemed to fall away, and all that was in all creation was the space between the two men standing before the statue of the sun whose rays burned inward.
Scarlet erupted from the back of the man robed in silver as a blade like night ran through him, its blackened point slick with the ichor of the false prophet. Zahariel's face twisted in frustration, he'd still not fully learned to control his Shade's strength against mortal opponents. As the remainder of the cult of the demon Vyndzzick paused, fear grasped them from behind and stalled their deaths for a moment, they looked at their leader as his crimson blood dribbled from his mouth. The color on their faces was almost as pallor as the creature of the Shadow Realm whom they encircled, having planned to waylay him. Purpose and rage had drained from their eyes faster than their master's lifeblood.
"Cultists of Vyndzzick, you stand under the accusation of heresy and perversion - you promised answers to the prayers of the desperate in exchange for their souls," Zahariel repeated. It was the same warning he'd given the cult leader before the sorcerer had lashed out with him using a perverse black flame. The man hadn't stood a chance. Faster than a hummingbird flapped its wings a single time, the Avatar of the One had vanished and reappeared in the shadow of the cult leader, cast ahead of him from the dark conflagration he stood before. It was dishonorable to kill a man from behind, even one who was unworthy of the courtesy. Honor was, after all, for one's self - not the enemy.
Though they served a Demon from some accursed corner of the Abyss, it was clear that the foolish cult mob had never encountered a Shade. Unaware and unprepared, Zahariel's Shadow Step had given their leader virtually no time to react. No normal human could possibly match the movement speed of a being capable of warping the space between shadows, transmitting their being through the Shadow Realm from point-to-point. Where a platoon of warrior-priests would've once been dispatched, Zahariel was now a one-man army in service to the Hidden God Who Hears All Prayers. It was their sworn duty to eliminate all cults who deceived their followers into praying to false beings who fed on the devotion and souls of the faithful, and Zahariel carried out that duty with complete loyalty.
Only a few minutes later, his mission complete, Zahariel stood once again in the shadow the statue dedicated to the Hidden God. A marvel of magical sculpture, the artist who'd designed it had created a sort of enchanted glass which drew in light. It gave the towering monument the appearance of a sun whose rays drew inward, the sacred symbol of the One God. "All prayers fall to your ears, oh Hidden God behind all Gods. Thank you for the gift of my life, may it always be led in service to you," Zahariel whispered with a bowed head.
"Ah, my son, I did not hear you come in," came a familiar, steady voice. The High Priest, Malachi, made his way slowly around the perimeter of the sculpture. Old age had left him bowed but not broken, his staff still mostly for show as opposed to support.
"These days I move swiftly and silently. You know that, father," Zahariel said. Stepping out from the shadow into the sunlight streaming into the atrium, the warrior-priest's form dramatically changed. While he remained a tall, imposing figure, the light evaporated the darkness of his being. Ebony hair gave way to a soft head of gold. The black tattoos vanished, the tanning of a youth under the sun returned to his paraffin skin. Black eyes which glowed yellow cleared like ink being removed from water, and they were once again white with azure irises. Malachi preferred to see the young man he'd raised in the light, as opposed to the Shade who'd lived a century in the Shadow Realm. Zahariel knew this, and considered the pain he felt a meditation.
"That's my boy," the High Priest said with a wide grin.
Pushing past the pain which knotted his brow Zahariel's lips pulled up in a small smile. "His will is done. The Cultists of Vyndzzick are no more," he reported.
Nodding in agreement, Malachi replied, "This is good. Unanswered prayers denied passage to His ears are blasphemy. Blessed be the child whose prayers reached the Hidden God, and called our attention to those false prophets."
Malachi looked upon his adopted son, his expression softened and his voice came again with a hand on Zahariel's shoulder. A grimace made its way across the warrior-priest's lips before it vanished once again. "The light of the sun truly pains you, doesn't it?"
"Yes, father, but I accept it as a challenge. It reminds me of mortality, and while I do not enjoy it there is a certain humility to be found in this form of suffering," Zahariel responded.
A small chuckle escaped Malachi's mouth before he said, "You have always been a pious boy, seeking to find a silver lining to suffering in a way that would make the most orthodox of the most conservative faiths in the multiverse envious. Our god does not demand that we suffer, Zahariel, you know that."
"Nevertheless, I am a being who will never age, never feel the needs of mortals, and many before me have lost their way. Someone who lives for centuries no longer can know the moment, and this pain very much roots me in the moment," he said heavily.
"Indeed...sometimes I forget that you're now nearly twice my age. Your wisdom makes me proud. Perhaps, one day, you will take my place," Malachi said.
"All is as the One God wills it," Zahariel said, more as a way to avoid the subject than as a response. Malachi remained silent for a moment.
"Pray with me, my son," the old priest requested. Zahariel took his adoptive father's hands, remembering how they were in his youth. They'd held his small hands firmly, and they were course from hard work maintaining the Temple. Now, of course, they were softer, but no less firm.
"Oh Hidden God, God of the Gods, you are the One who hears the prayers of all those who call out for succor in earnest. I pray for your favor and guidance, and that you lay forth a path for the soul of your Chosen Avatar. He has made himself your blade, and you have granted him a new and eternal life. As the wheel of time and life endlessly turn, he has risen again to serve you like a black dawn - a dark star which lights the world. Please, oh mighty Sustainer and Giver of Justice, I only ask that you make a place for this child in the blessed illumination of the world. Find and bring to him that which he needs in this hour to walk in the Light and not simply exist as a Shadow of your power," Malachi uttered. His eyes were closed tight, his face was unshakable. The whole world seemed to fall away, and all that was in all creation was the space between the two men standing before the statue of the sun whose rays burned inward.
Zahariel was seated in his chamber, a spartan room with a desk and chair as well as a book shelf. Rather than a bed, which he no longer required, he had a few comfortable cushions upon which he liked to sit. As a Shade, he did not biologically require rest, but he did enjoy taking a few hours to enter into a trance-like meditative state in order to keep his mind fresh. He often stared into a lit candle to help him focus, and once he could visualize the flame clearly within his mind's eye the priest knew that he'd entered into the desired state. Time flowed strangely for a Shade, being immortal made being in the moment nearly impossible. Yet, something about the trance seemed to suspend all notion of time and crystalized everything into a truly timeless moment. Xenethar, the Shadow Dragon, who had been his master for over one hundred years in the Shadow Realm, had taught him to set mental triggers that would break the state after about four hours.
This time, as Zahariel's mind grounded itself in the timeless moment of trance, the Shade found himself in a surprising place - the Shadow Realm. Normally, Zahariel's mind wandered the Temple of the Hidden God. Other times, he would walk about in the fields of his youth. Very rarely did he find himself once more in that twilight place where the living Shadows dwell.
Hello, apprentice, came a voice into his mind, bottomless like the ocean and wider than the horizon. The entranced Shade turned to meet the glowing yellow eyes of the Shadow Dragon.
My master? How long has it been? he responded through the conduit of the mind. In his current state, even physical motion was merely a byproduct of the mind.
Time stretches out in our world, you know this apprentice. We are immortal and endless, here most of all.
Zahariel nodded his understanding, but was keen to know the reason for the arrival of the Shadow Dragon. I have never before encountered beings in this state. Even when I have, on the very rarest of occasions, walked along the inky shores of the twilight lands I do so in solitude.
I have come with news for you, Zahariel. A name of the one whom you must seek out. Long enough you've had to flit about in your old life, and now I come to push you forward, his voice bellowed inside the mind of the Shade. Go forth from your temple, heed the calling of your destiny, and seek out the Keeper of the Gardens of Origin. You must find the one they call Nath'n El, for he holds the secrets of the Spectral Seed.
The Gardens of Origin? The Spectral Seed? What are these things to me? What is more important than serving the One God? I am his Chosen, the Avatar of -
Zahariel Portal'e, my apprentice, the road of your destiny is not to serve as a living army. Yours is a far greater purpose than foot solider, even as gifted and powerful as you are, Xenethar interrupted.
The warrior-priest had often wondered about the true intention of the Shadow Dragon. It had appeared not long after he'd arrived in the Shadow Realm for the first time, and its arrival had seemed intentional rather than accidental. Xenethar had not merely happened across a newly minted Shade lost in the land with no sun, of that Zahariel was certain. Whatever his true agenda was remained a mystery, for the creature was certainly thousands of years old and far beyond the comprehension of Zahariel even after a century together. Before he could ask further questions, the rising sun within his mind broke his concentration and ended the trance. Four hours in the world of mortals was, ultimately, such a short measure of time.
***
"The Garden of Origins?" Malachi retorted with his eye brows furrowed and his gaze running sidelong. The old man and the warrior-priest walked briskly in the gardens. "No, I'm afraid I've never heard of such a place," he said, stroking his beard.
Shadows reached out towards Zahariel as they walked along a row of trees, eagerly grasping at the magic they sensed within the man. The sun held the darkness at bay, leaving the priest moving slowly and shifting to adjust himself as he walked. He occasionally rubbed sore spots here and there along his waist or shoulder, attempting to ease the pain of the wounds which had nearly killed him. Clerics serving in the Temple had attempted to heal him, but the pain never ceased when he was in direct sunlight. At least the wounds no longer bled.
"Where can I go to seek more information? Are there any records in the library that might provide a lead?" Zahariel asked.
"No, my son, I'm afraid not. It seems this Shadow Dragon's intent is to make you leave our walls and seek the knowledge elsewhere. Only one I know of can aid you further in your search. He's an eccentric on another world, perhaps if you seek him out he can point you in the right direction," Malachi admitted.
"I have been to some other worlds in the past, and when I crossed over from the Shadow Realm back home the process wasn't unlike traveling through one of the Valen Gates which our Order uses to travel the multiverse. Give me the name and location of this information broker, and I will be on my way," Zahariel uttered impatiently. Malachi looked at him, his eyes narrowing.
"Fizz-Vodh, he's a gnome living in the world of Lorith in the City of Arinruth. We've made use of his services a few times in the past. He knows many things, but his information usually comes at a price," the High Priest relented.
"What have I to offer him?" Zahariel inquired.
"Who is to say?" Malachi responded letting out a heavy sigh.
***
Zahariel's ability to traverse the multiverse by way of the Shadow Realm was not without limits. He could only go to some place he could visualize clearly, and he had to enter the dark world first unlike when he merely passed through briefly whilst Shadow Stepping. It was times like that when the Valen Gates, named after their inventor - a great artificier, came in handy. A permanent portal spell enchanted the metal silhouette created by etched runes and charged crystals which could harmonize with other attuned gates standing in other worlds. It was said that Cidulfas Valen was the first mortal to visit every world in the multiverse, and that he'd based the design on an older Gate of similar power of which he'd once been a Keeper. Now, many benefited from his hard work which connected the planes of the multiverse to one another.
Arinruth was a city of spires and sprawling districts built to commemorate the end of a long conflict between the Elves and Dragonborn who lived on the world of Lorith. Races from all across the world gathered there for commerce, artistic events, and other metropolitan activities. Its skies were clear, and the streets kept clean by proud, unionized employees who were treated with dignity and honor. The city was ruled by a council formed of different interest groups from the various districts lead by a Consulate of the Elves and Dragonborn who elected new leaders every twelve years. Her people were generally considered polite, hospitable, and progressive. Crime was kept low thanks to the Kalos Legion and its world famous Skyknights - a volunteer corps of individuals who rode on the backs of giant birds with four wings resembling Golden Eagles called Rocs.
Fizz-Vodh maintained a building in the financial district, which was usually the location other such information brokers chose as a place to do business. The brown gnome, not but three feet tall and then some had wild hair which changed color every time he sneezed - which was often, for he had terrible allergies during the Spring. People often asked him why he never took any medicine for his condition, but he repeated that he had his reasons. His building was a mere two-story edifice made of green stones and little glass with a remarkably pink door and indecipherable numbers on it in gold. Nobody was entirely sure why he insisted on the color scheme, but it seemed to amuse the little being and it was easy to recognize. Usually anyone in town could point a stranger in the right direction.
This time, as Zahariel's mind grounded itself in the timeless moment of trance, the Shade found himself in a surprising place - the Shadow Realm. Normally, Zahariel's mind wandered the Temple of the Hidden God. Other times, he would walk about in the fields of his youth. Very rarely did he find himself once more in that twilight place where the living Shadows dwell.
Hello, apprentice, came a voice into his mind, bottomless like the ocean and wider than the horizon. The entranced Shade turned to meet the glowing yellow eyes of the Shadow Dragon.
My master? How long has it been? he responded through the conduit of the mind. In his current state, even physical motion was merely a byproduct of the mind.
Time stretches out in our world, you know this apprentice. We are immortal and endless, here most of all.
Zahariel nodded his understanding, but was keen to know the reason for the arrival of the Shadow Dragon. I have never before encountered beings in this state. Even when I have, on the very rarest of occasions, walked along the inky shores of the twilight lands I do so in solitude.
I have come with news for you, Zahariel. A name of the one whom you must seek out. Long enough you've had to flit about in your old life, and now I come to push you forward, his voice bellowed inside the mind of the Shade. Go forth from your temple, heed the calling of your destiny, and seek out the Keeper of the Gardens of Origin. You must find the one they call Nath'n El, for he holds the secrets of the Spectral Seed.
The Gardens of Origin? The Spectral Seed? What are these things to me? What is more important than serving the One God? I am his Chosen, the Avatar of -
Zahariel Portal'e, my apprentice, the road of your destiny is not to serve as a living army. Yours is a far greater purpose than foot solider, even as gifted and powerful as you are, Xenethar interrupted.
The warrior-priest had often wondered about the true intention of the Shadow Dragon. It had appeared not long after he'd arrived in the Shadow Realm for the first time, and its arrival had seemed intentional rather than accidental. Xenethar had not merely happened across a newly minted Shade lost in the land with no sun, of that Zahariel was certain. Whatever his true agenda was remained a mystery, for the creature was certainly thousands of years old and far beyond the comprehension of Zahariel even after a century together. Before he could ask further questions, the rising sun within his mind broke his concentration and ended the trance. Four hours in the world of mortals was, ultimately, such a short measure of time.
***
"The Garden of Origins?" Malachi retorted with his eye brows furrowed and his gaze running sidelong. The old man and the warrior-priest walked briskly in the gardens. "No, I'm afraid I've never heard of such a place," he said, stroking his beard.
Shadows reached out towards Zahariel as they walked along a row of trees, eagerly grasping at the magic they sensed within the man. The sun held the darkness at bay, leaving the priest moving slowly and shifting to adjust himself as he walked. He occasionally rubbed sore spots here and there along his waist or shoulder, attempting to ease the pain of the wounds which had nearly killed him. Clerics serving in the Temple had attempted to heal him, but the pain never ceased when he was in direct sunlight. At least the wounds no longer bled.
"Where can I go to seek more information? Are there any records in the library that might provide a lead?" Zahariel asked.
"No, my son, I'm afraid not. It seems this Shadow Dragon's intent is to make you leave our walls and seek the knowledge elsewhere. Only one I know of can aid you further in your search. He's an eccentric on another world, perhaps if you seek him out he can point you in the right direction," Malachi admitted.
"I have been to some other worlds in the past, and when I crossed over from the Shadow Realm back home the process wasn't unlike traveling through one of the Valen Gates which our Order uses to travel the multiverse. Give me the name and location of this information broker, and I will be on my way," Zahariel uttered impatiently. Malachi looked at him, his eyes narrowing.
"Fizz-Vodh, he's a gnome living in the world of Lorith in the City of Arinruth. We've made use of his services a few times in the past. He knows many things, but his information usually comes at a price," the High Priest relented.
"What have I to offer him?" Zahariel inquired.
"Who is to say?" Malachi responded letting out a heavy sigh.
***
Zahariel's ability to traverse the multiverse by way of the Shadow Realm was not without limits. He could only go to some place he could visualize clearly, and he had to enter the dark world first unlike when he merely passed through briefly whilst Shadow Stepping. It was times like that when the Valen Gates, named after their inventor - a great artificier, came in handy. A permanent portal spell enchanted the metal silhouette created by etched runes and charged crystals which could harmonize with other attuned gates standing in other worlds. It was said that Cidulfas Valen was the first mortal to visit every world in the multiverse, and that he'd based the design on an older Gate of similar power of which he'd once been a Keeper. Now, many benefited from his hard work which connected the planes of the multiverse to one another.
Arinruth was a city of spires and sprawling districts built to commemorate the end of a long conflict between the Elves and Dragonborn who lived on the world of Lorith. Races from all across the world gathered there for commerce, artistic events, and other metropolitan activities. Its skies were clear, and the streets kept clean by proud, unionized employees who were treated with dignity and honor. The city was ruled by a council formed of different interest groups from the various districts lead by a Consulate of the Elves and Dragonborn who elected new leaders every twelve years. Her people were generally considered polite, hospitable, and progressive. Crime was kept low thanks to the Kalos Legion and its world famous Skyknights - a volunteer corps of individuals who rode on the backs of giant birds with four wings resembling Golden Eagles called Rocs.
Fizz-Vodh maintained a building in the financial district, which was usually the location other such information brokers chose as a place to do business. The brown gnome, not but three feet tall and then some had wild hair which changed color every time he sneezed - which was often, for he had terrible allergies during the Spring. People often asked him why he never took any medicine for his condition, but he repeated that he had his reasons. His building was a mere two-story edifice made of green stones and little glass with a remarkably pink door and indecipherable numbers on it in gold. Nobody was entirely sure why he insisted on the color scheme, but it seemed to amuse the little being and it was easy to recognize. Usually anyone in town could point a stranger in the right direction.
Sunlight streamed down, spreading it's springtime warmth at the peak of it's daytime glory. A bead of sweat ran from Katlina's plaited deep reddish brown hair, covered by a black hood, down her temple and dripped from her cheek. She ignored, it, focused on keeping her breathing shallow, and her weight evenly dispersed, crouched as she was on a windowsill, high upon one of Arinruth's towering manor house's. Her clothing was a mix of leather and cloth, cut in a sparing fashion for ease of movement. She couldn't have cloth rustling as she crept up walls and leaped between rooftops. Her feet, clad in soft boots ordered specifically so they made the least amount of noise, came up to her calves. Around her right thigh was strapped a small knife sheath. Similarly a second knife sheath was strapped round her waist, the knife adorning this one a bit larger. The only jewelry adorning her was a small loop earing upon the cuff of her right ear, and a druid necklace, hidden by her black tunic.
The house she was focused upon was just one of the many spire bedecked homes which spoke of the affluence this city enjoyed. The owner of said manor, Gastan Balior, was not himself one of much importance - though he probably thought himself to be. He had just found himself in the happy circumstance of being wealthy, most likely born into that life rather than earning it. At this very moment, the man was gone on some errand or other which took him from the district for several days. He left his household in the keeping of well-payed servants - most of which had the day off as it was a day much of the district set aside business and turned to praying to whatever gods they thought cared for them.
This, then, was the perfect time for Katlina to make her move. Which is why she had been sitting upon said windowsill for the last half hour, roasting. Now, the noon bell ringing within the manor, the few servants left to keep watch over the household congregated to have their own small meal within the kitchen walls. She knew this because she had been watching the various household routines for the last week. Each job she did, no matter how small, she did with care and finesse. It was a welcome relief when the sun sank the tiniest bit behind a rising spire, and left her small windowsill in shadow. It was time. Shifting slightly she pressed a black gloved hand against the window, sliding her unsheathed small thin knife in between the two panes to snag the latch, flipping it open and pushing so the window moved silently inward. It was ironic really. The city enjoyed a low crime rate, due to the presence of the Kalos Legion, which in turn, made people careless. The Legion couldn't be everywhere at once.
Slipping into the large room and scanning the lavish surroundings with a pair of stormy grey eyes, Katlina moved with purpose. No sense in staying longer than necessary. She moved straight to the wall, passed several treasury boxes, uninterested in the gold they contained. No, she instead picked up an intricately tooled vase, wrought in silver it's worth came from the markings etched throughout it, not to mention it was from someplace Katlina had never visited. Someplace far to the east, she had overheard Gastan speaking about it. Surely it was worth something, to the right person. And she had just the buyer in mind.
Sliding the vase into a small satchel on her back, she left the way she came, closing the window behind her and using her knife to re-latch the window (no sense in leaving a trail). Carefully, slowly, she climbed down the outside of the manor building, until she reached the roof of the west wing. Here she descended further, on the western side of the building, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Even as she kept her gaze roaming for possible spectators she moved casually, her booted feet taking her to where she could blend in with the common thoroughfare, pushing her hood back and allowing the sun to once more shine on her face. Her gloves had disappeared into her satchel the more to make her look just a common traveler.
Passing through a bubbly crowded festival where merchants spouted their taglines to try and sell their wares, dancers moved alluringly with ribbon and tambourine, and food vendors made the air smell heavenly, Katlina headed for the much more dismal part of town, the financial district. She'd heard tell of a broker there, Fizz-Vodh, supposedly a gnome. He'd piqued her interest. The word was he only did business for a price, which was normal, but Katlina had wanted to be prepared, hence the vase.
Stopping before the two-story building, she gazed at it with slight incredulity. A Pink door? The gnome obviously wanted to stand out... his building was like a sore thumb amidst the greys, tans, blacks, and other somber hues chosen by the other financial businessmen of the district. This fact made Katlina smile, her lips drawing back and her eyes lighting. Maybe she'd get along with this gnome.
The house she was focused upon was just one of the many spire bedecked homes which spoke of the affluence this city enjoyed. The owner of said manor, Gastan Balior, was not himself one of much importance - though he probably thought himself to be. He had just found himself in the happy circumstance of being wealthy, most likely born into that life rather than earning it. At this very moment, the man was gone on some errand or other which took him from the district for several days. He left his household in the keeping of well-payed servants - most of which had the day off as it was a day much of the district set aside business and turned to praying to whatever gods they thought cared for them.
This, then, was the perfect time for Katlina to make her move. Which is why she had been sitting upon said windowsill for the last half hour, roasting. Now, the noon bell ringing within the manor, the few servants left to keep watch over the household congregated to have their own small meal within the kitchen walls. She knew this because she had been watching the various household routines for the last week. Each job she did, no matter how small, she did with care and finesse. It was a welcome relief when the sun sank the tiniest bit behind a rising spire, and left her small windowsill in shadow. It was time. Shifting slightly she pressed a black gloved hand against the window, sliding her unsheathed small thin knife in between the two panes to snag the latch, flipping it open and pushing so the window moved silently inward. It was ironic really. The city enjoyed a low crime rate, due to the presence of the Kalos Legion, which in turn, made people careless. The Legion couldn't be everywhere at once.
Slipping into the large room and scanning the lavish surroundings with a pair of stormy grey eyes, Katlina moved with purpose. No sense in staying longer than necessary. She moved straight to the wall, passed several treasury boxes, uninterested in the gold they contained. No, she instead picked up an intricately tooled vase, wrought in silver it's worth came from the markings etched throughout it, not to mention it was from someplace Katlina had never visited. Someplace far to the east, she had overheard Gastan speaking about it. Surely it was worth something, to the right person. And she had just the buyer in mind.
Sliding the vase into a small satchel on her back, she left the way she came, closing the window behind her and using her knife to re-latch the window (no sense in leaving a trail). Carefully, slowly, she climbed down the outside of the manor building, until she reached the roof of the west wing. Here she descended further, on the western side of the building, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Even as she kept her gaze roaming for possible spectators she moved casually, her booted feet taking her to where she could blend in with the common thoroughfare, pushing her hood back and allowing the sun to once more shine on her face. Her gloves had disappeared into her satchel the more to make her look just a common traveler.
Passing through a bubbly crowded festival where merchants spouted their taglines to try and sell their wares, dancers moved alluringly with ribbon and tambourine, and food vendors made the air smell heavenly, Katlina headed for the much more dismal part of town, the financial district. She'd heard tell of a broker there, Fizz-Vodh, supposedly a gnome. He'd piqued her interest. The word was he only did business for a price, which was normal, but Katlina had wanted to be prepared, hence the vase.
Stopping before the two-story building, she gazed at it with slight incredulity. A Pink door? The gnome obviously wanted to stand out... his building was like a sore thumb amidst the greys, tans, blacks, and other somber hues chosen by the other financial businessmen of the district. This fact made Katlina smile, her lips drawing back and her eyes lighting. Maybe she'd get along with this gnome.
Myra was on her way, to the city of Arinruth. Naturally, being a traveler makes you want to see what all the world has to offer. All the way from the underground, gold-lined city of a home, to even the top of the world where the floating isles lie. She dreamed of going even there someday, but mere sight-seeing is not what she was planning to do today. She heard of a person called Fizz-Vodh who knew of a strange artifact called the Spectral Seed, as well as he was supposed to know where a patch of azure swallowtail was! (at least that's what the innkeeper said, heaven knows if it's true or not.) She's been looking everywhere for that rare flower, and now she might be on the trail to finally finding some again!
She kept walking down the road until she stepped through the entrance into the large and wondrous city. Often gazing at her surroundings, due to never being in such a place before. She's heard a few tales of this city being one of the cleanest, and prettiest places you could ever visit, and unlike most tales, those few seem to be true. As she walked deeper into the city, heading for the financial district, she took note of the towering spires. How one of them seemed to be blocking the sun added to their height in her mind.
After bumping into someone unknowingly while gazing upward, she quickly apologized and helped the miss up, and continued on her way to the financial district. "Now just to find where this place is... pink door, pink door, pink door..." She said to herself in her mind while looking at all the buildings, trying to not forget that specific detail. She finally spotted it among all the other buildings, and began to walk over to it. She quickly took notice that there was a woman standing in front of it when she walked over. "Um, is it closed or something?"
She kept walking down the road until she stepped through the entrance into the large and wondrous city. Often gazing at her surroundings, due to never being in such a place before. She's heard a few tales of this city being one of the cleanest, and prettiest places you could ever visit, and unlike most tales, those few seem to be true. As she walked deeper into the city, heading for the financial district, she took note of the towering spires. How one of them seemed to be blocking the sun added to their height in her mind.
After bumping into someone unknowingly while gazing upward, she quickly apologized and helped the miss up, and continued on her way to the financial district. "Now just to find where this place is... pink door, pink door, pink door..." She said to herself in her mind while looking at all the buildings, trying to not forget that specific detail. She finally spotted it among all the other buildings, and began to walk over to it. She quickly took notice that there was a woman standing in front of it when she walked over. "Um, is it closed or something?"
Zahariel found travelling through the magic of the Valen Gates an unpleasant experience, gripping the first standing object fixed to the ground he could find when he made it on the other side. His Shade physiology clearly wasn't exactly compatible with the process. I wonder if, perhaps, the Gates temporarily cut me off from the Shadow Realm, he pondered, but the interworkings of eldritch Shadow Magic wasn't exactly his specialty - he was a warrior not a researcher, after all. Shadows fell upon the Gate, cast by the taller buildings in the city of Arinruth. The warrior-priest took in a deep breath, and the fog and spinning in his mind left as quickly as the nettle in his brow. Whatever had caused the temporary discomfort seemed to have abated.
Tendrils of thought snaked across the city, touching each shadow and dark alley in the city searching sightlessly for the dwelling of Fizz-Vodh. For the most part, his abilities as a Shade were instinctive. With over a hundred years of practice in the Shadow Realm, he found sending his mind through short distances of space rather simple. A green building with a garish pink door appeared in his mind's eye, but for some reason he found himself unable to will himself to Shadow Step into the building. "Warded," he muttered. Naturally.
The darkness wrapped itself around Zahariel, and he was standing outside the building in the space between the home of Fizz-Vodh and the edifice to the South. He noticed two individuals had approached the gnome's place of business, and overheard one speak to the other.
"Um, is it closed or something?"
"Closed?" came a voice suddenly, higher pitched but pleasing to hear, "I'll be damned to at least five different hells before these doors stay closed!" It was from a oddly shaped bell hanging above the doorframe on a goose-neck shaped pipe.
The pink door opened, and if the taller creatures looked down they would see a brown-skinned little fellow with hair the color of a ripe plum. He wore a pale yellow suit and tanned leather shoes with polished brass buckles. He was slightly older as evidenced by the lines in his face, but rocked back and forth on his heels with a youthful energy. "Fizz-Vodh, at your service. We are most certainly not closed," he stated matter-of-factly with emphasis on the last few words given alongside a sarcastic stink-eye directed at Myra.
"I don't usually get so many customers at once," he mused, "You are all customers, right?" Turning his head to the south, "Right, mister Shade? It is rude to try and enter a building without permission - people might think you were a thief."
Stepping out of the shadows and into the light, Zahariel's appearance as a Shade gave way to his human form. A slight wince passed over his face as the black pattern on his face vanished, and the color returned to his cheeks. The fair color of his hair rose from the root, and his eyes appeared as their normal colors. "Apologies, Fizz-Vodh. I do not like to attract attention. Those with my condition are usually seen as monsters, even in a city as forward-thinking as Arinruth," Zahariel said, hoping the others wouldn't try to immediately attack.
Tendrils of thought snaked across the city, touching each shadow and dark alley in the city searching sightlessly for the dwelling of Fizz-Vodh. For the most part, his abilities as a Shade were instinctive. With over a hundred years of practice in the Shadow Realm, he found sending his mind through short distances of space rather simple. A green building with a garish pink door appeared in his mind's eye, but for some reason he found himself unable to will himself to Shadow Step into the building. "Warded," he muttered. Naturally.
The darkness wrapped itself around Zahariel, and he was standing outside the building in the space between the home of Fizz-Vodh and the edifice to the South. He noticed two individuals had approached the gnome's place of business, and overheard one speak to the other.
"Um, is it closed or something?"
"Closed?" came a voice suddenly, higher pitched but pleasing to hear, "I'll be damned to at least five different hells before these doors stay closed!" It was from a oddly shaped bell hanging above the doorframe on a goose-neck shaped pipe.
The pink door opened, and if the taller creatures looked down they would see a brown-skinned little fellow with hair the color of a ripe plum. He wore a pale yellow suit and tanned leather shoes with polished brass buckles. He was slightly older as evidenced by the lines in his face, but rocked back and forth on his heels with a youthful energy. "Fizz-Vodh, at your service. We are most certainly not closed," he stated matter-of-factly with emphasis on the last few words given alongside a sarcastic stink-eye directed at Myra.
"I don't usually get so many customers at once," he mused, "You are all customers, right?" Turning his head to the south, "Right, mister Shade? It is rude to try and enter a building without permission - people might think you were a thief."
Stepping out of the shadows and into the light, Zahariel's appearance as a Shade gave way to his human form. A slight wince passed over his face as the black pattern on his face vanished, and the color returned to his cheeks. The fair color of his hair rose from the root, and his eyes appeared as their normal colors. "Apologies, Fizz-Vodh. I do not like to attract attention. Those with my condition are usually seen as monsters, even in a city as forward-thinking as Arinruth," Zahariel said, hoping the others wouldn't try to immediately attack.
Katlina slid out of her musing as she heard a voice addressing her from behind. Shifting she sent her stormy grey glance over her shoulder to quickly peruse the figure coming towards her. The woman seemed to be heading for the same door she was. She was about to answer that she really had no idea, when a very enigmatic voice resounded from a bell by the door. What the..? She shook her head, another grin sliding to her lips as she listened to the words. Finally able to put a face to the voice, Katlina glanced downward at the colorful gnome.
Just then, her glance was arrested by the manifestation of what seemed to be young man, appearing out of shadow. Interesting. Her curiosity was piqued, though she kept herself from an obvious stare. She had come across many types of beings in her travels, and was not about to be put off by one she didn't understand. Sighing inwardly, she felt a prick of irritation that so many other's had just happened to come along at the very moment she had arrived. By the gnome's own admission he didn't not have so many customers all at once per usual. Her own business was of a very personal nature, and she did not wish to have it disclosed in front of others.
She offered a nod in response to the gnome's inquiry, showing she was indeed a customer, keeping her face neutral when thieving was mentioned to the young man. Apparently Fizz-Vodh would not like her current profession. She would keep this in mind, and be sure to let nothing slip - not that she was in the habit of offering such information. Then, she glanced back at the woman, and with a head gesture as well as a proffered arm, she indicated the woman could go ahead of her, doing business first. Katlina was in no hurry.
Just then, her glance was arrested by the manifestation of what seemed to be young man, appearing out of shadow. Interesting. Her curiosity was piqued, though she kept herself from an obvious stare. She had come across many types of beings in her travels, and was not about to be put off by one she didn't understand. Sighing inwardly, she felt a prick of irritation that so many other's had just happened to come along at the very moment she had arrived. By the gnome's own admission he didn't not have so many customers all at once per usual. Her own business was of a very personal nature, and she did not wish to have it disclosed in front of others.
She offered a nod in response to the gnome's inquiry, showing she was indeed a customer, keeping her face neutral when thieving was mentioned to the young man. Apparently Fizz-Vodh would not like her current profession. She would keep this in mind, and be sure to let nothing slip - not that she was in the habit of offering such information. Then, she glanced back at the woman, and with a head gesture as well as a proffered arm, she indicated the woman could go ahead of her, doing business first. Katlina was in no hurry.
After hearing the man through the bell, and him opening the door with him talking about never being closed, she figured this was indeed the place to see Fizz-Vodh. Looking around to see the strange man also walk up to the door way made her think perhaps they also heard about the azure swallowtails too. Either that, or that artifact whatever it's called. She already forgot it by now.
"It seems so, I know I am." She glanced back around to the man who just came out of the shadow of the buildings. She didn't realize he was there at all earlier, must've blended well with the darkness. She looked back down and Fizz-Vodh. "So, are you the person that innkeeper said knew the location of some azure swallowtails, and that other relic thing? The spectral spud or something?"
"It seems so, I know I am." She glanced back around to the man who just came out of the shadow of the buildings. She didn't realize he was there at all earlier, must've blended well with the darkness. She looked back down and Fizz-Vodh. "So, are you the person that innkeeper said knew the location of some azure swallowtails, and that other relic thing? The spectral spud or something?"
Dust falling from overhead, Roemello solemnly ignored it descent. Reaching his hand high, he brought it down with mighty purpose as the sound of his hammer rang out against an opposing metallic force reverberating his arm high above again to repeat the process. More dust swaying to his workplace this time it landed on his anvil. Stopping a moment he looked up to the ceiling hearing nothing but seeing everything through various dips in the floor as people walked. The sound absorbing barrier encasing his workshop was a double edged sword. Noone could hear in, but he also couldn't hear out. A spell Fizz-Vodh had yet to fully master.
Returning to his more recent task, Roeme grabbed the oversized set of tongs to aid him. Lifting the blazing ore in one fell swoop he dipped it a vat of iced water. Watching the expected steam arise from the counter temperatures, a familiar smell grabbed his senses. Writing it off to fatigue and wishful thinking, Roemello removed the ore from the vat prepared to put the finishing touches. "My final labor... forgive me but it is time, I must move on with my life...."
Returning to his more recent task, Roeme grabbed the oversized set of tongs to aid him. Lifting the blazing ore in one fell swoop he dipped it a vat of iced water. Watching the expected steam arise from the counter temperatures, a familiar smell grabbed his senses. Writing it off to fatigue and wishful thinking, Roemello removed the ore from the vat prepared to put the finishing touches. "My final labor... forgive me but it is time, I must move on with my life...."
"So, are you the person that innkeeper said knew the location of some azure swallowtails, and that other relic thing? The spectral spud or something?" the dark haired woman said. If a wave of caution and concern went through the Shade, it didn't register on his face.
As she uttered the word "spectral", the gnome gave a snap of his fingers, the air seemed to shimmer for a single moment - perhaps it was a trick of the light. Zahariel felt the flow of magic, but was unfamiliar with the spell that was cast. It appeared to be arcane in nature, and the warrior-priest suspected that the gnome was not just a businessman.
"You know, young lady, there are many who would consider it to be unwise to so freely and openly express desires on a street dotted with information brokers. There's a special sort of value to knowing what it is that others want. It gives you all sorts of leverage," Fizz-Vodh said briskly as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "Come in, come in. Business is supposed to be done inside, not out on the street. It's improper."
The interior of the greenstone's first floor was fairly unassuming, at least the storefront was. A fireplace was built into the wall to the right of the entrance where a couple small sofas sat arranged around a low table, though no flames were going as the season was still pleasant. Fizz-Vodh sneezed, and the plum color of his hair changed to a sort of auburn. Muttering about the color and the season, the gnome made his way to a long table with various chairs. One such seat was obviously his, for it had a couple steps built into it so that when the gnome sat in it he would be at a respectable height to see his customers. Climbing into the seat, he waved his arm in a wide arc and indicated that they were free to each have a seat.
"How is it going to be then? Taking turns? The young lady in black clearly has private concerns, and I respect that. On the other end of the spectrum one who eagerly shares her desires. Leaves the Shade in the middle," Fizz-Vodh said, his demeanor strictly business.
As they entered, Zahariel resumed his Shade form. Shadows reached out and crept up his dark overcoat as his skin, hair, and eyes changed. The warrior-priest felt relieved from the end of the discomfort brought on by the sunlight. His glowing yellow eyes wandered to the lower half of the talkative woman in the group, and took in the fact that her lower half was that of an arachnid. Zahariel seemed to recall once meeting a race of Fae who worshipped an evil spider-goddess whose priestesses had a similar characteristic, but this woman didn't appear to be of the cult. Curious that an inn-keeper held knowledge of the Spectral Seed which eluded even the library of my order, as it is a collection of lore from throughout the multiverse, he considered.
"Well if nobody else is going to volunteer, then I'll just get to business with the young Arachniam," Fizz-Vodh said. "Azure Swallowtails, do you mean the butterfly? Seems like a strange thing to come all the way to an information broker to ask about, where to find a bug that exists on many different worlds," he said coyly.
As she uttered the word "spectral", the gnome gave a snap of his fingers, the air seemed to shimmer for a single moment - perhaps it was a trick of the light. Zahariel felt the flow of magic, but was unfamiliar with the spell that was cast. It appeared to be arcane in nature, and the warrior-priest suspected that the gnome was not just a businessman.
"You know, young lady, there are many who would consider it to be unwise to so freely and openly express desires on a street dotted with information brokers. There's a special sort of value to knowing what it is that others want. It gives you all sorts of leverage," Fizz-Vodh said briskly as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "Come in, come in. Business is supposed to be done inside, not out on the street. It's improper."
The interior of the greenstone's first floor was fairly unassuming, at least the storefront was. A fireplace was built into the wall to the right of the entrance where a couple small sofas sat arranged around a low table, though no flames were going as the season was still pleasant. Fizz-Vodh sneezed, and the plum color of his hair changed to a sort of auburn. Muttering about the color and the season, the gnome made his way to a long table with various chairs. One such seat was obviously his, for it had a couple steps built into it so that when the gnome sat in it he would be at a respectable height to see his customers. Climbing into the seat, he waved his arm in a wide arc and indicated that they were free to each have a seat.
"How is it going to be then? Taking turns? The young lady in black clearly has private concerns, and I respect that. On the other end of the spectrum one who eagerly shares her desires. Leaves the Shade in the middle," Fizz-Vodh said, his demeanor strictly business.
As they entered, Zahariel resumed his Shade form. Shadows reached out and crept up his dark overcoat as his skin, hair, and eyes changed. The warrior-priest felt relieved from the end of the discomfort brought on by the sunlight. His glowing yellow eyes wandered to the lower half of the talkative woman in the group, and took in the fact that her lower half was that of an arachnid. Zahariel seemed to recall once meeting a race of Fae who worshipped an evil spider-goddess whose priestesses had a similar characteristic, but this woman didn't appear to be of the cult. Curious that an inn-keeper held knowledge of the Spectral Seed which eluded even the library of my order, as it is a collection of lore from throughout the multiverse, he considered.
"Well if nobody else is going to volunteer, then I'll just get to business with the young Arachniam," Fizz-Vodh said. "Azure Swallowtails, do you mean the butterfly? Seems like a strange thing to come all the way to an information broker to ask about, where to find a bug that exists on many different worlds," he said coyly.
Katlina took her time moving further into the room after initially stepping in after the others. She always felt a strong sense of caution and a bit of claustrophobia when first entering a room. Her gaze made note of each window within the central room, as well as the staircase that would take a person up to the next landing. After a moment she felt herself relax a bit and she moved further inward, sliding quietly into a seat down the table a ways from where Fizz-Vodh had his seat. One of her fingers habitually toyed with the knife strapped around her thigh as she sat, listening to the conversation.
As the gnome mentioned the... what was it? Shade. She flicked her gaze towards him, curious as to why he had not spoken up with the gnome's promptings. Apparently his business was his own as well. Giving an almost imperceptible nod, she returned her attention to the dealings Fizz-Vodh was having with the spider-woman. She found the topic of the Azure Swallowtails un-concerning, and instead allowed her mind to move back to the words the woman had let slip.. the spectral spud. Katlina had an inward chuckle at the word the woman obviously threw out to take the place of one she couldn't remember. What had caught her, though, was the way the gnome had reacted. Obviously the "Spectral" part meant something important. Ever curious, she would now listen intently for any more information she could glean on the subject. After all, information was currency in places, not to mention one could always use a bit of extra knowledge.
While the dealing between the gnome and the spider-woman continued, she allowed her gaze to wander from Fizz-Vodh's now auburn hair, to the young man, to the room itself. With a fireplace situated against the right wall, sofa's gathered around, it looked to be a very comfortable area. She wondered if the gnome lived here as well as using as his place of business. She knew that many business-people did such, usually appropriating a top floor as living quarters, and leaving the ground floor for business.
As the gnome mentioned the... what was it? Shade. She flicked her gaze towards him, curious as to why he had not spoken up with the gnome's promptings. Apparently his business was his own as well. Giving an almost imperceptible nod, she returned her attention to the dealings Fizz-Vodh was having with the spider-woman. She found the topic of the Azure Swallowtails un-concerning, and instead allowed her mind to move back to the words the woman had let slip.. the spectral spud. Katlina had an inward chuckle at the word the woman obviously threw out to take the place of one she couldn't remember. What had caught her, though, was the way the gnome had reacted. Obviously the "Spectral" part meant something important. Ever curious, she would now listen intently for any more information she could glean on the subject. After all, information was currency in places, not to mention one could always use a bit of extra knowledge.
While the dealing between the gnome and the spider-woman continued, she allowed her gaze to wander from Fizz-Vodh's now auburn hair, to the young man, to the room itself. With a fireplace situated against the right wall, sofa's gathered around, it looked to be a very comfortable area. She wondered if the gnome lived here as well as using as his place of business. She knew that many business-people did such, usually appropriating a top floor as living quarters, and leaving the ground floor for business.
As Myra saw the Gnome snap and make his remark, she briefly frowned a bit before entering the building with the others. She would just use her mirror for this information, but "azure swallowtails" is quite hard to rhyme. She took a brief moment to look at the surroundings in the abode, and noticed when Fizz-Vodh sneezed, his hair changed color. Immediately after, Myra giving a brief, confused look.
She decided to sit in the sofa nearest to the fireplace, also taking notice that Zahariel's body turned shadowy when they gone inside, turning back to Fizz-Vodh after. She began to speak about her predicament. "Oh no, no, they might call them something else in this region, but they're flowers with long blue petals, usually growing in caves or near hills, they're quite rare and I haven't been able to find any recently. The keeper at the inn I was staying at said you knew where a patch or two of them were. Know anything about them?"
She decided to sit in the sofa nearest to the fireplace, also taking notice that Zahariel's body turned shadowy when they gone inside, turning back to Fizz-Vodh after. She began to speak about her predicament. "Oh no, no, they might call them something else in this region, but they're flowers with long blue petals, usually growing in caves or near hills, they're quite rare and I haven't been able to find any recently. The keeper at the inn I was staying at said you knew where a patch or two of them were. Know anything about them?"
"Oh no, no, they might call them something else in this region, but they're flowers with long blue petals, usually growing in caves or near hills, they're quite rare and I haven't been able to find any recently. The keeper at the inn I was staying at said you knew where a patch or two of them were. Know anything about them?"
Fizz-Vodh removed a pair of reading glasses and rested the gently on his stubby nose. "Azure Swallowtails. Flower. Cross-reference with alchemic ingredients. You are an alchemist, aren't you? Certainly smell like one," he muttered. "Oh, I see, they are a rare breed. What have you got to offer in return for the information? Please don't say gold."
Zahariel was beginning to shift from side to side as impatience began to build like air pressure when one climbs a mountain, and the shadows in the room reached out more aggressively to climb up his black overcoat in response. He didn't come all this way to stand around waiting as someone asked about flowers. Yet, he was also intrigued. The glasses the gnome was wearing appeared to be enchanted, and gave Fizz-Vodh access to some kind of archive of knowledge. What had been a growing suspicion about the background of the information broker was beginning to form into a full theory. A wizard, almost assuredly, the Shade considered silently. If he doesn't accept gold, I wonder what it is that he desires. Perhaps information that he can trade in kind?
"Mister Portal'e, could you please show a little more calm? I do not like it when the shadows in my home become restless," Fizz-Vodh said before adding, "Yes, I know who you are. Surely your High Priest mentioned that I've done business with your Order, as surely as he's told me all about you." Zahariel's yellow eyes focuses in on the gnome, suddenly taking him more seriously than before. Curiosity born of boredom evolved into caution. What had Malachi told him? Had the High Priest exchanged information regarding him? For what purpose?
"Where were we? Ah, yes, the matter of payment," Fizz-Vodh said, returning his attention to Myra.
Fizz-Vodh removed a pair of reading glasses and rested the gently on his stubby nose. "Azure Swallowtails. Flower. Cross-reference with alchemic ingredients. You are an alchemist, aren't you? Certainly smell like one," he muttered. "Oh, I see, they are a rare breed. What have you got to offer in return for the information? Please don't say gold."
Zahariel was beginning to shift from side to side as impatience began to build like air pressure when one climbs a mountain, and the shadows in the room reached out more aggressively to climb up his black overcoat in response. He didn't come all this way to stand around waiting as someone asked about flowers. Yet, he was also intrigued. The glasses the gnome was wearing appeared to be enchanted, and gave Fizz-Vodh access to some kind of archive of knowledge. What had been a growing suspicion about the background of the information broker was beginning to form into a full theory. A wizard, almost assuredly, the Shade considered silently. If he doesn't accept gold, I wonder what it is that he desires. Perhaps information that he can trade in kind?
"Mister Portal'e, could you please show a little more calm? I do not like it when the shadows in my home become restless," Fizz-Vodh said before adding, "Yes, I know who you are. Surely your High Priest mentioned that I've done business with your Order, as surely as he's told me all about you." Zahariel's yellow eyes focuses in on the gnome, suddenly taking him more seriously than before. Curiosity born of boredom evolved into caution. What had Malachi told him? Had the High Priest exchanged information regarding him? For what purpose?
"Where were we? Ah, yes, the matter of payment," Fizz-Vodh said, returning his attention to Myra.
"Well um..." Myra now began to think about her current situation, a merchant who sells knowledge but doesn't accept gold? What? She guesses her golden palasade units won't help her much here. She begins to think. "Well, what do you accept? I've got a few gems, runestones, potions, possibly one that could cure that sneezing you got there, or do you require something more knowledgeable? I've heard of a few myths and tales I could tell you, or I could give you a written excerpt from my compendium if you wish."
(OOC: Sorry, gotta keep this moving along. Running the risk of slowing the pace too early.)
"Well, what do you accept? I've got a few gems, runestones, potions, possibly one that could cure that sneezing you got there, or do you require something more knowledgeable? I've heard of a few myths and tales I could tell you, or I could give you a written excerpt from my compendium if you wish."
"Always on about the sneezing," the gnome said shaking his head, "No, I do not need a cure for the sneezing, thank you very much." His auburn haired head shook back and forth for a moment, and then looked up again at Myra.
"Ravnica," Zahariel said bluntly.
Turning with a stare that matched his hair in red, Fizz-Vodh was about to spout an obscenity when the Shade continued.
"There's a world called Ravnica, I've been there once in another life. An influential guild there specializes in botanicals, and it is said they have a sample of every species from a thousand planes of existence," he continued, "Please, excuse me, Fizz-Vodh, but this exchange was beginning to be a waste of time. While I may have all the time in the world, your time comes with an opportunity cost - and my inquiry is more valuable."
Words tried to take form in his mouth for a moment without success, so the information broker took in a deep breath and tried to regain control of the conversation. "So what is it that you want to know about, warrior-priest? A mysterious cult? The name of some demon who hordes devotion?" his tone indignant.
"For the price of a vial of my blood, Fizz-Vodh, I expect you to tell me how to find the Garden of Origins and the Keeper of the Spectral Seed" Zahariel said so bluntly he might as well have formed a cudgel with his words.
The gnome's eyes went wide, like an untamed horse rearing up to buck off its rider. He was so eager that he'd begun to lean in. "You've got yourself a deal," he said with a smile. Looking at Myra again, he quickly uttered, "He's right, go to Ravnica and you'll find your flower. If you've no other business you can leave." Producing a vial from his jacket pocket, the gnome tossed the glass to Zahariel who caught it without any issue.
Zahariel smirked, he'd guessed correctly. All sorts of interesting things one could do with a vial of shade's blood, especially for someone with an arcane background. He barely lifted Nocteras from its scabbard, and sliced his hand on the blade. Quickly collecting the ebony ichor into the glass vessel, by the time it was over half full the wound had closed up once more. Walking over to Fizz-Vodh, he let the information broker put a stopper in the vial and place it in his jacket.
"Don't let it make contact with the sun, or else it will be worthless," Zahariel added when he handed the tube over. Looking over at Katlina, the shade attempted an apology. "I'm sorry, miss. You were here first, after all."
"Oh, enough small talk, shade," Fizz-Vodh said. He pulled a piece of parchment out of his coat pocket. Waving his hand over the parchment and chanting someone in a strange arcane tongue, writing appeared on the small scroll. "Here is everything I know about what you've asked."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" the warrior-priest asked, almost without meaning to.
"Because, priest of the Hidden God, Deals are the province of the god whom I send my prayers to. They are sacred, and dishonoring a deal has real consequences," the gnome responded with a sort of familiarity that made the question seem like it had been prepared for the scenario.
"I'm not here to debate theology, master gnome," Zahariel said with a small grin. His reward in hand, the warrior-priest believed he could leave at last...
"Well, what do you accept? I've got a few gems, runestones, potions, possibly one that could cure that sneezing you got there, or do you require something more knowledgeable? I've heard of a few myths and tales I could tell you, or I could give you a written excerpt from my compendium if you wish."
"Always on about the sneezing," the gnome said shaking his head, "No, I do not need a cure for the sneezing, thank you very much." His auburn haired head shook back and forth for a moment, and then looked up again at Myra.
"Ravnica," Zahariel said bluntly.
Turning with a stare that matched his hair in red, Fizz-Vodh was about to spout an obscenity when the Shade continued.
"There's a world called Ravnica, I've been there once in another life. An influential guild there specializes in botanicals, and it is said they have a sample of every species from a thousand planes of existence," he continued, "Please, excuse me, Fizz-Vodh, but this exchange was beginning to be a waste of time. While I may have all the time in the world, your time comes with an opportunity cost - and my inquiry is more valuable."
Words tried to take form in his mouth for a moment without success, so the information broker took in a deep breath and tried to regain control of the conversation. "So what is it that you want to know about, warrior-priest? A mysterious cult? The name of some demon who hordes devotion?" his tone indignant.
"For the price of a vial of my blood, Fizz-Vodh, I expect you to tell me how to find the Garden of Origins and the Keeper of the Spectral Seed" Zahariel said so bluntly he might as well have formed a cudgel with his words.
The gnome's eyes went wide, like an untamed horse rearing up to buck off its rider. He was so eager that he'd begun to lean in. "You've got yourself a deal," he said with a smile. Looking at Myra again, he quickly uttered, "He's right, go to Ravnica and you'll find your flower. If you've no other business you can leave." Producing a vial from his jacket pocket, the gnome tossed the glass to Zahariel who caught it without any issue.
Zahariel smirked, he'd guessed correctly. All sorts of interesting things one could do with a vial of shade's blood, especially for someone with an arcane background. He barely lifted Nocteras from its scabbard, and sliced his hand on the blade. Quickly collecting the ebony ichor into the glass vessel, by the time it was over half full the wound had closed up once more. Walking over to Fizz-Vodh, he let the information broker put a stopper in the vial and place it in his jacket.
"Don't let it make contact with the sun, or else it will be worthless," Zahariel added when he handed the tube over. Looking over at Katlina, the shade attempted an apology. "I'm sorry, miss. You were here first, after all."
"Oh, enough small talk, shade," Fizz-Vodh said. He pulled a piece of parchment out of his coat pocket. Waving his hand over the parchment and chanting someone in a strange arcane tongue, writing appeared on the small scroll. "Here is everything I know about what you've asked."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" the warrior-priest asked, almost without meaning to.
"Because, priest of the Hidden God, Deals are the province of the god whom I send my prayers to. They are sacred, and dishonoring a deal has real consequences," the gnome responded with a sort of familiarity that made the question seem like it had been prepared for the scenario.
"I'm not here to debate theology, master gnome," Zahariel said with a small grin. His reward in hand, the warrior-priest believed he could leave at last...
Katlina had found herself nearly leaning forward in all the 'excitement' it was completely fine with her to be forgotten, she would just soak up all the information dropped. Apparently she hadn't actually been forgotten though, she realized as the shade spoke to her. She flashed a sudden grin, light jumping to her stormy grey eyes and she gave a shrug.
"Believe me, I don't mind a bit." Then, as they turned back to their business, she narrowed her eyes. The Garden of Origins? The Spectral Seed? ....Black blood? She eyed the vial with a bit of distaste, then grinned again. Well then, this looked like an adventure. Maybe she could find her own answer to the question she'd come all this way to ask Fizz-Vodh. One thing was for sure. She couldn't pass up this opportunity.
The shade looked like he was about to leave. She stood, calmly turning to face the young man, the gnome forgotten for the moment. "I think I will come wirh you, to find this keeper." She stated, watching for his reaction. She didn't hold any illusions that he'd want her to come. But maybe she could offer him something. "I can help you. It might be easier to get there with a companion."
Her face slid into a mask as she tried to keep any eagerness and excitement from pouring forth like the Fountains of Keturi. She couldn't afford to display herself upon her face like that
"Believe me, I don't mind a bit." Then, as they turned back to their business, she narrowed her eyes. The Garden of Origins? The Spectral Seed? ....Black blood? She eyed the vial with a bit of distaste, then grinned again. Well then, this looked like an adventure. Maybe she could find her own answer to the question she'd come all this way to ask Fizz-Vodh. One thing was for sure. She couldn't pass up this opportunity.
The shade looked like he was about to leave. She stood, calmly turning to face the young man, the gnome forgotten for the moment. "I think I will come wirh you, to find this keeper." She stated, watching for his reaction. She didn't hold any illusions that he'd want her to come. But maybe she could offer him something. "I can help you. It might be easier to get there with a companion."
Her face slid into a mask as she tried to keep any eagerness and excitement from pouring forth like the Fountains of Keturi. She couldn't afford to display herself upon her face like that
Lifting the Iron ore before his eyes, Roemello carefully examined it. Satisfied with the craftsmanship, it was more a reforge to be honest. Flipping the dagger to and fro with uncanny dexterity, he halted the action in a reverse blade grip. "This will have to do...". Holding it up to light if his flaming forge, he smiled at it as if it were his child of sorts. "She's seen better days." Lifting the back of his shirt, and emptied sheath appeared, hanging from right to left. Giving the dagger a toss, he leaned left to compensate. The dagger falling with practiced ease into his resting place, Roemello leaned back erect.
Reaching up to his neck, he removed the strap of his leather protective wear. Roeme snickered playing the role. Tossing the apron over a cluttered work bench, he neverminded the item upon release. (Master Fizz-Vodh probably is eager to see his orders completed. Enough lollygagging.) The man solemnly thought to himself. Frantically looking around the room, he spotted his works. Gathering a shield and sword a piece, he held them in one hand making his way to the cold cobble stone stairs just out of reach of his forge.
Reaching within his upper garments around his chest he removed a necklace with a golden key attached too it. Placing the key in the key hole Into what appeared to be cellar doors, Roemello turned he a heavy lock turn. Exiting the area equipment in hand, he turned back closing both doors with a foot. Leaning down he locked the doors with the same key. Standing back he watched the door vanish as he tucked the key. Yelling ahead of himself he wanted to assure the master gnome, was ready for his presentation. "Master Fizz-Vodh?!"
Stepping through the a single curtain, "I have completed the weeks order... here's the....". Seeing a female figure walking away, she had just covered her face but Roemello knew that strut anywhere. "Kat??!" Roemello burst out in a questioning upward inflection.
Reaching up to his neck, he removed the strap of his leather protective wear. Roeme snickered playing the role. Tossing the apron over a cluttered work bench, he neverminded the item upon release. (Master Fizz-Vodh probably is eager to see his orders completed. Enough lollygagging.) The man solemnly thought to himself. Frantically looking around the room, he spotted his works. Gathering a shield and sword a piece, he held them in one hand making his way to the cold cobble stone stairs just out of reach of his forge.
Reaching within his upper garments around his chest he removed a necklace with a golden key attached too it. Placing the key in the key hole Into what appeared to be cellar doors, Roemello turned he a heavy lock turn. Exiting the area equipment in hand, he turned back closing both doors with a foot. Leaning down he locked the doors with the same key. Standing back he watched the door vanish as he tucked the key. Yelling ahead of himself he wanted to assure the master gnome, was ready for his presentation. "Master Fizz-Vodh?!"
Stepping through the a single curtain, "I have completed the weeks order... here's the....". Seeing a female figure walking away, she had just covered her face but Roemello knew that strut anywhere. "Kat??!" Roemello burst out in a questioning upward inflection.
Myra took note of the conversation between the shade and the gnome, a bit thankful she didn't need to give him anything. Ravnica, she'll have to visit that place sometime if they do indeed have many kinds of herbs and plants there. As she watched Zahariel pour some of his black blood into a vial and give it to the broker, she became interested as to why Fizz-Vodh got so excited about it. She can't recall any potions or items that use black blood in their prints or recipes. And something called the Garden of Origins? Now she was really intrigued by all of this "Spectral Seed" business.
"Thank you for your business Fizz-Vodh." She got up from the sofa and turned towards Zahariel. "I am interested in this also, what's this about Gardens of Origin? I'd love to see a place like that, if you'll have me on your travels." She turned towards the opening of the cellar door and the other person who just came out of it, calling the other "Kat". Is this a secret reunion or something?
"Thank you for your business Fizz-Vodh." She got up from the sofa and turned towards Zahariel. "I am interested in this also, what's this about Gardens of Origin? I'd love to see a place like that, if you'll have me on your travels." She turned towards the opening of the cellar door and the other person who just came out of it, calling the other "Kat". Is this a secret reunion or something?
Back currently toward the newly emerged Roemello, Katlina didn't at first recognize the voice, her ears tuning to the use of her nickname. Spinning now, her long red-brown braid flying over her right shoulder, her attention moved from Zahariel to the darker hued man who towered over her. At first glance a grin split her lips and she took a few step forward before she remembered to keep her demeanor composed. *sigh* among strangers, there was no use for emotional outbursts. Still, she kept the smile on her face as she beheld the man, whom she had not seen in many days. They had shared war together, and she was glad to see him.
"Roeme.." she murmered. "It is good to see you." Flicking her gaze to Fizz-Vodh she wondered how her friend had come to work for the gnome. Curious... then she noted the sword and shield. What were those for? This gnome was a regular cauldron of mystery. Scratch that, a colorful and mysterious cauldron of mystery.
"Roeme.." she murmered. "It is good to see you." Flicking her gaze to Fizz-Vodh she wondered how her friend had come to work for the gnome. Curious... then she noted the sword and shield. What were those for? This gnome was a regular cauldron of mystery. Scratch that, a colorful and mysterious cauldron of mystery.
"I think I will come with you, to find this keeper," came the voice of the red-haired woman from behind him. Zahariel turned, his yellow eyes locked with her greys for a moment. "I can help you. It might be easier to get there with a companion." The Shades mouth tightened up to the right, a sort of smirk that he'd practiced in the mirror - he found it made him seem friendly despite the hideous tattoo on his face. He hadn't even considered the idea of traveling with another. Since his transformation, he'd gone out almost exclusively on solo missions for the Temple, and part of him had started to feel a bit lonely for it. Yet, if he was being honest with himself, part of him also had begun to rely heavily on his own power.
"I am interested in this also, what's this about Gardens of Origin? I'd love to see a place like that, if you'll have me on your travels," piped up the Arachniam. The warrior-priest turned to woman with strange, red eyes and flashed a boyish grin. He was surprised that she had taken an interest, but was nonetheless pleased.
"Well, I mean," Zahariel started when he was interrupted.
"Master Fizz-Vodh?! I have completed the weeks order... here's the....Kat??!" came a new voice from the entryway to the back room. The new figure was a handsome man, tall and dark in complexion. He seemed to carry himself in a way that Zahariel recognized as one of an age that defied his appearance. Zahariel felt a strange power in his presence, but was unsure of what the feeling was. It didn't feel like magic, at least not the kind he was familiar with.
Roeme...It is good to see you," Kat replied.
"Well, well," Fizz-Vodh said, breaking the awkwardness of the moment, "This quest of yours has suddenly attracted quite a lot of attention, my dark friend." The tanned creature seemed rather pleased with himself.
"My name is Zahariel Portal'e," the Shade priest said to the others, "I am a warrior-priest from the world of Ulyria. I was once a man, but I was turned into Shade. If you have to qualms with traveling with one such as myself, then I would happily welcome you along. The road will likely be long, and I could do for good company."
"I am interested in this also, what's this about Gardens of Origin? I'd love to see a place like that, if you'll have me on your travels," piped up the Arachniam. The warrior-priest turned to woman with strange, red eyes and flashed a boyish grin. He was surprised that she had taken an interest, but was nonetheless pleased.
"Well, I mean," Zahariel started when he was interrupted.
"Master Fizz-Vodh?! I have completed the weeks order... here's the....Kat??!" came a new voice from the entryway to the back room. The new figure was a handsome man, tall and dark in complexion. He seemed to carry himself in a way that Zahariel recognized as one of an age that defied his appearance. Zahariel felt a strange power in his presence, but was unsure of what the feeling was. It didn't feel like magic, at least not the kind he was familiar with.
Roeme...It is good to see you," Kat replied.
"Well, well," Fizz-Vodh said, breaking the awkwardness of the moment, "This quest of yours has suddenly attracted quite a lot of attention, my dark friend." The tanned creature seemed rather pleased with himself.
"My name is Zahariel Portal'e," the Shade priest said to the others, "I am a warrior-priest from the world of Ulyria. I was once a man, but I was turned into Shade. If you have to qualms with traveling with one such as myself, then I would happily welcome you along. The road will likely be long, and I could do for good company."
Rearing back a step, Roemello honestly was unsure what to think and his facial expression most definitely gave this way. Placing the blade, in a holster tethered into the reforged shield, Roemello set both of the counter right next to the master gnome. He didn't have any explanation to give as there was none. Weapons, armory and orders came in he cranked them out.
Walking past the back counter, a thousand thoughts ran through his head as he reminisced over all of the adventures he and Katlina had experienced in each other's company. Too many brushes with death and a few they swore never to speak of. Turning back to Fizz-Vodh, he remembered his place. Giving a slight bow, he spoke. "Master, I have done all you have asked and then some. I am grateful for you taking me in but think I have more than sedated my debt. I will forever be grateful but I feel my time has come to move on from your humble abode." Itching for the thrill of adventure, even more so now that destiny has brought him back with an old war buddy. "What say you.... Master?"
Walking past the back counter, a thousand thoughts ran through his head as he reminisced over all of the adventures he and Katlina had experienced in each other's company. Too many brushes with death and a few they swore never to speak of. Turning back to Fizz-Vodh, he remembered his place. Giving a slight bow, he spoke. "Master, I have done all you have asked and then some. I am grateful for you taking me in but think I have more than sedated my debt. I will forever be grateful but I feel my time has come to move on from your humble abode." Itching for the thrill of adventure, even more so now that destiny has brought him back with an old war buddy. "What say you.... Master?"
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