Roque On, Dudes! - Recess Summary Thread

[Gutter Rat]

Father Rohan sipped carefully at a mug of lukewarm water, his eyes gazing out over the charred edge of brick which had, until recently, been a smooth stone skin wrapped around the monastery’s bell. Below where he stood, workers toiled at repairing other sections of the monastery, the orphaned children herded about by Sister Fullys as beams and brick were hauled laboriously up from a supply ship fattened with building materials for more places than just the monastery. Father Rohan wiped a thick sheen of sweat from his forehead as he looked out over the Mer, wondering for a flicker if the pagan myths were true and if the Mer had sought to punish the fair city for some crimes as rain had become sparse in Jayum, all but disappearing in Jygust, the scorching summer heat unlike any that he had ever felt in Roque before.

And it was not just the heat making people miserable. His hand reached out to stroke the broken edge of bricks, his mind sorting through all of the rumors that he had heard in passing, wondering if the partial destruction of his ‘home’ and several businesses in town had been the result of the rumored Adhiel rebels – transplants from Taquar itself who grew unrightfully angry at the One and all that the Empire had done to save them from both the dangers in their land and to save them from themselves. “Ungrateful heathens…” he muttered as his thoughts moved to tthe new temples being built out of sight, but certainly not unnoticed. There were three, actually, but he had very little problem with the temple of Pecunia. It was the ones dedicated to Pan and Mother which bothered him.

He had raised a fuss, to be sure, when Lord Hammerlee III, Lord von Emst, and others had come out of seclusion to announce a new council for Roque to fill the gap left by the dead who ruled before them. Of them all, one man had actually supported the old monk’s cries, a poor soul named Lord Tellath who backed Father Rohan’s anti-pagan position doggedly until he retired to his home one night to find it burned to the ground with the charred bodies of his family strewn out in the ornate lawn in a starburst pattern as if a message written out in the very inkwell of the nether itself. Since that warm Jayum night, Father Rohan had been warned by Tellath to leave the temples and their users well to be.

His eyes carried upward along Roque’s shores, past the hulking monstrosity that was an arena of death – also warned against protest – to the d’Avennes Gardens where he wondered what the oft reclusive members of the noble elite were thinking of and how the upper crust were taking the heat.

===xxx===

Lord Hammerlee II was ‘taking the heat’ of the sun far better than he was taking the heat from his peers as he baked in the already unbearable Morningtide sun, poring over a small pile of parchments on a stone bench, trying to decipher what they meant and how to suggest dealing with them. The back of his hand rose to a furrowed brow and wiped the sweat from his eyes as he glanced up at the backs of the small contingent of Roques encircling his seat, living thorns there for a reason. Protection. Oh how he would have longed to be indoors, away from the stale sweetness that was dying vegetation, but one of the letters in his pile, marked with the same starburst emblem as half of the others, had warned of an end coming to ‘closed-door’ politics by the prophetic foretelling of the destruction of one of Lord Pallum’s offices mere days before he and the other nobility of the new council had to be rescued from the blaze. Whoever was sending the letters had to be stopped for the safety of all, he thought, as it was growing increasingly hard to remain free of Empirical rule with their current forces so taxed as it was. His eyes settled upon one Roque at random as he pondered the changes in that aspect as well – why were those responsible running around so freely? It was if guards and sometimes whole patrols either looked the other way when something happened or just conveniently forgot when questioned by their superiors.

It was the same story all throughout the garrison, soldiers from the most bare-face to the most grizzled all pledging their undying loyalty to Roque, to the One, and to the ‘fact’ that they had no clue whatsoever as to what was taking place within the walls even though the patrols had been increased to the point where many men were forced to do double or triple shifts. Lord Hammerlee III glanced back down at the pile of papers and plucked the top from its resting place. This parchment, unlike many of the others, was signed not with that blasted seal, but in flowing Adhiel hand, a ransom note of sorts demanding the liberation of the Adhiel people. His fist tightened as he looked upward once more and turned his eyes in the direction of Taquar. “How much more liberated do you damned people need to be?” he hissed to the empty air around him. “Five out of seven men on the council are true-bloods… You make up the bulk of our peoples… How much more do you want?!?” Snarling, he slammed the parchment into the box and picked up the next, feeling both powerless and frustrated. The next was a permit demand – damned fools no longer made requests it seemed – for the erection and use of a combat arena for both profit and entertainment. His eyes moved from the parchment to the almost-completed arena and he gave a forced sigh.

Permits be damned, they were building the thing and planning to run it anyway and, although the request bore only the signature of a J. Osoko, Hammerlee pondered whose signature really lay beyond the request for many businesses in town, both legal and illicit, had something to gain from this monstrosity. Even the Roques had plans for it, with requests piling in from the higher ranks requesting that new laws be spun to force the more severe criminals to compete until death rather than the more humane stocks and hangings that had served them so well in the past.

The system was plunging quickly into anarchy and it seemed that none were immune as he picked up a letter from Father Rohan insistently denying any claims to the rumors of corruption within the monastery walls or any association with the men who had stolen all but the bed sheets and breadcrumbs from Hammerlee House. Lord Hammerlee III was not as religious a man as his grandfather, and secretly saw the attacks on the monastery as vindication if the rumors were true, but the thefts, attacks, and even the arena paled in comparison to his true concern… Something was afoot at sea.

===xxx===

Portmaster Rathen was not an easygoing man by a long shot, his wiry build wracked by nervous twitches and tics since early Jaym since shipping through Roque had nearly doubled, forcing the construction of new piers almost as quickly as fresh ships could dock. Manifests were backlogged a foot high on his desk, their ships long gone with whatever cargo they had promised to be bearing, headed to all corners of Tazlure. The manifests and traffic were not the sole reason that he spat up blood almost nightly, for Swallow was leaning against him harder than a rough gale leaned upon a dingy in a squall to allow more and more manifests to go loosely-checked or, more often than not, to dodge his eye altogether, a trio of minions stopping by his offices every Morningtide to ‘talk’ to him which was a conversation comprised of one thug telling him ‘Sit.’ While the other two rifled through the sheaves and took what they wanted, marking on a few here and there in the process. At least four of the nobles on the council ran shipping houses and Rathen dreaded the day when he would have to explain the mismatched ledgers to these men. It would be the arena pit for sure and Rathen doubted very seriously if nervous flatulence would make an effective weapon.

He stood, fanning himself, watching the sunrise continue its climb over the forests, wondering if life were any easier out there under the canopy of the trees.

===xxx===

As if in answer, a smile appeared on a lean, camouflaged face out in the darkness of the forest’s pre-dawn shade. For the owner of that smile, life was very good, indeed.

Welcome to the Roque d'Ancourt of Jygust 30th, where money can only buy you time.

[Gutter Rat]

In case you have not seen it yet, or just to remind you, here is Maeve's note on the Synch:

The 1st of July has arrived. Please do not make any new threads. You can wind up what threads you are involved in.

Your coordinator is set to post a Recess summary post to start you off today. We hope you have fun with our massive timejump!

[Gutter Rat]

New mod mode is still in effect, leaving me looking at other people's recess posts for 'what to do'. As such, I must now quote Brytan on a note that I had forgotten:

As you may or may not know; You may divide 10 stars for your character to use to upgrade existing skills, or spend 5 to buy an entirely new one at basic level. You can't buy new magical skills, only advance them and all skills can not be raised by more than one level.

Also, these stars and any other advances your character obtains must be accounted for in your recess post. There is still some skilling to be done on a number of threads in our area. I will take this into account when reviewing the added stars, and will start today on skilling what remains to avoid you guys spending stars on things you would have gotten anyway.

[Callara]

EDIT: Big changes to my previous version.

Close encounters of the third kind…
Chyril 28th - Tradetide

Ushuaia had not gone easy on Callara this day. After her meeting with Arnholt and the message she had sent to whoever it was that had been so very vague about their intentions. She however had not been vague about hers to Ushuaia. Politics bored her. Everything seemed to take ages and nothing came out of it. Her intended meeting with the Commander of the Roques had ended in her listening to a boring conversation and not much else. Her meetings with Arnholt had thus far been as fruitful as an apple tree in winter. Aside from the fact that she now knew what he was up to ofcourse. After their encounter at the Goose she had made a drastic decision. Her magic would come first. She told Ushuaia that. He had been skeptical seeing how she had not been very serious about their training together. Ofcourse he would have been. But she had been serious and trained hard that morningtide, determined to continue practicing when she got back to the Palace.
As she came up through the d’Avennes she was approached by a man. He was garbed in a cloak. Within the maze she could sense him before she could see him, hidden by the hedges that made up the maze. She always walked through the maze. It kept her mind sharp.

“What do you want?” She called out as she noticed the figure following her. The man stepped out from behind a hedge, tall and covered in a hooded cloak. A lot of warning bells went off in her head, and the blood riled within her, urging her to shoot him down where he stood.
She did not.

“You must be one of the people who’ve been sending me notes…”

“That’s correct.”

“You’ve gone from subtlety to stalking then. Doesn’t speak well for you.”

“I am not a subtle man, unlike some of the others I work with.”

“So, what’s the deal then? Why are you after me like this?”

The man seemed to need little time to consider his words, spouting them like a well rehearsed play.

"The only difference between a rich man and poor man is the coin in his pocket. Money cannot buy you intelligence and wisdom, nor can the lack of it deny you the same. Our Council wishes to keep the nobility in Roque under control as far as the so-called legitimate rule that they have begun to construct. Roque has done well as of late without a rich king whoring us out to satisfy his purse and we do not need a band of smaller kings trying to do the same. Power to the people, Callara - our eyes in the streets have seen your actions and attitude. They have heard your words at times. You seem to be in synch with the world that we invision and we wish to invite you to be a part of it."

“How very eloquent of you. So what is it you want from me exactly?”

"Merely to find out where your loyalties lie, for now - do you side with the money-hungry gluttons on the hill? Do you side with us? Or is your loyalty elsewhere, and - if so - what considerations must we take to form at least a partial alliance with you so that we neither support nor impede each other?"

Callara laughed. “I have loyalties to no one but myself. Before yesterday I had no idea your people even existed, so I can hardly support you. I don’t have any allegiance with the nobles either. I have my own plans.” She paused briefly. This man at least seemed up front, unlike the manner of communication she had experienced thus far. She decided to ask more. “Now that I seem to have your attention, you mind telling me what’s with all the mystery?”

"Mystery is often a nessessity in times such as these as there are those who would brand us traitors or usurpers. Even now, in these wee marks of our birth as a council, we must retain mystery among ourselves. No one man among us knows the name of all who are on the Council and that is a protective measure that we like to employ. Theoreticly, you could torture me right here and now and only get a single name or two out of me..."

Jeet paused for a polite chuckle. "If you even got that. To finish answering your question, the mystery is to preserve us both. If we were open and you were seen talking to one of us in the streets, you could be marked as a traitor yourself. However...if you went into a tavern for food, bought a drink, dropped a chess peice into it and received word to do something like insult a man to arrage a meeting, your fellow customers would see a woman eating and drinking, insult a guard, and get hauled out of the place for causing a disturbance and that is it. They would NOT see the guard lead you to a hidden site to meet with one of us or be in on the silent conversation beforehand. Do you see?"

“Oh, I see…They are a growing organization and they need allies. For some reason they seem to presume I have anything to say in this city. They are obviously worried about what I might do outside of their influence, that gives me leverage…”
“So how exactly do I fit into this larger scheme of things you have in mind? I have yet to hear what it is you want of me aside from me not meddling in your business in which I have no interest to begin with…”
“We require someone to run an operation which is new to the city. We are focusing our efforts on an arena to entertain the masses, and we would like you to run it.”

Callara had a hard time believing what she heard. They didn’t know a damn thing about her after all. Why she had hidden away in the Summer Palace, what she could do and what drove her within. They wanted her to lead an entertainment center filled with people? Over her dead body.

“What makes you think I might be at all interested?"

"Well... As I said, our eyes and ears have seen and heard and you strike me not as a dainty flower afraid to get a little blood on her money. And it is easy work - you are more or less just overseeing the paperwork as it crosses your desk and the money as it stops for a rest in your safe. The slavers, lower staff, roques, and customers really handle all of the rest of it."

“So what do I get out of it besides a little money?”

"What we need is a face for the business. Someone fairly above suspect. A local. Are you content to just be a squatter in an unused palace, or would you like to at least give the appearance of money beyond your actual coinpurse while realisticly drawing a fair wage for little more than watching the same show for free that the rubes pay you for the privilage of seeing?"

“If only you knew…”

The man continued.

"To be honest, Callara, we do not know that much about you although it was our every intention to make you think that we did. You will find, as I have, that if you raise suspicion high enough in a person, that person will often let slip the very information that they were trying to hide. Like just now. We did not know that your interests mirrored our own - following your personal agenda of course - merely that you seemed awfully busy outside of the Palace walls...too busy for a mere Caretaker. Which reminds me... Your replacement is dead. That is a favor from us to you and not a warning of what will happen should you refuse our offer."

He gave a small nod of his tattooed head. "In the end, we just want to see how peacefully we can bring matters to their rightful place without having to resort to too much blood spilled, do you understand? Favor with us could be quite helpful indeed, especially if you wanted or needed anything that the rich bitches would question or deny you..."
A great many questions answered, but an equal amount raised, Callara did not truly know how to respond. On the one hand there was some merit to the offer this one made. On the other hand the position she would take would be one in the spotlight. A place where she did not see herself being right now, especially without the proper power to sustain her place among the powermongers these people obviously were. With the right leverage and proper training she would be able to take these men on and do what she envisioned. Right now they still held all the cards, and that was not something Callara liked.

She needed time.

“Your offer has merit and I will consider it. You have my thanks for taking care of the potential problem the Caretaker might have presented. But I am currently not in a position to take up the task you want me to take up.” She paused. “I will be busy for a while to come. There are things to arrange for the Palace and I have some personal matters to address. You seem quite capable of running your own show, so do so. If at any point I feel this arrangement needs to be finalized, I shall contact you.” She was about to leave it at that, but decided to add one final detail. “Oh, and next time, just send someone to talk to me rather than doing the cloak and dagger routine. I am quite likely to become very…annoyed…if that happens again.”

They said their farewells and Callara left it at that. During the weeks and moons that followed, Callara emptied out an entire room in the guest quarters of the palace for her to meditate in and practice her mindcrafting. She knew she could move objects about, she wanted full control. Ushuaia was part of that training. Every morningtide she got up at the crack of dawn and travelled the path to his hut to undergo his teachings. Returning to the palace she meditated, ate and continued to practice on using her powers with and without the spilling of blood. The room swiftly filled with objects like wooden logs, vases, stones and other items to destroy or move. Her practices ranging from commanding objects to fly and move through the Tether at her whim, to sheer destruction by channeling her anger into the object and her weaving of the spells. This was hard however and took a lot of time and energy. During the tradetides of the days she would venture into the city more and more, suffering through the terrible headaches this caused to get acclimated to it. She had to suffer through it however, or so she thought. The price on her senses however was great. Her headaches worsened over the passing weeks and each day she came to Ushuaia more tired and weary. She was unable to control the blood, her head pounding as her eyesight and the blood vision vied for dominance inside her head.

“I can’t take it!” Callara cried one morningtide as she writhed on the cot in the attic of the old mage’s house. She had been unable to leave, unable to control her magic and herself, her head wracked with agony. “Take it out! Take it out!” Ushuaia sighed. “That which is gained can not be withdrawn. You have chosen a path and now you must walk it.”

“I don’t give a DAMN about that, just STOP the bloody pain!”

“There is a way to end your agony, but to do that you must give up what you already had in favor of your newfound abilities.” The mage replied to her ranting. “ANYTHING! My head feels like it’s going to explode!”

So, Ushuaia worked his magic. The fire within, the domain of the phoenix, fire of destruction and rebirth, called to do his bidding. One thing would have to be destroyed for a new version of it to be born from the ashes.

That is when he burned out her eyes.

Callara’s screams tore through the sky over the Roque cliffs. Shortly after she passed out, only to awaken to a world of darkness. Her headache had gone, but so had her eyesight. A few burns later however Ushuaia walked in and she could see what he had done. The world around him was not visible, but he was. A being of flesh and blood. His heart pumping blood through a myriad of vessels underneath his skin, his aura filled with colour she could see, read.

After this, she started to wear a bandana to cover her eyes. Underneath her cowl which she now kept on. It took her a good two, three weeks before she managed her newfound sight enough to even leave the home of Ushuaia, returning to the palace and the city with a vision unknown to her. She had to learn to see everything with new eyes again. This took time and cost her a lot of pain and agony, not to mention strange looks from the people she encountered. She took up carrying around a slender staff to help her during those first few weeks, tapping it against inanimate objects which did not radiate aura’s or living energy. Cities were dead shells, hard to navigate. Nature was far friendlier to her eyes now. Even rock had an energy of itself she learned, but hand crafted stone, especially the newer buildings, were hard to see as no life nor energy had yet penetrated its structure. Luckily there were enough people in the city to navigate by and with the help of her staff she could get around well enough by the end of Jaym, beginning of Jygust.
Without her old pain.
No more headaches.

Still she found it very difficult to walk around places without crashing into everything. Especially inside buildings like the palace where everything was cold and dead. Sun however she could see. The little ball of aura and emotion, which hovered near to her every time she entered the palace. It helped her to get around by flying around in front of her, telling her when there was a door to open or an obstacle to pass. This worked well inside and after some time she was very well capable of navigating the palace itself. This did not go for outside however, where Sun did not dare venture.

“Please Sun, you have to help me. Without you I can’t see well. You have to be my eyes out there like you are in here.”

“Nonononononono, no go outside Clara…no go out…big baaaaad place out there….”

“I know, but you will be around me. And I will keep you safe as you do me..I need you.”

“Clara needs Sun?” The little wisp-like creature seemed quite shocked. Then it started bouncing around the entire room faster than a rabbit on speed. After a few burns it calmed down and hovered back in front of Callara’s face again.

“Ok, Sunny will help Clara…”

The help from the little wisp gave her renewed hope and focus to the tasks she had set at the end of Chyril. The introduction of the council had come as a surprise to her, because she had been secluded and hidden away. It was time to end this. During her outings into the city she had focused on the arena and its environs, on the inns and the back alleys where the traffickers ran their trade and the slave handlers peddled their wares. Come Jygust she approached Jeet about his offer. In the days that followed she aquainted herself with the goings on at the arena, trying to figure out who the players were that pulled the strings behind the scene. A bribe here, a nudge there. The ties to the arena payed off soon enough, with or without some not so gentle mindcrafting and blood magic to “persuade” people to help her. The price of her sight had been well payed, as she could spend more time in the arena, working the people and rallying aid to her cause. All the time spending her morningtides hidden away in Ushuaia’s house, practicing her art, now accompanied by the little orb of light which for some reason would not enter or come close to the house of the fire mage, but took her everywhere else. Steering her gently with subtle remarks like; “Dooooor, openopenopenopen.” And “No go left, stopstopstopstopstopstop.”

It made Callara smile underneath her dark hood. Her staff and the little wisp now necessary items for her survival.

There were many enemies about, each one of which she’d have to deal with in good time. Soon however she amassed a fair number of people she considered loyal to her. Spies, guards, muscle. It would be but a matter of time before she could make a proper stride to take over the city. The Council of Nine gathered in secret, but she had heard rumors of where they met and even a few possible names. It would take a little time. Only time. Before she found out the council and destroyed them to step in…

…In their place.

--- Star division---
Blood Magic – Mindcraft +1 (Apprentice+4)
Dark Emotion – Destruction +3 (Novice = Apprentice)
Inner Calm +1 (Apprentice+1)
Leadership +5 (Basic) = new skill

[Gwayne of Vendeling]

The Singing stable Guy

Gwayne's tried to keep his life pretty uneventful, he had a job in the Dogs home Inn, he took care of the horses and other animals in the stables of the inn. He tried as much as he could to stay out of trouble, and so far he succeeded. The animals and the other people around seemed not to mind that the painted Adhiel did most of his working while singing. Actually Haifra was pleased with it because the Adhiel lured more customers in the inn with his tempting voice.
He could not officially sing in the inn because there was something like a license needed to earn your money that way, so he was singing for free and he enjoyed it.
He missed his friends terribly but until he earned enough money there would be no way to leave this place. He never thought about getting a license and make a lot of money with his voice, still he enjoyed the attention especially from the children, for he made special songs based on their name.

For some of the money he earned he collected some more decent clothing or so was it what Haifra called it, even though he felt that it was treason towards his friends because it made him stay longer, it came with boots so he could explore the city a little, a very little, people started to notice him what was scary. Still the young Adhiel felt not feel at ease in those mountains of stone so he would not venture to far anyway. What was fascinating about the place were the large amount of Adhiel living there, so soon he was guided by some priestesses on his way to the Mother some of them also loved to guide him in his singing, especiallu in the Adhiel language, although sometimes the young Adhiel had feeling that the women just wanted to keep him around, preferable singing. It made clear improvements in the way he sung. The Adhiel language is made for singing.

The young man searched for solace at the shores of the sea, the Mer de la Luna, where he would sing sometimes through the night. Other Adhiel sometimes warned the young man jokingly that the elementals would come and drag him away to the nymph. Still nothing except feeling watched had ever happened to Gwayne.

So days became weeks and weeks become months while the Adhiel stayed out politics, avoiding invitations for other jobs now he became a bit famous for his singing. It became a bit more of a problem because officials started to barge in and demand to see his "licence", he always told that he did not sing for money so he did not need it, the voice of the Goddess was for free. It kept the guards away.... mostly so the young man started to check if the were in the neighbourhood until he started to sing. After a while he was nearly unable to sing in the Inn because their would always be a guard sipping on a beer. Entertaining himself with songs he made for the kids and the animals. The heat was not really a problem for the young man, who worried more that the animals and kids had enough to drink. But the aggression that some people showed towards him as a foreigner worried him so he avoided even more those he did not know, and stayed normally close to the inn except when he needed space or guidance, then he went to the sea or to The Mother.

It was full moon when he started the ritual of renewing that he did every month on the beach. This time some adhiel joined the ritual, let by Nuorin, they where rebels. Nuorin offered Gwayne a job as priest at the new temple of the Mother created by them. The negotiations stopped when the rebels killed a passer by. Probably a guard, still it did upset Gwayne that they killed without a good reason except secrecy, so he demanded that they should not just kill on a whim, life was a valueable commodity. Even with stupid Oneists... as he would say. So the conclusion was not clear, except that Gwayne would visit the the Temple and that he would not betray the rebels. In honesty he felt bad that adhiel could be so lost that they would kill because they had no other option, so the warrior of the Mother would do anything possible to change that. There was even a option that one of them would know his biological parents.. He prepared to visit the temple.

So one morning he wiped the sweat of his face while he left the stables to face the already blazing sun. It was not his best day because after counting he realized that it would still take a long time to get the money he needed. And now while he watched the sun he was worried that he would never return home, and he did not know why. Luckily one of the small children pulled his pants asking when he would start singing, and if he would sing the rainbow of flowers today. Smiling he picked the little guy up realizing that life went on as usual, so he glanced around to be sure that no pesky guards would start nagging. That was a plague that got worse by the day now more people stopped to listen, he did not make any money out of it, the songs of the Goddess were free, so why a paper to tell that he could sing ? Besides that regularly adhiel appeared the young man knew where rebels. Carefully he placed the child on a horse and started to sing while he started to scrub the animal while the sacred knife slept below his clothing, as a promise of death for some. Today he would visit the temple.

It was odd, while he did sing the rainbow of flowers he had a feeling that life was changing.

A rainbow of flowers
Part of us through life
For all who care to love
For those who dare to play

A rainbow of flowers
As a gift from the heavens
Filled with laughter and hope
Shared by the Mother and offered to all

Some do ask me
How do you find those rainbow of flowers of yours
And I say seek in your own heart
In the smiles of children, and the hearts of your loved ones

Because the rainbow of flowers
Is growing in all of us
So spread its seed
And make the world beautiful with the flowers that we are

For all shall see beauty in his own life
The gift for those who share
The flowers that are part of our life
The rainbow of flowers

In which we are all sheltered

Gwayne sighed, the Goddess wills, he smiled at the child.

Skills:

Animal handling +***** → Apprentice
Culture [roque] +** → Basic+***
Language [human] +** → Apprentice + ***
Theology + * → Apprentice + *

Logically he would exchange human and elf because he learns to speak Adhiel, not human.

and also please update Gwayne's age from 23 to 24. Thanks

[Gutter Rat]

Callara

Jeet-Belan had taken their meeting at face value, thanking for her consideration and allowing her to go about her business. If there were any ‘eyes and ears’ upon her after that, they were kept as well-hidden from her as they had been before. Ushuaia fully supported her renewed vigor as far as training, but had to slow the pace of her learning a bit to instruct her on how to properly balance the three elements of the magick – power, focus, and intensity, explaining to her that the gull incident, while a spectacular ‘accident’ had been just that…a redlining of emotion and power with focus almost non-existent. Over the course of time, however, Callara was able to find some balance in the exercises and meet with varied successes in her trials with the vases, sand, and other tests, the same principals applying to her mindcraft as well.

Her sudden blindness, thanks largely in part by her pet, was a tough challenge to surmount and, even still, the 'simple' act of getting around was just the foothill of a bigger mountain yet to come. Jeet met with her once or twice more as the arena construction came to an end, hesitant at first to agree that the offer was still open due to her lack of sight but, upon the second meeting, informed her that the position was still there and for her taking, giving her a combination of a tour of both the grounds and workings, as well as a remembered anecdote of a blind swordsman named Ethau he had once seen walk from another arena, victorious, at quite literal twelve to one odds. If lack of sight could not hamper him, he doubted that it would hamper Callara, his assurance based on watching her move about somewhat easily without knowing that an invisible and inaudible presence guided her path.

Stars Awarded:
Blood Magic – Mindcraft +1 (Apprentice+4)
Dark Emotion – Destruction +3 (Novice = Apprentice)
Inner Calm +1 (Apprentice+1)
Leadership +5 (Basic) = new skill

[Gutter Rat]

Gwayne

Although Gwayne saw nothing but Disney-esq happiness around him, the world of Roque d’Ancourt was still one governed by two things – money and Dominicus and, regardless of how Gwayne tried to spin things, the Roque began to see him as a rabble-rouser, someone bucking the system of licenses and fees. The Summer City was a haven for artists and there were quite a few who caught wind of the tattooed singer and grew resentful of the fact that they had to pay for privilege while this lowly horse keeper was allowed free play.

Haifra did enjoy Gwayne’s singing, however, and had even made life a bit easier for the Adhiel by providing license for him – without his knowledge – whenever the guards would demand of her explanation of her groomsman’s disregard of rules. It was, however, not just the coffers of Roque who had begun to harbor dislike for the tattooed man, but the purified Oneists as well, his singing a blasphemy in their ears as his voice rang through the streets and mer. Their ire, no matter how dark, could not stop the pagan rays of light that were starting to spread through the city when attendance at the monastery, particularly within the Adhiel population, began to drop and someone – in the dead of night – set off explosions and fire at the monastery itself.

Gwayne’s song was an underground rally cry.

Nuorin, a member of Roque’s Adhiel resistance, had led many of his men on a raid of construction, rather than destruction, one night where a small army of Adhiel, Achadhiel, and even a handful of Gnomes erected temples to Mother and Pan within line of sight of the monastery – an open and blatant sign of defiance toward Dominicus and His followers. Their next goal, once the last beam was set in place, was to procure priests and priestesses for the temples and Nuorin thought that he had done so when, during their post-construction break on the shores of the Mer, the singing horseman had wandered by, a sign from the Mother that all was well.

The man was a Mercybringer, but failed to see that some death in Roque, no matter how ‘meaningless’ it may have seemed to an outsider, was required to bring mercy and freedom to those living under tyrannical rule, thus thwarting Nuorin’s hopes that Gwayne would fill the role of priest – if even for a short time. Their meeting was not without subtle bonuses, however, for a good number of Roques were allied or serving the rebels and Gwayne would find that the accosting visits looking for license would slow to a trickle near the end of Jygust.

Stars Awarded:

Animal handling +***** → Apprentice
Culture [roque] +** → Basic+***
Language [human] +** → Apprentice + ***
Theology + * → Apprentice + *

Age increased from 23 to 24

[Arnholt]

Arnholt was kneeling, again, in a private room of the Light of the One Monastery. Beneath his hood his lips moved constantly in murmured prayer. That much was the same. But his beard was a little longer now, a little wilder. His eyes were colder; his gaze more intense than it had been before. But perhaps the greatest change of all was this: he now wore the white robes of a Oneist acolyte. Arnholt was a true monk, at last. Or as true a monk as one could be while worshipping a daemoness in secret.

The cultist smiled, contemplating the delicious irony of life. For a while it had seemed it would he would never force the monastery doors. Indeed, not long ago, he had been on the brink of a serious crisis of faith…

***

Faced with a failed alliance with the sorceress Callara on the one hand, and barred from entering the monastery on the other, for a while Arnholt had been paralyzed with indecision. The mysterious Council was thankfully blind to his true nature-- their missive to him seeming to indicate that they thought him a genuine monk-- yet they were useless to him at present, because he couldn‘t give them the voice in the monastery that they evidently wanted. His deep-seated distrust of Callara kept him from returning to the Summer Palace. His plans for the Cult had stalled abysmally. And in spite of it all Arnholt remained trapped in the city by the hope that Righteous’ remaining faithful would return!

Feeling thwarted on every side, but determined to persevere, Arnholt turned next to study of the Book of Righteous. Unraveling its mysteries was the most productive use of time he could think of until Ushiya’s arrival. Frustrated at first by the Goddess’s fondness for metaphor and Her often whimsical turn of phrase, over the course of many days Arnholt slowly puzzled out most of the components necessary for the creation of Her shrine. He was assisted by his research at the city library, as well, finding that even Oneist tracts dealing with the detection and exorcism of ‘evil’ held some valuable clues for a prospective daemon-worshipper. But in the end, all the discoveries he made only lead to further despair. Build a shrine? He had nowhere to house such a structure, even on the most modest scale! Hell, he couldn’t even afford the items necessary for the construction! The coin remaining from his last job at King’s Court was swiftly running out. Soon he would be compelled to resume his old life of crime simply in order to support his studies. He had no idea how he would ever manage to finance the operation of an entire Cult. And even if he could, without the monastery, what cover would they have from their enemies in this city?

The arrival of Ushiya and the others had found Arnholt at his darkest hour. Presenting his adhiel and achadhiel allies with the facts of the situation, the fledgling cultist had confessed his failure to make any headway in Roque d’Ancourt. He suggested that they leave the city, the challenges of which seemed insurmountable to him, and go with him to his native King’s Court, where they might have a better chance.

Happily, however, it never came to that. Having come this far, the other cultists were not enthused by the suggestion that they all turn back around and march East again. Ushiya, in particular, had responded by cussing him royally. She accused Arnholt in front of everyone of losing his nerve, and after his fine words, before, about never surrendering to the Oneists. She went so far as to demand that he come up with a better plan, or else hand over the Book and the Eye to someone more qualified to carry them. And at that moment Arnholt, his head bowed until then with weariness and defeatism, had looked up again with the old fire in his eyes: a passion that had been absent in him for tendays on end.

It had been another awakening for Arnholt. The coming of his second wind. And with that he was back in the game again. Taking renewed stock of the situation in the city, Arnholt found that Roque had changed during his period of academic hermitage. The adhiel population was restive, now. Even the One God’s hegemony was being openly challenged. And the monastery was facing lean times… which meant they could no longer afford to be so proud, as far as new acolytes went. By leaps and bounds Arnholt resumed his old machinations, doing his best to make up for lost time. Before long Bram Beacon returned to the Light of the One Monastery, pronouncing himself ready to begin a year of being sequestered in darkness, or take up whatever austerities they deemed necessary. Somewhat to his private outrage, his appeal had been met with blank stares and a claim that such things had never been necessary. But in any case, Brother Beacon soon made his debut as an acolyte of the One. And before he was followed by a short stream of adhiel and achadhiel converts, arriving singly over the course of a tenday or so, and then ‘happening’ to form a small clique around Bram. By day they worked hard to integrate themselves at the monastery as respectable Oneist monks and nuns. Most gravetides, they gathered in secret in one of the monastery's many prayer rooms to hear Arnholt preach the coming of Righteous and maintain their faith as best he could in the daemon-goddess they had all chosen to follow.

As time wore on, Arnholt made than a few friends at the monastery-- but would the diminutive Cult of Righteous had yet to win a single new convert. Thus far, they hadn’t even tried. Arnholt’s lingering paranoia over his enemies and rivals in the city made recruiting next to impossible. He trusted his fellow cultists from World’s Mouth implicitly, but was all too aware of how vulnerable the resurgent Cult was at present. He remained extremely wary of what Callara knew, and what the Council might know. And so Arnholt took pains to ensure that no other outsider caught wind of what he and his fellow believers were up to. The cult’s daemonic business was conducted in the utmost secrecy, hinging heavily on the secret phrases found in the Book of Righteous and hand-signs that Carminello’s followers had made use of back in World’s Mouth. Their first goal, for now, was presenting such a convincing illusion of faith in the One God that not even Carminello would have recognized them for cultists.

But of course Arnholt and the others couldn’t be satisfied only with cultivating and maintaining the Cult’s protective camouflage. That was why they had invested a vast amount of time and energy gathering, with greatest discretion, the materials needed to complete their shrine to the Goddess. Sooner or later they would come up with a place to build it. With Her shrine erected, they could begin putting some of the darker knowledge in the Book of Righteous to use. Summoning daemons. Summoning Herself. Once the Righteous’ prison had been breeched, they would be able to carry on the fight with far more daring than they did now. They would have the Goddess’s own words to guide them. They would be able to recruit again… cautiously, but secure in the knowledge that they could summon the power to eliminate any candidate who threatened to turn on them.

***

Back in the present, Arnholt’s smile turned sardonic. Naturally, the shrine’s construction remained a challenge in all respects. Even now, he had Her Book spread open before him. With a sigh, the cultist looked down to read, for what might have been the hundredth time, the Goddess’s instructions.

Before you may use this book
You had best prepare a place to cook…

The cultist’s lips twitched in wry amusement. Easier said than done, oh Goddess of Justice.

A kitchen prepared for any beast
Close enough to serve the feast
Yet far enough to hide the heat
That is required to sear the meat…

And that is why. So far it remained the ultimate sticking point: location, location, location.

It was too bad. From long study of the Book of Righteous, Arnholt was certain that he had deduced all of the necessary materials to build a shrine and summon the Goddess. He and the others had already begun gathering the ritual paraphernalia, secreting it around the monastery in a variety of hidden places. They was lacking only in an appropriate place to complete the construction… that, and one thing more… but he would get to that.

A pot of pitch, with aprons hung…

As far as he could tell through his study of the lithograms, the ‘pot of pitch’ represented the summoning circle itself. The ‘aprons’ were the ceremonial robes to be worn by cultists stationed around the edges of the ‘pot.’ Those had not been hard for Righteous’ followers to procure.

A melting pot to catch the chum…

Clearly, a ceremonial bowl. A suitable vessel had been found: a silver bowl Arnholt had deemed worthy of the goddess. It had been expensive, but at least the thing was easily portable. The ‘chum,’ now… that could be problematic. He would have to address that issue soon.

A pantry build to hold the stock
Its contents under key and lock
Blades kept sharp and made to order
To make the wrong cut is disorder…

There: the second major hurdle that would need to be overcome in order for Righteous to be summoned into this world. Arnholt had been half-hoping, as always, to discover that he had been in error… that he had allowed himself to be misled by the colorful metaphors that the Goddess seemed so enamored of using. But no. The pictures, here, were quite clear: the knives the text mentioned were literal. And so Arnholt had overseen the consecration of a set of sacrificial daggers, all former weapons or kitchen knives that had been impressed into their current exalted purpose.

And the meat…

“Meat,” the cultist muttered aloud.

He had held on most doggedly to the hope that the Goddess had not meant that literally. But… ‘chum.’ That was bait for sharks or fish. What sort of bait, then, would lead entice a daemon to bite? All that talk about preparing pigeons. He almost smiled. It had seemed almost innocent, then. But there could be little doubt about it, any more: the Goddess had left him with instructions for building more than just a shrine. Here were hidden plans for building a sort of dungeon, to be used as very temporary housing for Her future sacrificial victims.

Ritual murder. That was what it came down to, after all.

Not for every ceremony, Arnholt hoped. Death didn’t seem to be a part of each and every one of the incantations in Her Book. For most of them, he thought, a sacrifice of blood from the worshippers themselves would be sufficient. But the initial summons? The forcing of the gates of the Goddess’s prison? It seemed clear enough that only the sacrifice of a life would suffice for that.

Fires lit by the gravetide sun
Extinguished when the cooking’s done.
Above the fires, numbered four,
The names of chefs who have come before…

That, they had. Granted, the four large braziers that Arnholt had in mind nominally belonged to the monastery, and were intended for decidedly non-daemonic purposes only. But they could easily be pressed into service for Righteous when the time was right, and likely wouldn‘t be missed. Likewise, the Cultists had sewn standards that could be flown above the fires, with the names of former cultist priests written upon them… the last of those names being Carminello.

Upon the ground on which you stand,
A circle marked by twenty hands
And away from fire, heat and coal
Shall be the table for that which is best served cold.

The cultists were ready for those things, too. The circle of daemonic runes would ideally be chiseled into a stone floor, but Arnholt reasoned it could also be drawn in paint, or even charcoal rather quickly if need be. The altar had been somewhat more difficult, but he and the others had taken advantage of the recent repairs of the monastery to liberate a suitable block of stone from the construction sight. Along with a set of scales to symbolize Justice, and a few candles thrown in for atmosphere, it ought to do quite nicely. In fact, setting aside the question of where to put it all, none of the materials had been all that difficult to gather.

But the “meat.” The sacrifice. That would be a different matter entirely.

That will make things difficult. The cultist grimaced at the thought of it. Very difficult.

The Cult’s rebirth was still in its infancy. At present, they would not be able to defend themselves if their secret was discovered. In this, too, they would have to take the utmost care to cover their tracks so as not to draw any suspicion. And then there was the matter of choosing a victim. It couldn’t be just any citizen of Roque; certainly not anyone who was arguably an ‘innocent.’ To offer up a sacrifice like that would be to destroy the very purpose of Righteous’ Cult, which was of course unacceptable. After all, Arnholt had not come this far to bow down before a Goddess of Random, Pointless Murder. Righteous was the Goddess of Justice. The Goddess of Justice! Arnholt would not allow that title to be made a mockery. The victim to be sacrificed, therefore, had to be genuinely deserving of his or her dark fate. Not just any Oneist; only a true enemy of Justice would do.

Hah. One candidate quickly sprang to mind. That mother-fucking Brother Gentus.

Gentus continued to be a thorn in Arnholt’s side. The man seemed determined to harass him at every opportunity, demanding he prove his devotion to the One God through ceaseless prayer-vigils, and deriding him for spending to much time idling away his marks in the library and not enough time doing honest work in God’s name, such as cleaning the monastery’s privies. For his part, Arnholt despised the man as a sneering hypocrite who spend half his days doped to the gills, and yet had the effrontery to condemn ‘Brother Beacon’ for alleged drunkenness whenever he happened to have a beer or three. Arnholt retaliated at every opportunity, of course, which only served to fan the flames of their grudge. Yes, Arnholt would be glad to spill Gentus’ blood on the altar of Righteous.

But… he sighed… their mutual animosity was well known. Even the most trusting of monks might wonder, if Gentus turned up dead.

Which left him with the problem of how to find a better candidate. How to capture the victim, and how to conceal his or her disappearance. It wasn’t going to be easy.

He would need to break the news to his fellow cultists, soon.

***

Skills:

Demon/Darkness lore + **** (Apprentice)
Literacy (Human) + ** (Apprentice)
Con Artist + * (Apprentice)
Persuade + * (Basic ****)
Preach + * (Basic *)
Thieves Cant + * (Basic **)

Other:

Wealth: Basic (Since Arnholt is a monk at the monastery now.)

Advance age from 25 to 26.

Handful of cultist 'followers,' as we've discussed before. Exact number at mod discretion. One to be Ushiya of course.

Also at mod discretion if more 'negative events' are needed, Arnholt may have wildly misinterpreted some of the requirements for Righteous' shrine.

[Gutter Rat]

Arnholt

In another room at the Light of the One, another man was questioning his own plans and agendas as brother Gentus slammed his hand repeatedly against a padded board, beads of sweat dripping from his brow. Not only was that smug little shit, Beacon, now an acolyte with Rohan’s ear – had Gentus arrived five burns earlier, Beacon would have met with him instead of that doddering old fool but nooooo…. Gentus had to be off at a ‘meeting’ about how their little ‘enterprise’ had to be put on hold due to the Adhiel insurgents – one spot of bad news which put a burr in Gentus’ breeches for, without the ability to sell and move the drugs, his own personal supply of them would be cut as well as it had been a legitimate ‘side bonus’ between himself and the supplier.

An unknown length of time spent sober? And then to find out that Beacon had not only been admitted, but had actually let on about the year’s cloistering? Shit had rolled downhill and gained momentum with that little slip of the tongue as Gentus had found himself in yet another meeting, this time with Rohan, himself. The penance, at Gentus’ request, had been secret but, at Rohan’s ‘request’, had also been great. He had been only halfway through with his punishment when Rohan had interrupted and doubled it as one of the scant few nuns in their employ had just come forth in tears with a letter of resignation, an abdomen which was growing tight with a rapidly-growing womb, and an accusatory finger which had pointed, figuratively, at Gentus as the father.

*thwap*thwap*thap*thwap*

Beacon had added more salt to the wound after that by becoming a sparkle in Rohan’s eyes, garnering eight new converts – full-on ‘take the vows’ fucking converts - , most of them Adhiel…in the face of the rebellion and all. Rohan had borne a smile so wide that Gentus had half-expected to see Beacon’s kneeling feet poking out from beneath the old man’s robes.

*thwap*thwap*thap*thwap*

This ‘Brother Beacon’ needed a serious talking to. It was no big secret that the majority of Roque’s ‘Believers’ were devout in show alone, most of them going through the motions in habitual recitation which had caused most of the monks to fall lax as well, which was quite relaxing, in Gentus’ eyes as he did not have to work hard or impress anyone. But, in Gentus’ eyes, Beacon posed much more of a threat than just ‘job security’…there were the drugs…the fact that Gentus and a few others had fallen back into the study of a cult long-dead… With Beacon reviving interest and Rohan backing him, it was only a matter of time before the two of them turned the Light of the One into a real church again, drawing in either more Oneists or more defiance…or both..as well as drawing more eyes toward what went on within the walls, threatening both Righteous followers as well as the drug line.

Gentus took a final swing at the board and watched the padding bow sharply as the board beneath it finally snapped under the strain.

Any way you sliced it, this Brother Beacon was trouble and Gentus knew it – the Roque he had built his castle upon was crumbling away beneath his feet…

Stars Awarded:

Demon/Darkness lore + **** (Apprentice)
Literacy (Human) + ** (Apprentice)
Con Artist + * (Apprentice)
Persuade + * (Basic ****)
Preach + * (Basic *)
Thieves Cant + * (Basic **)

Other:

Advanced age from 25 to 26.

Handful of cultist 'followers,' approved (Will add them in by name a bit later, for now figure Ushiya and 7 others - levels of devotion will range from cultist to novice/fresh convert)

There are plenty of negatives at hand without me having to inject more – you did wonderfully although I am still checking into the wealth skill. Recess approved - you may begin new threads.

[Taevia Foree]

Jaym

The meeting with the gnome had certainly given Taevia a sense of direction. The tiny one had told her to seek the local library should she wish to study magick - a building the female didn't even know Roque had. It then hit the achadhiel that although she had been living in the Summer City all her life, she hardly knew where anything was. Could she really have been that sheltered? The answer to the question didn't matter, as the bottom line was, Taevia had some more exploring to do.

On a particularly bright and sunny morning, the female set off through the town, passing taverns here and there, finding places she didn't know existed. It was a wonderful experience, with Taevia pausing frequently to take in the sights, sounds, and smells. Of course, there was still much work to be done in Roque - that was easily apparent. Even so, the city had its own beauty, one that was not lost on the young woman.

Towards the end of Jaym, Taevia had a sudden urge to learn the ways of adhiel writing. She already had a rudimentary knowledge of the language, but no real way of learning its text. It was then that she remembered La Libram Excellence, and confirmed that it was indeed time to pay it a visit.

Jygust

Taevia wasn't always the bold one, and perhaps it was that trait that kept her from speaking with the librarian. She simply took her time in finding a few of the books she wanted on her own, as she did have much time to spare. One particularly took her interest, given the fact that is was in both adhiel and human. She also read up on a few "adhiel made easy" type books, again in the human language. After a few short weeks, Taevia felt she had at least a passing knowledge of the written language, and had found that her human had improved as well.

That what she had learned could be used in magickal practices was not lost on Taevia, but the female hadn't really found any books on the Art. It was just such a big library, and on her own, the achadhiel didn't think she'd have any hopes of finding the kinds of books she was looking for, save by dumb luck and a bit of diligence. While the young one could easily manage that, she figured it silly of her to not speak with the librarian at that time. It was then, on the thirtieth of Jygust that she payed La Libram Excellence another visit.

Skills

NEW Literacy [Adhiel] - Basic
Literacy [Human] +***** --> Apprentice

(OOC: Not too long, I know - but then, I came in right at the Recess!)

[Skylar]

Skylar soon found that the saying home is where the heart is held very true with her. It wasn't that King's Court or The Citadel weren't nice places to live and experience all the great advances that living in such cities as those provided. It was something else, a certain longing. Quite simply the maiden wanted to go back home. Roque was where her heart lied. It was where her family still lived, and she missed them terribly. Of course this would be nothing compared to the longing she would come to have for them in the yahren to come.

Despite what her mother Raina had told her, Skylar knew that it would be something that she would probably have a time dealing with. Immortality, and the chance at living for all eternity. The maiden noticed small changes in people, mostly young children and folks her own age. Some grew taller, some grew wider, facial hair on some of the young men had just began to fuzz their faces. The girls started to fill out as well. All the while there was nothing that changed about her outward appearance. Nor would it ever, barring anything happening to her that would scar her or physically alter her appearance.

But the longing was still there. So she left King's court under the cover of night, and set off for home. She would take flight when once a week when she could morph herself and just fly. Had she had better sense of direction the trip probably wouldn't have taken as long as it did. Yet she was in unfamiliar land at first. Once she was able to get her bearings, finding home proved to be no problem for the swan.

Skylar made certain to stay near fresh water however. For when the sun rose she knew that she would revert to her swan form once more. In the water she would be safe to sleep for short periods of time. If Skylar so fancied, she'd even fly some during the day as well.

Skylar avoided visiting her beloved family upon first returning to Roque. she wanted to make sure that it would be safe before she finally returned to them. So she would watch them day and night for a weeks time before deciding to walk back into their lives after being gone for the better part of a yahren.

But that wouldn't be without a little harmless fun with her family. She had began to learn how to imitate the sounds of some of the local creatures that made their homes nearby. Shortly after the sun went down she would 'play' with her brother and sister by mimicking some of them and watching as they either looked for the creatures, or ran in terror from them.

The very familiar Mer once again became home during the day. Not too far from home where she could be with her family in a sense. Her improving ability at morphing allowed her to even spy on them after the setting of the sun from high up in the air. Then one day, he saw her, or she believed that to be the case. In her eagerness to be close to her family, her stepfather seemed like he noticed her. This caused Skylar to leave once more. However her stay wasn't quite nearly as long. Within a week she was back, and this time had the courage to walk up to the door.

Dinner was cooking, it was a familiar smell. It was a good smell. The tall blonde heard them as they spoke over the dinner table. A tear started to well up in one of her eyes. With all the courage she could muster, Skylar pushed open the door, and looked at her family as they looked back at her.

"Hello Daddy," she sais as she ran and threw herself into his warm caring arms. Her siblings soon joined in and they all stood there for what felt like a small eternity in each other's grip. They stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, sharing stories and telling tales. Skylar of her adventures and her family of theirs. After her brother and sister went to bed, her and her father spoke. He knew her secret, as he had known her mothers secret.

"I shall tell them that you will return tomorrow night," he told her as the breaking rays of dawn began to rise up into the night sky. The rising of the sun meant that she would have to leave. "They have missed you. As have I. It is good to have you back home."

It was good to be home.

"You can find me in at the Mer," she said to her stepfather. "Bring Sarah, Jacob, and Evan tomorrow to see me."

They were still too young to know. Perhaps it wouldn't be until they were full grown would they be able to comprehend what she was. No matter though. What mattered was that she was back where she belonged.


Requests:

3 stars to Animal Lore to bring that to apprentice
4 stars to Polymorph to bring that to apprentice ****
3 to Flight to bring that to apprentice ****

[Gutter Rat]

Taevia:

Sorry that my reply is even shorter, but the hour has tapped my writing skills and the recess looks good. Skills awarded and recess passed as written.

Skylar

Animal lore skill upgraded as requested, but the other skill stars need to be redistributed a bit as there are no rises above apprentice as per the rules (stars above apprentice are harder to earn). Please take a look at your sheet and alter the choices for those stars accordingly...thanks.

[Gerrard MacKaree]

Eastern Empire

Late Chyril

During the last week and a half of Chyril Gerrard spent with Kazumi and her daughter. Mainly to have her do her healing things, since they seemed to keep his mind free from the voice for a tide and sometimes two at least. He helped her and her daughter around the house and in the garden to repay her for what she did to him. He also taught the young girl more of his own language, so she could understand what he and the healer were talking about, having no secrets for either of them. The time he had left he spent talking to the inhabitants of Long Danh to learn more about the culture and, more specifically, their language. Often he was accompanied by Kazumi to have her translate since most of the Easterners didn't speak the trade language. Of course by gestures, context and learning words from Kazumi he could guess quite some words and do simple conversations with them himself. At any time he would take into account their customs towards one another, as the healer woman had taught him too. Some people he regarded almost as friends, but knew that one day he had to leave them again.

Jyam

In the following month he resumed his visits to Kazumi and the people in the village. The typhoon however made stuff a bit of a problem. Everyone seemed consumed with the fact they lost their houses and what else. He had been treated kindly and as a guest all the time since he washed ashore. For this, he felt he needed to repay them. He helped them rebuild their homes, do some simple jobs for them where needed. He hoped that by helping them they would show him some of their secrets of their cooking, because he had noted it was quite different from what he had known from his own culture. While it tasted quite different, he did develope quite a love for it. Sure it was different, but it was good. Definately something that he could make money out of when he got back home to the Citadel someday. Same went for the clothing of the upper class civilians here. The pajama's the workers wore weren't really something to write home about, but the tight fitting dresses were real opportunities, quite unlike the dresses he had known for years now.

Jygust

He had talked a lot to Elvira about leaving the Empire and they seemed to be close to be doing so. There were some thing though that he would need to do before that. One of them being to see the Lady if she'd let him. In that meeting he would ask her if he could hold a lone trade agreement for jewellery, silk, jade, clothes, food and beverages between the Eastern Empire and the rest of the world. Of course, he knew a lot about the Empire by now, of their customs and language, and would take care of matters in a fitting way, always trying to do business in their mind... with a bit of more profit for himself of course, after all he was a businessman, but they wouldn't have to know about those differences. He hoped that the Empresses would approve of this after all he had done to integrate into the Eastern society. Of course he had already drafted a contract which gave him a trade monopoly for the goods mentioned, to be signed by the representative of the Empresses. Hoping Elvira wouldn't mind this business venture at least, since he was developing a good bond with her, even though they bickered more than he had ever done before. He liked her, yet could not show it to her. Or he didn't know how to at least.

Roque d'Ancourt

Jygust

Upon return to his parental home things got really grim. The caretaker of the building, Dieter Angelos, who settled in as to make sure the property wasn't taken by the city, notified Gerrard of the death of his parents. His mother, terminally ill, was left without a cure after his old man got killed by one of the criminals he worked for. No one knew the exact facts, but that is how it was rumored to be. After that, his sister had left, "searching for her brother" as she had proclaimed. However, never had she sent a letter or what else.

Trying to leave this grim part of his recent history behind as best he could, he opted for a small two story house in the merchant quarter. The ground floor would become his visitor's area as well as his office, living space on the second floor. He took Dieter in to take care of the house and paid the man enough to take care of his family.

It was then that Gerrard started writing his first drafts for the letters he'd have to send to various people in the Citadel and Roque. Every change of the plans in his head would, however, change some of the letters too. It took him long, but finally, at Jygust 30th he could send them by portal to their respectful recipients.

He made sure Elvira would have his address and told her she would always be welcome for a drink and something to eat.

Citadel

Jygust

Gerrard, knowing that for his plans to succeed he would need more money than only that of the Long family, made a few travels to the Citadel in the first week of his return into the world that he knew best. He visited some of his former employers, asking if they could give him any names as to who would be a good idea to talk to about partially funding a business that would change the world as it was. He never had any problems with them and had done his work the best he could, so he had good hopes of getting one or maybe even a few names. He also sold his house, now that he had started his new life back in Roque. He would leave all behind to start afresh, again.

Skill updates:
Language [Noi Long] +**** to Basic ~ ****
Business Perception + **** to Basic ~ ****
Bartering / Haggling + ** to Basic ~ **

[Gutter Rat]

Gerrard

Roque part of recess approved and noted that Maeve already skilled you. You are free to start/join threads in the city.

[Quinlan Corodin]

The expedition to Terra Nova was over. Only a few days in reality, but it only took days for lives to be changed or lost. The airskiff Tal'Fea returned without her crew, and the remaining soldiers and scholars manned her as best they could. The ship and her passengers put in at Aveas, both having seen better days. For most of them, the relief at returning to civilization was palpable. For the Condotierre lieutenant, however, one sort of burden was replaced by another. The mission had been an utter failure, and an explanation would have to be given to World's Mouth.

After taking a day to rest and recuperate in the port of Aveas, Quinlan went back through the portal home as his final act as leader of the expedition.

The welcome back in World's Mouth was as Quinlan expected. The legion brass did not receive his report well. The mission should have been a peaceful one, but the entire crew of the airskiff and a handful of legionnaires were casualties, along with the diplomat they were meant to escort. Standing in front of the board trying to explain was quite an ordeal, as Quinlan knew that his tale of monstrous living shadows sounded like lunacy. But, knowing that all the survivors would have vivid corroborating descriptions, he gave every incredible detail.

That was hardly the end. Quinlan spent the rest of Chyril retelling the tale, for as soon as the Condotierre leadership was satisfied, the Office of Foreign Affairs demanded to know what had happened to their envoy. By the time he could tear himself away, the naturalist society wanted to question him about Terra Nova. From what he could tell, they were among the only ones who seemed truly interested in that side of the trip. That was perhaps the worst part, and left him wondering what had been accomplished at all by going to Terra Nova. As the institutions ran out of questions, the lieutenant strove to meet the families of the lost, personally explaining the grim events. Of those he could reach, a few did not want to speak with him at all. Such was one of the burdens of leadership, and he was ill prepared for it.

The Office of Foreign Affairs formally complained to the Condotierre. They did not have to complain very loudly before the legion suspended Lieutenant Corodin indefinitely. Quinlan suspected it was the influence of Captain Durmore - who had assigned him to the mission - that allowed him to retain access to the legion's facilities.

And so, the ordeal eventually drew to a close. Ashamed and bitter, Quinlan sought out solitude. Not wanting to be around the barracks, he stayed in one of the city's small inns instead. For the first week, he felt compelled to put the parchment he had bought to good use. Originally purchased to keep a log during the expedition, now he spent more than one sleepless night dragging a quill across it, spilling out a kind of summation. It started as a way to busy himself, yet another accounting of events to give to the naturalist society. As the nights wore on and the candles burned down, the writings turned toward his inner thoughts and vexations. He tried to untangle some of his thoughts onto the paper, almost without knowing it. This latter part he kept to himself, rolling it up and tucking it away.

Jaym marched on, and the only people to see Quinlan in public were the soldiers and instructors in the Condotierre training areas. Quinlan could go there for hours at a time trying to work out his angst. He worked himself to a fever at these times. He struck out with his schlaeger at the memory of Cryers and maimed comrades. He willed himself stronger, better than he had been.

That's it, is it not? I was not good enough to fight, to lead. That's why I am suspended. That's why we failed.

Indeed, he did become more fit and capable than he realized as time passed. Lines of definition deepened all over his body. But in the end his sword proved as ineffectual against the memories of Cryers as it had against the real shadow beasts. Jaym turned to Jygust, and the city seemed to hold little solace. For the first time in a long while, Quinlan's thoughts turned to home.

His parents were surprised at his return to their home in the Border Estates. He would not tell them everything, but troubling thoughts faded as Neave fussed over him like mothers do. He and his father spoke few words to each other, which everyone considered to be for the best. Otherwise it seemed well he had returned when he did. His grandmother's health had been failing when he last visited, and her condition had worsened since then. Even so, she seemed strangely content, not to mention talkative as ever. Once Quinlan had settled in, he was more than pleased to sit and listen by her bedside while she told some of her favorite stories.

This visit was much more pleasant than his last. After a couple of days, World's Mouth, the Condotierre, Terra Nova, they all began to seem farther away. Quinlan walked the grounds, thinking about the activities he used to enjoy. He stopped in what was left of his grandfather's woodshop. Most of the tools were gone, but it still smelled the same. There were three horses left from Conall's stock that Quinlan's father had not sold, and Quinlan spent tides roaming the outdoors on horseback. Airships were grand, but he was reminded there was nothing like a good horse. The thought sounded like something Conall himself might've said.

One eveningtide as Quinlan visited with his grandmother, she said to him, "your Pappaw would be quite proud of you." She smiled, and fell asleep. He sat there for a while and wondered if it was really true, thinking how wonderful it would be if Conall was there to talk to. What would he have to say? What would he have said if he had been there? Finally deciding there was little point to such thoughts, Quinlan kissed his grandmother's hand and left for his own room. During the night, she died in her sleep.

One of her last wishes was to be taken to her family's plot in Roque D'Ancourt. There she would be laid to rest, her husband's ashes alongside. Quinlan and his parents left that same day as a funeral procession for the Summer City. There the ceremony was to be held, attended by her family that still lived there. Quinlan did not recognize everyone, though he remembered some visited once or twice when he was a child.

The ceremony's mood was one of somber reflection. For Quinlan, most of the past two months had been a time of reflection. But, the funeral left him feeling that it was time to think of the future once again. He knew one thing his grandfather would say, that after a fall is no time to get complacent. As he was considering returning to World's Mouth, he was approached by his grandmother's two siblings.

Quinlan had never spoken much with his great aunt and uncle before, but after the funeral they came to him with some urgency. The conversation that followed was startling.

---
SKills
1 * - Swords, One-handed to Apprentice
4 * - Shield to Apprentice
3 * - Riding [Horse] to Basic+***
1 * - Diplomacy to Basic+***
1 * - Literacy [Human] to Apprentice+*

[Gutter Rat]

Quinlan:

Looks good - skills updated as requested and relative is downgraded to deceased. Requested housing also approved.

[Alexandrya L`handriel]

Chyril

The silver-haired achadhiel kept busy with the Fowls as well as Angelica. She often meditated either with her eyes closed or staring up at the moon awaiting Jonah's return, but she understood that he had things that needed to be completed. Instead, she sent him best wishes and protection while he was away taking care of his family.

The newly appointed mother spent as much time with Angelica as she could, but at times she had to check up for Solange's requests, mend costumes, as well as practise her dancing and singing while assisting the Fowls with their lines to start their improvisation. The house was so much calmer without their prima donna, Antonia. Faye, the 'new' leading lady was quickly being swept away by Xavier, the 'villian'. Unfortunately, Alexandrya and Laurent had to witness their behavior which often had them secretly rolling their eyes and walking out of the room or trying to pull them back to the task at hand.

They both knew that Xavier was playing with Faye but it seemed that the woman could not withstand the man's charm. Alexandrya hoped that it did not go to far soon enough Solange would see and hear of it if she has not already and might even interfere with their dalliances.

Jaym

Even though her career was keeping her busy, Alexandrya made it a point to stop by the monastery with Angelica so she could visit her friends, priests, and especially the nuns that she felt was family. The young actress had been meaning to take Angelica to see the Mer but with her duties pulling her every which way it did make it a bit impossible to make an earlier visit. It also worried Alexandrya to take Angelica outside with the kidnapping attempts that were mentioned by Motley.

She kept her promise with getting Angelica a guardian and playmate. A pretty little puppy was found that was as spunky as his owner. He had triangle ears that perked up in anticipation and a big floppy tongue that always hung out ready for a lick. The dog had wolfish features with ice blue eyes and the duo finally decided on the name Mojo. It was so heart-warming to see the two enjoying each other. The actress felt more at ease when they were together.

Alexandrya worked very hard to harness her newfound powers as well as protect herself from those that would try to attack her mind even if it was unintentional. She did not break down so easily now but it did wear her down quite a bit.

Even after her busy days instead of going straight to bed, she would read Angelica a bed time story and tuck her in, Mojo would sleep at the foot of her bed. A gentle kiss on her forehead before she headed back to her room for more meditation to control her powers. She had no idea what was going on with Motley and when he would be back even though Angelica had received mail from him. Her own mind found peace as she started to study her craft. Mending and molding, musical notes sown into her emotional fibers, a soft tune often emanating around her and in her mind. The sounds of the world becoming one as if it was a magical symphony taken off of paper and recreated to soothe her Alexandrya's mind.

Jygust

During a rather hot day, Angelica wanted to go visit the sisters at the Monestary and Alexandrya in turn decided to head over to La Libram Excellence. She had no idea what she was actually looking for but it was something different and away from her usual schedule. The place sort of reminded her of her time in the World's Mouth when she went with a friend to investigate and learn more of a Lich.

This place did not seem as expansive but just as beautiful. She looked up at the columns and slid her fingers against the cool marble as she let her surroundings soak in. The silver-haired achadhiel headed to the long wooden desk where an old man sat and directed her to the information she looked for.

She had looked for some more information on the Mer or any symbols revealing the woman's face that she remembered on the puzzle box that Angelica and she guarded. Just before she could even start any of her research, she had bumped into a darkly handsome man with the most amazing eyes which were the color of sapphires. Their first impression was not the best as she was sprawled on the floor scrambling to pick up her precious tomes hoping they were not damaged due to her carelessness. Of course, she also did not want some old man coming at her with a cane as her punishment and apologized profusely.

The man in turn smiled serenely, his lips full, a twinkle of merriment in his eyes. Alexandrya blinked in surprise and started to blush, and he spared her any further emotions by apologizing as well and assisting her by gathering up the tomes for her which gave her enough time to study him. He did not seem like a commoner, his clothes were cut from the finest fabric. His fingers were neatly manicured and his raven colored hair cut in a stately fashion but not foppish at all. He cut quite a form, but he did not wear a uniform even though she figured he was an officer or something along those lines by his well toned body. She doubted that he was the scholarly sort.

The actress shook her head to dislodge all the cobwebs before the man thought her daft and introduced herself as Alazandra, a name that she had given herself for her protection. He in turn told her that his name was Kieran. They shook hands and just before they parted ways he asked her if she was interested in going for a jaunt on horseback along the countryside. She vaguely remembered saying yes to the 31th and the location but before she realised what she had done and worked to undo it, Kieran had disappeared. They had agreed to meet at the Fowl's home but how would she tell him that she had never ridden a horse before. Another opportunity to make a fool out of herself, she sighed softly and took herself to a small reading room to finish what she started before having to pick up Angelica but the only thoughts she had was: Gods, I do not know anything about horseback riding.

After she picked up Angelica and settled her at home with Mojo, Alexandrya told the little girl that she would be back and just needed to make a request with Solange before the day was over. When she finally made it to the Fowl's house, she told Solange if she could arrange some time with the on the 30th after all their chores were done to practise some techniques of beauty. There was no real reason behind her request, but a passing note to improve any form of disguise that one needs even for daily activities. The head of the Fowls agreed to Alexandrya's request and the achadhiel headed back home to prepare for another day.

Angelica was happy that she was finally home and after making a simple dinner for the three of them, Alexandrya inquired if Angelica might be interested in going to see the Mer some time soon. The child readily agreed and they made plans for the 30th before Alexandrya's meeting with Solange. Even going at the hottest part of the day might be a real treat due to all the heat that Roque was experiencing. So with plans made, both child and guardian headed off to bed, first with a story, a kiss on the forehead and good nights exchanged.

In the dark, Alexandrya stared up at the moon. She sat in the rocking chair and sang a song of protection for her ward, Motley and Jonah. After her song was sang, she crawled into her own bed and oddly enough dreamed of a dark-haired man with the most striking blue eyes.


Empathy [Mindcraft] ~ Apprentice+** +1
Inner Calm ~ Apprentice +1
Manipulation of Energy: Mindcraft ~ Apprentice +1
Meditation ~ Basic+*** +1
Shielding [Mindcraft] ~ Basic+** +2


Native Craft [Sewing/dressmaking] ~ Basic +1
Acting/Impersonating Others ~ Apprentice+** +1
Dancing ~ Basic+**** +1
Singing ~ Basic+**** +1

[Gutter Rat]

Alexandrya L`handriel Skills approved:
Empathy [Mindcraft] ~ Apprentice+** +1
Inner Calm ~ Apprentice +1
Manipulation of Energy: Mindcraft ~ Apprentice +1
Meditation ~ Basic+*** +1
Shielding [Mindcraft] ~ Basic+** +2
Native Craft [Sewing/dressmaking] ~ Basic +1
Acting/Impersonating Others ~ Apprentice+** +1
Dancing ~ Basic+**** +1
Singing ~ Basic+**** +1

[Elvira Rodriguez]

Forced to be on her best behavior in this strange land and at the mercy of the mighty lady they were brought before, Elvira had no qualms about trading away the cargo and knowledge that was not hers in the first place in order to get ahead herself. Tales of the lands she visited and of the places where she was were penny a piece and despite the urge to embellish, the impish girl actually kept her telling as close to the truth as she could, seeing how even the truth was to look fantastic to the exotic people of the Eastern Empire. And she was insistent on leeching as much as possible from them.

The primary thing to do was to see if there was anything aboard the Harpy that could be salvaged and she went on board with the first batch of fishermen that the Dragon Empress granted her and was quite happy to see that the ship itself could be salvaged, even though the powder and most of the cargo was destroyed. With Gerrard working on getting a trade contract, she focused on repairing the ship, and replacing the lost crew with locals, and was surprised to see that there was no lack of volunteers for such assignment. East was an orderly paradise on surface only, and commoners were not too happy with their lot in life and soon the ship had a crew. The only problem being that the crew she had was inexperienced and knew little to nothing about the type of vessel they were to serve aboard.

So she used the next couple of weeks taking her inexperienced crew through the steps needed to keep her ship running and she actually started slow which was quite a feat for a girl of her personality. A few circles around the harbor and then some shore runs, with the crew being show hat to do by their female Captain. Slowly they became better and Elvira became harsher, or rather stricter. If there was anything she learned from Joseph it was the need for a discipline, even aboard a pirate vessel. It took her a while to pick worthy men amongst the crew, but after a while she had both a first mate and a bosun, with the position of second mate being held open so the crew-members would have something to aspire to.

To some it may seem surprising but being a woman herself, Elvira picked a woman for the position of first mate and announced that from that day forth the word of a thirty five year old Ton Ly Anh was law aboard the ship just as Elvira’s has been. Bosun was a man and there was a slight trouble when the most obvious leader amongst the crew was not picked, but the new Captain found the young Truong Tuan Trung to embody the qualities she needed in the leader of her crew. She pondered sending the burly Le Trong Vuong away, fearing he might cause trouble once they were underway, but chose to have a talk with him and explain that the position of bosun was not such an important one and that once she needed second and third mate he could be one of her choices. All he needed to do was show her he deserved such a position.

When the time to leave came, she actually consulted Gerrard and agreed with him that Roque would be a good destination on their way to what she no longer considered civilization as Eastern Empire was also civilized in its own way, but rather a familiar surrounding. With the Harpy renamed into Flower of the East and the figurehead replaced with an image of a eastern lady wearing a loose robe of the Eastern make, her shoulders bare and her smile such that it could be either friendly or inviting, they loaded the ship with Gerrard’s goods and with the promise that she would get fifteen percent of the profit, ten of which was to be divided amongst the crew and the remaining five to be hers. With that done, they sailed and with good fortune reached Roque without much trouble.



Now skills:
Leadership - Basic (new skill)
Navigation - Basic (new skill)

[Maeve]

For ease of reference:

Elvira

Elvira found herself to be one of the rising stars in the rebellious fishing community, especially since being a foreigner made her well known even to people who had not met her before. Talk and whispers go fast in the Eastern Empire.

Normally easterners would be resistant to the lure of the exotic and the new, being a very traditional and xenophobic people. However, these were trying times. Some of the crewmembers Elvira recruited needed to leave urgently as the leading lady of Long Dahn started to crack down on the potential rebellion. Others were lured in by the promise of riches.

So it was that Elvira and Gerrard sailed into the harbour of Roque d'Ancourt after a reasonably pleasant trip, with the only minor delay being when they had to persuade a ship from Nether's Gate that they really did not want to part with their wealth.

Recess Granted, but changed leadership to Persuasion as per our PM. You are now on Wealth skill apprentice.

You may pick a pirate ship of your own choosing to have met on your way to Roque, so please PM that to Gutter Rat. Oh, and you have not met any of the Dragon Empresses but the leading lady of the Long family, who thinks that amounts to the same at any rate