The Scribe's Archive

Temn's Task - The dinner, and just desserts.

2009-06-27T21:45:00.000-07:00

"Pallia was beautiful, and charming, witty, graceful, and everything that one could want in a child." He said, his smile failing to form fully. The old man's face had lost most of its color in the last few days, and his eyes had become dull in the light. For the noble Sen Almari, his daughter's demise had been the cold breath to blow out the light of his soul, and as he held the golden cup aloft in a wrinkled hand which shook too noticeably for his liking he found his words failing him for the second time in nearly a century of speeches, toasts, and praise.

"But..." he continued, then looking at those gathered at his table, his gray eyes daring not meet the sad, or uncomfortable stares to be found there. "... she has passed from our world, like her mother. My home knows only sorrow that such deeds would transpire, and claim the second joy of the Almari house. Deeds which I should know better than to acknowledge here, amongst my friends, allies and family. But I have no other words for you. Not tonight."

He lowered the oddly dull cup, and regarded it like some mysterious force had placed it in his hand just then. "To Pallia, may her mother receive her, and love her as I cannot." He spoke quietly, and his throat became dry.

"Almari blessed." a quiet chorus of voices spoke. Sen touched the cool metal cup to his lips, and drank the wine until it was gone. Those at his table followed suit and as Sen retook his seat in the center of the table's length servants began to present food to the guests. The meal was had in a respectful silence.

In the city far below the bluff which held the Almari house a pair of black gloved hands gripped at the throat of a man. His eyes bulged and his bare fingers scratched at the thick leather. The man was thin and craven, with wiry black hair and yellowed eyes. He smelled of spirits and dirt. "I dunno where'ey is! Ah swear it!" he cried out with the little air that escaped his lungs.

"The house of Almari has always been good to this city, and its people, Hine. Yet when pressed, their eyes see nothing and their ears are struck deaf." The broadly shouldered man spoke in an even, and emotionless tone.
Hine's eye darted to a fro, hoping some soul might spot his attacked in the alley. "If ah new anyfin ah woulda told ya!"
"You know something, and you will tell me."
"Ah don't!" Hine croaked.
The hands closed on his throat, and he was lifted off the ground. As Hine's thin legs kicked at empty air the larger man tilted him so that their eyes would meet. As he peered into the steely eyes of his attacker he understood that there was only one way tonight would end. He would have to talk... and so Hine nodded, unable to muster the air for words.
As quickly as it started, the hands loosened, and Hine gasped for air, and coughed. "Awright, awright."
"Your words, and be quick."
"Ah know, it was Bensil, an 'is lot! They were hot unner the collar fer what that Kanlin brat did t'em. Didn't know it'd go this far though, ah never woulda helped 'em had ah known!"
Dark, storm colored eyes watched Hine as he spilled every bean he had.
"You have my thanks, Hine."
"Sure, sure Temn, now please let me go, ah just wanna get outta here."
"You will, but I bear a message for you, and must deliver it..." Hine offered little more than a strangled cry as Temn's hand crushed his throat suddenly.

"Sen Almari offers his condolences for your loss."

The thick, vice like hands twisted, snapping the thinner man's neck with a dull pop. Temn, impossibly tall and clad in midnight blue carried the dead Hine to a dark corner of the alley and settled him behind a pile of garbage before walking back into the city street.

Temn's Task - In death, in silence.

2009-06-27T21:02:00.000-07:00

As rain washed over the Fields of Fallen, Orin watched the wards lower Pallia's casket into the ground. His eyes stung, and became blurry from the tears that formed in them, and Fight as he may, he couldn't stop them from coming. As he blinked them away, his tilted his head back to look into the gray clouds which hung overhead.

"Orin, it's time to go." Temn's solemn voice cut through the drumming of the rain, and Orin brushed the rain frim his eyes and face before looking at his guardian.
"It is." He nodded to the much taller man.
Temn offered a small smile which didn't quite reach his red eyes. "Tomorrow will be a new day."
"Not one I want to see..."
Temn's heavy, gloved hand dropped onto the smaller man's shoulder, and without a word Orin was lead toward the exit of the fields as wards behind them shoveled dirt into the grave.

Orin sat in the cabin of his carriage where only the noise of the wheels on the road, and rain on the roof was heard. The young man watched, with stinging eyes, as the gray and soaked countryside passed by at a steady pace. In the half a day's travel back to his home Orin said not a word, nor shed another tear. Pallia was dead, and only his silence stood as a testament to the damage it had done him.

For Temn however, work had only begun.

Kale - Wants and Desires

2009-04-23T19:16:00.000-07:00

"I want to break him." She voiced this desire openly to the man standing before her. He was tall, and clad in wools that mimicked the earth in color. His face was rigid like a mask, never revealing the distaste he had for the bloodthirsty woman that spoke.

"I want to wring the life out of him with my own hands." She continued, examining her hands, and the blood red nails that tipped them. She slowly curled those fingers into tight fists. "I want to hear him struggle for air as I crush his windpipe." her voice was smooth, seductive... but ineffective at hiding the truly wanton desire for the violence she spoke. He could feel it rolling off of her in waves, this desire to visit horrible pain, and still he remained stoic.

"I want to bring him to his knees..." she looked down, seeming to imagine it, her dark eyes glittering in the dim lantern glow. "...and stare into his eyes as the light fades from them." She tilted those cruel eyes up, away from the floor and met the stare of that the figure standing just outside her reach.

"I want you to find Kale Bladeswinger, and I want him brought to me in one piece so that I can take him apart." Her tone was commanding, and he bowed slowly in compliance. Without a word he backed away from the woman, and at a respectful distance turned to stride out of the room. As the figure retreated from her presence the women fell back into her seat and pressed a finger to her darkly painted lips while thoughts of violence swirled in her head. She smiled.

At that moment in the evening, several weeks of travel outside the woman's grasp, Kale Bladeswinger sat on a stump of a tree while he examined the newest dent in his already battered helmet. Crumpled in the short grass nearby was the body of a bandit who had very briefly entertained thoughts of robbing him. Kale owed the new dent to this man, and a lucky swing with a hatchet.

"Figures." Kale muttered to himself, a look of distaste on his features. Tossing the helmet aside he rose to his feet and carried on North, toward the forest of Allendon. It was there he hoped to find an old soul that might help him.

Maidenland - The Moons

2009-04-20T09:02:00.000-07:00

Though they shared the night, and would for ages to come the similarities ended there for the pair of moons which rose each night. The first moon, known as Amity was a sapphire of the heavens, brilliant and cold; the beauty of its icy surface inspired artists and lovers on a nightly basis. The other was no less spectacular, though far less serene; it was a seething and churning satellite with a black surface and veins of red fire across it. This volcanic moon was Discord.

Far below them a grand ball was in progress, it was a marvelous party filled with food, drink and music meant to delight all the senses. Of the many in attendance a few took leave to view the moons in the evening sky. Of the group that had gathered beneath these moons, Mora was the youngest. She danced with her companion Tesser as gentle music wafted from the open windows and doors of the grand Berj'ron palace. Save for that music which escaped the dance floor all was silent on that terrace. The air dared not stir that it might disturb the tranquility that held that marble patio.

At rest against the white railing the eldest of the group, and the leader of them all, Sandine stared into the sky with the intensity of one expecting change. Beside him, sat upon the railing was Liron, companion to Niev and adviser to Sandine. Liron too watched the sky as the moons drifted imperceptibly across the evening heaven.

Niev leaned against Liron with her arms about his waist and her chin rested upon his shoulder. She too was watching the heavens, spending her time marveling at the shimmering jewel that was the moon Amity. Still the couple danced behind them, the soft shuffling of their feet keeping time with the music that escaped the palace.

The last of the party, the one known as Sari came from the ballroom to join the group. In a delicate hand she carried a crystal glass filled with a rich wine which she gently placed on the stone railing beside Sandine. As her hands settled on the cool railing she followed the eyes of the rest and put her attention on the moons.

The Courier - Rainy Season

2009-04-18T20:41:00.001-07:00

It rained for the last five days.

It was still raining.

Summer was starting as so was the monsoon season, the Prefect for this quarter watched the drenched courtyard through rain streaked glass. Where he once saw servants and servicemen traipsing about there was only the thick, battering rain. This entire quarter shut down when the rains came in this heavily. He glared through the glass at the rain falling in his courtyard, the Prefect ran this building, and through it, the quarter. For all that power though, he had none as long as the storm lasted. No one would venture out into weather like this and risk the roads or swelling wetlands. He was even dreading the late hour when he would need to sort out transportation home.

Perhaps, he thought, it might be possible to order a carriage for the trip, but he would have to bribe an underling to make it happen. Just as he'd had to the last three evenings. He gritted his teeth with the thought of his own pockets being picked by the dogs under him.

It was still raining, and there was someone walking through the courtyard. The Prefect's attention was drawn to his appearance, draped in a long cloak that looked dreadfully familiar. As the figure drew closer a small knot formed in his stomach. The cloak belonged to the neighboring Prefect's office, and he was traveling in the foulest of summer weather. There was no good reason for anyone to do this, and the more he thought about that, the more his stomach churned.

The figure walked with an even, effortless stride through the flooded courtyard and up the wide steps to the Prefect's building. As he knocked on the door the Prefect began wringing his hands unconsciously, and as the doors opened to accept the new arrival he was attempting to recall the favors owed to the office that was calling. Any good prefect would never owe more than he was due, but that doesn't mean he liked having favors called in. Furthermore, he wasn't about to fool himself into thinking a trip in this weather wouldn't be explicitly to call on a favor.

The Scribe - Bare shelves.

2009-04-18T15:30:00.000-07:00

The evening was young, much like the Scribe that walked the aisles of his newly sanctioned archive. The finely crafted shelves were bare, each row of cubbyholes holding nothing but potential. Each aisle was lined with dozens of them, and each was made of a beautiful dark wood. The craftsmanship was remarkable and as the Scribe swept up one aisle and down another examining them his head swam, though he wondered if that was due to the thick scent of wood stain in the air or his excitement.

"This will do." He thought.

"This will do quite nicely."