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of-scholars-and-strings · 1 year

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The Coronation

Written by: Pen, Thea and Sparrow

The bells of Taveril’domaine ring like death that day. A grim heaviness hangs in the air, as though those aimless currents hold their breath for what is yet to come. To anyone who has spent time upon Ersis or heard their tales, they would be forgiven for mistaking the sound for the Rapture come at last.

But everyone here knows, a meeting is to be held in the main throne room. Something of great importance. Citizens jostle and shove to find a place to stand in witness, for what is very nearly entertainment for the sake of it. Above all else, an absolutely operatic voice rises in song, washing over the crowds, beckoning them closer beneath that yet tolling bell. The song of the mighty Herald greets them all.

How Marchosias has waited for this day. A million times and more has he dreamt of the acts about to take place in these very halls. An endless stream of plans and preparations have gone into this little event, and he will not see it fail.

Even his wardrobe is impeccable, planned to the very last stitch. He has worn his best finery, fit for an emperor and no less. A gross display of his own self-perceived importance. A black, sleek silk set of formal Dekn robes - hatred woven into the seams - a golden sari draped about him - radiance in its threads… a cape of purple roses, florets dancing in the air as he walks - decadence in each perfect petal - completes the image. And for the grand finale, a dagger tucked into his sleeve.

But of course, where would his show be without its guests? All of the Dekn Masters who are anybody in the Court have made their arrival. Decarabia, Dekn Masterix of War, stands to the side, fiddling with her armor. Camio, Dekn Master of Whispers, in their concealing spiral mask, waiting on cue. Andras, of course - dear, sweet Andy - standing near the entrance of the room, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else but here, but too transfixed with horror to look away already.

Dekn Masters, Mistresses, Lords… even the Counts have made an appearance. All for him.

From the lowest of people in Dekn society, to the very highest, all will bear witness to this shining moment for the entire race. Presented in a perfectly choreographed routine for their viewing pleasure, of course.

Marchosias’s people have staked out their strategic spots in the crowd. Ready to direct the crowd’s attention to the main attraction. Ready to telekinetically snap the necks of loyalists to the crown, a fate which could have so easily been avoided, had they been a little less stubborn, and truly he had given them all the chances in the world. Ready to assume the roles that Marchosias has meticulously learned, understood, and groomed them to become over these past few years. All the pieces are in place upon his gilded board.

The doors are about to be locked. There will be those to record nearby, so that all of the Elevrium, all of the Empyrium, even those on Ersis, can hear this display.

All is going according to plan.

The collected masses whisper as Marchosias rises above the common masses. Each eye drawn to him effortlessly through his radiant attire and the suggestions of his own planted tools in the crowd. He will tolerate no one missing his grand moment, his so carefully planned glory.

The voice of Marchosias’s beloved Herald rings throughout the room, just as rehearsed: “Dekn Court, give your attention to the Master of Beguilement and Debauchery.”

And as he shows off for the crowd, allowing them to take a good look at every perfect detail about him, Marchosias takes in the image of their failing emperor, Xerinos Redgrave. What a fool he was, blind to the whispers of his court over these many years as Marchosias slowly gained influence and power. He is pockmarked, frail, senile. Not a leader who could guide them to glory upon a battlefield, nor one who could lead their people to a true age of prosperity. Not like the Master of Debauchery could.

He cracks his knuckles, smiling as he approaches. He is face to face with Xerinos when the guards even try to draw their blades, so blinded by his brilliance. “Stand down. It is not too late for my mercy.” Marchosias’s voice rings through the air, as subtle as a whip cracking. All could have a place in his new order, as long as they submit to him, worship him for the god he is, and he makes sure everyone can feel his benevolence as he speaks. The guards freeze, warring with their own minds. Xerinos looks at Marchosias with incredulity at his utter gall to not only approach the emperor in his own hall without summons, but attempt to disable his personal guards.

“It is my mercy you should be asking for, Master Marchosias,” Xerinos orders as he recovers from the shock, though the wheeze of a life lived softens the edge of his tone. Marchosias takes no heed of the threat, the bag of bones upon the throne holds no power over him. His words, in fear of what his Court could do to him if they rebel, the mewling of a babe. Even now, he believes he holds the most power in this situation. “You dare threaten your Emperor, here in the presence of the entire Court?” Even now, he believes his allies in the Dekn Court mean something.

“For a supposed wise king, Xerinos, you truly are a blind fool. Must I say it aloud? Must I show you the weight of your allies’ support?”

He waves his hand indulgently, and sixteen necks snap in unison.

Xerinos screams, reaching out to see his men fall, and Marchosias cannot help but finally break into laughter seeing it, seeing his goal, his purpose, his life’s work all in reach…!

“What do you think you’re doing? This is treason-”

“Clearing away the old, to make room for the new. You can finally be of use to something, even if it’s as fertilizer for the roses.”

He steps up, once, twice, in the screaming chaos, charging with military precision for a clear shot at the Emperor’s heart with his horrid, curved dagger. He pounces like a predator animal slamming into prey, slicing the blade clean through Xerinos’s weak heart. Marchosias’s lips draw back in a snarl to expose gleaming fangs, blood splattering over him. His purple eyes, ultra-dilated from the straight rush of adrenaline coursing through his now royal veins, glow like dark stars in the dim light.

His fingers, clawed and horrid, wrench the Diadem quickly from Xerinos’s paling forehead. The old man is wheezing at him, trying desperately to grab at him, to stop him. Marchosias snarls aloud, pulling the dagger from the old man’s chest and stabbing it once more into his heart with feverish strength, again, again, again, until the man has long since stopped breathing.

He places the Diadem on his forehead, the symbol of rule, and suddenly every bit of his tumultuous surroundings are in total peace to him. Immediately, Marchosias breaks down into a near manic fit of laughter. At last, at long last, he is tasting paradise, and the rush of it all is going straight to his head.

“You are mine.”

He pauses, lets the words sink in, weighty with Silulic power. They are so deliberate and carefully chosen that it nearly stops his heart to say them.

“All of you are, now. From the young to the old, the fit to the frail, the strong to the weak, the healthy to the sick. Mine.”

“I am more than just your Emperor now. I am your god. And as your god, this theocracy of mine begins today, lasting until the ends of time.”

“Do you hear me…?”

“I said… do you hear me?”

The room is crushed with silent horror.

“I AM YOUR GOD! THE NEW GOD OF THE DEKN EMPIRE! LIVE IN THIS KINGDOM THAT IS MY PULSING, ROSEROTTEN HEART AND BE GLADDENED! WORSHIP ME, AND ME ALONE, YOUR GOD-EMPEROR, YOUR BLESSED DIVINITY!”

Spit flies from his mouth, his voice a fierce and tremendous growl that rings through the gilded arches of the Dekn Court as if it were a mighty benediction.

The people that had screamed, that had run to the doors, banging their fists against metal and gem-work that would not open, now fall to their knees in rapturous adoration, crying slowly morphing to chanting, prayers led by the faithful of Marchosias that have worshipped him for years before and will worship him for years after.

The smell of roses suffuses the Dekn Court, and the newly crowned God-Emperor drinks in the worship he has craved for ages as if it were the finest liquor in all the world.

#may 15th!#Marchosias Aversen

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of-scholars-and-strings · 2 years

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The Ascension of an Outlier Seed (Final May 15th Story)

Written by: All Members Of The Arkn: Legacy Development Team (Pen, PJ, Ashe, Innes and Raven)

The light in that world was the same as it had always been when the Hethe intervened.

The day began soft and sweet. One of the only few left for this lost world. On a hillside, a breeze softly sways the one single large tree atop it. The birds chirped a sweet tune as the leaves rocked back and forth in a quiet fashion. A soft serenity lay across this place like time was slowing down. The fear that this peace was to be disturbed was high in the air at this moment.

Then something shifted. The wind began to pick up and the clouds started to gather. The birds, once peacefully singing their soft sweet music immediately stopped. Sensing something wrong they took off, calling their distress loud across the winds. The tree, once swaying, now was shaking as the air pushing against it got more and more intense. A storm was brewing high above. People close by were watching as the sky darkened. Even they knew something was amiss as their clothes billowed with the harsh and heavy winds. Thunder began to rumble, coarse and booming. The almost black clouds began to light up with flashes of lightning that streaked across the sky. All the peoples below stared at this display in awe and fear whilst clutching their garments tightly to not lose them in this billowing wind.

Then it happened. A large bolt of lightning struck the hillside with a force and impact none in this world had ever seen before. Chunks of grass and dirt were sent flying as the lightning electrified across the grass. Yet the lightning didn’t stop. Like a bullet out of a rifle, another bolt shot down. The large cacophony of roaring thunder accompanied it and spread out like the one before it. Then another fired down with rapid speed. Then another. And another. And another still until all that remained was a large crater dug into this hillside that was high on electric energy. Then, at last, a light like a sun appeared. It shone brightly in the eye of this circling storm. All the people, clutching onto trees and objects nearby to avoid being blown away stared upwards. A brief glimpse of hope they believed it to be. The silver lining to this strange event they didn’t expect or ask for.

Crash! The light exploded and hurled itself in a column deep into the newly made crater, causing everyone and everything to be blasted back without any resistance. It thundered down like a twister as it slowly enveloped the entire hillside with ease. The people crashed hard as the light kept going. The lightning sparked with radiance and hummed loudly before shocking the entire landscape in a brilliant flash of colorful light displays. Red, blue, green, yellow, purple, orange, white and black. The people had to wince as this energy fueled the light before them.

Then, as suddenly as it came, it stopped. The light faded in front of the eyes of the people lying in various places after being tossed around. The hill, no longer humming with unnatural lightning, seemed to still be intact. However, as the people nearby got up and approached it, they could see a new addition that had not been there before. Within the crater, not too deep to be unable to get out, stood a singular monument. A wooden door, yet gilded in symbols and energy that no human had ever seen. It puzzled them as they got closer. One person in particular reached out to try the door handle. Upon their touch, a zap of static energy quickly stayed their hand. But it seemed to do its job.

The door slowly, softly, opened like an unseen hand had pushed it open.

From its depths began to chant a utterly unearthly tongue, unfamiliar to any and every creature, higher and yet more bizarre than ever before. It spoke in colors, spat syllables, singing of truths that could not be deciphered by the common man. It was issued to every figure on the planet, no matter how high in the sky they were, no matter how low in the earth they were. All those who listened, everyone in the world who was made privy to this single song, felt an emotion not existing before this moment, and a nostalgia for their own world they had not felt with such keenness in their lives.

It lasted for eight minutes and fifteen seconds before stopping.

There was a strange, muted pause. A moment for the whole world to process what exactly they had just heard.

Then came the beetles. The beetles’ elytra gleamed like jewels, flying from the tiny door in amounts not seen before. Their buzzing ran through the air, as strangely hopeful as it was awe-inducing. The beetles came in a wave, sliding through the skies and out into the air. They held ribbons in all kinds of beautiful hues, made of soft and smooth fabrics that scientists would struggle to identify for years after the fact.

Over the din of the beetles, there was a fizzle, and then a voice, translated into the individual native languages of each person who heard it, over all of the people of the world.

“Is this on? Is this damn thing on? Do my powers work, still? … Yes. You all hear me quite well. An introduction is necessary.”

“My name is Persophelus Samyaza Regent. You may, of course, also call me Regent, in the silly little books you will write about this beautiful, strange day. I speak because I am here to translate the message you have just heard, the message spoken in the tongue of gods, into something you may understand. I am a powerful being, a quite fabulous one, and I do have that power, the power to translate Hethian Speech into something you can comprehend. I am using every bit of power in my body to broadcast this single message, and will be knocked out cold for a week after the fact, so listen well, for I will only say this once, and I do hope at least one of you little humans is writing this down.”

“Words of holy foresight speak truth of gold, thus thy fate is sealed sayeth gods of old. Out of the darkness new dawns shall break, from a tragedy born of deceit and hate. Found buried in the dust of a fallen regime, a ring of devastation to aid a ruler’s scheme. One false idol shall reign darkness upon the land, while the true one works against the false one’s plan. Kept behind many deceptions and lies, beware thee all of the prophet blind. By thine own hands of revenge reprised, the ruler of tyranny shall meet his demise. A loss of light becomes fierce and cruel, thus the chains will break fighting oppression and rule. While reclaimers seek to find and enthrone, a poisoned mind shall take dreams for his own. When the master falls and the king’s will is done, the time of the rogue deity at last will come. Heed these words as a warning to thee, spoken as written in this world of Legacy.”

“Mehruai Sabetha. So the Hethe have spoken. Now, at last, awaken.”

“And for those Dekn that may be listening, do tell Jacques Redgrave we’ll be having a chat soon. He knows about what."

The screaming began immediately. Gasps of shock and horror as friends and neighbors began transforming before the crowd’s very eyes. Skin tinted grey, horns and wings, the people ran, abandoning sense for fear they would be the next to turn.

The disguises of the Arkn and Dekn, against all reason, were dropping - and humans were seeing them for what they truly were.

True to his word, the Persophelum Regent had passed out cold the instant after the translation, and as such was blissfully unaware of the chaos erupting around him. A large smile decorated his face, even in his passed-out state. Maybe, just maybe, he could find the person he’d been searching for through his message.

—

Among the first to see the change happen was an unassuming man named Joel Valiente, who was just starting his shift at the Moonstone Parlor. It was one of the better jobs he’d had over the years, but his passion was screenwriting. For several years, he’d been trying to drum up attention for his passion project, a mockumentary TV series about a woman who suddenly finds herself in a leadership position among a group of rough-and-tumble raiders after the bombs fall. Parks and Recreation for the apocalyptic age, he called it. Sadly, it hadn’t come to pass. So Moonstone looked like it was going to be his home away from home for the foreseeable future. Oh, well. They paid him decently and didn’t misgender him, so he didn’t mind so terribly.

There was a drag show happening that night, as was tradition on Saturdays around the Moonstone Parlor, and the house was packed. But that night seemed special, somehow. Foreboding. Call it intuition, but he felt like there was an energy in the air that subtly messed with the parameters of what was possible. In theory, he loved that idea. In practice? Not so much. So for most of the night, he ignored it and did his job, serving house specialty cocktails to queens and butches and way-too-drunk straight girls alike.

“Something’s in the air tonight,” a man at the bar said as Joel passed him his drink. He knew this man. Older than most of Moonstone’s clientele, kind of a figurehead in the local community, rumor said he’d killed a cop once when he was younger but nothing had ever been conclusively proven.

Joel, unflappable bastion of good vibes that he always tried to be when on the job, flashed a smile in the man’s direction. “Yeah? And what makes you say that, Charlie?” he asked, in an attempt to hide the fact that the same feeling had been building inside of him all day.

“I don’t know, man. It’s just a feeling.” Charlie downed his drink, and seemed to internally debate whether to stay at the bar or get closer watch the show. On the stage, one of the bar’s regulars, a semi-famous local queen by the name of Miss Sanguine, was performing a very edgy montage to the thumping bass of Bad Guy by Billie Eilish.

And then, she wasn’t. A wave of shimmering energy moved through the walls. It wasn’t immediately apparent what had changed, but something clearly had. Or rather, someone, or several someones. The crowd watching the show noticed first. When the person you’re watching appears at one moment to be a regular (if ostentatiously dressed) human at one moment and at the next moment has two very impressive horns sprout from their forehead, you notice. “Miss Sanguine is a demon,” Joel muttered to himself as the crowd broke out into panic and confusion. “...I never would have thought.”

“Technically, Miss Sanguine is a Dekn,” Charlie corrected, looking up from the bar for a moment. His eyes, previously a nondescript brown, were now bright turquoise. “Very important distinction. Now. Are you just gonna sit there gaping like a fish, or are you gonna go sort shit out?”

It was Laen’s idea. A safe Seed, he told her – or at least it could be. Word of the fallen veil had traveled fast through the Lathrym in whispers and rumours, and whispers and rumours were Laen’s speciality these days. He was always listening, always paying attention; what he was listening for he couldn’t tell. SEEKER? Cults? War? Anything, he supposed, that could endanger his sister once more. She was fragile enough these days.

But when the news of something shifting on an Outlier Seed reached him, he knew this was their chance. There was nothing left for them here; just memories and fear. Laurien needed somewhere new; somewhere safe. And if his contacts were to be believed, SEEKER might just leave this one be. True safety at last.

The air was certainly different here. Even Laurien seemed to be interested: fond as she was of floating in her fugue state since her rescue from the Society of the Purple Rose, she lifted her head in an awareness she so rarely held the moment they touched down. Laen watched her pad barefoot in the field they found themselves in, eyeing the grass between her toes and closing her eyes for a moment as a breeze combed through her cropped hair and ruffled her pearlescent feathers.

“Leave me,” she told him through their telepathic bond, her voice carrying a curiosity he had so missed. “I want to find my feet.”

The idea was ludicrous, and he was of half a mind to tell her so. Leaving her be in their own home was one thing, but to leave her wandering an unknown Seed full of humans who would have Hethe only knew what kind of reaction to her presence…

Almost knowing what he was thinking, she turned to look at him directly. Her gaze was still glazed and dull as it always seemed these days, blue eyes bloodshot and sunken from sleepless nights, but they were fierce. The kind of fierceness she held so often as a child – that warned him she just might scream.

Reluctantly, he nodded, watching her drift towards civilization with no apparent direction.

A new Seed. It had been so long since Laurien had set foot anywhere but the floors of her home that she had begun to forget what the sky tasted like. The concrete under her feet was rough and warm, forcing some feeling into her bones, and her feathers seemed to reach instinctively to the sky, breathing the foreign air. She wondered how long the magic keeping them hidden had been falling – if the people here were adjusting or the chaos had only just begun? It didn’t matter, she supposed. If it was terrible here, she would find somewhere else.

The darkness was comforting. Night was still; safe. She could hear every movement, feel every change in the breeze around her. She followed the sounds and smells of human celebration, the lights of their gathering, until she reached a bar. The Moonstone Parlor. Curiosity tugging her forward, she pushed her way inside and headed quickly for the bar, trying her best to ignore the decidedly uncomfortable sight of Dekn here.

“Citrus,” she murmured to the first bartender she could catch the attention of, shifting her wings uncomfortably as she attempted to find a comfortable position on a stool. Her voice felt rough and weak from disuse, but she did her best to sit straight and project. Sit straight and project. Sit straight. Project. You are a lady. A princess. Sit straight. Project. “What drinks are citrus?”

Joel smiled at Laurien. “We’ve got a few,” he said quietly, clearly sensing that she’d been through a lot recently. Maybe it was the way she struggled to maintain a regal bearing, or the faraway look in her eyes. “And I have a talent for guessing which ones people will like best. As for you, I’d recommend an orange creamsicle cocktail… or, if you’d prefer to keep your head clear, I can make you a citrus fizz. No hard feelings on my end either way.”

Charlie Boggs, if that was even his real name (he seemed reluctant to say), gave the new arrival a reassuring smile. “You’re Arkn too?” he asked her. “You’re safe here. Some places have taken sides, but Moonstone gets all kinds and has a strict non-aggression policy.”

How did he know what she was thinking? Was he spying on her thoughts? He couldn’t know her suspicions; couldn’t be hearing her secrets. That was dangerous.

“Was that a threat?” Lauri’s gaze snapped quickly to the stranger, jaw clenching as the only thing keeping her from continuing that train of thought was a gentle hum in her mind.

“Careful, sister. Deep breaths. I’m still here.”

Right. Laurien nodded at herself, forcing a deep breath into her lungs and shaking her head. “Sorry, I-..” Another breath, and she returned herself to form, offering a dead-eyed but pretty smile to the tender, “The cocktail. Please.”

“You sure?”

“Shut up, Laen.”

“Have-.. Has this-..” She shook her head again, fingers tapping lightly on the damp wood of the bar, hyper-aware of how stunted her speech had become, so clouded by the fear that still seemed to lock her throat closed. “How long have humans known? About us. Here.”

“A couple of months,” Charlie replied.

Joel laughed a good-natured laugh as he passed Laurien her glass. “Just saying, but I always suspected that Miss Sanguine over there was a little more than human.”

“Sure you did. Anyway, I asked you because it’s nice to see another one of my own here.” Closing his eyes for a moment, Charlie concentrated and allowed his wings to manifest. They seemed to be made of blue fire, several shades fading into each other. “I’ve missed being able to do that. Now, I make a point of it.”

“They’re lovely,” she complimented, her smile growing a little more genuine as she pointedly ignored the Dekn performing and leaned to examine Charlie’s wings a little closer. She wanted to say more; to comment on how she hadn’t seen another Arkn’s wings beyond her brother’s in-.. Honestly, she’d lost track of how long she had been locked in her home. But the words locked in her throat and she found herself staring at her drink instead, taking a cautious sip and breathing a sigh at the bitter-sweet taste in her mouth. Hethe, it was good to feel something again. “Why…” she tried, looking at the bartender again. From what she could tell, he was definitely human – unless he was really good at cloaking himself. “Why aren’t you shocked?”

“Honestly, not much can shock me,” Joel said. “My roommate in college said I could probably win a staring contest with Cthu–” he began, before realizing that aliens probably wouldn’t get his human geek culture references. “Never mind. Sorry. It’s easy to forget you’re from out of town. Anyway, what I meant was that I’ve kind of worked to become the sort of person that can’t easily be surprised. It’s like a muscle, you exercise it and it stays in shape, you don’t and it atrophies. Gotten plenty of exercise lately.”

Easy to forget? Laurien blinked, glancing back at the two pairs of wings in front of this man, before deciding that if he wasn’t shocked by their existence, it was probably easy for him to adjust. Instead of questioning him she soaked in the atmosphere, trying to focus on the things that used to make her happy, what used to make her happy? Music. Sweet tastes. Dancing and laughter. They all seemed so tainted these days. “I-..” As if the thought of herself having any interests at all had flipped a switch in her mind, she found herself losing her words again, her brow pinching in frustration and her posture shrinking as she took another long sip of drink to distract herself.

“Remember how we practiced, Lauri.”

Right. Deep breath, pull in, focus. The taste of the drink, the weight of her wings… “I’m Laurien,” she breathed eventually, “It’s-.. Good to meet you. I haven’t seen a friendly face in… a long time.”

“Rude.”

“You know what I meant, brother.”

“I’m Joel,” the bartender replied. “Guy with the wings goes by Charlie, he’s still too much of a chickenshit to tell anyone his real name.”

Charlie sighed, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d had that argument. “You know what you need to know, and I don’t have any reason to be nostalgic for who I used to be.”

“Yeah, keep being mysterious then. I’ll get it out of you one of these days. Anyway, since the, uh, the change happened, the Moonstone’s been kind of a refuge, even more so than it was before. So you can stay as long as you want. Got a room upstairs if you need somewhere to stay until you find a place of your own.”

“Stay?” Lauri met his gaze firmly, seeking… she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. An excuse to decline? An excuse not to trust him?

“Figured I’d offer. If not, I can set you up with a hotel room somewhere else.”

“This could be good for us.”

“There are so many people here. And-.. Dekn.”

“I know. But think about it: we’ve been alone ever since-”

“-Don’t.”

“Somewhere populated could be good.”

“My brother,” she said aloud, “Can my brother… stay?”

It didn’t take long at all for Joel to reply in the affirmative. “I don’t see why not. Anyone who doesn’t intend to start trouble or get someone hurt can stay here.” He laughed. “Hell, before all this started, we even let straight people in sometimes. Not an arrangement I was particularly happy about, but you know what, we have bigger problems now.”

Laurien almost laughed at that. It had been so long since she’d thought of sex or relationships and here she was talking with some stranger about it like it was nothing. But his words glued themselves to her mind, sinking deep and welling back up in moments carrying images of broken bodies and scolding eyes. Get someone hurt. Get someone hurt. Broken. Broken toy.

“We’d be happy to accept.” Laen couldn’t help himself. The moment the breath picked up in his twin sister’s chest he had pushed his way into the bar; not ashamed for his sister to know he’d been following her. He wrapped an arm and a tawny wing over her shoulder quickly, fixing Joel with a practiced, friendly smile, “I’m her brother, Laen. Thank you for your kindness – as you can probably tell, my sister has been through a lot. A friendly lodging will do her some good.”

“It’s good to meet you, Laen. And… yeah. I did kinda figure, I just thought it would be rude to ask for details.” Joel tossed him the key. “Can I get you something, while you’re here?”

Catching the key with a swift movement (which he instantly regretted as Lauri flinched at the sudden movement so close to her), Laen shook his head and carefully guided his sister to her feet, allowing her to cling to her glass even as she mindlessly leaned against him. “Perhaps later. I should get this one settled. Thank you again – I look forward to knowing you.”

Arkn, Dekn and Human. If anyone had told Laen their combined existence was possible before now, he’d have laughed. But perhaps… perhaps this could work. Perhaps this was just the chance the Seeds needed – a freedom they never knew.

#may 15th!#arkn legacy

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of-scholars-and-strings · 2 years

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May 15th, 2022 - Shallus

From Legacy creator Ashe!

When the weather was like this, dark fog rolls off the sea and consumes the coastal towns bordering the Shallus. Thick as soup, it turns the streets of these typically bright and cheerful locales into mysterious and twisting shadows. But when the fog rolls out, it reveals a secret known only to the natives living in the sea itself. Jagged rocks and impenetrable fog protect its existence from lost sailors or misguided explorers, and that is just how the Nagiani like it.

Far, far from the shore, an island with dark sands and scant greenery lays, untouched by Arkn hands. In these sands, right now, two daughters of the Shallus tribe of Nagiani are taking advantage of the weather to sunbathe.

The first, a dark-haired woman named Shae. Beside Shae lies her sister Wynter. While her own shake-like tail is gilded with deep colored scales that seemed to glimmer and change under the light, her sister’s are a pure, milky white. Wynter flicks out her tongue to taste the air lazily, the second eyelid of a single blue eye opening, focusing on Shae, and finally closing again. The younger of the two stretches exaggeratedly into the sand, yawning so wide she nearly unhinges her jaw.

Despite the summer sun beating down upon their scales, they are surrounded by silence and nothingness. The cloak of fog assures this privacy - from the jagged rocks guarding this island, all the way to the distant shore - as though the entire cloud had simply shifted a few degrees to the side. Almost as if by magic, or some unique property the Shallus held to protect its long hidden mysteries.

Loud splashing heralds the arrival of a third sister, her tail teal in coloration. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you two.” She pulls herself out of the dark aebys and slithers closer to the lounging women, proceeding to shake the cold substance from her body.

Wynter jerks awake abruptly, shuddering as she’s pelted with the unexpected rain. “Hey!!” Pale eyes turn upon the new arrival and her shocked and offended expression calms at the sight. “Oh. When did you get here, Rhi?”

“The clan leaders have called a meeting. Of everyone,” Rhiannon emphasizes. Her hands twist together worriedly. “Something big’s happened, and you two, need to put on your tops and come back home, immediately. I thought ma was gonna pop a gasket.”

Shae’s brow crinkles worriedly. It was odd to see her sister so shaken by something; she was infamous for knowing everything that goes on and formulating a plan to deal with it in seconds. This was different. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

“I-” Clearly caught off-guard by Shae’s question, Rhiannon hesitates. Turquoise eyes watch ponderously as the two sunbathers dress before haltingly, she answers. “I don’t know much. One of our scouts reported finding something that looks like a large door near the castle, where no door existed before. It doesn’t appear to have dropped from the surface, there’s no other disruption, it simply seems to have manifested of its own accord. Until mother knows what it is, she wants to warn our people away from it.”

Rising, Wynter runs her fingers through long white hair in an attempt to dislodge the sand clinging to it. “So obviously we’re going to go check it out, right?”

Rhiannon makes an exasperated noise. “No that isn’t-” Wynter levels an unimpressed stare at her sister. “Okay. Yes. That is why I came to find you both personally. Just a peek, and then we’ll go straight back.” She is nearly wiggling in repressed anticipation. When left to her own devices, that energy often redirects itself to become anxiety, so it was usually best to indulge their sister’s whims.

Rhiannon’s white-haired younger sister rolls her eyes, giving up on the sand embedded in her long braided hair. “So where is this mysterious door?”

“I’ll lead you there! Just follow me,” Rhi is already wading back into the sea, leaving Wynter and Shae to share a fond look before diving in themselves. Rhiannon grabs their hands as the three girls swim and looks back at Shae. Her eyes, just as theirs, are covered by their second eyelids, protecting their sight from debris and dust in the dark aebys. “You’ve been quiet, sister,” she sings so that the sea carries her voice, throat having adjusted to the heavier liquid already. “Are you upset I disturbed your rest?”

The eldest sister shakes her head, silky dark hair following the movement. “Not at all. Just thinking about…” her song warbles off, the knot in her throat stealing her breath.

Rhiannon bows her head, “Rhoswen. I understand. I know you miss her. I miss her too.”

“We shouldn’t have to miss her, we should go and get her back. It’s my fault she wasn’t safe, that this happened to her.” Rhi squeezes the hand she holds comfortingly. “But the clan heads, our own mothers, refuse to let me save her, they won’t do anything. Don’t they care?” Her melody cracks like thunder as it carries around them, before being swallowed by the oppressive weight of aebys.

“Go all the way to the land of the Dekn, attack the Purple Rose itself,” Wynter’s answer is a mournful crystalline sound. “It’s a fool’s errand, you would never survive and make it back, nevermind with Rhoswen in tow. None of us want to lose another sister.”

“Still- I have to try-” Shae protests, but is silenced when Rhiannon sings again.

“We’re here.” The door stands, looming and just as out of place as was described. Rhiannon flits over, immediately forgetting her sisters as she runs her fingers delicately over the engravings. “What does it mean?” she wonders aloud, swimming higher to follow the patterns.

“It’s not your fault,” Wynter allows her voice to be dampened by the sea to keep her words from reaching their middle sister. “I know you’re grieving. We all are. But please share with us instead of taking the burden all upon yourself. You aren’t alone, but you’re pushing us all away. It’s like there’s a bubble around you that you won’t let us enter.” Shae’s body is tense and she stares ahead with focused determination. The elder sister jumps when a sharp nail jabs her in the arm. “There. I’ve popped the bubble. Let us help you, please.”

She is trying so hard to reach out. Wynter’s blue eyes are earnest and worried as they meet Shae’s tired brown ones. “I’m going to be leaving. Soon. And I’ll come back with Rhoswen.”

“You don’t even have a plan, you’re going to get yourself killed, or indoctrinated into the cult as well! Is that what you want?!” With the strength of her emotions, Wynter’s voice carries shrilly, and Rhiannon looks over in concern.

“Then it’s what I deserve for letting this happen. It should have been me. I would trade places with her in a heartbeat if I could.” Shae briefly glances at Rhi swimming down from the door to see what the trouble is.

“But. You. Can’t.” Wynter’s eyes flash icily. “She’s gone. You’re here. And your obsession with everything being your fault is leading you to neglect all your other sisters.” Her words cut, deeply, and Shae reels back from the vehemence in her tone.

“Wynter…” Rhi warbles appeasingly.

“No! I’m sick of this. I’m sick of walking on eggshells around you for fear that you’ll break. I don’t care if it hurts, it’s the truth and someone needs to say it. Before it’s too late.” The smell of blood fills the aebys, Wynter is clenching her tiny fists so tightly her nails punctured skin.

The tense stand-off continues until searing golden light nearly blinds them all. The three cover their eyes, which had become adjusted to the deep darkness, blinking spots away from their visions. “What’s going on?” Shae cries, pulling the two younger girls behind her. If this was some kind of attack, she would protect her sisters at all costs. She wouldn’t fail again.

“It’s coming from the door,” Rhiannon warns, squinting in a desperate attempt to see what was happening.

After what seemed like far too long, the light fades, but only because the searing light of the now open door is facing another direction. Blinking spots from her eyes, the first thing Shae notices is that the aebys through this impossible entrance is a bright cerulean blue - not aebys, water -, and that it could not be from anywhere in Shallus. The difference between aebys and water was stark, the liquid they swim in is much thicker and darker, and on a good day it could only lighten to a navy hue. The two couldn’t be confused for each other. The second thing she registers is the dozens, hundreds even, of people swimming through the door. No, more accurately they were being pulled through the door.

The first few to become aware of the girls leveled carved spears at them, clearly just as disoriented by the transition as they were, but upon realizing the small group was no threat lowered their weapons. All except one, who stubbornly refused to lower his guard until a woman with a shock of blue hair made a series of sharp clicks, clearly some form of language. The woman offers an apologetic smile and the dark circles under her eyes speak of many nights without rest.

Shae looks over these newcomers, curious, now that she did not feel threatened by their sudden arrival. Most of them appear confused, panicked, or weary, and a great number of them appear to be ill. What she had at first thought snake tails, like those of the Nagiani, were upon closer inspection closer to the tails of fish. Further appraisal was interrupted as the woman apparently in charge clicked again, this time directed at Shae.

Her only response being a baffled look, the leader smiles tiredly and the gemstone upon her forehead - all of these people have one, Shae notices - lights up with a shifting opalescent substance, almost as though it were itself alive. “Can you understand me now?” The voice echoes in the three girls’ heads. “My name is A’adinah. My people are dying, and we require aid urgently. Is there a Spire nearby?” The word Spire translates oddly, seeming to imply something closer to ‘settlement’ and Rhiannon nods uncertainly.

A rush of water buffets all near to the door as it closes, just as suddenly as it had opened in the first place. Another series of fast clicks, but through the mental connection the woman held between them, the girls are able to gather A’adinah is asking whether any of their group were left behind when the door closed. The relieved look upon her face would have made the answer clear to the girls even if they couldn’t understand it through their link.

“One of us should go on ahead, get the medical wing prepared for all these people, and with such a large group and many wounded it will take us some time to reach home,” Shae says, preparing to go herself when Wynter speaks.

“I’ll go.” Shae feels a rock drop to the pit of her stomach. That her sister would rather bear the brunt of their mothers’ anger at their disobeying commands to investigate the door themselves, rather than risk being forced to swim alongside her speaks volumes of her anger. As the younger sister goes ahead, Shae silently apologizes for what she has to do.

The procession makes good time, but it is not fast enough to stop her roiling thoughts. Rhiannon seems to notice her disquiet, but does not address it, seeming uncertain about the idea of speaking openly in front of their new arrivals. Instead, she begins peppering the woman with questions; about her people - mermaids, she calls them - about where they came from - an ancient underwater city, destroyed in mere moments by their cruel dictator - how they got here - they stumbled upon the door accidentally while fleeing the wreckage.

Shae wonders about the power that gives the mermaids’ leader the ability to communicate with them, grasps onto it like a lifeline as it gives her something to think about besides her own guilt. She glances back towards the woman, following Shae at a respectful pace with her head held high even as Rhiannon pesters her. Shae’s eyes turn to the gem upon her forehead, and she finds herself mesmerized. The Nagiani doesn’t even notice she has stopped moving until the woman covers the gleaming pearlescence from Shae’s sight. “It is not wise to look so deeply into the Soul. Lest one lose themself,” A’adinah offers.

When at last they reach the gates, the bustle of medical personnel hides Shae from even the piercing gaze of her mothers, the clan heads as frazzled as the medics. Only one person notices her slip away from the group in the chaos, and only because she knew her words did not get through. Wynter watches her disappear into the distance, watches even when she couldn’t see Shae any longer. No matter how angry she is. No matter how her heart is breaking. She doesn’t make a move the entire time to call out or stop her elder sister.

#may 15th!

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of-scholars-and-strings · 2 years

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May 15th, 2022 - Courn Seed (UMEEC Base)

Written by @pjartama !

Far across the Klasym, activity was stirring on Ersis.

Abraham Emmerich, Administrator of the entire U.M.E.E.C., had received a call from the director of the Polado Research Center about something important. Apparently, an unexpected anomaly had just appeared in one of the experimental artifact labs. However, when he asked for more details, the director insisted he make his way down to the research center, so he could see for himself what had occurred as explaining it over the phone would be inadequate. So, oddly curious about what this anomaly could be, Abraham made his way out of U.M.E.E.C. Headquarters and hopped into a car to take him straight to the research center.

It didn’t take Abraham long to get there, and when he stepped through the front doors, escorted by personnel, the director, Eli van Gardio, was there to greet him.

“Ah, Abraham sir. So glad you could make it.”

They shook hands briefly.

“The anomaly is this way. Follow me.”

Taking Eli’s lead, Abraham followed him down many corridors towards the lab. Many employees and scientists they passed were bustling around a lot more than usual, compared to the few previous occasions he came by. This indicated to him that this “anomaly” was serious enough to have almost everyone here active. Before long, they arrived outside the doors to the adjacent room leading into the lab.

“The anomaly is just through here,” Eli announced. “Tests are being conducted on it now.”

He then turned to face Abraham. “But before you go in sir, I must advise that you brace yourself. What you’re about to see is something not of this world. Something very unexpected, peculiar, and, in all honesty, potentially laughable. But believe me when I tell you, it’s not something to be taken lightly.”

“Understood. Lead on then.”

With a nod, Eli opened the doors and led them into the room. Inside was a spotless area of space, coated in a white and blue color scheme. A desk sat on the left behind a large pane of glass to monitor the progress and developments made in the lab by supervisors. And to the far right, prepped, and fully functioning was a large decontamination chamber leading directly into the lab via a glass door. Finally, through the glass pane in front of them laid one of the many experimental artifact labs. The colors of white and blue continued into the lab from the room they were standing in. Tables and desks were spread throughout the place; each one covered in foreign technology.

But something was noticeably off.

Abraham watched as four scientists, in hazmat suits, were gathered around and scanning something. Something big and stationary in the middle of the lab itself, with what appeared to be a small raincloud hovering above it, pouring rain onto the floor. A frame, sporting hinges, and a large slab of wood contained within it. A handle, metal, and round helped give the thing its name. Eli was right, this was something very unexpected.

“…It’s a… door?”

“Not just any door, Abraham. It appears to be some kind of gateway to another world.”

“Another… world?”

“Yes sir.”

“…How do you know this for sure? More importantly, how did it get here?”

“That we’re not sure of. All we know is that it showed up in here after the sudden thunderstorm a few hours ago, causing the building to shake uncontrollably and creating massive power surges across the entire center.”

“Were there any witnesses to its appearance?”

“Two actually. They were stationed here when it appeared. They claimed a wind started to pick up in the lab from out of absolutely nowhere as the lights went haywire due to the power surges. Then lightning began to spark in the center of the room as thunder continued to roar outside. And that’s when they saw the door start to materialize and solidify.”

“I… see,” Abraham responded, partially understanding the absurdity of what he was hearing.

“They then said that they both went inside to investigate it. They searched it from top to bottom, tried to scan it and found there was some residue of unfamiliar energy from what is assumed to be its appearance here, but that was about it. It seemed to be a normal door. Yet, when one of them went to try and jiggle the doorknob, they were both blasted back by a sudden electric surge. Then the raincloud appeared and has been flooding the lab since. That’s when they reported the news to me through M.A.I.A.”

“I see,” Abraham repeated. “And I take it that you have taken the proper measures to isolate the lab to a select few individuals since then?”

“Oh yes. Very much so. Everyone else in the building is now working to facilitate that, as well as expanding our resources in order to find more answers regarding the door.”

“Good. I’m glad. But don’t let word about this door get further than the personnel here. I’d prefer to not have SEEKER coming after us again, especially after the Zimmerman Blunder.”

Eli nodded. “Of course, sir.”

Abraham smiled. “Now, I believe I should take a closer look at this door. This… gateway to another world. See what we’re dealing with. Is that possible?”

“Absolutely sir. But, as per safety regulations, I must ask you to put on a hazmat suit first.”

“Of course.”

With their hazmat suits on, Abraham and Eli both stepped into the lab where the scientists were conducting their examination. When he first saw the door, it seemed to be just a normal door. But, upon entering the lab, he could see in better detail that his impressions were deceived. Emanating from the door with great radiance was a visibly golden aura that dazzled in the surrounding air. He couldn’t quite believe his eyes, being so close to it. He swore he could hear a soft, almost divine-like hum coming from it. Like it had come down from the heavens or something. But as he got closer his ears started to pick up something else. It was very faint, but even he could notice it. It was whispering. The whispering of maybe hundreds of hushed voices speaking in words and phrases he could not understand. Abraham was stunned in awe at this phenomenon before him. This was the most unbelievable thing in the entire world since the Founders discovered the Dekn.

“So… when we got into these suits, you said this door has something to do with the Dekn right?”

“Correct. According to some of our Dekn researchers here who have taken a look at it, this door apparently resembles that of another door that resides outside of Taveril’domaine, which had appeared in a similar matter over a year prior. That’s why we know it’s a gateway.”

“I see.”

Abraham continued to stare at this door in fascination for a few moments. The prospect of being able to harness a door with the capability of travel to other worlds was exciting him greatly. He then turned away from it to face Eli in his grey, protective wear.

“But nothing has come through thus far?”

“Nothing as of yet, sir.”

Mildly disappointed, Abraham turned back to the door and pointed at it.

“And what about going through ourselves?”

Eli shook his head. “We’ve tried, sir. But every time we even try to touch the door the cloud above it sends a shock of electricity into us. Not even these suits can protect us from it. Something, or someone potentially, is keeping us out.”

A look of annoyance and disappointment spread across Abraham’s face.

“Well, that’s just fantastic,” he muttered sarcastically. “So, all we can do now is wait and see if something happens?”

“Correct.”

Abraham sighed. “Very well then. Eli, I’d like for you and your team here to continue your observations and testing over the course of this week. If something so much as twitches, you alert me straight away.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And as a reminder to you all as well, if any information about this door gets spread out to the public, then there will be chaos. So, keep this close to the chest and-”

“Uh, director,” interrupted one of the scientists, “you should come take a look at this. Something weird’s happening.”

Eli quickly made his way to the scientist calling him over. Abraham followed close behind.

“What is it, Mathias?”

“The energy readings, director. They’re rising.”

As Mathias said this, the glowing golden aura around the door started glowing even brighter. The dark raincloud grew darker as the downpour suddenly intensified. A breeze began to pick up around the door that grew fiercer with each second, causing everyone to stumble as they backed away from it. Abraham could see lightning begin to spark around the door. Red, blue, green, gold, even black and white, started to strike the lab walls, causing material to crumble and ignite. Suddenly, the floor started to shake from the energy of the door, which caused Abraham, Eli, and the other scientists to slip and fall onto the wet floor below. As he and his associates laid there, the golden aura then turned a vibrant white that soon intensified to blinding levels. Instinctively, Abraham put his arms in front of his face and turned away to shield his eyes. Then, the light quickly expanded, and within moments… it enveloped him and the others.

Around a minute passed. Two at most. In that time, Abraham did not move from where he was. His eyes were shut tight and unwilling to know if the light had killed him or not. Soon though, as the ringing in his ears faded, he did slowly open his eyes once again. Even with his dark visor on, the brightness still lingering in the area immediately hit his pupils and he squinted in mild pain. His vision soon adjusted after several blinks of his eyelids; giving him the courage to lower his arms and turn his head back to face the door and witness whatever had become of it.

What he saw there made him stare in disbelief. The door was still where it was, glowing the same golden aura it did before, although the raincloud seemed to have stopped giving off rain. But now, there were some unexpected additions that laid sprawled out in front of it. Those additions were people. Presumably, a whole group of people that weren’t present minutes ago, dressed in attires he had never seen before, were now lying before him groaning in mild aching pain.

As Abraham started to get up, he noticed his colleagues behind him also began to stand while watching these newcomers struggle to get themselves off the floor. No words could begin to describe the feelings of ecstatic bewilderment he… they were experiencing at that moment looking upon these new figures that had just arrived from the other side of the door. He didn’t know if these people were alien, human, or whatever, what mattered is that they were here, and not illusions brought upon by the aftermath of whatever light show the door had put on display. Thus, proving to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that this door truly was a portal of some kind to other worlds. He couldn’t help but also grin while thinking about the potential possibilities that could be made by forming a partnership with these people. This was truly a good day.

The group in front of him eventually got themselves on their feet, dusting soot and ash off their various body sections that weren’t mildly soaked by the residue of water still in the room. He tried to get a good look at them, but it was hard to tell who or what they were since they were wearing hoods and masks that obscured their features before they finally noticed him and the others. Immediately, they all got defensive. Each one of them either took out a weapon choice of a sword, baton, or staff or ignited their hands with what appeared to be arcane magic: ready to strike towards them at any moment.

“Who are you, demons?!” came a booming, but slightly muffled male voice from one of the figures in the front wielding blue electric magic.

Abraham immediately put his hands above him.

“Don’t attack us! Please, we mean you no harm.”

He gestured to Eli and the others to also raise their arms like he had in the hopes the armed group would accept their surrender. He should’ve guessed these people would be cautious, after all he would’ve probably been doing the same thing in their place. So, he figured that it would be wise to not give them a reason to attack.

“I’ll ask you again, demon: Who. Are. You?!”

“My name is Abraham Emmerich. Administrator of the Universal Mortal Exploration, Extraction and Control, or U.M.E.E.C. These are my colleagues, Director Eli van Gardio and his team of scientists. We, again, mean you no harm… uh, weary travelers… and would like to offer our hand in peace.”

Abraham then lowered one of his hands and took one step in their direction.

“Stay back, fiend!” the figure roared out. He flared up the electricity in his hands, thus making Abraham stop in his tracks and put his hand back up.

“I do not know about this U.M.E.E.C. that you speak of demon, and I demand that you tell us where we are this instant! Failure to do so in the next five seconds and I will unleash this wave of condensed storm upon you!”

Abraham swallowed hard in desperation.

“You are in one of the labs of the Polado Research Center. A building created and used by the U.M.E.E.C. to test artifacts and technology discovered from other lands to further enhance our primitive human knowledge and capabilities.”

“Human? Do not attempt to trick me, fiend. The humans are all but gone now, wiped out by the Numen of Dim himself.”

“What do you mean?” Abraham questioned, “Humans are still alive here.”

“No, they are not. I have seen it. We all have seen it. The humans are no more. Destroyed like our home.”

“Well, perhaps in your home, your world, the humans were indeed destroyed by this… Numen of Dim. But in my home, this world, humans are very much alive.”

“Enough of this trickery, demon! You are lying! You must be.”

“I’m not. Humans are still alive. I’m one of them in fact.”

“Falsehood! The human race is extinct! What you are, what you must be is a Shade. A Shade with a mouth filled with words of deceit and treachery.”

“Look, I’ll prove it to you,” Abraham said as he reached for his helmet to try taking it off. Before he could touch it, a sudden shot of electricity crackled right past him, making him scream out and panic.

“Stay your vile hands, shade-fiend! I will not have any more of your falsehoods. Prepare for extermin-”

“I think that’s enough, Yeshua,” came the older male voice of a cloaked figure from behind the group, who placed their hand upon Yeshua’s shoulder and sounded like he had heard enough. “I believe they’re telling the truth. Lay your arms down.”

“Sage, I do not think it wise to-”

“Did I stutter, Voss?” he sneered. “Lay your arms down now!”

For a brief moment, there was an extremely intensive standoff between the two groups. Abraham waited to see what was to happen while trying to save face beneath his visor. With heavy reluctance, the man known as Yeshua, or Voss eventually released the hold on his magic and let the electricity fizzle out as he put his hands back to his side.

“That goes for all of you as well. Lower your arms and weapons.”

The group obeyed, putting their weapons to their sides. The man called Sage then stepped out to the front, pushing past his seven other compatriots while carrying a staff in his hand and made his way up to Abraham, standing a few inches taller than he was.

“I apologize for them, especially Yeshua here. We’ve all been through a lot just now. Our world, our home, is no more. So, I’m sure you can understand why we’re unusually aggressive and not very trusting of you lot.”

Breathing a big sigh of relief, Abraham lowered his arms.

“I-Indeed. I could understand quite a bit. And apology accepted.”

Sage bowed his head. “So, you say you’re a human, eh? I’ve met a few humans in my time. A few of us behind me are humans. Gotta say, a truly remarkable bunch. That said, if you would please, do kindly take your visor off and prove to us you are what you say you are. I believe you, but I think it would be best to end all of my companions’ suspicions about your identities. Don’t worry, you have my full assurance that you won’t be fired upon by any of us.”

He quickly looked back to Yeshua with a very noticeable glare towards him. Yeshua winced and turned away in shame before Sage returned his gaze back on Abraham. Abraham took this with great relief and nodded. He then gestured Eli and the other scientists do the same before reaching for his visor once more and taking it off completely, shaking his drenched with sweat hair and showing off his very human face to the newcomers. Eli and the other scientists followed suit and also revealed their human faces to the group before them. Sage slightly nodded as the group all looked at each other in surprise and embarrassment. Yeshua particularly had his head down in guilt and deep shame following the reveal.

“A pleasure to see you in the flesh, Mr. Emmerich,” Sage responded politely. “Please allow us to return you the courtesy.”

He then reached up for his hood and mask and pulled them both down, revealing the face of an old man. His hair was long and matted, he had a rubbish grey beard with a faded scar across his right cheek and overall looked like he had seen better days. Behind him, everyone else in the group followed his example and revealed their faces. Each one of them had unique looks, faces, and ethnicities. He counted three men and three women, with a teenage girl and Sage before him and aside from their faces being covered in soot, they looked exhausted and miserable. Truly, they had been through hell. Sage then reached out his hand towards Abraham.

“My official name is Hal’shar, the Sage. But most of this lot just call me ‘The Sage’. Sage for short.”

Abraham looked at the outstretched hand before him, then gazed into Hal’shar’s eyes. They stared at him with a welcoming warmth and twinkling spark that made him feel at ease, but also showed the age, experience, and how tired Hal’shar truly was in this moment. Abraham stared for what seemed like ages into those glowing, amber-colored eyes of Hal’shar before he took his hand and shook it.

“It’s wonderful to meet you and your friends, Hal’shar, the Sage. Welcome to the U.M.E.E.C.”

#may 15th!#arkn legacy

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of-scholars-and-strings · 2 years

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May 15th, 2022 - Syrith

Written by @pjartama !

In the frozen region of Syrith, a small team comprised of native Syrith miners and Galliptis archaeologists had just uncovered something incredible.

Buried beneath the ice and snow laid the ruined remains of a long-forgotten Dekn city. A piece of Dekn civilization that once existed before the events that caused the entire region to become a frozen wasteland, save for the small, central, fiery hellscape portion that became Vinlar. A historical discovery.

This was huge for the team. Several months of research, planning, and funding had gone into this excavation and now their hard work had been rewarded. But as they began to celebrate a job well done, something strange was starting to happen.

The winds started to pick up as the skies, normally bright yet covered with thick grey and white clouds began to grow darker. All the team’s climatized suits started beeping at once. An abrupt shift in weather and a massive drop in temperature had come on alert. A small snowstorm began to brew around them as the darkened clouds gathered and started to swirl high above them.

This was extremely unexpected to the team, as reports had dictated their week of work was full of clear skies and mild snowfall. But they didn’t have time to ponder why this sudden change of weather had occurred, because the snow was coming down rapidly. It was always known that standing outside in this kind of weather, even in climatized suits, was a death wish. So, following the procedure for heavy weather, the team laid a protective area force shield over the excavation site, gathered their equipment, and scrambled inside their sanctioned, temporary base of operations: locking it down as soon as everybody was inside.

Looking outside, the snowstorm was quickly becoming a blizzard. Their view of the distant frozen landscape of the region was now rendered to barely a foot in front of their faces. The winds then started picking up extra strength. Their howls grew and grew as the ground and the building began to shake. Earthquakes didn’t happen often. Not in this part of the region anyway, and yet there they were trying to topple them with the wind threatened to blow them all away. It was insane.

Then there was a light. A bright light that shone through the blizzard, formed within the eye of the storm above them. The light then fired down in a column blast of rainbow colors, knocking them all down to the ground. Lightning surged and crackled through the air, striking down upon the icy surface surrounding their excavation site. The energy generated was so intense. The power to their base went into a state of flux before everything except the door releases went out. Now all they could see was the light as it started to expand outwards. It didn’t stretch far enough to encapsulate them, but the power from it was making it hard to stand up again.

Then suddenly, the light and force keeping them down just stopped, flashing right out of existence. Pretty soon the entire blizzard also started dying down quickly as well. The team all looked out the windows and immediately took note of the sky and the surrounding distance coming into view once again. A big sigh of relief was felt amongst them all. They had appeared to survive the worst of this.

However, upon stepping out of the building to set up their excavation site once more, one of the archaeologists noticed something from afar. Something solid… and very out of place. They called out to their colleagues to come see for themselves. All of them couldn’t believe what they were seeing. It was a door. An ordinary, slightly gilded door out in the middle of this frozen wasteland that was not present before the storm.

Shocked and intrigued by what they were seeing, the entire team went towards this door. Upon closer inspection, it just appeared to be a door within a doorframe. But the most puzzling thing about it was that there was no back connected to it. There wasn’t a room or hallway in sight, invisible or otherwise.

Using the scanners in their suits, they found the readings of this door to be off the charts and all over the place. Furthermore, there was a strange noticeable aura emanating from it that this team was able to sense. Something familiar, yet otherworldly. To say it was peculiar would be an understatement.

They all looked at each other, puzzled and curious as to who would make the first move to try to open it. Eventually, the leader of this team, Lilyn Rascorth, volunteered and slowly started to make her way towards the door. Time seemingly stood still as all of Lilyn’s other colleagues watched in anticipation while she approached the mysterious door. Step by step she grew closer to it until she was just mere inches away from the gilded wood. She looked down at her gloved hand. Outside, it was insulated, solid, and firm, but she felt herself shaking inside. She took a deep breath in, reached her hand out, and slowly grasped the handle.

Immediately, all of the team’s hairs stood on end inside their suits as a forceful electric shockwave blasted Lilyn right off of her feet. She landed with a thud as her team rushed toward her. As they were checking on her, the door started to glow. Bright blue and black lightning crackled off it, zapping across in all directions. The team ran, ducked down, and got behind cover as the bombardment of electricity increased. The icy ground beneath them began shaking once more while they hid behind cover as the door itself glowed brighter, and brighter, and brighter still. Clutching onto a big ice spire for dear life, Lilyn looked up to see the now blinding light as the ground shook worse than the first time, before finally, the light burst outward, dispersing above them. Everything then immediately stood still again.

Disorientated, the team got to their feet again, ensuring everyone was okay before returning their attention back to the door. It was still there, and still emanating that aura. But something felt different to them, and they couldn’t quite put their fingers on it. As they all waited there, neither of them wanting to touch it again for fear of getting zapped and doing that all again, the doorknob twitched. They froze. It twitched again, then rattled a bit. Then it started to turn, and turn, and turn until it finally clicked open. The team all took a step back as the door began to open slowly with a loud creak to accompany it. Behind it, they all saw what was coming through.

From the other side and taking a step into their world from a dark, desolate, and windy place, was a tall humanoid figure. Their legs, feet, hands, and arms were tightly wrapped in reams of binding cloth, like an Egyptian mummy from human history. Most of their body was obscured by a ragged hooded cloak that loosely draped over them and billowed in the winds of that other world. The team couldn’t see much of their face, but their eyes, if you could call them eyes, glowed a deep lapis blue. Beautiful, yet off-putting and unsettling as the figure didn’t seem to blink.

As this figure exited, the team noticed that they weren’t alone. Emerging from behind, two identical horrific beast-like abominations circled to either side of the figure, panting slowly and deeply while eyeing each member of the team before coming to a halt. They were very big, with large bodies of grotesque flesh and sharpened bone protruding out in various places. They had deep sunken eyes that glowed the same lapis blue as the figure, and several rows of jagged teeth and sharpened claws that were both covered in what appeared to be dark blood and a sickly green substance. None of the team knew what these creatures were, but they were frightened, to say the least.

The figure slowly looked around at this new environment, their face still covered by shadow yet their eyes never once blinked as they took in the surroundings of black ice and freezing climates. Their breathing was slow and inhuman, making a very gross and horrifying sucking noise that seemed to last ages. Their beast companions growled low, sniffing their air like predators smelling their prey all while licking their teeth clean periodically with their sinewy tongues. Finally, the figure turned its attention to the small team just standing there, frozen in place by the fear and confusion at what this being and its “pets” were. It didn’t say anything as it continued to stare at them like they were trying to understand the team before them. Then, they slowly raised their right hand out towards them, as if they were asking for one of the team to come forward.

Most of the team continued to stay put. They were too scared to volunteer themselves and approach this rather tall individual. The seemingly impatient creatures certainly weren’t helping either. Lilyn herself wasn’t even sure she would be willing to meet this figure across the way, but in the end, as the figure continued to stay put with their arm out, she conceded.

Slowly, she made her approach. Her heartbeat grew louder with every step she took, pounding in her ears as she swallowed her fear. Soon enough, she stood face to face with the figure. Their eyes, forever unblinking, looked down at her. Their head shifted slightly to the side as they studied her in mild curiosity. Slowly, they lowered their hand to her height where she could now get a closer look at it. The fabric on the figure’s hand was dirty and also covered in dark blood. The wraps themselves encompassed the entire hand, with little gaps for some grey, maybe rotting flesh resided. It was mildly disturbing.

The figure continued to stare down at her expectantly, the hand unwavering from its position. Lilyn still was afraid. Something deep down was telling her to run away and hide, but if she did, she wasn’t sure what would become of her or her team. If she accepted, maybe they’d all at least be spared. So, going with what she believed to be the only logical choice she had, she reached out and grasped the figure’s hand.

Within moments, she felt a surge of energy flow through the suit and into her body as she gazed into the figure’s eyes. She instinctively arched herself back as her eyes started to blur. Then a deep blue hue started to overcome her vision before completely obstructing it. Her mind then faded. Her identity started to slip away from her. Then Lilyn was gone, and in her place stood another. A servant to the figure’s will.

From across the way, the team watched in horror as their leader became a servant of this being. She looked back at the group, smiling tragically as she stood by the figure’s side. The figure then raised its arm, signaling the creatures beside both them and Lilyn to prepare for action. The snarling and growling started picking up as they dragged their abominable claws, ready to pounce. Recognizing the oncoming threat, the team fearfully turned around and ran back to the base for protection.

Time seemed to slow down once more. The team running away from the figure, Lilyn, and the beasts while the figure waited. Then in one fell swoop, the arm came down and everything resumed. The beasts charged forth to catch the team as they made their way into the base. The doors shut just in time as one of the creatures smashed into it. But they didn’t stop. Each member of the team locked off every available access point as the creatures smashed, crashed, and bashed into the metal all the while growling and something akin to barking while scratching ferociously. The team huddled together, arming themselves with the tools and limited weapons they were provided for the excavation. The bangs and scratching of metal kept increasing as the team waited. Then everything seemed to settle down for a moment.

The growling was still present with the beasts circling the base, waiting for an opening to strike. The team could hear each other shakily breathing, waiting in anticipation for what may come. Footsteps then approached the main door. A slight knock rang through the hull of the base. The team tensed up all huddled together. Moments of silence passed. BANG! The door and base shuddered violently. CLANG! It happened again. Then the crunching of metal as a force of unimaginable strength ripped the door off and out. Standing there was the figure, behind them Lilyn. They both stared inside with their eyes glowing that unsettling deep lapis blue. The team readied their weapons before the growls grew louder. The figure stepped back, tossing the door out of sight with one hand which allowed the beasts’ entry. They roared a deafening unholy roar, causing the team to wince. Then they all watched helplessly as both of these creatures launched themselves right on top of them. The last thing that team ever saw was their leader, watching on with tears running down her face behind a smile that was not her own and the cold dead stare of the figure who took her away.

After the team was finished and devoured by its pets, the figure, Vigilis, looked down at their new servant, Casteisya as she looked up to them. A mutual understanding was reached as they read each other’s minds. They sought to understand and dominate this new region and she sought to reclaim this old city that was just unearthed. They both nodded. They would help each other now. Their new purpose. The pets strode up to them both, awaiting a command. Vigilis simply gestured to the forgotten Dekn City in the icy ground and together they all made their way inside to establish their new base of operations.

#may 15th!#arkn legacy

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of-scholars-and-strings · 2 years

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May 15th, 2022 - Destrus

(collaboration with @helplessnessxblues )

In an interdimensional fast food restaurant speeding through the stars, two figures converse. The first one is an exceptionally tall woman, flowers growing in her long black hair. The second is on the shorter end of average height for a human being, androgynous, and wearing a loose silk shirt and harem pants. Both of them seem like they've known each other for their whole lives, though they both know this isn't the case– by the former's time scale, they've been together in this sense for only a blink of an eye.

"So…" the shorter figure, who preferred to only go by the title of Initiator, said. "You were saying something about an interdimensional fast travel network? But then I brought up ocean sunfish for some reason and the conversation sort of spiraled out of control."

“Yes, a fast travel network,” the taller one, who preferred to go by the name Rosalind Everhall, confirmed. “It is something I’ve found a way to travel through before. This specific part of the network… may assist us in locating more people to help.”

Initiator nodded. That had been their project for a while now– helping people, finding allies, rebuilding the many worlds' faith in Rosalind. If not as a deity, then at least as a friend. "Alright, I'll bite. What can you tell me about this part of the network?"

Rosalind clears her throat. “It is… somewhat secluded, really. I remember reading about it in an ancient tome I once used often. If my memory serves me well in this instance, it is known as the Deiteris Network. Gateways where gods travel through to other realms. It could be a specific realm, or random chance if so desired.”

"Random chance," Initiator repeated.

Rosalind nodded, beaming with sharp teeth. “I believe it could be worth a shot.”

Returning the smile, Initiator couldn't help but laugh to themself. "You know what? Sure. Random chance. Let's do it. What's the worst that could happen?"

Rosalind tilted her head playfully, smiling with sharp fangs. “What is the worst that could happen?”

As their eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight of the desert, Rosalind took the time to survey their surroundings. "Everything seems clear," she muttered, quietly enough that only Initiator could hear her, "but we don't know who could be hiding out here. Please, stay close."

"Who or what," Initiator laughed. "We should probably keep rhythmic vibrations to a minimum. Just in case."

Rosalind couldn’t help but laugh at that, a sound like deep church bells rattling in the air. Her whole body shook with the force of it, her eyes glittering with joy. “Yes, yes. You will have to walk to avoid the sandworms, my Initiator. You will have to walk without rhythm.”

"Oh, I'm a professional. Check this out." With a great deal of showmanship, they moved forward in a strange, dancelike manner, looking back at Rosalind every so often. "Do you know how many times I replayed that scene in the movie to figure out how to do this?"

“How many?”

Initiator thought about that for a moment. "...I lost count. The point is, it was a lot."

Rosalind shook her head, replicating the strange, dancelike steps. For such a tall creature, she made it look so effortless. Every step held purpose. Initiator was kind of in awe. “Is this right?” She bent her head up to look at Initiator for confirmation.

"It's…" So amazing I'm kind of jealous, they almost thought. "A little rusty, but you're almost there– just kidding. It's actually perfect, are you sure you've never tried to do this before?"

“I have done other dances very similar in nature, in the past. It is somewhat easier than I thought to transfer such a thing over from one dance to another. After all, is that not what this is? A dance across the sands.”

"You could say that. I mean, yes, but no, but also yes." Hearing something in the distance, Initiator froze. "...You know, I really don't think worms are the thing we should be worrying about right now."

Rosalind tensed up, snarling as she looked around. “Initiator, be careful!”

All at once was a flurry. Figures popped out of the sand - masked bandits with thick guns. Initiator immediately dropped to the ground, thinking that it would be easier to avoid being directly in the line of fire that way, and crawled back towards Rosalind. Rosalind held them close, eyes glittering dangerously. “If you shoot, I will show you a storm of a fight the likes of which you will pray never to see again in your life. State your business.” Her voice had dipped into a strange, unearthly snarl, almost compelling to hear.

One of the bandits blinked. “Well, we were gonna rob you twos blind. But you’re big. Almost as big as our boss. So…” They scratched their brow, looking towards their companion. “Lu’ube, what do we do?” they asked.

“Well,” their friend said, “we brings them back to the boss, Pelthrus, it’s dat easy.”

The bandit who had spoken first sighed. “You wanna come with us? We’re gonna have to use these bazookers otherwise. And ya don’t want us to use the bazookers.”

Rosalind looked towards Initiator. “Well. I can protect us adequately from bullets, if need be. Let us use this as a test. How will you act in a quick-thinking situation such as this?”

Initiator froze for a split second. “With respect, you’re using this as a test?” they asked.

Rosalind chuckled. “I have the tools to protect you, and I will. But I also believe that this is a valuable, learning experience for us both. I have much to learn from this, and will learn alongside you. So let us make this choice together. I will not begrudge you no matter how you respond. Trust in me to keep you safe as I trust in you to help guide our boat through the storm.”

“Alright,” Initiator said with a sigh. “I have utmost faith in you to not get me killed. My Lady.”

“So what’s it gonna be,” asked Pelthrus, “you gonna come or do we gotta use the bazookers?”

“We’ll come with you. But we have ways of making sure you don’t harm us.” Initiator was bluffing, of course. They didn’t know what those ways were, they just took it on faith that said ways existed. But no one had to know that.

Pelthrus let out a sigh, sheathing their bazooka. “Guessin’ you do, seeing as I’ve never seen a big giant lady with plants on her like that before. And that big fat door behind you is glittering so big in the sunlight! Right near the alternate entrance to our headquarters. Scary stuff.”

“And knowing all of this, you were still going to rob us?” Initiator raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Are all of you this stupid?”

Pelthrus looked towards Lu’ube slowly. They both nodded in unison. “Yes,” Lu’ube said, “we was gonna rob you, but we ain’t all this stupid, us Scarred Marauders. Just us two little knuckleheads. Our parents named us bad words and it all went downhill from there. We even got teased and kicked outta our houses, and The Boss is the only one that gave us homes, gave us help-” He began to sob a little.

Pelthrus put a hand on his shoulders, touching foreheads with him. “Hey, hey, Lu’ube, buddy, it’s alright. You’re not a knucklehead to me. You’re my buddy, my bro.”

“I know, pippeto! I know! We’re both going through this together, bro,” Lu’ube reassured, and the two hugged it out while Rosalind and Initiator watched awkwardly.

“... Might we be led to your boss?” Rosalind suggested, and Pelthrus cleared their throat. “Y-Yeah! Yeah, I can do that,” they said, gesturing out to the sands, presumably to their destination.

“FOLLOW US!” Lu’ube declared, sheathing his bazooka and clapping his hands above his head.

Initiator followed, along with their patroness. “Well, these two sure are… interesting,” they murmured. “But honestly, they seem to be more scared of us than we are of them, so I call that a win.”

“Agreed,” Rosalind whispered back, as Lu’ube and Pelthrus walked together hand in hand, swinging their hands together. Pelthus appeared to be whistling, their head tilted back.

“I really hope I didn’t just put us both in danger,” they whispered anxiously. “I don’t think I could forgive myself if that were the case.”

“You did not, I believe,” Rosalind stated, “but you are right to be cautious.”

The weight on Initiator’s back seemed to partially lift. “Thanks,” they replied with a small smile. “So what’s our plan?”

“To learn, and observe our surroundings. To interact with others, to find out more about this world we find ourselves in. The energy these two give off is alien. Let us find out more about their species and culture.” Rosalind grinned at this. “I was always in love with anthropology - or, in this case, xenopology.” She clapped quietly.

“...Me too,” they said, their face breaking out in a smile for the first time since the Marauders made their appearance. “I can’t wait.”

At this, Rosalind's expression only grew brighter. “An educational experience, yes. Now you see.”

Meanwhile, the two Marauders were still swaying their hands, eagerly chatting with one another. They silenced, staring back at Initiator. Initiator, still not sold on any of this, stared back at them in equal silence.

“... so, uh, what brings you’se folks to Destrus?” Lu’ube asked cautiously.

“My Lady and I were testing out an interdimensional fast travel system, and it sent us here.” They laughed, sure that the truth was unbelievable enough that telling it couldn’t do much harm.

Pelthrus blinked with surprise at that. “That door - I’ve seen a door like that before, you know? In the capital city we were raised in, Taveril’domaine -”

“Pretty city!” Lu’ube interjected.

“Pretty city indeed,” Pelthrus agreed, “but yeah, a door like that showed up in Taveril’domaine a while back, and it hadn’t opened, though everybody tried. So if another one showed up, if it really does come from another world, like - faltras, this has to be real, isn’t it? You really do come from another world.”

“We do,” Rosalind confirmed, nodding decisively. “We came to help people.”

“To help people? This world’s been hurtin’,” Lu’ube sighed. “This world’s really been hurtin’, for a hot minute.”

This caught Initiator’s attention. “How, exactly?” they asked. “We might be able to… well, we might be able to do something about it.”

Lu’ube looked up at the blank white sky. “There’s been a war, between our race - us Dekn folks - and this other race called the Arkn. Nobody knows who started it, but it’s been going on for hundreds, hundreds a’ years. There’s a cult out in the capital - Society of the Purple Rose - filled with innocent peeps, folks who got tangled into shit they couldn’t get outta. Us Marauders have been exiled to the desert, trying to make ends meet through stealin’. Family, friends - we were forced away from ‘em by the Dekn government, those damn Dekn Masters that rule from on high. Our Boss got exiled, and so did we.”

“And all we can do,” he finished, “is to live our lives one day at a time, caught in this big ole’ loop of a war, these shitty people gettin’ away with shitty things, and us having to make ourselves shit just to make a life for ourselves. Can ya help with that? At least give us something to help keep us movin’?”

Rosalind was silent at this. “We can at least attempt to allay the worst anxieties, I feel. If nothing else, this is something we may do.”

“Agreed. I feel obligated, now that I know the whole context.”

Lu’ube paused. Under his strange veil-mask, he smiled, and the two could see his eyes crinkle with the force of the grin. “That’s what we need, yeah, yeah. Thank ya, Lady Plant and Mixxster I.”

“Lady Plant,” Rosalind said, bemused by the nickname.

“Please, Initiator is fine,” Initiator said, considerably less so.

“Initiator and Lady Plant,” he corrected, letting out a huge blow of breath.

“Thank you.”

“So, uh,” Pelthrus said, “we’re getting close to the hide-out. Don’t panic when I open up the alternate entrance. Ok?” “Alright,” Rosalind agreed.

They stopped at what seemed like a random place in the desert. Pelthrus tipped their head back. Upon their head materialized spectral horns, horns that materialized into hard, black bone. They swooped up, little circles crowning the tops of them. And they glowed with a silver hue, something in the desert clicking with a loud noise.

All of a sudden, there was a thud. And from the sands arose a shaded set of stairs, eloquently gilded and gleaming, beckoning the quartet forward into the secret lair of the Scarred Marauders.

—-------

They walked down the stairs, all rejoicing in the cool, shady atmosphere. Rosalind hummed, observing the surroundings. There were ancient carvings of Evarith on the walls, and murals of Arkn living in gilded palaces. She traced the murals with her finger as they walked down the stairs.

The stairs stretched out into a massive hallway where several people, bandits, merchants, craftspeople and artisans alike were bustling about. Above them loomed a series of intricate lanterns. The hideout had, unbeknownst to many Arkn, become an underground city over the years. “Hooooly shiiiit,” Initiator whispered, looking around. This was the kind of place they thought only existed in their imagination. “This is like. I don’t even know what it’s like, but it’s fucking crazy. I think I used to have recurring dreams about places like this as a kid.”

Rosalind laughed with awe, smiling wide. “It is gorgeous. So utterly gorgeous. Pel, would you care to tell us the name of this place?”

Pelthrus blushed a little at the nickname. “Well, uh - it’s the Underground Kingdom of Caselmis, or, uh, Caselmis for short. Not set in stone as a name, we’re still trying to uh, figure it out. Recent addition. This has been our little pet project for the last year or two, especially since word reached Our Boss’s ears that stuff outside was getting bad and we needed to band together.”

“An admirable goal,” Rosalind said, looking up at the lanterns. “This is one that your leader organized?”

“Yes,” Pelthrus confirmed.

“Could you, perhaps, tell us more about your leader?”

At this, Lu’ube’s eyes shone with awe. “He’s the Badlands Emperor, our Commander. His name is Belial Casimir, and he wields an emperor’s blade by his side. He’s as tall as you, Lady Plant, and as deadly.”

“As tall as me?” Rosalind remarked with surprise.

“As tall as you,” Lu’ube repeated.

Rosalind looked at Initiator, attempting to gauge their reaction to this. Initiator, somewhat more comfortable than they’d been a while ago, was letting a lot more of their innermost emotions show, and at the moment, they seemed equal parts shocked and excited by this turn of events. “Anyone who can build all of this and open it to those without any other place to turn gets my respect, no show of force needed,” they said, only partially to cover the fact that they’d really like to see their patroness kick his ass at least once.

“Then let us go to this Badlands Emperor, as you were doing prior,” Rosalind said.

Lu’ube clapped above his head once more. “YEAH! ALRIGHT! Let’s bring ya to Our Boss, then.”

—------------

Belial Casimir loomed upon a throne of bone, twisted metal and velvet. His black hair was long and unruly, a crown of bullets and Nullithic crystals laid upon his head. Black makeup was smudged under his eyes, giving one the impression that he had not slept in many years, as well as giving him an unearthly appearance.

He looked, for all intents and purposes, like a god of the wastelands, a holy wight that brought rumor and bullets in his wake. His amber eyes burned like bright coals in a furnace, evaluating the motley quartet with intrigue. His eyes, especially, lingered upon Rosalind Everhall, whose flowers in her hair still bloomed as vibrant as ever. Initiator’s mannerisms seemed to shift subtly, adopting an air of… well, not deference exactly, but the caution of someone who knows they’re in the room with someone powerful and should tread carefully for their own good.

He remained silent for a minute, pausing to take the sight in. Then, at last, his booming baritone of a voice rang through the room. “I would hear your names, if you would give them.”

Rosalind stared him right in the eyes. “I am Rosalind Everhall, the Head Greenwoman and goddess of a world long dead. Beside me is my beloved cleric, the Initiator. And these are…”

“I am aware of these Rioters. Lu and Pel have served faithfully in my armies for many years now, and they are indeed amusing company. You two may be dismissed to have your evening meals, if you wish, or you may linger to view this conversation.”

Lu’ube grinned wide at this. “We’ll be in the business of lingerin’, if you don’t mind, Boss. Lady Plant is very nice to us, an’ we wanna see if anything goes down.”

“... So, what is your business in coming to our Kingdom underneath the sands?”

Rosalind once more looked towards the Initiator. A silent urging, a test. Letting the sudden panic that surged through them pass without remarking much on it, they took a deep breath and rose to the challenge. “We didn’t intend to come here,” they began. “We were testing a system that allows us to travel between worlds, and… well, we ended up in yours. But now that we’re here, we want to do everything we can to help. Lu and Pel told us about what’s going on in this world and why you built this place, and it’s acts of goodwill exactly like this that we’re trying to support.” Whew. That was a bit more wordy than they’d have liked, but at least it was out. “What I’m trying to say is that we didn’t come here to help, but now that we’re here, you can count on us.”

Honesty didn’t exactly inspire faith, but it was better than a lie.

Belial Casimir paused. He tilted his head back slightly, taking a deep breath in and out. Then he looked back at the others.

“I could see the depth of your sincerity through a duel with you, Head Greenwoman. Would these terms be amenable?”

“They would.” Rosalind’s fanged smile was wide, and wholly genuine. Initiator, meanwhile, looked like a kid who’d just been told that they were getting a pony for Christmas.

Belial stood from his throne in a single fluid, thunderous gesture.

“Hand to hand?”

“Yes. No blade you could give me would fit my hand.”

Belial chuckled. “Excellent. It has been one hundred and fifty-eight years since I have had a satisfactory hand to hand duel with someone. Whatever happens from this, it will be sure to be intriguing.” He set his blade next to his throne, cracking his knuckles in a sound so loud it felt like he was snapping entire bones in half.

Rosalind responded in kind, stretching a little as Belial came forward.

Already people were clearing space, pressing to the walls to make space for this match between two giants.

Belial appeared to be sizing up Rosalind, much like Rosalind was analyzing him.

“First to yield?”

“First to yield.”

“Someone count us down!” Belial thundered, looking around the crowd.

Initiator stepped forward. “If I may?” they asked.

Belial looked down, nodding. “You may.”

Looking between the two, vibrating with excitement, they began the countdown.

The two challengers continued to stare each other down, the energy between them seeming to amplify and scorch as they locked themselves into the proper combat mindsets.

Finally, the instant the countdown concluded, the two sinuously flew into their fighting. Rosalind immediately dropped for a leg sweep. Belial was already blocking and flying into a counter for the leg sweep. The two’s fighting forms were intriguingly different as the battle began. While Belial’s was somewhat rigid and explosive, Rosalind’s was oddly graceful and acrobatic. Belial’s blocking was ironclad, but was always responded to with a sweeping slide of an attack that seemed to flow around defensive forms with ease.

The light above them shook, the sounds of their attacks and the force of their steps making the place tremble and echo with the force of a small earthquake. Rosalind chuckled, Belial responding back with a laugh like crackling lightning. With every blow that Rosalind landed, Initiator got progressively more excited.

It was becoming rapidly clear that the two had just as much training in combat between each other, that the match was between equals in strength. Belial, as well, had counter-strikes for Rosalind that tested all defensive forms she had in her arsenal. And the match seemed to captivate them both. Several times, laughter rang out between them. They were coming to talk with their fists, to learn about each other in a way that a simple conversation with words could not match. The fight went on for fifteen minutes, and went from phase to phase. Punches flowed into kicks, kicks flowed into wrestling, wrestling flowed into acrobatic strikes that had them flying through the air.

Finally, the fight ceased, both of them at a stalemate where one could not overcome the other. Their hands were at each other’s throats. There was a pause, and a silence.

Then, once more, they laughed, and said in unison: “Draw.”

Belial helped Rosalind up and raised her wrist in his hand. “SCARRED MARAUDERS, SUBJECTS ALIKE, LET US CELEBRATE OUR NEW ALLIES WITH A FEAST!”

Rosalind glowed as she never had before, taking the Initiator’s hand in her other one gently. “I would say that was a successful test, Initiator,” she whispered to them, her voice full of warmth and respect.

A pleasant shiver ran down Initiator’s spine as Rosalind took their hand in hers. “I’m glad you think so. I was worried I blew it.”

“I assure you, you did not, my beloved one. Now, to the feast?”

#may 15th!#baelbaurith-sequence #arkn legacy

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of-scholars-and-strings · 2 years

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May 15th, 2022 - Avantas'tol

[Out-of-Game notice: The content introduced in this one-shot is not able to be created with yet, and is closed-source. We’ll be fixing that soon and releasing it to the public in due time! For now, enjoy the story!]

After the Rebellion, Avantas’tol was slowly rebuilding. Buildings had been partially shattered, splotches of blood still being wiped off of the cobble streets. Fliers of propaganda for one side or another blew through the streets. In the midst of it all, the person who the Rebellion had been waged over, Franz Irinith-Faust, had disappeared - gone off to train, it was said, with the old hermit Redgrave.

Tabbris Irinith was proud of his son for at least having realized he needed to better himself, even if there was so much bloodshed that Franz Irinith-Faust had left in his wake. He had dragged himself from the Eldrici’s palace all the way back to Avantas’tol, once more, to rule, to rebuild, to remake Avantas’tol as the place of peace it was known to be.

If only his son were here to take responsibility and rule in the place he should, he thought to himself as he looked upon the skies. They were a blanket of white, calming in nature. He stood upon the balcony of the Avantas’thern, the grand citadel where his family had lived, wind whipping through his short black hair.

This was how things should be, Tabbris thought, a calm unlike any other.

The calm was not to last. After all, the whims of gods were calling. A rhythmic sound, like snapping, began to resound throughout Avantas’tol, and many looked up from their work.

Ahead, in the rolling moors outside Avantas’tol, there lay a new door none had seen before. It was a brilliant silver, inlaid with bright blue and green gemstones that shone like waves on a sea. And the snapping it was emitting was turning into a hum, a choir.

At this point, heads had turned to watch the spectacle, people fearfully approaching. Tabbris himself flew towards the door, landing a ways away from it to watch, blade drawn just in case a threat would come through.

The choir, almost seraphic in nature, grew ever lovelier as the door opened slowly.

“Who goes there?” Tabbris asked, projecting his voice as much as he could.

The choir suddenly silenced. Inside the door was a pitch blackness, a silence beyond anything the world could possibly muster.

Then came a mighty sound of flapping, the beating of wings, and out flew a group of creatures none in the Lathrym had ever seen before. They were lizardlike in nature. Some had two legs. Some had four. Some had wings. Some had none. They were clad in scales, feathers and fur in all hues, a veritable rainbow of serpent-like beasts pouring out into the world and darkening the sky, roaring with joy and anger and hope alike.

It was overwhelming, blowing back all the spectators, who could do naught but watch in awe and horror.

Above the rest soared a four-legged serpent beast with midnight blue scales. Its horns were silver, its green eyes glinting down upon the crowd. As it circled the door to move down, Tabbris could see a detail that added to his already immense confusion. A human was riding this beast, saddled upon its back as if she was born to it. Her curly black hair trailed behind her in the wind, her blue goggles gleaming as she let out cheers.

When she settled down, she dismounted the giant beast, petting its scales. “Alabadan Leslaris, do you mind particularly if I do the introductions?” she said, sighing to the beast.

The beast sighed, speaking in a voice that sounded like a worn library page felt. “I do not. You would better be suited for this than I. These creatures bear more of a resemblance to you than they do to my kin.”

The girl nodded, running a hand through her hair before turning back to look at Tabbris.

“You must be their leader, right?”

“Yes. I am - I am Tabbris Irinith, of the Arkn.”

The girl’s nose scrunched up with confusion as she took off her goggles. Her face was dotted with all kinds of freckles, her gray eyes glittering with amusement. Around her eyes, neck and ears were bright green scales.

“Well, my name is Julis, of the humans - well, mostly. It’s hard to explain, I’m transitioning into a dragon as a reward for my services as a Rider of the Dragons. And my companion is Alabadan Leslaris, of the Dragons. It’s very nice to meet you, Tabbris. Sorry for crashing your party. Enjoy the dragons - I don’t think we can leave through that door, or even that many of us Dragons will want to leave.”

She stuck out a hand to shake.

Haltingly, Tabbris reached out his hand and shook hers.

#apologies for how short it is #may 15th!

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of-scholars-and-strings · 2 years

Text

The Crow of Memory vs. the Scholar of Ersis

[NONCANON CROSSOVER WITH RECOLLECT/THE CAVALCADE RECORDS - happy April Fools!]

The staff, iridescent, gleamed in the dying rays of light. Franz Irinith-Faust, its wielder, had it pointed at a figure, one that wore his face but twisted. The thing was a monster, a V smeared in blood over its mouth, fangs bared, crow talons for hands and feet, large black wings spread from its back.

No Arkn could summon wings on Earth, so it stood to reason that whoever this was... was neither Arkn or Dekn.

Franz Irinith-Faust gulped, trying to deepen his voice to sound more intimidating than he truly felt.

"What, in the name of the Hethe, are you?"

The creature's smile grew, wings spreading. "I am the Crow of Memory, a Munnin to a dead Odin. I am the leader of the Cavalcade of the Black Feather. But you, Duplim? You can call me Locke. Crow Locke."

Faust tightened up his stance. "What in the hells is a Duplim?" he said, his voice wavering. He cursed mentally in his mother tongue, Evarith. He couldn't be losing his nerve, not in front of this one.

"It's what you are. An alternate version of me. Same face, same voice. I'm betting money you go by Locke too, don't you?" Their smile had an almost mocking quality to it now, eyes glittering.

"No. I am Franz Irinith-Faust, foremost half-Arkn scholar of Arkn and Dekn culture. You're mistaken, Crow of Memory, if you think for a second I am like the others. I am nothing like you."

The Crow of Memory scoffed. "That's what they always say."

Faust stared the monster dead in the eyes. "It is a good thing, then, that I am not like 'them'," he said, grip tightening on his weapon.

Crow Locke blinked before it threw its head back. Its laugh was a cackle, distorting rapidly into crowcawing that made Faust wince.

"Why are you here?" Faust asked.

Crow Locke stared straight at him. "I need your blood. Not all of it, just a bit of it, enough to fill a small vial."

"I regret to inform you that you cannot have it. My blood stays in my body as, contrary to your aims, I need it to live."

The monster extended a crow talon, eyes glowing. "Are you sure we can't make a Deal, Faust? I'm sure there's something I can offer you." The distortion on that one word, Deal, made Faust flinch, and he took a deep breath in.

"No."

Crow Locke's smile faded, and they sighed. Putting out a crow talon, a sword materialized in their hand.

It was of Arkn make, Faust could clock that immediately, but from where... from where he couldn't make out, which irked him. It burned with bright blue energy, ancient in ways Faust couldn't even conceive, and the Crow of Memory lifted it up, staring at it in awe. "This is a blade from another Arkn. His name was Cajeri Xeth'i'stral. I've named it Crucible in his honor. It shall take the blood I need."

The energy roiling off of Crucible licked and lapped at the air, tongues of flame alight.

The mention of this name made Faust's jaw drop. "Xeth'i'stral, like... Like Ele'pagi Xeth'i'stral. But he was a god. He sired no heirs, he left behind no descendants! So who is Cajeri Xeth'i'stral?"

Crow Locke's eyes seemed to burn with an emotion Faust couldn't quite make out at this, their expression frozen as they stared straight through Faust. Their voice was a notch lower, a touch darker when they spoke next: "Just an eternal memory in my mind."

That was when they lashed out at him, sword in hand. Faust was lucky to block with Gavreel's Thorn when he did, and he was quick to parry with a blow to the head that made Crow Locke snarl.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Faust! I will have that blood, even if I have to drink it straight from your neck!"

Faust's gaze was livid as he dodged another blow from Crucible. He was careful with his steps. He could see Crow Locke's fighting style was unrefined, driven by the impulse and heat of battle. If he could just goad them into making mistakes, if he could get them into the position he wanted, he could set their feathers on fire and run.

"Never. NEVER, you damned vampire, you faltras pelthrus."

"Did you just call me a slur in Arkn?"

"No, Crow of Memory, I called you a fucking pussy in Evarith."

Crow Locke snarled from down low in their chest. Their orange eyes flared in the dark, and their strikes were getting more fierce by the minute. He dodged in reply, keeping up the defense. He just had to wait for them to make a mistake. Just one mistake. The heat of the blade's flames was practically making Faust sweat through his coat, and he kept taking his deep breaths.

Finally, he saw his opportunity, a misplaced step. He lunged in, grabbing Crow Locke's feathered arm to try and set it on fire, but Crow Locke grabbed his arm with a grin and plunged their fangs into his wrist.

He screamed with agony, trying to tug away, but Crow Locke had a tight grip on him, and his grip on Gavreel's Thorn was white-knuckled as he slammed it into their head over and over to try and get them to let go. It was only after the sixth hit that they stepped away, blood coating their fangs and mouth.

An unnatural green glow flared up in its chest as it smiled at him. "Gotten what I've came here for. Have a nice day, Faust."

And with a flash of black feathers and dark leaves, it was gone, leaving Faust with a bleeding wrist, and many questions.

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of-scholars-and-strings · 3 years

Text

The Vision of the Hallway

The last thing Faust remembers, he was being forced to fight by his half-brother, Sevar’khai. He had fired off a strange burst of energy after fighting one enemy too many before passing out. But when he wakes up, it’s not where he was before.

It’s in an area of the Avantas’tol royal palace that he’s been in before, a hallway with many paintings.

He sees a figure standing in the middle of the hallway, looking at the paintings. The man has short, curly auburn hair. His features are smoothed out, carved so well he looks almost like a Renaissance sculpture - but they also look oddly familiar. He’s got quite the fair complexion. He looks to be at the peak of youth, in his twenties. The Ethric wings stretched out from his back are a gleaming, gorgeous gold. His elegantly thin frame is covered by emerald green robes and Faust smells the spices of Avantas’tol in the air near this man. As Faust approaches, the man speaks in a playful tone, smooth to a fault.

“Hey there, my descendant.”

Faust’s mouth opens in shock, then closes. Was it really..?

The man’s face splits open in an enthused grin. “Yes. It’s me. I’ve wanted to meet you face to face for a very long time, to speak with you. I’ve got so much to tell you.” He takes very long strides, moving with a strange quickness towards Faust before stopping in front of him.

Faust can see the Irinith ring glittering on the man’s right hand. In that moment, he can feel his throat go tight, and he knows he’s about to cry.

“You’ve grown so much since you were born.. You were so tiny when your mother Astrid birthed you. Even before you were born, I was watching. When Tabbris held you for that first time, he cried. You were so perfect to him, Arakiel.” Gavreel Irinith says it softly, tenderly. He smiles slightly as he recalls it.

“Arakiel?” Faust says, a softness to his voice.

“He never told your Arkn name to you?” Gavreel’s brow creases at that, lips pressing together with worry.

“He never told me.. he never told me I had an Arkn name..? I always thought it was my mother that named me.”

“I know he was afraid that if he told you, you would abandon the last bits of your humanity. I assumed he would tell you before he sent you to Ersis, but..”

“He named you Arakiel Inastre Irinith. He gave you a name from a world before this one, he gave you the word for Fallen Star as a middle name, and lastly he recognized you as a legitimate Irinith.”

Faust begins to cry at that, overwhelmed by the sheer emotion of it. Arakiel, he was Arakiel. He smiles through his tears - and he notes Gavreel’s blue-grey eyes look very much like his own.

“I-I failed you. The rebellion, Sevar’khai hurting me in front of everyone, how long I stayed on Ersis and ran from my problems, the fact that I’m a stupid fucking drunkard...” Faust says, his voice cracking. “Maybe I am a mistake, like Sevar’khai said. A failure. I certainly can’t see how I’m a true Irinith like you say.”

Gavreel’s hand slowly brushes against Faust’s cheek, wiping away a tear. “Arakiel, I’ve watched you grow up. I have seen what you’ve done in my name. The good things you’ve done. The people you helped, and the men you saved. I want you to listen to me, ok?”

His tone is warm, full of sincerity as he puts a hand on Faust’s shoulder.

“You are not a failure. Alright? I am proud beyond words to see you as you are now. You stayed true to my ideals, even against the wishes of the imperialist nightmare that the Irinith bloodline has become. You kept the rebellion non-violent even as it went astray. You rejected SEEKER’s insidious deal, a deal that would have put a megalomaniac on the Dekn Throne. You spat in the eye of the Violet Demagogue and rejected his offer. You survived on Ersis, never letting your bitterness and anger overwhelm you for very long - even enduring the torment of friends abandoning you. You even held your ground against Andras and his Morit’sengr Invokare, against the torment he sent after you.”

“I’m so proud of you, Arakiel.”

It occurs to Faust that now Gavreel is crying too, but not out of sadness. Gavreel’s smile is wide now, even as a few gleaming tears run down his face.

“You are a more worthy heir to my legacy than Sevar’khai Elistros Irinith can ever hope to be. You are capable of such great kindness, and I love you so much.”

Gavreel pauses, walking to (and standing in front of) a blank painting canvas. His tears cease.

“You’ve got more than just my legacy on your shoulders. You have your own to fulfill. Someday, this canvas will bear your picture. Someday, you’ll come to understand you have a power in you that stretches beyond the First Irinith, beyond even me.”

“What if I… what if I don’t want that anymore, Gavreel?”

Gavreel pauses, turning to look at Faust with wide eyes.

“Want what?” he asks.

“What if I don’t want your legacy anymore? I’m - I’m a halfbreed, Gavreel. I’m a mistake. What I’ve done, how far I’ve spiralled… I can’t mold myself into this or it’ll break me.” Faust’s eyes gleam with tears.

“You inherit more from me than you realize, but you also inherit from things wilder and stranger than you realize. If you don’t want to carry on my legacy… you can still make a new meaning of my staff. And you can still understand one thing, and one thing alone - you’re more than you think.” Gavreel’s tone was firm and assured.

“How the hell can I know that-”

He hugged Faust suddenly, his wings wrapping around Faust. “Goodbye, Arakiel Inastre, and I bless the winds that shall carry your steps in due time. Good luck.”

The last thing Faust sees is a glittering crown, a scroll set on fire, and a Dekn with a strange brand on his eye as he is jolted out of his visions.

#sots_act_2 #Franz Faust

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of-scholars-and-strings · 3 years

Text

Master of War

The soldiers always stood to attention when Belial entered. It was never out of fear, or the fact that they had it drilled into them - it was, for the most part, out of the respect they held for the Master of War. Today was no different.

Belial was pacing in front of the line of soldiers, his brows furrowed. “The attack upon Shallus will be tomorrow night,” he began. “As I am given to understand, it will be a short and bloody fight. Here’s what we need to accomplish, and how we’ll deal with this. See me after this briefing and drill if you have any concerns.” He continued, explaining the plan and leading them through a drill before walking away.

He knew his Army could handle a little time training by themselves. He was walking back to his office when one of his generals approached - Enza’emviar, judging by the general’s crooked horns.

“Baelbaurith’eldkha, I’ve wanted to speak with you since the drill.” Enza looked around, biting his lip. “Yes, Enza? You’ve got my attention.”

“Well, you see.. my spouse and I birthed a child. A beautiful little girl. In short, I wish to drop out of the army to care for the babe.”

That gave Belial pause. He stopped, thinking for a moment before letting out a sigh. He placed a hand on Enza’s shoulder.

“Enza, you’ve a chance to stay and fight for them in this battle tomorrow. A chance to battle on further, for the sake of those you love.” Enza looked away, wincing and clearly hesitant to stay.

“.. However,” Belial continued, “I will not stop you if you choose to drop out. I will see to it that if you go down such a path, you are provided with an adequate pension as well as ample resources for your family. You and I have fought together for years, Enza’emviar, and I will not give up on you today.”

Enza’s shoulders slumped with relief. He nodded. “Baelbaurith’eldkha Belial, may I be given time to think on it? I will take your words into account,” he said.

Belial nodded, a slight smile on his face.

“You are dismissed, Enza. And one last thing.”

“Yes?”

“Coming from a father, good luck with the little one.”

Belial couldn’t stifle a chuckle in his tone as he patted Enza on the shoulder and walked off.

===========================

Several years passed after that.

Many soldiers from the Dekn Army had followed Belial into exile, refusing to leave the side of the commander they respected so fervently.

Belial was out on the sands of Destrus that night. He looked out on the horizons, watching idly as he heard someone speak from behind him.

“Belial? It’s me. Enza.”

Belial had tensed at first before relaxing.

“Enza. You’re welcome to join me here, if you wish..?”

Enza sat down next to Belial, letting out a deep breath he was unaware he was holding.

There were several moments of deep silence before Enza spoke.

“Do you think your son is still out there somewhere?” he asked softly. Belial didn’t reply.

“I know my girl’s all grown up. Last I remember of her, she got a job as a seamstress. It seems like ages ago,” Enza continued, “since I saw my wife and child.”

That was when Belial spoke up. “I know Maigrir can handle himself. I can only hope that he grew up to be a better man than his old father, and that he’s made a good path for himself.”

“That’s all we can hope for our children, in the end.”

Belial nodded, continuing. “Maybe he will be a swordsman, maybe he will be a soldier. I will most likely never know. I just wish I had been there to see him grow up, Enza. My wife, Emvaekiar, managed to get him out of the Court when I was exiled. Yet I can’t help thinking on it. He was just a boy when Marchosias framed me, he barely knew me..”

Enza turned to look at Belial and saw a few tears glittering in Belial’s eyes.

“Gods, but how I cared for that little boy when I had him.”

#Belial Casimir #baelbaurith_sequence #baelbaurith sequence

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of-scholars-and-strings · 3 years

Text

A Short Phone-call

Faust sat there in his room, trying not to break down. This lodging of his was small - still the same private residence he'd been cooped up in for so long, paid for by Moirah Averil. He truly did owe a debt to that woman he could never repay. It was a small room, the desks and any other surface covered with all sorts of books, tomes, and papers. There were a few clattered, empty bottles on the floor that still smelled of Arkn liquor. The wastebasket was empty.

Right now, he was moving to call his old friend, 4boy, when he found himself demotivated once again. These news that Ma'eve Vallindri had given him had broken him a lot more than he was willing to let on to anybody close to him. Especially to For'ende Elext.

He was mid-picking up another bottle of Arkn liquor from the fridge when his phone buzzed. He looked at the notification.

"... Petrel Raverne?" he hummed, his tone lilting with curiosity.

As far as he knew, Petrel - For'ende's old friend - had hated him with a burning passion, but eventually calmed down. He was currently running a branch of the Miran'khai. So, that raised the question... "Why are you calling me now, of all times...?"

He sighed. He declined the call, turning towards the fridge once more - only for Petrel to call again.

This time Faust picked up, putting the device to his ear. "What is it?" he sighed, his tone betraying his sadness and exhaustion.

"What the fuck have you been doing these past few months that's made it so that you haven't even called For'ende? He's been in an absolute mortal panic over how you haven't responded."

"It's none of your concern."

"It's all of my concern, Faust. You swore to be there for him. And he swore to be there for you. What, you just gonna leave him out in the cold?"

"I received troubling news," Faust hissed, trying to sit and relax, "and I have been attempting to cope with the ramifications of those news."

Petrel paused and Faust could feel the suspicion creeping up the other end. "What do you mean, the ramifications?"

"I have a fucking niece that I was never informed of."

His voice came out a lot sharper than he intended. Petrel whistled. "Yeah, that'd do it. The question is... what are you going to do about it?"

Faust ran a hand through his hair, his voice shaking. "I don't know! Ok? I do not know. That's what I've been doing. Sitting on my posterior, not knowing and not doing anything."

Faust could hear Petrel slam a fist down on the table. "Then fucking do something, Faust. Get moving. Just make your choice-"

"How do I know that I even have choice? I keep getting letters yanking me this way or that, here and there, telling me everything and nothing..."

"Then do what you think is right."

There was a silence between the two.

Finally, Faust began to cry. "I am so overwhelmed. Between this, and the - the nightmares, of what I endured... I feel as if I am about to snap in half at any given moment."

Petrel remained silent.

"Do you judge me for this, Petrel? Do you hate me knowing what I am? What I have been through?"

"... I don't. I've wanted to, sometimes. I did once. But not now."

"Then what do you think I should do?"

"I can't tell you. For best and for worse, you're on your own now. Goodbye, Faust."

Faust sat there, absorbing it all. He looked at the fridge and walked away from it, laying down onto the bed. Petrel was right.

He needed to strategize.

#staff of the scholar #sots-act2

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of-scholars-and-strings · 3 years

Text

Ma'eve

Faust felt small walking into the large dive bar. He twisted his family’s ring as he strode to the entryway of the bar’s private parlor. His hands were shaking; he noted the locks on the door and the muted whispering coming from behind said door.

The door was covered with sigils that would blast away anyone who tried to get in by force. Well-carved, with rethyc crystal inlay.

A huge man stopped him as he approached. “You the kid?” he asked. Faust’s mind raced to come up with the password he was supposed to reply to the man. He took a deep breath in and replied. “Bas an vre Ersis’verikhar. Bas’ordal ire-an galthrung, wov. Fez ane alia.” I am the Scholar of Ersis. This is my meeting, now. Let me in.

Faust flashed his family ring as the man’s eyes widened. “R-right this way, Scholar Irinith.” He placed a key to the door and it opened. Faust could barely believe the sight in front of him. The whole room was designed in a sleek, minimalist manner. On a radio in the room, he could hear Ziggy-era David Bowie playing. There was a black and gold carved booth and one light dangling above it.

Sitting in front of Faust was a woman with slicked back blonde hair and well-carved cheekbones. She was smoking a long and thin cigar, taking lengthy draws from it.

She smelled of wine, perfume and smoke. There were several rings on her fingers that looked as if they might hold poison. Her suit was pressed and ironed. Her eyes were trained on Faust. “Franz Faust. I assume your transport was comfortable?” she said.

Faust’s fists clenched. His teeth gritted as he stared at Ma’eve. “There must be a mistake. I don’t believe that I would bargain with a fucking mass murderer for the crown to a kingdom of peace.”

Ma’eve said nothing, breathing out tongues of smoke.

“You’ve got a reputation, Irinith. What you did with Marchosias - and Andras - was a power play. Something you should never have been able to do. Not a single other half-breed can try what you did and live. Word has it among those with influence that you had a friend assisting you with the deed. The fact still remains.”

She leaned forward, staring Faust dead in the eyes.

“How’d you do it?”

Faust paused and thought out his answer carefully before replying, simply, “I’ve got powerful connections.”

“Powerful connections indeed. You had the niece of Moirah Averil helping you. Sit down, Faust.”

Faust did not sit.

Ma’eve‘s lips stretched into a thin grin. “So many see me as the lap-dog to the CEO, don’t they? They underestimate my influence. They don’t realize that while Kitano is the one buried in paperwork, I’m the one that’s making the real decisions around SEEKER.” She leaned forward a little more, eyes flashing gold as she took in a sharp breath of her cigar.

“Franz Faust, I wouldn’t have held this meeting if I hadn’t gathered every single bit of information I could have on you. I know everyone of influence and I know what they’ve done. I know of Shanna Averil, I know of For’ende Elext, I know every person of note you keep in contact with and subsequently I know of you. You may have had help in kidnapping Marchosias Aversen, but your solo escape from Andras and the fact that you survived his experiments is no small feat. Word has it that you even took his eye and his right hand.” She paused, staring at Faust for a second.

“Yes. I did. The eye I gave to For’ende Elext, as an Inkaal’sen gift. The hand is still preserved back in Ersis.”

Ma’eve paused again to consider this before continuing.

“Fucking sit, Franz Faust, I’ve got no qualms with forcing you to do so.”

Faust lowered himself into a chair, squinting at Ma’eve.

“I’ll get to the point, Faust. The people hate your half-brother right now more than they’d hate a half-Arkn on the throne. Gavreel’s Thorn gives you the valid claim to the throne you need. You’ve got a lot in your favor when it comes to this rebellion, I’ve got to hand it to you. It would be an advantageous move for Avantas’tol to see some new leadership on the throne that isn’t your half-brother. There’s already a rebellion that has been brewing there for a while, under the name of the Ismora’sai. They need a figure-head, the ‘Fallen Star’ they’ve been murmuring about, and you’d fit the bill. The fact that you have Purple Rose backing helps.”

“Not by choice,” Faust hissed.

“There’s just one thing that stops you from killing Sevar’khai outright and being done with the whole damn thing.” Ma’eve finished.

“What?”

“More accurately, who. Hamaza.”

“Wait.. Hamaza? Who is that?”

The look on Ma’eve’s face was concealed well, but her hands clenched in shock. “You truly don’t know?” “No?”

“They didn’t tell you? Your own niece born a couple of years after they exiled you, and they really told you nothing?”

Faust was trying to process it. A.. niece? Sevar’khai had a child? Faust grabbed his head, trying to think. His gaze dropped to the table.

Ma’eve merely watched Faust’s silent breakdown.

After a minute of silence, Ma’eve was the one to reply. “She wouldn’t be old enough for the throne, Faust, but she’d grow to threaten your reign in time. Killing a small child isn’t something you’d do, not from what I’ve heard about you. What’s your plan to deal with her?”

“I won’t punish a child for the sins of her father. When I take the throne, I’ll rule until Hamaza comes of age. Then the throne goes to her, she has a better claim than I.” Faust folded his arms, still shocked.

“Then my deal stands. We’ll back up your bid for the throne of Avantas’tol and win you the support you need if you give us more of a foothold in the lives of the Arkn citizens in the Empyrium. You don’t have to be obvious about it, as your half-brother was..” Ma’eve replied.

“What does that mean? More weaponry from SEEKER? Because that’s not something I’m willing to accommodate. Sevar’khai may have been good for your business, but you’ll find I’m a far different ruler than he is.”

Ma’eve sighed at that. “No. That is not what I meant.” “What did you mean, then?” Faust was growing more tense. His grip was tightening on the arm-rests.

Ma’eve seemed to deflate, slightly. She closed her eyes, letting out a puff of smoke. “Systematic genocide was never what Zazriel Devereaux intended when he founded SEEKER. What he wanted was something like UMEEC. A company for the Arkn that could help us give back to the people while still working for the Ythen. When the Miran’khai took a heavier hand in our company, it came at the cost of our morality. It’s become a den of sanctioned slaughter, and it weighs on my mind heavily, Faust.

“The kingdom you seek to build is one that Zazriel would have not only admired, but championed. He looked up to your ancestor Gavreel. So what I propose is this: you work with us, and you help us forge a new path to helping the Arkn communities. I cannot stop the slaughter in SEEKER, though I have tried to. But you can help us change that.”

“Go fuck yourself. You haven’t tried to change anything, you would have done it if you really wanted the slaughter to end. You said it yourself. You make the real decisions around SEEKER. Therefore, you COULD HAVE FUCKING ENDED IT LONG AGO. YOU’RE LYING TO ME OUTRIGHT.”

“I see something in you, Faust. Don’t throw this opportunity away. You’re different than the arrogance and conquest I see coming from your bloodline. You’ve got a determination, a thirst for knowledge that I’ve only seen in a few sparse Arkn and Dekn. You’d be the first half-Arkn to sit any throne in the Arkn realm.”

“To sum it up, Faust, you’ve got nerve. Lots of nerve, to speak to me like that. Sheer, unfiltered Erisian nerve combined with a fine Arkn upbringing and a knowledge of Arkn culture that rivals even that of a seasoned scholar. You know the Arkn tradition thoroughly, you respect it, but you’re not afraid to dispose of it if need be.”

She paused to take another smoke. “You will be a more able tool to us than your half-brother ever was, and we’ll see that your Inkaal’sen.. For’ende Elext.. is amply rewarded for your aid.”

Ma’eve smiled, her eyes crinkling.

Faust’s patience broke at that moment.

“How dare you. How fucking dare you use my own Inkaal’sen against me. How dare you attempt to justify your cruel actions by spitting the ideals of my own ancestor back in my face? Your company slaughters millions, you enable the war and devastation that company causes… Gavreel Irinith would have hated you. He would have absolutely despised you scum and all of your works.”

Faust took a deep breath, still staring with as much rage as he could manage at Maeve.

“I will cause this uprising without your aid, I will become the finest ruler Avantas’tol has ever seen, and I will never work for you, Ma’eve Vallindri. Never. SEEKER and Purple Rose are two sides of the same damned coin, and I refuse to entertain either.”

Maeve quirked an eyebrow. “Be careful, Franz. You tread on uncertain ground. I am not one to make an enemy of.”

“And I am not one to idly stand by while you make a mockery of everything Gavreel Irinith stood for.”

Faust got up from the chair, storming out.

“COME BACK HERE, FRANZ IRINITH FAUST! YOU WILL REGRET THIS!”

In Faust’s hand, as he left, Gavreel’s Thorn materialized.

It glowed faintly with a new light, one that went unnoticed by Faust himself.

#staff of the scholar #sots-act-2 #franz-faust #sots-act2

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of-scholars-and-strings · 4 years

Text

Staff of the Scholar: How To Get Into It/a more comprehensive covering of Act I of Staff of the Scholar

Above all else, Staff of the Scholar is the story of Franz Irinith-Faust. This story is about his struggle with the family legacy that’s been thrust onto him, the ways in which he copes with the trauma inflicted upon him, his struggles with pacifism, and generally acts as a high fantasy epic written to explore the autistic person’s experience of dealing with trauma from an actual autistic person’s perspective.

More about our protagonist: he’s a scholar of the culture of two alien races: the Arkn and the Dekn. Specifically, he’s a half-Arkn, half-human boy, descended from a long and illustrious line of Arkn nobility on his father’s side known as the Iriniths.

He has the ability to summon a special staff known as Gavreel’s Thorn, made by his ancestor, Gavreel. Gavreel himself, a pacifist, made this staff to pass down for those he deemed worthy of his legacy. Whatever aims he had in making Faust the heir of Gavreel’s Thorn, Faust is the first person to use the Thorn in several years.

The thing is, Faust himself is far from pacifistic.

He participates in overseen matches of a game called “Blood Flags” with his half-Arkn friends, For’ende “4boy” Elext and Petrel Raverne. He has incredible anger issues passed down from his grandfather, the infamous colonizer and tyrant known as Amartas Irinith. And most of all, he has a drive to gain knowledge, at any and all costs.

He also has a drive to spread that knowledge, which is why he makes his blog: @archives-of-the-scholar.

This is where our story starts: with his introduction.

Soon he begins to open up about his past. Our boy was raised in the Arkn city of Avantas’tol, where a certain incident caused by his half-brother, Sevar’khai, led to him getting sent to Earth, which he calls Ersis.

He was not happy about this.

He talks about his friends, 4boy and Petrel.

He’s so lost in his rambling that he barely even realizes something’s gone wrong until an anonymous person tips him off to the fact that somebody’s uploaded his private audio logs to Youtube.

Again, he is not happy about this.

[[[[[[ He is even less happy when the hacker, A, leaves a message for him. ]]]]]] < DISCLAIMER: That bracketed plot point was made before I realized I was trans nonbinary and realized how fucking shitty deadnaming a trans character for drama is. Consider it outdated and only dubiously canon.

While this is going on, Faust meets @shannathesiren: a Dekn-born singer also stranded on Ersis. Shanna and Faust appear to bond over their shared disillusionment with Ersis and resentment towards their family for sending them there.

And then the same person that posted Faust’s audio logs hacks Faust’s blog.

He posts another audio log.

He begins answering questions, tagging each reply under the #B) tag. He reveals that he needs Faust’s skill for an arrangement. In exchange for this arrangement, he offers up a library pass to a huge library of Arkn and Dekn knowledge known as the Alunerium. He explains that he is a researcher, a hero eradicating diseases of the Dekn body... while also conducting unethical experiments on living test subjects. He describes his extreme distaste for the Dekn Court - specifically, for a certain being in it by the name of Marchosias.

Shanna messages A, and when Faust comes back, the two seem to piece together that A is a very high-ranking member of the Dekn Court.

And then A sends another message to Faust.

The two begin to converse and the situation quickly begins to break down.

For starters, A says he’ll be seeing Faust sooner than he thinks and leaves our protagonist with a rather politically incorrect threat.

He continues to frustrate Faust with strange whistling that can’t be identified before posting the second audio log to Youtube.

And then an argument breaks out between A and Shanna that reveals that Shanna has met him before. As a matter of fact, he saved Shanna’s life at the cost of her mother’s, and says that Shanna should be grateful for that lifesaving treatment.

Faust comes back to his blog, sees how upset Shanna is being made, and strikes back with a post talking of a member of the Dekn Court called Andras As’phyxiar who conducts illegal experiments.

Judging from A’s response, it becomes rapidly clear that A’s true identity is indeed Andras.

Andras is so infuriated by Faust’s response that he proceeds to put Faust under the Fear Invocation. Apparently, what Faust sees while under Fear Invocation is the half-brother that got him sent to Ersis, to Andras’ amusement.

And then 4boy shows up to lock Andras away. He bandages Faust’s wounds, and all is well (mostly) until the ringing and whistling Faust hears begins to get louder.

A few days pass before Faust reveals that Andras tried to kill him.

Andras finally posts his deal, while in his Ersis body. He reveals that he wants his rival Marchosias and another being by the name of Ryael sent to a bandit king out in the Arkn realm’s wasteland area of Destrus, and that Faust needs to do it. Apparently, Ryael is a reincarnation of the same person that helped assassinate Gavreel.

And then Faust gets the bright idea to get Shanna’s help in capturing Marchosias. Faust, 4boy and Shanna meet in real life to discuss the plan. Eventually, they carry out the plan and Faust posts of how he’s restrained the famous Marchosias thoroughly, transporting him to Destrus. Shanna feels guilty about it, but nothing more comes of it until Shanna finally gets the nerve to go and rescue Marchosias.

Andras is not happy about this, and he is especially not happy when his most hated enemy Marchosias takes to Shanna’s blog to taunt him about it.

And as such, Andras lashes out at Faust.

Thus passes a long and horrible few weeks of Faust undergoing sustained usage of the Fear Invocation, where 4boy often comes onto the blog to update the readers of the horrible things happening to Faust’s mental state.

Andras posts after that long streak, showing the reader what they missed.

To make a long story short, Faust stood up for himself

and was repaid

by being kidnapped by Andras himself.

Andras’ assistant, Lutin, keeps us updated on exactly what’s going on with Faust’s torture.

The bit we see of it is not pretty.

At last, somebody submits a message to the blog containing details of Marchosias’ experiments that provides an opportunity for Faust to escape.

And boy, oh boy, Faust escapes with a much more brutal method than his ancestor could have ever dreamt of. He swears eternal, deep platonic loyalty to his dear friend, 4boy, and begins to recover from Andras’ torment a little bit at a time.

Lutin also posts an audio log he accidentally recovered from the future which includes Andras and Marchosias finally talking together for the first time on audio.

This ends off Act I... but the seeds of Act II are being planted.

Faust is recovering enough to write a post personally on the blog and talk a bit about the psychological triggers Andras gave him.

Things are quiet until Faust receives a letter from an unknown source discussing unrest in Avantas’tol, the fact that a rebellion is brewing there to overthrow his half-brother, Sevar’khai. He decides to prepare to go to Avantas’tol to join this rebellion.

While he prepares, he is unwillingly coronated as a Saint in Marchosias’s horrible cult, The Society of the Purple Rose - meaning that the Society will do everything in their power to bring Faust into the fold as one of Marchosias’ faithful, just like they did with Shanna.

4boy responds to this unwilling canonization by posting a slew of heretical memes on the Society of the Purple Rose blog and actively starting a counter-propaganda campaign against them that manages to make several people question their beliefs towards Marchosias.

For once, Marchosias is not happy about this and posts a letter that causes Faust to come back with the most searing retort he’s posted ever since Andras tortured him.

Faust arrives in Avantas’tol on May 15th, at the same time as a certain door appears near the Dekn Court.

He meets with someone who apparently will help him, but the two exchange terse words, and the meeting ultimately does not go as planned. He is left in a depressive slump over it until an unexpected phonecall jolts him out of his delirium and he begins to fight in the rebellion.

The rebellion does not go well for Faust, though he does have a highly encouraging meeting with another that bolsters his resolve.

There is a long moment of silence from Faust until he comes back. He appears to be in an even further solemn mood, and only willing to provide a scant few details of what he went through. Further posts imply that the rebellion succeeded and that his half-brother is now dead, but his mood seems to suggest it didn’t go as well as he thought. He states that he’ll be leaving Ersis soon to go with someone who’s helped him, and a post from another confirms that his half-brother has died. He also apparently now has a therapy cat.

After another period of silence, he issues a long post of apologies in which the identity of his new mentor is revealed: Jacques Redgrave, the former Emperor of the Dekn and one of the very few creatures to have come from the universe that existed before Legacy.

Upon Redgrave’s request, Faust finally opens up about what the rebellion was like in an eye-opening post that reveals just how deeply Faust was used by Marchosias. He goes on to impart a word of wisdom from Redgrave before further musing on his condition.

The last few posts that Faust makes don’t progress much of the plot, but they do reveal a lot about his mental state and where he’s at, setting up Act II.

The post that closes out Act I of Staff of the Scholar is one last post from Franz Irinith-Faust before he hands the blog over to Petrel and 4boy for a bit, implying that Redgrave has shown him recollections of other realities, memories and knowledge of a wider multiverse beyond Legacy.

And so, Act II begins... otherwise known as Staff of the Scholar: Sacred Decay.

#staff of the scholar #sots-act0 #sots-act1 #sots-act2 #franz-faust #Marchosias Aversen #andras as'phyxiar #arkn mythos #arkn legacy #recap post #high fantasy #Fantasy Writing #fantasy #writing project #writing promo #prose

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of-scholars-and-strings · 4 years

Text

A Dinner To Remember

When Senêrouxe As’phyxiar stands at the door, waiting for the man he’ll kill, his mind wanders to his sister.

The mental link between her and him is vast, thicker than sin. He “opens up” the link.

He’s coming, Senêrouxe thinks at his sister.

Did you prepare the poison?

Already in his wine. I made sure it was well-mixed. He won’t taste it until it’s too late.

Good. I’m proud of you, brother. You’ve always been the bolder of us two.

I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you, Annis.

You’re welcome, Sen. Good luck.

And the link “closes.”

Senêrouxe closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in. His hands shake, his mind beginning to focus. He shoves it back into thinking on his goal. Tonight, the one man who’s troubled him so deeply and dearly - ever since those old college days - is finally going to die. He knows this.

He still remembers the blood on his hands when he found his lover’s body (murdered by that thing he’s inviting to dinner, that monster), and the way his lover’s eyes had looked. Caris had such inviting, relaxing eyes. They were his comfort in times of experimentation. They were the thing he had often dreamt of. And yet they had been so glassy when he looked into her eyes for the last time.

That alone is enough for him to put in the deadliest, most painful poison his sister could procure into the wine. He takes another deep breath, leaning against the doorway for support. He’s cut his hair to shoulder length - he’s cleaned up more than usual, with the help of his terrified assistant Lutin. There would be no hesitation.

Tonight, he’s going to watch as Levitas Aversen chokes on his own blood, eyeballs leaking out of his head. Due revenge for Caris.

Levitas smiles as he walks up to the door. He’s just as well-groomed, his purple eyes shining in the dim light. He seems to have dressed in his sharpest attire for this occasion, if the self-satisfied smirk he’s wearing on his face is any indication.

“You’re holding the door open for me, Senêrouxe? How considerate.”

“Guest courtesy,” Senêrouxe hisses.

Levitas pauses and helps himself to a chuckle. “I should have invited myself over to your private abode earlier, then. What is the saying in the cabarets and brothels I’ve started running recently…” He pauses in faux-thinking. It’s incredibly obvious he already knows the answer, but the pause is enough for Senêrouxe to escort Levitas inside and remove his coat from his shoulders.

After that, Levitas finally lets out an “Ah! Yes!” and continues on with his response: “The guest is king.”

“Yes, yes, the guest is king,” Senêrouxe grumbles, tossing Levitas’ coat into the coat room.

“I saw that,” Levitas sing-songs softly.

“You saw nothing. Now, to the guest’s dining room.”

As Senêrouxe and Levitas walk together, Levitas decides to indulge in Senêrouxe’s least favorite past time: small talk.

“How has your internship under Malphas been fairing, Senêrouxe?”

Senêrouxe sighs. “He’s a manipulative bastard on a bad day, but he has his bright moments. The studies we do together are enlightening.” He tries not to show any sign of obvious irritation, but the way his hands are shaking says otherwise.

“Excellent work, Senny! I can say I’ve been learning a lot under Balam. I can’t wait to rob him of everything he holds dear,” Levitas chirps in that trust-fund, go-get-em voice of his.

Senêrouxe adds that specific tone of his under his list of reasons why he hates Levitas.

They get into the dining hall. It’s blanketed in a sickly green glow, the ornate green-fire candles adding a rather strange ambiance to the place.

Sitting there is Senêrouxe’s wine glass and, of course, Levitas’ special glass.

Senêrouxe seats himself. He takes a sip of his wine. He’s laced it with a milder poison - Annis helping him with poison immunities means that most poisons are now delicious spices he uses in his foods and drinks.

Levitas seats himself, too. “What wine is this?”

“Talarajah Estate. Second Era vintage. Be grateful I’d waste such an old wine on such a repulsive, lustful little creature like you.”

“Talarajah Estate?” Levitas gasps in mock surprise, smirking. “You know me too well, dear Senny.”

“Call me that one more time and I don’t care about ‘the guest is king,’ I will stab you in the hand.”

“Like you would really do it.” Levitas smirks even wider. The small talk continues.

Levitas keeps putting the glass near his lips, but interrupting himself to spew more verbal refuse Senêrouxe quite frankly could care less about. It’s got Senêrouxe on edge, his teeth practically grinding.

Levitas starts swirling the wine in the glass lazily. “Remember Caris?” he says in a lighthearted tone, and Senêrouxe’s claws dig into the armrests of his chair.

“Yes,” Senêrouxe growls, “I remember her every day of my life.”

“She was so beautiful, wasn’t she? Sometimes I wish she hadn’t overstepped her bounds so deeply. She could have been better. Oh… Senny, she could have been one of us.” The wine glass dips right near Levitas’ lips, yet it doesn’t enter his mouth.

“What are you trying to say, Levitas?”

Levitas’ smirk is at its peak.

“If she hadn’t gotten so close to you, Senêrouxe… if she’d backed away when she’d been told… I would have let her live. But she staked herself on you, and it cost her her life. In a sense, that means it’s your fault she died, doesn’t it?”

Senêrouxe’s teeth are audibly grinding against each other. He says nothing, taking a very deep breath in and out.

“Ah, but this wine… I simply must have a sip,” Levitas says, finally pouring the wine into his mouth. Senêrouxe waits in anticipation. Levitas would fall to his knees choking any minute now.

Levitas still sits in his chair, smirking that infuriating, stubborn grin.

“Is something the matter, Levitas?”

Levitas throws his head back and laughs, high and mocking.

“I didn’t think you’d be so bold to taint this wine with Ced’ric’s Corizet! Of all the poisons to choose, you had to pick the one I’m most immune to.”

Senêrouxe’s face goes slack and pale, his eyes freezing over with blind rage.

Levitas throws the wine glass down on the ground, shattering it. He’s still laughing, still smirking, still staring with that violet look of amusement. “Senêrouxe, you’re willing to attempt to murder me over a murder from five years ago? Over some hopeless, foolish, idealistic bitch of a g-”

And that’s when Senêrouxe finally snaps, drawing a knife from his sleeve and practically throwing himself over the table to stab Levitas. Levitas grabs Senêrouxe’s wrist, deflecting his knife and throwing the man down on the ground.

The two begin to grapple with each other, Senêrouxe making the motions to stab Levitas with Levitas trying to grab his wrists and stop him. “How dare you say that about Caris?! HOW DARE YOU?! I LOVED HER! I LOVED HER AND YOU BUTCHERED HER BODY FOR ME TO FIND!”

Levitas smiles. “Oh, Senêrouxe, you can’t kill me - you’ll never be able to kill me.”

“Watch me,” Senêrouxe spits, pressing down even further.

“I’ll live inside your head. I’ll corrupt your mind. I’ll take your heart, I’ll devour your soul. Fight me all you want, Senêrouxe, but I am patient, and I will make you hungry… hungry for something only I can give.”

Senêrouxe’s blade wavers, a few inches away from Levitas’ throat.

His face is still ashen pale, his eyes haunted and wide.

“Can you feel that, Senêrouxe? I can hear your fear pumping through your veins. I will take from you - and I will take more than you could have ever given to that dear bitch Caris.”

Senêrouxe goes quiet, his eyes meeting Levitas’.

“Do you understand now, Senêrouxe?”

The blade stills against Levitas’ throat. For a minute, Senêrouxe can feel the rush, the intoxication, the fever of Levitas’ Beguilement. In return, he bares his fangs and unleashes his own power - the fear, the rage, the clawing vice-grip of the Fear Invocation.

Levitas squirms and his eyes go wide with nothing short of pure dread. Meanwhile, Senêrouxe shakes like a cold man that will never be warm again. Caught up in the rush of two powers, the two writhe and fight there in Senêrouxe’s estate for hours and hours.

It’s a memory that sears its way into both of their heads for the rest of their lives.

#andras as'phyxiar #Marchosias Aversen #baelbaurith-sequence

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of-scholars-and-strings · 4 years

Text

Of Distant Stars

It’s the day Franz Faust arrives back in Avantas’tol - May 15th - that the star-showers begin.

He’s been lost in the overwhelming love he feels for the city, wandering through its streets and ducking through alleyways, stumbling into the top floor of a library he’s overly fond of when the star-fall begins. He’s reading when people around him begin to whisper, peeking through the windows to look up at the sky in awe.

“What the…” Faust rushes out to the balcony as well, throwing the doors open to stare up at the stars. Indeed, there they are.

Stars of crystal cut through the sky. The way they streak through the blank white skies - iridescent and near-blinding - is enough to draw curious Arkn out of their homes and onto the streets to look up at the sight. The way they gleam gives him an overwhelming wave of nostalgia for a place he’d never been. Strange words he’d only ever heard in his studies of the Old World myths, words like Elysia and Debigrath, ripple through his head. He stumbles back, breath hitching in his throat.

“What the fuck?” he whispers softly to himself, so disoriented he stumbles back into a table. His head is as dazed as the moons, his vision getting blurry. All at once, he knows he has to do something, anything. He has to call somebody, write something down, anything in this moment where his mind feels like it’s floating out of his head.

He runs out of the library. He runs through the streets, through the whispers of people around him - whispers like gavreel’s heir, the half-arkn boy, the forgotten irinth, arriving back in avantas’tol on a day when stars fall? what are these stars, i’ve never known that they looked like this before? this is a sign, the scholar of ersis bringing star-fall, this is a sign, a scholar of the falling stars.

He makes his way to the room in which he’s staying, a private residence Moirah Averil had rented for him. He slips into the room, closing the door behind him. His feet are on a flurried path to… well, he doesn’t know where, all he knows is the overwhelming pressure of needing to document this. All he knows is that his mind is running on overdrive, his fingers picking up his phone and hurriedly trying to type out notes.

“Today, May 15th, the stars have begun to fall, the stars have begun to fall…” he recites to himself. It’s that moment that For’ende Elext calls him. Faust has his contact name set as “4boy”, nothing more, nothing less. Faust picks up.

“For’ende, what the hell are you calling me now for…?!”

“THE SKY! THE SKY IS… it’s going, it’s…”

“Spit it out! The stars are falling? Is that what you’re going to say?”

“More than that! It’s, it’s going ape-shit everywhere in the Empyrium! I mean, like, in Distalia the sky is growing vines and Mistria’s got reverse snow and Shallus literally - the sky is being PAINTED ON with strange paint by an invisible brush, and in the Elevrium there’s, there’s this…”

“This what?”

“There’s this storm going on there, and this big door appearing…”

“A door?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The door appearing next to Taveril’domaine is gilded, immense and sealed shut.

Whispers come out of it, chanting in a language nobody can quite put their finger on or identify.

The entirety of the Dekn Court is packed in the gardens, in the balconies, staring up at its massive frame in the distance.

Two Dekn Masters, in particular, watch the door’s thunderous appearance from a private balcony of their own. One - purple-eyed and powerful, sitting in his own chair - smiles so wide he looks more like he’s baring fangs, while the other - in a plague doctor’s mask with deep red lenses, draped over a seat of his own - looks on in utter unamusement.

“Why did you invite me here again, Marchosias?”

“Shush. You know this is an opportunity, Andy, dear.”

“Ah, yes. An opportunity for you and your stupid little book club of sexual ingrates. How fun. Changing the subject, could you stop smiling like that? I swear, your face is going to slough off if you keep smiling that way.” Andras tilts his head at Marchosias in such a way that it could be seen as a ‘fuck you.’

“Look, nothing of this scale has happened in Taveril’domaine in years. This is a sign - let’s take this as a good sign. It’s a new aeon for us both. I mean, come on. My plan is still on track… you’re able to show your face and hands -”

Andras coughs twice, rather violently. His head tilts in that “fuck you” way again, and his hands begin to shake as he clenches them.

“... Hand, right. I’m still getting that U.M.E.E.C replacement for you, my dear, sweet Andy. Don’t worry your little head at all.”

“Call me ‘dear, sweet Andy’ again and I’ll stab you with that machete I gave you from the Old World archives. Persophelus Crow’s machete.”

“Where exactly will you stab me with Crow’s Machete, Andy? I can think of many wonderful places...” Marchosias turns around to look at Andras, grinning another one of his shit-eating and somewhat illicit grins he’s so fond of flashing at Andras.

“Close your mouth, Levitas Aversen, and never open it again,” Andras sputters before a large crack of multi-colored lightning comes down in the distance and the door finally fully materializes.

Both of them turn to look at it just in time to see the display.

The many colors gleam against the deep red lenses of Andras’ mask, a transfixing and horrid sight.

Marchosias chuckles.

“Well, Andras, my dear…”

Andras grips the armrests to his chair, his claws sinking into the fancy velvet with a tearing sound. “What?” he grits out.

The smile Marchosias flashes at Andras is deeper, darker and more coldly pragmatic than Andras is used to seeing out of the other man usually.

“Welcome to the new age.”

------------------------------------------------

The Dekn Emperor, Xerinos Redgrave, looks nervous, of all things.

It has been an hour since the door manifested. Something about the way he’s pacing back and forth, staring out the windows at the sight of that large door, is enough to set even others around him to unease.

He has the full force of the ones he trusts the most in the Dekn Court gathered by him. The Dekn Masterix of War (an armor-clad woman by the name of Decarabia), the Dekn Master of the Gallows (Alastor, stern and imposing in his executioner’s attire), the Dekn Master of Whispers (Camio, clothed in a strangely twisting mask and several veils), and even the Dekn Master of Forbidden Knowledge (Andras, still in a plague doctor mask and attire) are at his side, awaiting the arrival of a certain man the Emperor invited.

“Now,” Camio chirped, “who exactly is the person we’re waiting for?”

Xerinos’ hands were unsteady, shaking just a little. “My f-father. I haven’t seen him in years. He’ll be able to tell us the nature of this door. Where it comes from, what caused it. I’ve never seen any wiser than him when it comes to the inner workings of this world - he was there at its creation.”

“... Forgive me for not believing that entirely, my Eld,” Andras hums.

A teleportation array crackles at the floor, glowing bright and hot as magma. A figure begins to materialize, something about reality simply turning inward and expanding at his arrival. Whispers invade their ears, color and static and rumor coming together in a single explosion of overstimulation.

As Xerinos blinks and tries to get rid of the afterimages seared into his eyesight, a voice rings out through the Court, distinctive and sharp.

“What, my boy, you think I wouldn’t come through this array with style? You’ve been losing your touch, Xerinos.”

Standing in the array is a man who seems to be locked in a state of timelessness. His hair is grey, his eyes mismatched, a symbol scarred around one of his eyes. He’s still bold, and handsome, and new, and so very, very alive. He’s clad in a red waistcoat, too.

Jacques Redgrave, one of the first Dekn - the first Dekn in the history of this world, depending on who you ask - chuckles at the small gathered assembly.

“I would think you would gather the whole Court here to greet me, Xerinos. You always were an ass-kisser.”

Xerinos shakes his head. “They are all attending a broadcast from a certain Master in the Court - I try to keep myself out of these petty Court politics, focus on ruling the kingdom.”

Jacques shakes his head, chuckling. “My boy, those ‘petty Court politics’ will be the death of you. But enough of that. What I came for is the door. I want you and your subordinates to lead me there.”

---------------------------------------------

The door is golden. Symbols from the Old World are carved into it, intricate and gilded with gemstones. People have already tried to pry the gemstones off, to no avail - they wouldn’t budge from the door. Moreover, the door itself wouldn’t open, no matter what action they took.

And there is a whisper coming from the door - a chanting, sinuously slithering into their ears. Jacques smiles.

“There’s no doubt of this… of what I’m hearing and seeing…”

“What are they chanting?” Andras asks.

“Why did this door appear?” Camio asks.

“Can we get rid of this… hideous thing?” Alastor asks.

“Is there some way we can open it?” Decarabia asks.

The four ask it all at once, and Jacques laughs.

“Settle down, settle down. I can answer one of those things.”

Xerinos’ eyes are wide. He clasps his hands together, looking at his father with a rather frightened look. “What is it?”

Jacques’ smirk is wide and glittering in the light.

“You are listening to chanting in the tongues of Gods.”

#arknx1 #arkn legacy #franz-faust #sots-act2 #Marchosias Aversen #jacques-redgrave #Andras As'phyxiar

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of-scholars-and-strings · 5 years

Text

Avantas’tol

“Franz, ire-an panatake.. Callore tel an!”

The Half-Arkn boy ceased his studying amongst the flowers.

His breathing hitched.

Days like these were a blessing to him, and this courtyard was one of his favorite haunts.

His eyes flicked up to the distinctive, rough face of his father.

Faust had grown to admire the warrior’s countenance that his father had; with his neatly trimmed beard and muscular frame, Tabbris Irinith almost looked the spitting image of a mythical Arkn saint. (if you disregarded Tabbris’s auburn hair, of course).

“Bas an callore, ire-an Elbaset!” Faust said in reply. He scratched down one last note as he stood.

“Enk’tuura, Elbaset, an-” the boy began, before his father cut him off.

“Franz, remember what you were taught. Speak in Erisian.” Tabbris replied smoothly in English.

Franz couldn’t stifle a frown at that. “Good afternoon, Father.” he replied hesitantly in English. “My grasp on this tongue is..” He searched for a word, his brow furrowed slightly and his face scrunched up. “.. poor.”

His father sighed. “But you must know a little. If ever a time comes where you must walk on Ersis, you must speak their language. You forget that although I raised you as an Arkn, you still hold human blood in you. If I did not know English, I would not have met your mother.”

Franz nodded and remained quiet. “What is it?”

“It is time for your daily training in battle, alongside your half-brother. You cannot survive in this world as a scholar alone, Franz Faust.” Tabbris chuckled softly.

“The pen is not always as mighty as the sword. You will learn that your aura marks you as half-Arkn, and many will seek to destroy you for that. That is why I insist on your training.”

Faust nodded. “Alright, father.”

Tabbris could sense the small boy’s hesitation as he motioned for Faust to follow him.

“Follow me, my boy. After training, we can stop by the royal library. Maybe we can even have your favorites, cavaloca or sattaba, for dinner.” Tabbris said, his voice gentle. That made Faust perk up a bit as he walked by Tabbris’ side and held his hand.

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Franz swung his wooden staff close. He was keeping up a guard against the offense his half-brother Sevar’khai was putting up. Sevar’khai swung wildly, but Franz knew Sevar’khai favored striking from the left. Franz continued to block the blows Sevar’khai was raining on him with a quickness that Sevar’khai interpreted as cockiness.

“You bitch,” Sevar’khai hissed. “You fight as a coward! You hold no honor! Always deflecting. Always side-stepping. Charge into battle. Stand as a warrior and give me a real fight, Franz.” The flat of his blade smacked Franz in the back of the head.

Franz struck quick, catching Sevar’khai’s blade with his staff. He knocked the blade out of Sevar’khai’s hands, drawing out a long sigh.

For a moment, there was silence before Tabbris began to clap.

“Excellent job, Franz! You’re improving leaps and bounds at weaponry - I daresay you’ve surpassed your half-brother,” he said, beginning to walk towards Franz.

Only Franz noticed the look of sheer rage in Sevar’khai’s eyes and how Sevar’khai’s hands began to glow red.

“Father, stay back-” Franz said before Sevar’khai tackled Franz to the ground abruptly.

His Ethri-charged hands slammed into Franz’s chest with more force than expected. Franz thrashed and spat out curses. He tried to push Sevar’khai off of him, and he managed to tear out a chunk of Sevar’khai’s hair.

Sevar’khai hissed in pain as he staggered back. “YOU FILTHY HALF-BREED! YOU WILL NEVER BE A TRUE IRINITH! YOU WILL NEVER RULE! YOU ARE NOTHING. AND YOU’LL ALWAYS BE NOTHING, NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRY!” Sevar’khai hissed. He picked up the wooden sword he was holding a few minutes before and swung it at Faust.

Franz was coughing up blood as Sevar’khai’s wooden sword collided with his forehead and he felt something tear his head open. The scream that erupted from Faust sliced through the air.

For a second, one crucial second, Tabbris was frozen with shock. This was before a faint memory jumped to his head - Astrid Faust, brownhaired and vibrant, holding young Franz in her arms as Tabbris looked on with pride - and he felt himself jump to action.

“That is enough! Sevar’khai Elistros Irinith, get away from him! That’s an order!” Tabbris pulled the kicking, screaming Sevar’khai off of Franz. Franz’s vision was blurry as he went unconscious.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was later on that Tabbris paced alongside Franz’s bed in the infirmary. He murmured to himself. “He can’t stay here.” He looked down at Franz, brushing the 13-year old’s hair back to reveal the stitches now decorating Faust’s forehead.

“Franz. You will hate me for a long while for sending you away from here. This is your home. To send you away would be an unbearable cruelty, you’re practically more Arkn than human..”

He sighed, looking down at the boy before he pulled the Irinith ring off of his finger, pulled a chain through it, and clipped the necklace to Faust’s neck.

“There. A reminder that even as you walk amongst humans, you are Irinith to the core. You will always be an Irinith, my dear son.” He paused, thinking it over.

He’d watched Faust grow from the baby Astrid had birthed. He’d seen Franz ask him if Franz could be seen as the son he really was, seen his skill with weaponry grow along with his lust for knowledge.

Franz was everything he had wanted in a son, and it was bitterly disappointing that he had not been born fully Arkn from the start. What he said next was truly sincere in its love and praise: “I could not have asked for a finer son.”

“Tabbris.”

Tabbris turned around to see his father, Amartas, stride into the room. Amartas was old even by Arkn standards. His eyes were a piercing hazel, and his wrinkled hands were clenched. He did not look older than 60, but he was far older than that - around 870 years old, at the least. Tabbris straightened up out of instinct. “Father,” he said in Evarith, his tone clipped. “My son is hurt, what do you need?”

“Not your trueborn son. You seem to forget that.”

Tabbris let out a deep sigh. “Franz is just as much my child as Sevar’khai.”

“I warned you this would happen, Tabbris. This game you tried to play of making Franz the second-hand advisor, trying to temper Sevar’khai’s nature.” Amartas chuckled. “Sevar’khai takes after me more than he takes after you. Your bastard son is too much like you to be a true conqueror and king.” he continued.

“Leave me be with Franz. I don’t need you taunting me for my decisions. Sevar’khai will be tempered, and if I could put Franz on the throne instead of him, I would. You hold no power over my decisions. Now leave.”

“You need to learn how to speak to your father with some respect.”

“I shouldn’t have to speak to you with any sort of respect after how cruelly you raised me and my brothers.”

“Ever since you went on Ersis to escape your frigid wife Valiste and fuck that human whore-” Amartas growled, stepping forward.

Tabbris slapped Amartas across the face. The sound reverberated through the hospice. Amartas’ step froze and he fell silent.

“I loved Valiste, Father, and though I may have loved her in a different way than I loved Astrid, you will not speak of my wives that way while I still draw breath. You may have abused me and my brothers, but you will not give my wives the same treatment when they are not here to defend themselves.”

Amartas held his cheek, staring at Tabbris with wide eyes.

“Sevar’khai and Franz are their mother’s sons, Amartas, and both are my true sons. Do not ever imply otherwise again.”

And with that, Amartas walked out of the hospice without a word.

#arkn legacy #arkn mythos #sots-act0 #franz-faust #sevarkhai-irinith #irinith-family #avantas'tol

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of-scholars-and-strings · 5 years

Text

The Master’s Awakening

The Master’s Awakening was happening in a week, and Indris wanted no part of it.

He was content in his place as a Dekn General, really. As much as his commander Maugris’neer showered compliments on his ability to strategize and lead, he couldn’t really see himself as a Dekn Master of anything.

His friend, Emvaekiar, thought otherwise. As he was strolling through Taveril’domaine to calm himself, the markedly smaller in stature Emvaekiar slid next to him.

“Hey, yo, Indy, I want you to do something for me.”

“Don’t call me that again. What is it, Em..?” he sighed.

“I think you have the potential to participate in the Master’s Awakening, Indris.”

Indris’s fists clenched. Em had been trying to convince him to join the Awakening for a while now.

“I’m fine where I am, Em.”

“But you can be so much more! You’re the strongest of the troops. Everyone agrees you’d be a good candidate. At least give it a shot, it wouldn’t hurt.”

“There are others that can lead better than me. Maugris is doing a fine job of leading, and my job is to support those who lead. That’s my place. Besides, I’ve heard of the nasty sorts of injuries people get in the Awakening. I don’t want to put my life on the line in order to play at becoming nobility.”

Indris brushed off his hands, looked away from Em and sighed.

Em stood on the tips of her toes and slapped Indris hard on the arm. “Hey!”

“Indris. You’re better than that. You’re better than you think. You’re stronger and more able to lead than you think. Don’t discount yourself, ok? C’mon. Just do it. You know I’m going to pester you to Laen and back if you don’t.”

Emvaekiar squinted up at Indris, letting out a little disgruntled chuff.

Indris swore under his breath before muttering “Fine, I’ll do it.”

With that, Emvaekiar drifted off onto another street as she said goodbye to him and Indris was left alone with his thoughts. He was mentally cursing himself for giving into her, but as he thought, it didn’t seem that bad to try.

He wouldn’t win anyway.

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He was down to the final challenge in the Master’s Awakening, a week later. He was up against promising individuals; he’d passed with flying colors during the more physical tasks and just barely got by against the more intense mental tasks. Yet, now he found himself locked in a mental battle with the Dekn Master of War now - his own commander.

The crowd’s roaring seemed to melt into his heartbeat as he strained to keep his defenses up. Bit by bit, Maugris’neer was throwing shards into his mental walls and slowly draining his concentration. He’d never felt such a headache in his life. He kept his mind on his breathing and thought to what his father had taught him on Dekn mental combat.

Sway and strike, my son. Sway and strike, his father would whisper to him.

Indris took another last breath. He thought of Em briefly. His defenses softened and Maugris’neer made a pause to prepare the final blow before Indris struck at the only weakness he could find.

He could feel a perverse sort of SNAP in Maugris’s head when he struck.

The force of his blow was so powerful it reverberated through the arena and made Maugris’neer stumble. Maugris only smiled back before he fell unconscious.

There was a moment of undiluted silence before the crowd surged forward with applause. Indris looked around as it sank in what he just did.

I won. For fuck’s sake, I won, he found himself thinking.

He saw the Dekn Emperor stride towards him as the realization hit him.

“You showed skill beyond your years, General. Your feats in battle have not gone unnoticed, and your physical strength is almost overwhelming. Thus, I believe such prowess in combat deserves an equally as monumental reward,” the Emperor Veritas Taveril II announced.

Indris kneeled as the Emperor withdrew his sword, Seivachoiir.

“Dekn General Indris Casimir II, I name you Belial Casimir, Dekn Master of Sight and War. May the Hethe bless your steps and keep your blade sharp. Rise, Baelbaurith’eldkha, and conquer.”

The Emperor touched Seivachoiir to Indris’s shoulders before holding the sword out to Indris. The whole of the stadium went quiet at the action. Indris - now Belial - paused, eyes wide with surprise.

“Take it, Belial Casimir. I can think of no finer wielder for the blade than you.”

Belial took Seivachoiir into his hands and rose up from his knees. His thoughts were not of war or of Emvaekiar, but in his shock and delight all he could notice was the white brightness of the roiling sky above him.

#baelbaurith-sequence #baelbaurith #belial casimir

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