Pax: Grey Robes at the Stone Cube (Late MT, 23 Chyril, open)

[Guido Cercatoro]

(OOC: this thread is open for anyone to join, or you may simply watch events unfold)

In the centre of Pax, close to the Merchants Hall stands a large stone cube. As with many of the other buildings in the town, it appeared mysteriously overnight. The cube is made out of the same stone as the new walls of the town and is double the height of an average human male. All visible sides are smooth and unbroken, with no signs of doors, entrances or anything else of note. Whether it has some hidden function or is merely a sculpture is unknown.

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The Stone Cube often attracted the attention of newcomers to Pax who stood and gaped at the object, trying to fathom what purpose it could possibly serve. Some argued that it contained an object of value, others that is was a new modern form of sculpture and many could not resist feeling the smooth surface, perhaps in the hope of finding a hidden entrance.

This cool morning, a group of men dressed in grey robes and cowls made their way to the cube and stood in a row before the great object. One of the group threw back his cowl to reveal the gaunt face of a middle aged human. After a few flickers in which he scanned the small crowd that was examining the cube, the man spoke in a loud clear voice that rang across the square.

“People of Pax. Now is the time to repent your sins and worship the One God. See how your city changes. The walls change, your homes change and your lives will change. This is the work of the One God. “ The man paused for a flicker before raising his voice even further. “You see this cube. It has been sent to warn you by the One God. It is empty. It has no purpose, just as a soul has no meaning without the One. Repent and you may join him.”

The few who were gathered before the cube murmured nervously and were joined by a few passers-by, who had heard the voice of the cowled man.

[Kaelara Mentahn]

Kaelara, occupied with her own thoughts and a dull ache behind her temples, may have passed the commotion by on her way to Omran's Bakery... if not for a startling similarity in garb of the men arrayed before the stone. What had initially drawn a single glance, now extracted a second, her bright eyes skimming rapidly across the faces to identify those whose very presence chilled her soul. What is this? It was nearly a full burn before her initial pang of self-preservation was overcome by a surge of anger and a vibrant curiosity.

Purposefully, she joined the gathering, her wheaten head, wrapped in tiara-like braids, quickly disappeared among the gathering throng. Despite the disadvantages of height, Kaelara was certainly not shy, as she wended her way among the group. Avoiding the first row of listeners, she settled herself in the midst of those directly behind, welcoming the anonymity, but ensuring a clear view... even if she had to peer between bent elbows.

“People of Pax. Now is the time to repent your sins and worship the One God. See how your city changes. The walls change, your homes change and your lives will change. This is the work of the One God.“

The gall! These men's very presence in her city drummed up a slow-burning fury in her depths. The nervous rustlings of those about her, however, distressed her greatly. These men were on 'Pagan' turf now, and if those about her could but regain some gumption, perhaps these few would have a shorter tenure here than they intended.

Playing at an amused yawn, she shielded her mouth with a dainty hand for a flicker. Lips parted as if to speak to herself, and though the low comment might be easily audible to those nearby, it was carefully calculated so that those assembled in Gray might not hear.

"A god so fond of burning? To bring stone instead of wood?" A quiet chuckle accompanied the remark on a face that, though composed, betrayed vague amusement in the tilt of eyebrow and flicker of her eyes. "Perhaps he intends to grow their faith and patience, by having them mine into our new homes while they convince us..."

The man paused for a flicker before raising his voice even further. “You see this cube. It has been sent to warn you by the One God. It is empty. It has no purpose, just as a soul has no meaning without the One. Repent and you may join him.”

"Foolishness." She muttered, wits scrambling for a comment that might change the tenor of those around her. More of us than them, and the Provost's Office just a step down the street, besides. Little to fear as long as we stand together and dismiss these for the troublemakers they are.

"And perhaps... it is just a stone. Thick. Heavy..." She glanced to either side, commenting to the first person to catch her eye, or to herself if no one did. Her eyes sparkled a flicker, catching a stray thought.

"On second thought, perhaps I ought to be thankful - for the use of that lovely empty cellar he sent for my shop. Shan't want to repent, on that score, they might find another purpose for it..." She didn't seek to be clearly heard, knowing that, even one chuckle among those surrounding her might result in whispered flurries of.. 'what was that?'

Be resolved, Kae; such a thing as this, better not to make yourself a target. Despite this thought, the fiesty adhiel very nearly hoped a scene would erupt, a verbal battle which she might play a part in. She hoped her fellow free-folk might present a strong, unruffled front, and that these interlopers could render themselves unsound and disreputable. Would you like the moon too, on a string?

For now, however, she settled back into the crowd, watching, but tongue at the ready, pride piqued.

[Guido Cercatoro]

The crowd of onlookers continued to grow rapidly as Kaelara settled herself into a position just behind the front row.

"A god so fond of burning? To bring stone instead of wood?" A quiet chuckle accompanied the remark on a face that, though composed, betrayed vague amusement in the tilt of eyebrow and flicker of her eyes. "Perhaps he intends to grow their faith and patience, by having them mine into our new homes while they convince us..."

Kaelara’s whispered comment drew a few smiles from those nearby in the crowd, most of whom were achadheil or adheil. A middle-aged adheil leaned over towards the shopkeeper. “I thought that we’d been banished here to avoid all this. There’ll be trouble if they carry on for much longer.” He nodded towards a small group of young achadheil who were standing at the edge of the crowd, muttering intently amongst themselves. One, a dark-haired, wild-eyed youth was gesticulating with his hands, his passions clearly aroused.

"And perhaps... it is just a stone. Thick. Heavy..." She glanced to either side, commenting to the first person to catch her eye, or to herself if no one did.

"On second thought, perhaps I ought to be thankful - for the use of that lovely empty cellar he sent for my shop. Shan't want to repent, on that score, they might find another purpose.

The adheil standing next to Kaelara gave her a wide grin before turning to face the priests. He shouted in a clear voice. “Well if the best your God can do is send a useless stone cube, he is a pretty unimaginative God. And if he makes you dress in those grey robes, he ain’t got much sense of style.” A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd.

The stony-faced priest who had been speaking to the crowd directed a furious look towards the adheil. “Those who defame the One God will feel his fury. This is a place of sinners. Death and destruction is coming to this town. Your only hope is to repent. Is there no-one here who is willing to embrace him?” A few of those in the crowd shuffled nervously at the mention of destruction but no-one appeared inclined to take up the priest’s offer. As the priest spoke a small patrol of Pax Honestus soldiers entered the square but they did not attempt to intervene.

[Kaelara Mentahn]

“I thought that we’d been banished here to avoid all this. There’ll be trouble if they carry on for much longer.” ... One, a dark-haired, wild-eyed youth was gesticulating with his hands, his passions clearly aroused.

Kaelara's attention was drawn to this one individual, and her brows knotted briefly. Much as she could guess at the thoughts that spurred the unnamed achadhiel, it was clear his human blood had made him rather hasty. She responded in the language of their kind,

"Ah.... it would be a shame to waste their public humiliation with violence just yet, and give them the upper hand. Know you who he is?"

"Your only hope is to repent. Is there no-one here who is willing to embrace him?”

Her lips curled appreciatively at the words of the Adhiel, and she was one of many to betray intense amusement. Kaelara straightened, folding her arms across her chest, feeling the tenor of the crowd shift from nervousness to uncertain amusement about her. The first person to stand forward would have this mob in their hands, one might think... Her amusement faded at this thought, eyes flickering to the impassioned youth. However much her very core detested the humans arrayed before the stone, however much ire stirred at the foul words they spoke... she knew instinctively that they were outnumbered and alone. She knew instinctively that if a Pagan stepped forward in violence, they would become no better than the rampaging mobs in King's Court.

The danger and freedom was in whether the crowd realized this as well.

Kaelara would not wait for them to decide on their own. Pax, prison though it had originally become, was now her home... she would fight to keep the kingdom's soldiers from descending upon the city.

Impulsively, she stepped forwards through that single line barring her from view, abandoning the safety of anonymity. If you dare to touch me, first, you have thrown the first gauntlet.

As with all days where she stepped forth to do business, Kaelara had taken more time with her appearance, and as she stood, arms crossed before her and the ends of a shawl tucked in each elbow, there was a glimmering light in her vibrant amber eyes. Passion was restrained, but seemed to coil about her ruddy lips and flared nostrils. Her pert chin was lifted, and for all her inches were few, her back was straight, and proud... her voice strong and clear.... but purposefully mild. There was hint of more, an undercurrent of something else that run beneath that calm exterior.

The lyrical cant of her accented words rolled forth, supported by a careful breath and toned to carry not just to the human who spoke for those in gray, but to those at her sides, at her back... and along the edges of the crowd.

"Better a sinner, who respects life, regardless of how base..." she emphasized this, glancing from side to side at the company that surrounded this place, steeling herself against the pang of fear that accompanied the dismayed thought, And you decided to speak out... why... Kae?. "than the follower of a God whose very embrace is pain and death." The disdain was thick in her voice, her tone bordering upon a flippant air that quickly grew amused. "I confess, though, your claims are highly entertaining... perhaps a professional venue, to play this comedy within, might be preferred? If you need props, certainly we can find you other hollow items..." her tone fell, and those nearest might hear her murmur, ever so quietly, "besides what is already mounted on their shoulders..."

Every tilt of her head, ever flicker of control bent Kaelara's words and motions to convey a single idea, a single expression. These children are amusing, and rash of speech, but after all... one might as well enjoy the show. No need to do aught to them, let them bury themselves.

And what could they do? The gray robes would certainly not be foolish enough to raise hands against a woman... they were fewer than the assembled crowd... and as her eyes travelled from left to right, they rested on the Pax Honestus, to whom a cordial tilt of her head was directed. She respected the Honestus, even more-so since she had met the Provost, and knew his passion for the Pax's success.

Having spoken, having sought to cradle the crowd's emotions and protect her kind from rash action, she could only wait, retaining that vaguely amused calm, regardless of the inner fear that had sought to muzzle her before. [

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc made his way through the market place when he started to hear someone muttering about the One. Looking about he saw the grey robed priest of the one began to gather around a giant grey stone cube. The priests by whatever grand speech tome they chose to preach from, were warming up their ‘the end is now!’ speech and pitching it.

Slowly the crowd began to gather and Torc was inevitably caught in his push. Torc smiled a little as the priests blew forth their predictions of destruction and redemption. Then all of a sudden he saw Kaelara, what the nether is she doing! They burn children for her pagan god’s sake!

Torc began to try and push his way forward. He needed to stop this before one drop of priest’s blood was spilled. Oh aye! The guard was here but they weren’t going to stop the priest’s in time before a mob choose to act, and when that happened these misguided fools would have a blood bath.

Beside something about the cube wasn’t right. I mean if it was a sculpture it was a piss pour one. Why build a massive cube and then… Oh by the One, please tell me it isn’t some kind of central focus! If each side reflected a master rune somewhere buried out beyond the town, then someone just need the right kind of finesse to open the potiental of the cube. But if the priest forced energies through the cube then they could access it by force.

This could become a lot worst for everyone in the entire city if this is the central focus. Besides, it was a convenient excuse not to examine his emotions any further; he really didn’t want to think he was doing this for the pagans. As he came closer to the edge, he waited if it became to violent Torc hoped he could cause a stun flash. It was a simple alteration on a wizard light. A simple globe of light that mixed a little of force and then overpowered with light energies. With a pop it would blind everyone for a few flickers and force them down to the ground. By the One I really hope it doesn’t come to this.

[Guido Cercatoro]

The gathering before the priests now numbered almost a hundred and was still continuing to grow. In the corner of the square, the leader of the military patrol, a young fresh-faced sergeant, appeared nervous. He spoke to one of his men who then vanished at a run in the direction of the barracks.

"Ah.... it would be a shame to waste their public humiliation with violence just yet, and give them the upper hand. Know you who he is?"

The adheil standing next to Kaelara nodded. “Aye, his name is Savarak. He is a hot-head, filled with hate. For some reason, he has many young followers. They mooch about town causing trouble.”

Torc arrived just in time to see Kaelara step in front of the crowd and make her speech. Most of the crowd appeared to find her a words amusing and a roar of laughter followed by an almost audible sigh of relaxation spread through the square. However, Savarak did not laugh or smile. He merely sneered and continued to murmur to his companions before bending down to pick up what appeared to be a large stone. Smiling at his companions, he tossed the stone from hand to hand.

The other person who found nothing to smile about in the adheil’s jibes was the leader of the priests. The man’s face had turned a deep shade of scarlet, his lips curled in fury and he took a short pace iforwards n the direction of Kaelara. “You dare to speak so.” His words were spoken in a measured, controlled fury. “You condemn yourself by your words.”

Behind the priest, one of his cowled companions threw back a grey hood to reveal the face of a young, blond haired woman. In contrast to the middle-aged priest, the woman’s face was calm and serene. She interlaced her hands, closed her eyes and began to quietly mutter to herself.

As the adheil inclined her head towards the soldiers, she noticed that the young sergeant had grasped the hilt of his sword. However, he did not move, clearly uncertain as to how he should behave.

[Kaelara Mentahn]

There had been a puzzle game, from Ta'quar, which an elder cousin had solved, displayed his prowess and promptly destroyed it before she could see what it had made. Kaelara felt her words as if they were pieces of that puzzle, that she had laid the first one correctly in place, as she sought to reassemble the pieces, without knowing how the final shape would lay.

Her gut still twisted and knotted, as if her insides wrung with an uncertainty her hands dared not. To all outward appearance, her well-shaped lips curved in a faint smile, those amber eyes were alert and bright, wreathed by darkened lashes that hooded some of those quite thoughts that spurred her words. She did not skim, as her eyes panned across the crowd to either side, that piercing gaze seeking individual eyes, her own challenging them. See? Laughter defeats more easily... And indeed, though not all of these were Adhiel, nor even Achadhiel, a wave of protectiveness surged through her.

In contrast to the middle-aged priest, the woman’s face was calm and serene. She interlaced her hands, closed her eyes and began to quietly mutter to herself.

"This condemned one could use another cellar, Lady," although Kaelara's tone was raised to carry, she did not precisely mock the serenity the woman presented. Her voice warbled politely, if it did have a slight edge to her words. "Pray for another, and I might indeed find myself more favorable towards your god."

Imperturbable, at least outwardly, Kaelara met the gaze of the infuriated priest silently, squarely. He she didn't seek to challenge, but merely held her ground. For all her slight frame, the bit of arrogance in the tilt of her chin and her perfectly straight spine gave her a feeling of confidence.

At this moment, the shopkeeper felt an inward pang. The next piece of this delicate puzzle - ought she to address the young seargant, nervously grasping his hilt, or the belligerent youth with his impertinent stone?

By protecting the Gray robes, I protect you, don't you see this, you fool? Glancing to Savarak, her eyes then sought the young guard, seeking to connect with him briefly. Making her decision, she stepped a few paces closer to the Achadhiel, Savarak, hoping that the soldier would grow a bit more spine. If you plan to stand there like a ninny, you might ought to fetch the Provost, young Honestus. The balance was too delicate, however, for her to grasp for all solutions at once.

"Nay, sir," one delicate hand stretched out towards the dissatisfied Achadhiel, her eyes wary despite the friendly tilt to her lips. If you had any wit you'd seek a subtler revenge, stranger, but a rock? How childish... "Be a good gentleman and allow me the play, I rather believe yon stone is too heavy for our purposes." Her lyrical voice was firmer now as she sought to catch and hold the man's eyes, hoping that her mild comment would stir the amused mob at her back to echo her quiet regard, and the suggestion of disapproval. Another step or two, and she sought to settle herself a little ways between the Achadhiel and the gray robe leader. The guard as a witness, at least he might play some purpose, it should be clear that any action the young fool made, was but a small portion of those assembled. She did not seek to mock Savarak, hoping that her words would allow him to save face among his compatriots.

You hate these, hasty halfbreed? I would that I could throw that stone, stranger Savarak, and put an end to such lies as they spout. But to do so now would be folly...

Being where she was, Kaelara had only briefly caught a glimpse of Torc's presence within the crowd, her amber gaze alighting there but a few flickers before passing. A professed oneist, she didn't see how he could do anything but inflame the situation. Seeing a familiar face, however newly met, gave her a very slight boost of confidence however.

Her petite frame was the incongruously delicate barrier between the three disparate groups. Despite the obvious distractions to thoughts of personal safety, the adhiel woman was suddenly very aware of how exposed she was, should any of those three masses turn foul of purpose, she would lay in some portion of their path. She firmed her shoulders. No room to doubt, Kae, you are committed now...

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc dug deep into his satchel producing a tortoise shell with runes carved into each little hexagon piece. The runes had been carved using the edge of a stone chip, each rune was scrapped with care display the rune of warding in different positions. By, the One, I hope I don’t have to use my warding weave. The tortoise shell was the perfect focus for a warding weave. The shell purpose was to protect the delicate moist innards of the tortoise from the dangers on the outside, and outside from the tortoises bile.

Torc then stepped from the crowd, pulling back his hood and he looked into the eyes of the Oneist Priest. For the one moment in time, he felt Blaire smile at him, because he was finally standing up to every priest tryant that had spoken with anger, had beaten Torc while speaking the good words of the One, who had burned children. Aye, Torc finally felt like he had enough of the horrible doctrine of the One, it was time to whip this priest with this own faith.

Torc spoke with sarcasm and pointed heated, “OH PRIEST, How far have we all fallen! Does it not speak of the charity in The Book Apostolic? ‘The One smiles upon charity- for in giving what is yours to those who need it, you share the world more equally with all of His Children- who are equal in their deserving of the wonders of His creation.’ Aye what great charity you have given these poor folk here! Death or convert! The Blessings are so great I almost die thinking of all those that you have saved.” Torc stopped for a moment and looked around.

Returning to his tone of almost liquid heat, “Wait, where are your converts? I am confused, usually you priests at least get a few. Oh perhaps you have decided to interrupt the Chronicle of Darian’s Rule! ‘What do these pagans care for our laws? They would dare to dance with loopholes and tempt The One’s judgment. There can be no salvation except through him. Let us make such clear within our own book, so that none may be mislead.’ Of course he has come out here to teach us from the good book that lays down all the One’s knowledge and love… Wait where’s your book all I see is a simple rock? A stone, one simple stone, to show the people of Pax that the One is not a burden, but a blessing.”

“Aye, priest I have met your kind before, they flogged me with willow branches, the burned children, and they forced me into war. You are learned, but you forget to read the other half of His laws. It’s so easy to preach of destruction and how pagans must die, yet you never look into the Book of Virtues and live to his standard. I would agree with you if you were men and women, but by the Book of Virtues you are heretics of His faith! You dismiss charity, honor, love, compassion, and order. You have fallen from the light, and if your priestess channels any divine energy into that focus, you won’t see the wrath of the One, you will see the wrath of the land!”

Torc was pissed, and he hadn’t realized that he had just spoken about magic’s. The dark thought of the girl and her wolf crept into his thoughts. Oh, if he could just summon the wolf to his side and intimated these fools. Instead he tried clearing his thought whatever happened next he want to make sure that the ward was up before anything happen.

[Guido Cercatoro]

"This condemned one could use another cellar, Lady," although Kaelara's tone was raised to carry, she did not precisely mock the serenity the woman presented. Her voice warbled politely, if it did have a slight edge to her words. "Pray for another, and I might indeed find myself more favorable towards your god."

The female priest opened her eyes as Kaelara’s words reached her. With her hands still clasped together, the blond woman smiled but remained silent for a few flickers before resuming her quiet muttering. Strangely, although the priest’s words were barely audible, the adheil had a sense of their meaning echo within her mind. Feel the Joy. Join us. Feel the ecstasy. Kaelara found it difficult to restrain taking a step towards the woman. It was if the priest had wound an invisible rope around the adheil and was slowly and calmly winding it in. Whilst the priest’s outer appearance was serene and calm, Kaelara sensed something deeper….something darker…. as the words continued to penetrate her thoughts.

Meeting the gaze of the male priest, the adheil could see that his anger had turned into a gleeful sneer. In the corner of the square, the young guard appeared to have made a decision, for he had turned away from the scene by the cube and was addressing his men.

"Nay, sir," one delicate hand stretched out towards the dissatisfied Achadhiel, her eyes wary despite the friendly tilt to her lips. If you had any wit you'd seek a subtler revenge, stranger, but a rock? How childish... "Be a good gentleman and allow me the play, I rather believe yon stone is too heavy for our purposes."

Savarak appeared confused at Kaelara’s words. He looked down at the stone in his hand, gripping it tightly as if to ascertain its weight. Then, he glanced nervously past the adheil towards the priests. “This is our place,” he muttered. “If we do not show them our resolve, they will seek to expel us from here.” Several of his companions nodded and one fingered a dagger at his belt. As she slowly managed to move between the achadheil and the grey-robed priests, Kaelara could see the deep anger within many of the young men’s eyes. It was an anger born of a desire for revenge, in return for whatever injustices they felt had been meted out to them by the Oneists. It was an anger that could not easily be assuaged.

Torc extracted his tortoise shell from his bag as he stepped from the crowd and confronted the middle-aged priest. The achadheil’s words were full of sarcasm, defiance and a direct challenge to the priest, who was scarcely able to contain his fury.

“You preach weakness.” The words spat out from the priest’s mouth as if they were the venom of a poisonous snake. “We are no heretics, for we follow the prophecy of the One. For it is prophesised that:

One arm of My holy kingdom will heal
One arm of My holy kingdom will cleanse
The prophet will bring new converts to kneel
The warrior will employ force in faith's defense.”

The priest paused for a flicker, staring directly at Torc. “Those who do not choose to kneel must be cleansed. If you are truly a servant of the One, you should join us.”

[Torc Blackfoot]

“You, sir, are a fool! At least if you were a heretic there would be a cure for your kind, alas you simply follow a prophecy that is too complex for you limited intelligence. You are no great prophet even that I can see. A true prophet would realize that he must follow the heart of the One, not just where he points. The heart of the One is filled with love, order, light, justice, and forgiveness. Yet you believe that if there exists a warrior then faith’s defense must mean a purging. You have failed his test, fool, you are not the warrior or prophet, leave this city and preach to those that have not the mind to perceive your utter jack assry!”

Torc believe that the truth of the One’s words and that his heart along with his guidance was strong enough for anyone to convert. Yet, in the end it was fools like these that walked from the monastery and tried to convert the heathens. Torc pushed his anger and bitterness aside, there had been enough talk. He had warned them, and now it was time for battle.

Torc forced himself to calm, in battle it was like everything slowed, and he became part of the cosmos. Everything was in motion, from the air, time, energies, all of it moved at a rhythm that sang through out the universe. Torc focused his being on being part of that rhythm, and once he had it, he could move on to grounding, centering, and shielding one’s self.

Torc items were not chosen at chance, for instance the tree that he used as a focus was the tree he hoped to one day create with magic and purify the River Scillius. To him it was magick, and it was real. That image crossed both planes in his mind, it was a symbol of purity, magick, and of his past. It was only natural that grounding took on the feeling of sinking roots deep into the ground, and that his shielding was made of bark. The tendrils of will that came out of his mind were that of tree branches, and in a way Torc had been able to manipulate several things at once easiler then those that thought only of their hands as part of their will.

Torc felt himself choose the warding rune for counter spelling. Counter Spelling was difficult depending on who you asked. Battle mages preferred to cast their weaves and ward simply against the elements. Bolts of fire and lighting would harmlessly fall away, and yet their shields never stood up to the subtler magicks. Nay true counter spelling was a battle of wills. It was tapping into the universal song and reinforcing it with your will. I made sure that those you tried to control it with their own had to overcome your will to use the energies of the aether to weave into spells. It did not matter if the person had access to any kind of energy, they were forced to focus their will on keeping weaves together and over coming the natural laws along with another’s will.

Simply put, when Torc slipped into the mage trance, he would place a ward on the area, allowing the natural laws of this world to erode any weaves and adding his will to the natural laws to prevent others from forming.

[Kaelara Mentahn]

OOC: A little difficult to reply to two posts at once, hope this works alright.

IC:

Feel the Joy. Join us. Feel the ecstasy.

Kaelara mentally recoiled from the insiduous words, even as her steps faltered for a brief moment, feeling a pull she had never before experienced. Such phrases lay against even the little she understood of Illuminatus' ways. Knowledge, Logic, Reason, light... all the aspects of her chosen god began to filter through her mind, as if by doing so she might ward off the false, sibilant promises that seemed to grasp and cling at her. Illuminatus, lend me reasoning, guard my thoughts, aid me in preserving your honor...

The priestess' prayers seemed to catch and drag at her steps, only lightening if she veered towards the cluster of gray robes. Kaelara fought the sensation, planting her feet as stubbornly as a mule offended by its keeper and turning towards Savarak.

“This is our place,” he muttered. “If we do not show them our resolve, they will seek to expel us from here.”

Kaelara focused on these grief-furied figures, a portion of her soul hearkening to the pain and rage stirring in the depths of those she faced.

"Aye, this is our place." Selderine, not Pax Balthasar. They knew not what they did when they brought us here... gathering all of us together... "But these Oneists have no authority over us... let them raise their hands to harm, and I will be the first to say... Defend yourself!" A superior look of disdain slid across those agile features as she glanced back towards those assembled Oneists for a flicker, quickly returning her attention to Savarack. "But I would not have any here tarnish themselves by sinking to the level of these murderers, when doing so would give these nothing but pleasure. Conversely, the Provost himself told me just yesterday of his desire for this city's success... I know for a fact such cannot be achieved without those of us who have laid claim to this city." There was an intensity to her own gaze, for her own losses, bearing so recent a reminder, weighed heavily on her. You are not alone in your loss, her eyes sought to convey, beyond the harsh control of the canted lips and tilted chin, I say this despite my own pain, my own anger... and hatred...

She swayed slightly, suddenly, lifting slender fingers to a temple as that murmur insinuated itself in her thoughts, and she turned towards the priests even as Torc stepped from the crowd with words so daring and so delightfully angering to the Gray Robes that she nearly wanted to cheer. Even so, that moment of distraction found her taking a hesitantly ragged step towards those clustured in gray before she caught herself.

The words the achadhiel spoke, the defenses he made, sounded strange to her ears - having spent the majority of her years being lambasted as an inferior, heathen being... she struggled to find anything of Torc's view of his faith in her own memories of the Religion and failed utterly. For all that, her heart lifted, forgiving Torc the perceived offenses of the previous day's conversation in a flicker as he seemingly diverted the Oneist priests from their intended prey. Oneist versus Oneist, there is safety for us in that...

Even so, there was something uneasy in her, a burgeoning panic deep within at the inescapable pull that seemed to drag at her small frame, however tall she stood, and however firmly she set her shoulders. I will not be cowed, I will not be misled... Again, she uttered that prayer to her god, uncertain he would respond to such as she, who bore so little learning for his ways, but hoping for something that would dislodge the power of these gray robed fanatics.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Torc’s words left the thin priest looking aghast, as if he could scarcely believe that anyone would challenge him in such manner. “I am no fool.” The words spat out of a pair of thin, almost blue lips. “It is you who are a fool. Retract your words or suffer the wrath of the One.”

Calmly, Torc began the process of casting his defensive spell. He was well versed in using the tree as his focus and he quickly felt its roots pierce into the ground, the immense solidity of the bark and the branches move and twist to his will. Yet, as he sought to weave his Counter Spell, he was aware of something else. The great stone cube that sat blank and motionless in the square bore a similar imprint to that which he had observed in the ‘Gate tavern the previous day. The steps that had appeared in the tavern had been anchored by strange strands that drew on some unseen source of energy. The cube was similar but anchored by some immense power that was way beyond Torc’s comprehension.

The hedge mage had to struggle to complete his runecasting in the face of the strange energies he sensed in the square. His spell could have no hope of affecting whatever weaves were contained in the cube, yet might hope to nullify or at least weaken anything that might emerge from the group of grey robes.

**********************************************************************************************************

Kaelara felt the pull of the priestess intensify within her mind and she staggered a couple of paces towards the blond woman.

Illuminatus, lend me reasoning, guard my thoughts, aid me in preserving your honor...

Perhaps the adheil should have spent longer praying to her chosen God, for she felt no response and was dragged a further pace towards the Grey Robes and away from Savarak. Yet, as she took this third step, she suddenly felt an inner strength as if something was reinforcing her will, allowing her to resist. The adheil felt a further sharp pull from the priestess. However, this time she resisted it with ease. The blond woman’s eyes shot open with disbelief.

A few paces to one side of the shocked priestess stood a little girl with beautiful long, dark hair. As if oblivious to the danger in the square, she smiled and waved at Kaelara. It was the girl from the adheil’s vision when she had spoken to Seth.

The adheil was close enough to manage to utter her words of warning to a now fearful, Savarak. As he digested her words, a ripple of anxiety spread through the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the young soldier and his patrol pushing their way through the crowd. “See, they come to protect their own,” hissed Savarak angrily. He drew back his hand, preparing to throw his stone at the soldier.


*********************************************************************************************************************

Behind the priest, one of his companions threw back his cowl and untied the belt which bound his robe. He drew a long curved sword from a scabbard concealed beneath his robe and moved towards Torc.

[Torc Blackfoot]

Torc’s mind felt the impression of the world on his mind. The aether to him was like a strata reality overlaid with the one you knew. As a hand moved forward on the tether, ripples of fate, time, space, air, and life flowed out from the hand as it moved. To most people it was like seeing or hearing, some mages even described there sense of the aether as smells upon the wind. Originally, Torc had seen different colored strands, but as he gained experience and technique slowly his perceptions expanded, sight was important, but now it had become something more. It was an intangible feeling, strands and space beyond slight and sounds. It was as if Torc had a network of fine threads and beads within his mind spreading beyond himself. Each was an individual and part of the whole, it was like using another sense that was beyond all others he had dealt with. It wasn’t scary or confusing, Torc just began to feel like a babe expanding his new found senses.

Some things like scared him, and some things marveled him. The cube provided enough of both, it could very well be the focus that the land had tied itself to, and Torc didn’t mind that his small weave was nothing more then an afterthought compared to the cube. Still Torc moved with the inner sensations, like a tree within a storm, he started moving side to side. Small threads of destiny pricked his mind. This battle would lead to blood and death for the people. He was the healer and the land cried out for balance.

Torc tied lines of force to one word that would come from his mouth. The ward worked partially against him. He was able to move his hands and using the lines of force that he disturbed from his own hand. Torc simply held onto each one while the man moved to him.

The weave was one that he had used in the battle against heathens of Pan’s Isle. The binding of force to one word provided that word with enough energy to disrupt a man in his tracks. It would be enough energy to stun everyone else. He needed it to be.

As Torc watched the man come at him, he waited for his chance to either cast the weave or jump out of the way. He couldn’t be the first one to draw blood. He couldn’t allow blood to be drawn. So he prayed to the One that he would have enough force within the weave to shout the word ‘Stop’ at the top of his lungs and stun everyone. Otherwise, the streets would run read.

Torc continued the weave waiting for that critical moment before he either had to jump out of the way or release this weave.

[Kaelara Mentahn]

“See, they come to protect their own,” hissed Savarak angrily. He drew back his hand, preparing to throw his stone at the soldier.

The young shopkeeper's temper flared in response to the man's determined bone-headedness. Her slight frame was incapable of countering him should he launch his primitive weapon, and she simply could not go dashing about like a wild creature, launching her body to and fro erratically.

A whisper of mental thanks threaded her thoughts, as she glanced towards the beings from her vision, and she somehow took confidence from that bolstering strength, her vision sharpening, the insistent voice dissipating like ash in the breeze.

"Should they protect us from the likes of rash children such as yourself, Savarak, I would not mind!" Eyes glittered as she gathered herself a step or two away from his direct reach, her proud form straight as she gathered that new found resolve and raised her voice to the crowd she faced. She prayed Illuminatus would guide her words with every breath within her speech.

"My neighbors, friends, and comrades!" Her lyrical voice seemed to lift, projected to carry without quite shouting. and she enunciated each phrase carefully so her meaning would not be lost. Shoulders settling back proudly, she forced her features to calm confidence as she sought to soothe, to allay fears. Torc had stopped speaking, and his silence drew her gaze, as she noticed a priest advancing with weapon in hand. "Allow the guards to pass! This man, even though a Oneist, dared defy these priests -- will you consign him to injury by your own selfishness and pride? By throwing the first stone," her eyes focused rivetingly on Savarak, gazing directly into his eyes as well as flickering to each of his comrades, challenging, disappointed... and then shifting on to latch onto the listening eyes huddled among the massed crowd. "you reveal nothing but the lie that these priests claim... that we are savage.

"I say that we are NOT, I lay claim that we each have a purpose in our beliefs, our kinship, and the community we have brought together by every drop of blood and sweat!" The adhiel's normally matter-of-fact voice rose even more, her passionate desire that these people understand lending strength and conviction to a voice that sought to drown out whatever prayers and lies and whispers came from the priests at her back. "Let those guards do their duty, and defend this man, Torc Blackfoot, and in doing so.. us as well. I am better than these foul priests, and I would not dirty my hands on their blackened hearts. If you would battle... think on your roots, think on your history... think on the strengths that have brought us through even those darkest days... pray! What better than to show our disdain for these intruders, than to do that which they seek to prevent at all costs! Are you hypocrites? Or are you a People of Character?!"

As far as it came, Kaelara was a simple religious follower. She admired the tenets of her faith, but had little instruction to feed the hungry soul that desired more. What she offered was simple, but genuine, short, but honest. She rather thought Illuminatus would rather succinct prayers than aimless ramblings, and opened her mind to those simple expressions when she prayed.

The appearance of the girl, and wolf, seemed too appropriately timed for chance, and she lifted her own thoughts in prayer as she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the heavens and the warmth of gentle sunlight. She put action to the words she had spoken... and hoped...

'Illuminatus, Spirit, gods... guide us and protect us, this bastion of belief that strives to hold steady against Dominicus, who seeks to trample us and erase all memory of you. Lend us what you will, give us what you desire for this city, bless us and our endeavors. We seek to please, by not falling for the lies of these priests, give us the strength to hold firm, for we honor and respect your ways as best we can...'

[Guido Cercatoro]

(OOC: This is now, of course, impassable )

As Torc built his weave, the priest with the sword continued to advance slowly and steadily. The armed Oneist had a savage look on his face – the look of a warrior rather than a priest. Behind the determined man, the chief priest had spread his arms wide and was muttering quietly.

The hedge mage successfully tied the lines of force to the word that had formed in his mind just as the advancing priest was almost close enough to strike with his wickedly curved sword.

“STOP.” The word flew from Torc’s mouth as if it had emerged from the combined vocal chords of a great choir rather than the mouth of a single mage. The armed priest appeared to feel the force of the word almost physically and crumpled to the ground, his sword trapped beneath his body. Two of his closest companions appeared equally stunned and fell to their knees. The chief priest staggered back but remained on his feet holding his hands in front of him as if they were a shield. Perhaps the pale faced Oneist had managed to stay part of Torc’s spell, for the remaining priests had not been badly affected. They stood huddled together close to the stone cube, glancing at each other, clearly uncertain as to what had just occurred and how they should react.


*****************************************************************************************


Once again, Kaelara’s words had an obvious effect on Savarak for he delayed throwing the stone as the patrol drew closer. For the first time, the adheil also felt a direct response to her prayer, as if her God were somehow adding force and support to her own words. The crowd parted to allow the soldiers to pass peacefully. It was evident that few beyond the wild achadheil and his followers had any appetite for conflict. Indeed, many in the crowd turned to look directly at Kaelara, regarding her with appreciative eyes and respect.

The blond priestess, who was standing a few paces behind the chief priest stood motionless, her mouth frozen wide open in astonishment. The little dark-haired girl walked slowly to her side, smiling as she moved. Kaelara felt certain that few, if any, in the crowd were aware of her presence. Perhaps Savarak was one who did, for his eyes were fixed on the spot where the girl was standing.

The young leader of the patrol reached the front of the crowd followed by half a dozen guards. However, as he turned to address the crowd, Savarak drew back his hand and, with a look of astonishment on his face, as if he could not believe what he was doing, he threw the stone at the sergeant. The projectile hit the soldier on the side of his forehead and bright red blood gushed from a deep gash. The soldier raised his hand to his wounded head.

[Torc Blackfoot]

Now! Now is the time to strike! It was Blaire’s voice once again guiding Torc into combat. Torc had been in war and this hardly frightened him. He knew that he could unsheathe his dagger and find the elderly priests throat with a single throw. He could end all the hate that had forced him to Pan’s Isle with but a twist of his wrist.

Instead, Torc moved forward weaving his hands in seemingly mystical patterns. Carefully he placed his tortoise shell back into his component bag. His hands went over several components that he used. A sparrow’s feather that lent speed and accuracy to his divinations, a wooden bowl that concentrated the energies that Torc placed in it, hair from a dog, a horse, and even a wolf. Torc even had several seeds and bark samples that he could use in a weave. Moving past the downed priests Torc finally approached the elderly priest.

Torc ball his hand into a fist and tried to slam it as hard as he could on the bridge of the elderly priest’s nose. His right hand had also been balled into a fist so that he could lay a haymaker upon the priest, hopefully knocking the man out. Oh aye it would feel good to have that delightful crunch of bone and cartilage of this one priest, and if I could lay the fellow out and then bellow like some madmen to the rest of his order they just might scatter.

Torc hopes rested in the fact that the priest was trying to protect himself against magickal means and not just any kind of physical threat. Of course, if he had prayed that the One grant him protection against harm or against this one person, then it was conceivable that Torc would merely just hurt his hand. But if the priest had only took the time to defend himself against magickal attacks… oh he was in for a surprise!

Torc could almost imagine striking the leading priest down and then giving the rest an evil look while telling them to run. Granted he would be arrested for brawling if nothing else, but if he was charge with inciting a riot then the Grey Robes needed to be charged as well. Of course, he was a half breed and that didn’t necessarily apply, but you never know if they allowed Pax people on his jury then he probably could get off with nothing more then a flogging.

[Kaelara Mentahn]

OOC: First impassable thread ever!

A vague glance over one shoulder accompanied Torc's melodious bellow, in time to spy the faltering steps of those who had sought to injure him. She puzzled at the smiling girl's visage, What do you, wisp? Glancing back at the quieting mass of populace, the guards were just emerging.

Bless the gods, came her thoughts and prayers as relief, settling a moment too soon, began to slide along the tense muscles of her shoulders. The crowd was quietening, whatever was going forwards with Torc. Thank you, thank you... the surge of gratitude faltered however, as her flickering gaze stirred to Savarak and his cronies in time to see his arm lift.

"No!" She stretched one hand forth in futile dismay, incapable of stalling either the halfbreed's movement or the rock that flew and landed with such a sickening thud. Can you not at least wear helments? Horribly lax, these Honestus... The spiteful thought emerged as her mind stalled, momentarily frozen by the enormity of what just might happen.

The guards had an excuse, now, to do what damage they would to 'quell' a crowd - she had seen what the King's Court kind had done when an opening had been provided. Her voice raised, condemningly, as she edged a few steps towards Savarak's group.

"For Shame!" Her eyes bored into Savarak's as she approached, flaring with disappointment and anger, before flickering demandingly to any stout figures nearby as she pointed to the offender. Guide me... If you would still have me, I've gone beyond my own resources... she prayed, trusting and thankful as she cast aside inward pride, knowing only guidance from that greater power could affect the situation now. "You, and You! Hold him, now." Her lyrical voice was sharp with command, rising high to pierce whatever murmuring or raised voices had gathered.

"None of us condone such violence... Savarak!" She said this for the benefit of the crowd, as well as the guards, hoping those who disliked conflict would rise up peacably to gently restrain their comrades. "I will see to it that Provost Sanguine himself has a hand in your punishment." Involving the popular provost, even if by name only, she hoped would remind them... all of them... that this current leader of Pax had done nothing but support the entire city with a fair and even hand. She hoped the Honestus had regard for the man as well. I hope I'm not putting more store in the man than he's capable of... But she couldn't fret about such things now.

Positioned now slightly between Savarak's kind and the guards, she began praying fervently that her sharp tongue and slight, feminine frame would both challenge them all and forestall rash action.

Even those peaceable will flail if those guards set hands on the rabble-rouser... there is too much distrust... too much bad-blood. Within, she quivered slightly, but the anger drove itself hotly through her limbs, lending presence and depth to her slight frame as she tilted her chin with a firm arrogance she modeled after her father, when he had found his temper. Her shawl had slipped from her back, and now pooled in the dust where she had stood but a few flickers ago. A few wisps of wheaten hair had unwoven from their tight coronet about her head, casting themselves against slightly flushed cheeks and flashing amber eyes.

[Weyl`n]

It was about then that a new face pushed through the assembled ranks of citizens, accompanied by apologetic mumbling in a broken take on the human language. It was the auburn-bearded newcomer Weyl`n whom some might have spotted at Nether's Gate the night before, enjoying a late-night meal and discussing his plans over an ale. Three, to be more precise, not counting the complimentary brew offered for renting a room. Unlike the good-natured if louder-by-the-pint conversation of last night the dwarf's presence here and now didn't get much attention from the crowd, intently as they were following the events unfolding before their eyes. Ahhh, much better. Can not see a thing from back there, what with all these tall folks. What do these people eat anyway? Weyl`n wondered silently, but soon enough even the inner dialogue fell silent as his eyes turned from those around and above him to the happenings within the circle.

The dwarf, new as he was to the town of Pax Balthasar, was not well enough versed in the town's past and present to fully understand what it was he was witnessing. When he had exited the inn moments earlier he had assumed the crowd to have gathered around a passing performer or perhaps the town crier. Although there was sufficient commotion to support either theory, it turned out to be neither.

The ranks of Pax Honestus he recognized of course, having seen quite a few of their ilk at the Nether's Gate the night before. Their presence served as a clue, as even an outsider realized such prominent presence of guards to be indication of trouble, or potential for it. Then there was the small group of people with their uniform, dull grey dress code, whom he had not seen before. They appeared to be the focal point of just about everyone around them.

"By Molten." he finally managed to utter as he took in the fact that one of the guards was holding his head, blood oozing down his hand. With a look of concern the dwarf turned to look up at one of the locals besides him and tried to get their attention. "Excuse me. Yes. 'ello. What be problem 'ere?"

[Guido Cercatoro]

Torc had judged the priest’s intentions well, for the thin man appeared to be concentrating entirely on maintaining his magical shield and was oblivious to the achadheil’s approach. The mage’s fist slammed into the priest’s nose with a sickening crunch and he went down in a heap, laying immobile on the floor. However, far from quelling the remaining priests, the attack on their leader galvanised at least one priest into action. Torc saw the priest weave his hands in a rapid, complex motion and a barely perceptible web-like structure began to spin in the air in front of the priest.

As she shouted her commands to the crowd close to Savarak, Kaelara could feel an infusion of power supporting her words, giving them extra depth and force. Two male adheil’s close to Savarak grabbed the youth, who acquiesced without a murmur, a look of shock still evident on his face as if he could not believe what he had done. However, a number of Savarak’s cronies were less impressed by the adheil’s words and immediately sought to drag their leader back from his captors. Within a few flickers a fight had broken out.

The sergeant was still dazed from the impact of the throw and was unable to command his men. As the fight broke out, one of the patrolmen, a rugged barrel- chested man raised his voice to the crowd. “Stop, you rabble.” Gazing around uncertainly at his fellow soldiers, he drew his sword but made no motion to enter the crowd. Some of those in the front row of the crowd began to try to move away from the guardsmen but their way was blocked by those behind and a few scuffles broke out.

The blond mage was still immobile – she had not moved now for a good few burns. The little girl walked towards Kaelara. “Daddy doesn’t like these soldiers or these grey robes,” she said in a regretful voice.

Weyl’n arrived just as things were beginning to get ugly but managed to weave his way through the crowd to stand a few paces away from the bloody soldier. His inquiry was met by a young dark-haired female achadheil who peered down at the dwarf. “The grey robes were determined to stir up trouble and they seem to have succeeded. Some idiot has injured the patrolman. This is going to turn nasty unless someone does something soon.”

[Kaelara Mentahn]

Whatever affinity had unlocked these visions, they no longer frightened Kaelara as the child approached and spoke. She did not respond immediately, her eyes pausing before swiftly casting themselves away. Instead of praying, she focused intensely on the thoughts circling in her mind -- wondering, perhaps testing, if this figure could pull out her thoughts as easily as that foreign voice had been placed there the previous morning.

I don't like them either, but the guards are the lesser evil... can you... will you.. help me? My people must not fight among themselves?! Will your father help me? I must protect them, but they must listen for me to succeed! To speak verbally, when no others seemed to note this strange apparition, would have endangered her legitimacy, so she dared not address what others might think imaginary! The last page in that strange book flickered in her mind, and she wished, heartily, she were a great sorcerous who could utilize those magic-looking, glimmering cords of power that seemed to have been portrayed there. But no, she was just a shopkeeper with awareness and a quick tongue.

Pursing her lips, Kaelara focused, not waiting for a response, but hoping and continuing once more a gently murmuring prayer in the background of her mind. Make them hear me! Make Savarak speak! Please.... help me avoid bloodshed! The Achadhiel's dumbfounded puzzlement gave her the only hope at resolving any part of this moderately peacefully, her eyes burned as her will hardened, her tongue utilizing the power that seemed to weave among the words as she spoke each one.

"SAVARAK, Concede! Tell your comrades to stand down before they rip you to shreds!" You must do this! Wake up you fool, before your own kind destroy themselves in a riot! Immediately, she continued to challenge the crowd.

"Are you law-abiding citizens worthy of respect? Prove it?! Stand down and take your neighbor with you! Or are you merely what they call 'pagans', rabble-rousers.. cannibals who destroy their own kind?! NO? Then DISPERSE?!" She sought to shock any lingering pockets of discontent with her fierce words, hedged with the suggestion of disappointment and disgust.

The shopkeeper glanced towards the guards, seeing one speak in a half-hearted command. Daylight glinted along the unsheathed sword tilted from his grasp, and the sight sent a chill to her very core. She hoped it would serve as a warning to the crowd, rather than something that would incite them further. The petite adhiel had watched many a riot from the safety of her home and the height of her bedroom window... she had seen crowds ebb and flow along her street with vocal and physical fierceness, but for all of that, she had never been in the midst of such a situation. Her mouth dry, she forced fear and uncertainty from her mind. Now was not the time to betray weakness.

"Guard, we need an escort to your holding cell, as soon as Savarak is in custody!" Her voice emerged cold, firm, imperious, seeking to grasp at the man's uncertainty and give the man a purpose, from someone who had demonstrated influence on the crowd. "I will aid in keeping what peace I can as long as you prevent the bloodshed of innocents!" She glimpsed the dwarf, Weyl'n, in the background, simply because there were so few dwarves in the city, and the brief flicker of hope that it would be Stahl'Or, but the copious amounts of auburn hair quickly disabused her of that notion.

Torc's battle with the priests went largely unnoticed, beyond a vague awareness of some kind of commotion, for her attention was focused and caught by Savarak's cluster of wrestling bodies, and the uncertain guards.

[Torc Blackfoot]

BY THE ONE, I SMITE THEE! It felt good to hit the fool priest. It felt good to down four the holy fools. If they had opened themselves to the true heart of the One then they would have realized that now wasn’t the time to preach to these people. Now was the time to show the charity and goodness of the One. They had been thrown from their lives into a new city, told to make do and to be free. They had been persecuted and only seen the hate. The priests should have shown the goodness and rightness of their order.

Torc began to pick up the fallen priest by his grey robes, feeling the righteous anger in him. For the first time, in a long time, Torc felt that his mind and heart were as one. Deep within himself, Torc felt the anger, honor, love, and right of his acts. He remembered the willow switch’s that had lain down on his back. The old priest of his village had spoken from the book of virtues trying to instill the words into Torc brain.

The One spoke to the first man, ‘You shall be my example to all others of my faith. Know love and charity. Protect those that are innocent and those that are misguided, for I am the light and these are my children. Let the light guide your footsteps, let the goodness be seen in your deeds not your just your tongue. You are the first man; teach my tenets to all others.’

Then the first man spoke, ‘Lord, how shall I know when to protect the innocent? How shall I know that in times of darkness that I am leading the misguided to the light? How will I know that my charity and love will be enough and that my honor will stand up to all that tempts me?’

The One spoke, ‘You are not divine, therefore you will never know of your mistakes until after your actions. However, faith in yourself and the light will move you back onto the path. The innocent will cry when they need your protection. You will be moved to love and know not what to do, and in the end you will fall many times but in the end I will have forgiveness for you and will pick you up once more.’

So as Torc threw the priest into the web-like structure hoping the fool hadn’t made it a killing web. He waited for the web to activate on the priest, for Torc knew that any web like weave had a trigger of life or contact. The priests leader was both and Torc needed to be sure he had a chance to get to the stone cube. So with hope Torc waited for the web to trigger and once it did Torc was going to kick the kneecap of the priest and run past him.

As he looked past the buildings out onto the city he saw the mountains. Hoping that he was correct, if he could touch the one side that was suppose to be the conduit to the stone rune he might forge a link between the two and attune the two once again.

It was risky and foolish, but Torc saw it as the only way to perhaps stun everyone from breaking out into a riot. Most men and women when conforted with something strange and bizarre either run or fight, Torc was hoping that the run reflex would overpower most. If Torc could fix the picture of the rune in his mind, and find the thread of force that connected the two together then it would be possible to feed a small amount of the energies into the line and attune the two stones.

The theory wasn’t too hard, to object made of the same material forged with force thread to link the power of both together. It was like a living thing, the cube was the heart and the stone was an arm or leg. To heal the two, Torc had to find the connection between the two and reestablish blood flow. Aye, in theory it was fine, attunement of the two stones was just focusing of the rune within his mind and allowing the force thread to bare the energies between the two.

Aye, the theory wasn’t too hard, just the reality of it might kill Torc.

[Weyl`n]

The dark-haired achadheil's brief was almost lost on the dwarf as the crowd began instinctively pushing out of harm's way, forcing Weyl`n apart from the woman despite his attempts to stand his ground. While he might have avoided the few cuts and bruises his struggling brought upon him simply by going with the current, the dwarf's stubbornness saved him from the fracas that ensued as the fleeing citizens found themselves unable to move further back. In the end, he remained the closest bystander to the bleeding soldier and his comrades.

Looks like it already turned nasty. Weyl`n thought to himself as he briefly inspected a friction burn left on his off-hand by someone's rope belt. Ach, stings for sure, but it will heal. The others will be worse off if they do not do as the lady says. Although he didn't catch it all, Kaelara's demand that the crowd disperse did register with him and he thought it a perfectly fine idea. Trouble was, it took him some doing to get through the crowd when they were being civil. Traversing their ranks now, tightly packed together and brawling as they were, was next to impossible for the dwarf.

Seeing his limited options, Weyl`n turned back to the guards, the grey robes and the handful few others who were not trying to flee. If he wasn't going to get away the best he could do was avoid catching the sharper end of a sword. It was a very real threat the duller the other end of the sword was... and by the looks of it many of those cutting edges appeared to be held by people with very few good ideas as to how to control the situation. As one of his mentors used to say, blades do not kill people. People out of options do. So better make their last option worthy wielding." Right now the dwarf couldn't decide wether he wanted these guards' last option to be a lousy one or not.

As if realizing the slighting nature of his inner thoughts, or perhaps in reaction to the restless shuffling of the guards, Weyl`n brought his hands up near his chest to indicate he wasn't up to no good despite not joining the others in retreat. He said nothing, though, nervous and unsure of his message getting through the way he intended it to. He really needed to brush up on his human if he wanted to stay in Pax. And stay alive.

[Guido Cercatoro]

I don't like them either, but the guards are the lesser evil... can you... will you.. help me? My people must not fight among themselves?! Will your father help me? I must protect them, but they must listen for me to succeed!

The little girl glided over the ground to stand beside Kaelara. She wore a black ankle-length dress, the sleeves coming to her elbows and her neck line was trimmed with white lace. Strangely, as the girl walked it appeared to the adheil as if the others in the square were moving in slow motion. Savarak’s puzzlement was creeping almost imperceptibly across his face; the blood on the wounded sergeant’s forehead scarcely flowed, whilst the guard with the sword rocked sluggishly as if uncertain whether to go forward or stay his ground.

Touching Kaelara’s hand tenderly with one of her own, the girl focused on the nearby soldiers. “Daddy says they are bad men. My doggy will punish them tonight when it is dark. But we don’t want our people hurt. You must speak to them.”

With her face once more turned to Kaelara, the girl continued, now with an anxious look on her face. “There must be a builder and a healer.” She stared past the adheil at Weyl’n and moved towards the dwarf. As she did so, unseen by the adheil, the frozen blond priest began to stir to life again and staggered a few paces forwards towards Kaelara’s back.

"SAVARAK, Concede! Tell your comrades to stand down before they rip you to shreds!"

As suddenly as it had slowed, the scene sparked into motion again. Savarak appeared to almost physically recoil from the adheil’s plea and he barked a few words to his friends. Some reacted instantly to his command but one continued wrestling on the ground with a member of the crowd who had tried to apprehend Savarak. Both had knives in their hands.

"Are you law-abiding citizens worthy of respect? Prove it?! Stand down and take your neighbor with you! Or are you merely what they call 'pagans', rabble-rousers.. cannibals shouted the guard. who destroy their own kind?! NO? Then DISPERSE?!"

Many in the crowd had already being trying to leave and the adheil’s words gave the exodus further impetus. Those at the rear of the crowd rapidly melted away from the square but there was a melee in the middle of the crowd as those at the front tried to push their way through.

"Guard, we need an escort to your holding cell, as soon as Savarak is in custody!" Her voice emerged cold, firm, imperious, seeking to grasp at the man's uncertainty and give the man a purpose, from someone who had demonstrated influence on the crowd. "I will aid in keeping what peace I can as long as you prevent the bloodshed of innocents!"

The guard stared at the adheil. However, his sergeant was still incapacitated and the guard clearly welcomed a sense of direction. With a curt word to the rest of the patrol, the man stalked towards Savarak, sword held down at his side. The remaining members of the patrol also drew their swords. “Hand over this man and no-one will be harmed,” shouted the guard.

******************************************************************************************

Standing near the front of the crowd, his arms crossed, Weyl’n managed to steer clear of most of the trouble. Then, almost as if she had appeared out of thin air, a little girl stood smiling before the smith. After a few flickers, the smile was replaced by a look of puzzlement. “But you are not the builder we chose…..are you a builder?”

A few paces behind the girl, Weyl’n could see a blond-haired and grey-robed priest who had previously appeared strangely motionless, shake herself and move halteringly towards the back of the adheil who had been addressing the crowd.

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Fortunately for Torc the web took some time for the priest to construct and the achadheil had time to pull the elder priest to his feet before the spell was complete. The mage’s attempt to throw the priest proved impossible for the body was surprisingly heavy. However, Torc did manage to propel the body forwards a few paces in the direction of the web as it arced through the air. The priest’s body acted as a shield and absorbed the impact of the web. The body slumped to the ground imprisoned by the glowing strands.

The priest who had thrown the web looked aghast at what he had done and backed away to join his remaining three companions. After a hurried conversation, the priests fled around the corner of the cube. Torc had a clear path to the cube and reached its side unmolested. However, when he touched the side, he felt no sense of power. It was as if this side of the cube, at least, was inert, broken, dead....apart from the strands of energy he sensed anchored it to this time and place.

[Weyl`n]

If it hadn't been for the surrounding disorder making him second guess his senses, Weyl`n would no doubt have fled into the crowd all the while cursing the ghosts and apparitions haunting his poor soul. As it happened, he was merely taken back by the girl's sudden appearance from seemingly nowhere. Had he blinked a flicker too long at a crucial moment? Had his eyes wavered to the side just as she walked over? And how is it that such a young human girl can speak the good language?? To say it all disturbed and puzzled the dwarf was an understatement, but flee he did not.

"Builder? What builder? Lass, this is not a good place fer ye ta be. Where be yer mother?" he asked her in dwarven, still unable to hide his puzzlement. And what crack in the ground did you pop out of? So distracted was the dwarf by this strange girl that it took him a moment to actually consider her question. This builder... could she be referring to the same dwarf the provost mentioned in passing?

"Look 'ere. I be a blacksmith. But this really is nae tha time ta discuss occupations. We need ta get ye somewhere... safe...? ... Oy! Miss!" The dwarf's grasp on the events unfolding beyond the girl had faltered momentarily as he tried to convince her of the danger she was in, but from the corner of his eye he now noticed the blonde in grey robes staggering towards the woman trying to bring order to the chaos. Outsider or not, Weyl`n recognized the potential for trouble and shouted his warning.

"Guards!" he hollered as he took a few steps forward to put the young girl behind his back, while anxiously indicating the threat with his hands and hoping something would be done about it. This wasn't his fight.

[Kaelara Mentahn]

There was much spoken by the childish vision that Kaelara would ponder later, but for now, unless it bore directly to the situation at hand, she tucked the words and vague agitation deep within, marveling at the slowing of time, and launching her words forcefully.

At Savarak's response, and the cessation of most of the fighting, she stepped forwards a few steps, blithely unaware of the danger at her back as she paused beyond what she thought might be the range of knives or lunges from the combatants.

"Hold you fools! Are you fighting brother against brother now?!" The distraction, however, she could spare little time to waste, holding a steady, slender hand out to Savarak with an intense look in her unblinking golden-brown gaze as she rattled off a few phrases in Adhiel, her normally lilting voice bearing the strident tones of brass or metal instruments.

"If you come now, Savarak, and peacefully, I will accompany you and lend whatever aid I may. You will not face this situation alone... But refuse? And I will not lift a finger!" I am not helpless, I am not lacking in some little prominence... are you willing to to give up a voice that might listen to you when the Oneists will not? Before she could continue, a slight distraction left her attention wavering very briefly on the situation at hand.

Her own voice had partially drowned out Weyl'n's words, but she caught the last syllable, her gaze flickering in his direction. It was clear she caught but a glimpse and little meaning, as the commotion she faced was too great for the dwarf to hold her attention for more than a flicker. Savarak had not yet answered, and she feared to withdraw her attention, as it seemed so close to a peaceful resolution... again that gaze, willing him to come sought to pierce whatever resolve or will might cause the achadhiel to withdraw.