[Global Event] The Humble Son

[Kingdom]

The Humble Son

14 Vhalar 716

The sea groaned and spat out an ancient ship that had belonged to the first men and women of Rynmere. The tall-ship pitched and nodded back and forth on the frantic tide, thrown like a small wooden toy into bathwater ruled by the temper of an angry child. The people on the dock steeled themselves against the onslaught of salt-rain, and held onto the railing of their vessels as a powerful torrent of water saw them rise and fall with the aftershock. A giant wall of water crashed against the wharf, sending unsuspecting fishermen to their knees, or into the churning tide before the sea calmed and was still again.
People scrambled to help one another to their feet and threw rope to those who had been tossed into the water. The raw power of the sea demanded respect, and all those who did not heed its warning, or grew too familiar, were often reminded just how fragile life was in and around the water. White sails billowed and wilted as the wind picked up and died down, and the tall-ship, which seemed to steer itself, sailed into port and shook against the stoppers on the dock. All those who had been summoned to this place had their reasons for being here, and knew the journey would be like no other.
Wood planks twisted and snapped into place as life was restored to the old vessel that had known none but the dead souls of fallen men from yesteryear. The ghostly ancestors of the fallen had long since passed, their empty armour strewn across the deck where sea-bleached bones had once dwelled, now shining gifts for the chosen few who dared to wear them. Returned to its former glory, the ship waited while those who had been summoned to join the fight in Ne’haer climbed aboard.
Behind, the sea whirled, racing into a funnel, a black bottomless sinkhole that pulled the vessel, and any smaller boats that hadn’t been tied down out to sea with its occupants committed. Summoned towards the depths once more, it wasn’t long before the distant coast of Rynmere blinked out of sight and the ocean pooled. The sea-water was pulled back like an elastic band, white-capped waves folded on themselves, moving towards the ship as water rose beneath the creaking vessel.
At the bow of the boat, a blind man stood with his arms raised, seemingly orchestrating the push and pull of the sea around them. His cheeks were scuffed with old scars that looked like a row of fish-gills, and his silver eyes were unnerving to gaze upon. His long, wavy hair burned a rich maroon in the sunlight, the clouds above parting, pointing west, and with the turn of his hand, the water bowed and the ship raced forwards, scarcely touching the sea beneath it.
The three day journey to Ne’haer had begun.

Narrator Notes

Everyone involved is permitted to take a full set of master-craft, leather armour, and an ancient shield (made of a non-splitting alder wood) ‘of the first men’ decorated with gold plate and the image of two Mer holding crossed tridents. (If you choose to take this, leave an ooc note at the bottom of your post and I will add it to your narrator notes). You will not have to post in order after I post, you are also free to make your opening post and leave it there. If you have opted out of the journey, please post your character's response to their dream, vision, or meeting with an immortal. Remember that you do not have permission to write the immortals, only react to their presence. I will be posting again in three days (late saturday for most of you). If you have not made your post by then, feel free to do so in the next round.

Visions and Dreams

Oscar Pyth, I have a feeling you are already in Ne'haer, but if that isn't the case, Jesine visited you in a dream and asked for your help. She explained that you needed to be down at the docks at the exact time and place that the ship rose up out of the sea, and gave little in the way of information, saying only that "the immortals need your help."

Rita, Jesine visited you in a dream and asked for your help. She explained that you needed to be down at the docks at the exact time and place that the ship rose up out of the sea, and gave little in the way of information, saying only that "the immortals need your help."

Quio, a blind man bumped into you in the street early this morning and looked you in the eye, seeming to see more than any blind man might. He touched your shoulder and traced his hand over your outline to set it against your cheek before uttering the word, "follow," and leading you down to the docks. He looked to have something to do with sudden appearance of the ship, the torrent water moving around him as if it were afraid to touch him. He was the first to board and stood at the bow, arms raised.

Tristan Venora, Jesine visited you in a dream and asked for your help. She explained that you needed to be down at the docks at the exact time and place that the ship rose up out of the sea, and gave little in the way of information, saying only that "the immortals need your help."

Faith, in a strange, but common enough dream given your history, Famula entered the old room where you worked washing the dead. In her left hand she held a lantern with a glowing blue light, painting her silver hair a soft, sapphire colour. She led you through the city and down to the docks where she stood in the sand with the water lapping at her bare feet. The woman raised her lantern and pointed out to sea without saying a word. Dare you follow, the keeper of souls would turn to you and whisper, "be here at dawn."

Aeon, Jesine visited you in a dream and asked for your help. She explained that you needed to be down at the docks at the exact time and place that the ship rose up out of the sea, and gave little in the way of information, saying only that "the immortals need your help."

Yrmellyn Cole, Jesine visited you in a dream and asked for your help. She explained that you needed to be down at the docks at the exact time and place that the ship rose up out of the sea, and gave little in the way of information, saying only that "the immortals need your help."

Doran, a shirtless man with long, dirty blonde hair knocked on the door of your house in Andaris and asked for a glass of water. He was young and handsome, the kind of man who is hard to resist. "Nice day for a swim," he smiled before thanking you for the water. On his way out, an old piece of parchment slipped from his pocket, and upon closer inspection, you would see the animated image of a ship rising up out of the water. The image would blink and show crossed swords and a battle in the next scene, before re-playing a single time and going blank.

Elyna, it’s hard to tell if it was a dream or a strange waking moment in which you sat, pinned to your bed under the burning stare of an immortal, one who's dark features closely resembled that of a being you know. The tall, thin man took up the doorway, imposing and deadly quiet. When he finally spoke, his voice was chilling, as were his words. "This could bring an end to all you hold dear, and to ignore my summons would demand payment. The docks at dawn, wait and join the fray, the distant shores of Ne'haer call."

Padraig, Jesine visited you in a dream and asked for your help. She explained that you needed to be down at the docks at the exact time and place that the ship rose up out of the sea, and gave little in the way of information, saying only that "the immortals need your help."

Lihobri, Labrae has been in the city investigating the shadow creatures, in fact, she has visited many cities since her mother learned of the attacks. She has been watching you from afar for some time and recognises a neutral character when she sees one, be that chaotic or good, she believes you to be as self-serving as her key role model in life, and approaches you in the street. She does not give her name but refers to you as a 'Servant of Sintra' and tasks you with a quest, to stow away on the ship bound for Ne'haer and gather information on the proceedings that follow, explaining, or rather brainwashing you into believing that your service will earn you a fitting reward.

Yanahalqah, you've always been such a curious character, so when you overheard the discussion between Lihobri and the strange, dark haired woman in the street, well... I'll guess we're about to find out if curiosity really did kill the cat?

Lei'lira, Jesine visited you in a dream and asked for your help. She explained that you needed to be down at the docks at the exact time and place that the ship rose up out of the sea, and gave little in the way of information, saying only that "the immortals need your help."

Alys, Jesine visited you in a dream and asked for your help. She explained that you needed to be down at the docks at the exact time and place that the ship rose up out of the sea, and gave little in the way of information, saying only that "the immortals need your help."

Aelius Callistus, Jesine visited you in a dream and asked for your help. She explained that you needed to be down at the docks at the exact time and place that the ship rose up out of the sea, and gave little in the way of information, saying only that "the immortals need your help."

[Quio]

Quio had just just gotten back to the city. It had been a tough couple of days, but finally, finally he had made it. They had made it. And the city had too.

All in all, the Yludih had been one of about seventy people on Cyrene Bay who had somehow lasted out the shadowbeasts for those few long days. 13 days, he thought.

Thirteen, plus the extra week or so during which the beasts had become more and more sparse, and the people had remained unwilling to risk coming off the safety of the water and back to land. There had been many heated debates during those last few days. Awful debates where they weighed the risks of each option against their lives. Stay on the ships, where they seemed safe enough from the things, but were slowly starving? Or brave the land in the hopes of making it to the city --a city they had not even been certain still stood-- and expose themselves to the possibility of another bloodbath?

In the end most had chosen the security of the sea. Perhaps fifteen-some decided to make a break for it, taking a ship and heading back towards land. The fifty, sixty others --Quio, men and women, sailors and country and city folk, the injured, and children who wept in the morning from hunger-- had stayed. Just a few more days they had said. Just a few more days, just to be sure.

And, when they had finally agreed to make land, they had been sure-- or, at least as sure as they could be. Those with spyglasses had not seen the beasts on the shore for trials. Not a single sighting. Some had said it was a trick.

Others had known that trick or not the flotilla could not last out on the water, not for much longer. Too many of their population had already died from infection --something Quio himself had feared from the nasty bite on his right leg-- or from thirst.

It had been a nerve-wracking journey back to the city gates, once they'd decided to come to land. They had taken turns carrying the children and the weak and the hurt. But eventually they had crested that final hill, and seen the city standing there --not ravaged as some had feared, but for the most part whole-- and suddenly all seemed as if it would be well.

So yes, Quio had just gotten back to the city. Now he lingered in lowtown, having formed a connection with these people, and did what little he could to make sure everyone got in... accepting a parting hug from one woman, directing the sailors who were new to the city towards the nearest supplies of food and medication.

Then the last person had shaken his hand or offered a parting word, and finally he was left by himself. There was nothing to do but go find Hart. Quio was going to find his best friend --his promised one-- and when he did he was going to hold onto Hart and perhaps never let go, at least not this trial and perhaps not the next. He was going to make sure that the one he loved was still okay.

At his heel, his little dog Jack seemed to sense the sudden uplift in his spirits, and she smiled with her tongue panting out and wagged her little tail.

But then, just as Quio began striding forward to head further into town, a man bumped into him on the street, and the Yludih reached out to make sure the guy --who appeared to be blind-- did not fall. Beside him the dog's tail immediately went from a wag to tucked down tight against her belly. Jack ran in a circle trying to hide behind her master's leg.

"I'm sorry," Quio said, or at least he opened his mouth to say, but before he could he'd looked up into the man's face, really looked this time-- and suddenly the words were stuck in his throat. In his chest, his heartstone began to race.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Then upon his cheek. Quio could not look away from those seeing, unseeing eyes. Silver eyes.

"Follow," the blind man said, and the Yludih --who was more Biqaj than crystal-- could only swallow and nod. The man turned as if to lead him someplace. Headed back out the city gates. Away. Away.

"Hart."

Quio murmured the name, and for a moment he stood completely still. Torn. His body was like a ship, swept along in the wake of the strange and powerful --implacable-- man he had only just met. The man he knew he needed to heed. But his heart... his stone heart was like an anchor that tied him to Andaris, and to one very specific person within it. Hart. Always Hart.

I'll come back, he thought. I'm okay. I'll come back to him.

And without further hesitation --except to glance back at the city once he had exited its gates-- Quio followed as he had been told.

---

He was one of those who managed to keep to their feet, used to the swell of the tide over the side of a ship, when the great wave broke from the sea to grab at the people on the docks. When it happened the blind man was only a few feet away, and Quio saw that the water did not touch him. Somehow that made sense.

Now the crystal man leaned and offered an arm to someone who had fallen near him, helping the man up by the elbow. He looked up in time to see the ship that had risen out of the sea --impossible, his mind told him, but was it?-- reanimate slowly back to life. It groaned as if taking in a first, deep breath, its boards snapping like ribs into place, and before his eyes the ship became anew.

"Wow," he could only say, and the man he had helped up grunted in agreement beside him.

The blind man walked forward to board the immortal vessel and Quio trailed after him, knowing only that he should follow.

The deck was strong under his feet and seemed to give him reassurance --this is the right thing to do-- that nothing else yet had. He reached out a hand and smoothed it across the ship's railing, glossy and bright as if brand new. Looked up to eyeball the rigging and check the sails. Took a deep breath. Yes. The sea air like a balm. Yes.

This was where he was supposed to be.

He thought with some ruefulness that Hart would kill him for leaving, once he got back.

If he got back. A sudden feeling of unease.

Once more Quio glanced over the ship to let it reassure him, looked over at the blind man who stood ready and calm --arms poised-- at the bow.

He would. He would make it back.

The deck was littered with armor and great, beautiful shields as if to warn him of what might come. Looking at them, the Yludih nodded his head. Stooped and picked up one such pair that was closest to him. Unsurprised to see that the leather armor he had chosen --unspoiled by time and the sea just like the ship-- seemed like it would fit. That the shield, though he had never used one before in his life, felt to be the right weight. Carefully he set those aside; he would don them when the group drew close to wherever they were going.

But for now there was the sea.

"If you need help manning her," the Yludih offered up, just in case he was needed. Then took hold of the ship railing once more like a child takes hold of their elder's hand.

To those he recognized aboard the ship, he tipped his head in greeting. Offered whatever amount of conversation they seemed to want to take part in. Offered his name, Ruq Qy'ihadi, to anyone else who wanted it.

Then, once they were moving, the speed of the ship and the manner in which it sailed seemed to take his very breath away. For a long while, he could not find words to speak.

Off Topic

1 full set of master-craft leather armor
1 fancy schmancy alder wood shield

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Doran]

The Mortalborn had just sat down at his desk by the window to make preparations for that trial’s lesson when he heard a knock on the door. Even though an eternity had passed since they had last met he recognized him instantly. He still looked exactly the same. He had the same blonde hair, the same blue eyes, the same face that was so similar to his own and yet so different, light to his darkness. They appeared to be the same age now, brothers or perhaps cousins rather than father and son. His sire still had, he noted with a hint of amusement, the same penchant for walking about half-naked, oblivious or perhaps indifferent to the fact that such behaviour attracted attention.

When Ziell asked him for a glass of water, the Mortalborn instantly poured him one from a pitcher that he had filled at the well but a bell before. It seemed strange to him that his sire would travel all the way to Andaris for a drink and a talk about the weather, but he did not question him. He had always been strange. Perhaps, he considered as he studied the Immortal thoughtfully, Ziell knew something that he didn’t.

When he thanked him for the water, the Mortalborn inclined his head and accompanied him to the door to bid him farewell. As Ziell stepped across the threshold, he watched something slip from his pocket, an old piece of parchment. He bent down and picked it up, but by the time he had risen again, his sire was long gone. Furrowing his brow, he unfolded it and looked at the images that appeared, a ship, crossed swords and a battle.

His next course of action was clear to him. He would travel to Ne’haer, a city that he had thought he had left behind for good two arcs before, do his sire’s bidding and join the fight.

---

The twin suns were just about to rise from behind the horizon when he arrived at the docks, dressed in coal and burgundy, with his old longsword at his belt. It felt unfamiliar to him after such a long time. In recent arcs he had led the largely peaceful life of a scientist and scholar and only practiced occasionally, but never fought to hurt a living being.

The ship looked ancient, and had he not already lived for centuries, the sight of it as it struggled against the waves would likely have taken his breath away. As it was he still watched it closely and thoughtfully, wondering whether it had come from, who – if anybody – sailed it and how they had known to come here. Had the ship been sent by his sire?

As a giant wall of water crashed against the wharf, the Mortalborn instantly jumped back. In front of him people fell to their knees or were pulled into the water, but a moment later the sea was calm again. He rushed forward and extended a gloved hand to help a man that had fallen up before he took a moment to observe the people that were waiting for the ship. Had they been summoned, just like him? Were they like him, children of the Immortals?

He boarded the ship nearly without hesitation. He had seen a lot of strange things in his life and come face to face with those that shaped the world. Besides, despite their many differences, he trusted his sire. Ziell would, as far as he knew, never lure him to something that meant certain death.

The deck, he noticed was littered with pieces of armor and shields. He had not worn any armor since the time when he had served as a guard to a young lord Endor, and yet it simply felt right to choose a set of leather armor for himself. As he let a hand run across it, he held his breath. It was of the highest quality and looked as good as new. He spoke a brief thanks even though it was unlikely that those that had left it there would hear him.

Having that done, he walked over to the bow where he would watch the sea and the city that disappeared rapidly behind them, nodding at the blind man that stood there and seemed to make the ship move even though it was unlikely that he would notice the gesture. Or maybe he would. There seemed to be so much more to him than met the eye.

Off Topic

1 set of mastercraft leather armor
1 ancient shield

[Elyna]

It was another one of those nights that she hadn’t slept. Turning one side then the other between the blankets. Too hot and too cold. Uncomfortable with a restless child squirming. Kicks against her middle and pains in her back. Her eyes were hot and bleary and she found rest in short bursts. Never truly sure if she was awake or asleep as her thoughts drifted. Elyna peered at the man in the doorway, frowning. In her state of half-dreaming her first thought was that Malcolm had returned. A soft smile turned the corners of her mouth and she wrapped her arms around the pillow as she watched. Then she realised that it wasn’t Malcolm and she sat up, air robbed from her lungs and heart pounding. The words sank like ice into hot veins and she stared, pinned by the green gaze and unable to move. Fingertips and forehead tingled uncomfortably and then the man was gone.

The woman threw the covers off the bed and her feet landed on the cold floor. She ran through the house incase the immortal had remained. Finding nothing though she stopped in the centre of the floor. The fire had died to embers. Shivering she wrapped her arms around her chest and the soft shirt that she’d slept in. A dream? Elyna returned to her room and dressed in a pair of loose dark leggings and warm socks. She pulled on a long shirt that curved over the bump and reached almost to her knees. Her leather jerkin was pulled on over the top of that, and a scarf wrapped around her neck. She pulled arrows into her quiver before it was slung over her back. Her sword, she left, but the wedding gift from Vakahanor was tucked into a sheaf and attached to the quiver strap. Elyna may have been many things, but she wasn’t stupid enough to ignore a summons; even if it had been a dream.

The Skyrider made arrangements with Kit and Rafa to remain at the house in her absence and before they could protest, set out on the dark road and the final break of night. The wind whistled and the world was deathly silent. She watched the road with a strange fizz of excitement in her stomach. It had been too long since she’d set out on an adventure. She couldn’t help but wondering what Mal would say if he knew. Knew that she was willingly returning to danger in her current condition. Above all she wanted to keep the people she loved safe. The summons had come with a threat and it wasn’t one she was prepared to risk.

***

The docks dropped away beneath her feet. Over her jerkin and scarf she’d pulled the dark blue hood to keep off the cold. Vhalar was only just advancing but there was a snap to the air and she didn’t know where the adventure would lead her. Quiver strapped on way across her chest and a small bag the other, she carried her unstrung bow in her hand. The sea rose up and seemed to spit out a vessel and the woman followed the road down to the docks. There was little point trying to defy fate. It was like trying to fight gravity. She reminded herself that she wasn’t scared, but she was. Even if not for herself, then for the lives she was trying to protect. Ne’haer…Malcolm was in Ne’haer. Was it his destiny to stay and hers to join him in the desert?

There was quite a gathering of people that moved forward. With her hood up, Elyna followed the familiar shape of a man onto the boat. Her hand smoothed over the ancient railing. The wood soft and supple, slick to the touch. This was such a stupid idea and she trusted the Immortal Vri as much as she trusted his son. She waited on the docks, hidden by the shadows of advancing dawn. Watching the boat rolling on the gentle tide with her heart in her throat. Join in the fray? She was less than a season away from giving birth. What if she was injured, or the baby?


Ooc: I'm afraid Ely is opting out and making way. Will accept consequences

[Aeon]

Ever since the battle, there were a very small number of nights that Aeon slept through. And those nights were the worst ones. His dreams would never go beyond Andaris, mostly not even beyond the lowtown, and every night held its own nightmare to be dreamt. There were nights of just purely the monster, and its two heads. It would roar at the young man, as he was helpless to do anything against it. His blade had already cracked, and all he knew and loved was destroyed by the two-headed beast. There were nights in which he watched as the people he swore to protect were devoured one by one, with him being cursed to survive. All of those faces would haunt him through the dreams, and the days, and so the young one decided it was best to not sleep at all.

That plan did not go well, and every couple of trials, he would collapse, be it in his bed or not, and the next trial he would decide to hold on through the horrid nightmares. Aeon needed something to let him feel better, someone to tell him that it was going to be alright, but there weren't many people that looked at him with light in their eyes. He was among the rarest that survived their encounter with the monster, and then he was promoted only for his reckless actions. The Iron Hand members did not like him very much. Of course, it didn't help that the one time some individuals decided to accept him on a patrol, nearly all of them got killed by bandits with the assistance of a mage.

The boy was cursed in reality as much as in his dreams, as he discovered that in the one percent of times that he is not plagued by monsters and the dead, he was plagued by the woman he gazed upon only a couple of trials back. Her skin seemed perfect in his dreams, and her eyes gazed back with the flirtatious look Aeon was not accustomed to. This night, something was different. The young skyrider could not hold any longer without sleeping, and so he gave into the darkness. The darkness had no horrors for him, only a face of a woman not nearly as beautiful as the Empress, and her voice, not nearly as flawless as the Empress'. Her message was, on the other hand, way more important than what the perfect woman sent. The Immortals need your help.

Aeon, with the little experience he had, presumed that this woman was one of the Immortals, or perhaps their child. There weren't many children of the Immortals Aeon knew of, besides one of the Sacred Seven, which was Gawyne. The young man had no knowledge of the Immortals, and as much as he was told that they were horrifying monsters that torture mortals and eat them alive, the skyrider could not believe it. Perhaps there were Immortals of that caliber, but Aeon refused to think that all of them were like that.

His sleep was late in the night, only a break or so away from the dawn, and the message of this woman had awoken him. Aeon decided to listen to her, since it didn't matter whether it were the mortals or not, he needed to help those in need. Wearing the black cloak over the lousy leather armor he was given after the promotion, and with his the extravagant blade sheathed by his side, the one-eyed, one-handed man stood by the wall of one of the buildings, just before dawn, on the docks. The embroidered blue dragon on the left side of his cloak shone as the first rays of the Suns came, and Aeon wondered what was going to happen.

Observing the people that strolled through the streets, the young man started losing patience. Just as he was thinking about how long he should stay at the docks, the impossible happened. The water raised above its level and spattered all across the ground, as it made room for the ship of the ancient to pass through it to the surface. Many were affected by the sudden waves, but Aeon couldn't even look at the people on the land. The tallship was a way more calling sight, as the skyrider knew of the history of Rynmere. It was the ship upon which the Sacred Seven stood, and it was the ship on which the Lord Andaris killed the great Jacadon Rynmere, and made the island Aeon was standing on at that very moment. It was an impossible sight, one that could only be made by..an Immortal, the skyrider thought as he looked upon the older fellow that walked across to the ship. The waves of water didn't seem to affect him, and there could be only one explanation. Aeon's deduction was confirmed as the man was the first to step on the ship.

It did not take long for the young sergeant to climb on, and he was one of the first people on board. He was also one of the first people to see the things all across the deck. There were sets of master crafted leather armor everywhere, as well as the shields of the ancient. It was incredible, how this ship had stored those things for so many centuries, and how none of them were affected by the water they were buried in for so long. Aeon gathered a set of black leather, the one that seemed to look most like the one he was wearing already. It appeared to be cut neatly, and just so perfectly adjusted for the man's size and occupation. It just seemed to be the perfect set, and as Aeon observed the other men and women which put on other sets of armor, it looked like all of them received just what they needed and wanted too.

The young skyrider still put the black cloak over the armor as cover from the prying eyes of others on the ship, as he reached for a shield with his only hand. The realization was awfully embarrassing, but it didn't stop Aeon from attaching the shield that looked like it was waiting for him on the deck to his back. Who knew, perhaps it would block an arrow coming from the behind, or something like that. The young skyrider knew not where or why they were going, but he presumed that there would be battle, and there would be blood spilled. Fear wasn't the emotion that covered him though. Aeon was afraid during the last battle he was in, and that didn't help him. That froze him, and that made him lose a hand. Instead, the young man hoped, because hope is the one thing to defeat the fear. He hoped that all would be well, and deaths could be prevented, even if the price was his own life.

Looking into the sea from the bow of the ship, the young skyrider would welcome all conversation, but he enjoyed his loneliness just as much. Aeon looked upon the older man that seemed to wield the entire ship with his hands every couple of bits, and he appeared intrigued by it. Was he really an Immortal?

Off Topic

One set of mastercraft leather armor. A pretty-looking set.
An ancient shield made out of alder wood. Won't be of much use besides looking cool on Aeon's back though.

[Yrmellyn Cole]

At night a few trials ago, Yrmellyn Cole had experienced a dream where she had seen a face formed of clouds of dark smoke. It had looked at her with eyes like shadows, this face of shadow in her dream, and its features had been moving and contorting, as it turned away so she could only see its left side.

In the dream, she had felt it was a being, a person, aware of her and in contact with her. The face had spoken in a calm voice. Yrvellen recalled some words when she woke up, but not verbatim. Even as it spoke the face had been in chaotic motion. Impressions of many kinds had flowed through Yrmellyn’s sleeping mind. Intrigued, she had watched the constant turbulence of that face, while it rippled like water, drifted apart like dark clouds torn apart by strong wind, but flowed back to form the face again.

In the dream she had tried to get closer to it and examine it. She had started to move, though not with steps, but like she was gliding over the invisible surface she stood on. She tried to see the right half of the face of smoke, but when she moved the face moved too, like it was linked to her and they were moving together around an invisible axis they both were joined to.

The distance and the angle remained the same. A conviction arose in her dreaming mind; the face was hiding something. This seemed to be confirmed by a vague memory of words Yrvellen would recall when she woke up: Don’t go there, don’t look the hidden side of my face. See only what I want to show you, and don’t question it. It wasn't words the dream being had spoken, really. It had just been an impression.

Yrmellyn had felt a presence of danger, and a streak of pain that emanated from the face in her dream, but mostly she perceived steely self-control in the face’s voice as it started to speak to Yrmellyn about what she must do. She could still only see the left side when the face started to solidify and became the face of a young woman, beautiful, but also commanding. A name came drifting in the dream; Jesine, Jesine, Jesine ...

At that point the dream had rippled and faded away, and Yrmellyn had awoken.

It had seemed to her like the dream meant something, though she didn’t know what. If it was a message from the Immortals, it seemed to her like it had a double edged quality. As a painter she knew that the left side of the human face is the most attractive side. Thus it’s an advantage to make the subject for a portrait turn slightly to the right, so the left side of their face will dominate the picture, if the subject wants to look its best.

This trail of thought made Yrmellyn wonder if the being in the dream had really been Jesine, or if it had been something else, showing her its most pleasant side, and hiding other, darker things from her view. Based on the memories of her dream the painter wrote a poem, in her own words, as she comtemplated the possible meaning and what she ought to do.

And a big ship will rise
Up out of the Ocean, down a the docks
A ship of dreams
Be there !

The Immortals need you
But in the shadow of the view they give you
Their right faces hide
Unknown

Due to the double edged nature of Yrmellyn’s dream and her interpretation of it, she decided against going to the docks. Whatever the dream had been about, if it had any meaning at all, she wished it to pass her by.

OOC : I opted out.
OOC: As I wrote this post, Kingdom still granted Yrvellen the full set of master-craft, leather armour, and an ancient shield (made of a non-splitting alder wood) ‘of the first men’ decorated with gold plate and the image of two Mer holding crossed tridents. Thanks very much for this !

[Padraig]

The immortals needed him? What for? Padraig didn't often remember his dreams. When he did, he tended to quickly dismiss them as flights of fancy. The imagination and subconscious mind at play so to speak, therefore not logical. But he'd remembered this time, with clarity. The woman in his dream had been clear in the details and persistent. But the reason was not as clear. It occurred to him, more than once, that if she was something more than the sleeping mind's passing fancy, this might be a case of mistaken identity?

He was torn. What could the immortals possibly want from him? He wasn't a fighter, but a scholar. Officially, he wasn't even that yet, but would be once he'd saved up the tuition to attend the university. Was it wise to ignore a summons from the immortals? In the end, it was curiosity that prompted Padraig to head towards the harbor. The sword still felt awkward strapped to his hip beneath the camel colored topcoat he wore. He'd had it for some time but had used it with intent only once, when just a few trials ago a shadowbeast had burst through the door of his home, and ultimately, bled out on his rug. He hadn't left the house since without the sword, though he'd had no more reason to use it.

The harbor, or rather the docks, were where chaos took over. Padraig arrived just in time to witness the water's swelling. And all that displaced water threatened to swallow the docks completely. He hadn't quite reached them yet. But some stumbled and fell. Others braced against it. A woman ran past him in the other direction and he watched her go. Had she been an innocent bystander or had she also been called on, and suddenly thought better of the decision to come? Maybe she was the smarter one. But what arose from the center of the swirling swell captured Padraig's imagination. An ancient wonder the likes of which he'd never seen before, with the strangest old man he'd ever seen, manning the wheel.

It seemed clearer than ever that the dream he'd had, hadn't just been his slumbering mind playing tricks on him. And as the waters receded from the docks and others he didn't recognize climbed on board...Well then, who knew how many had gotten the same summons as him? But if there was a ship, there'd be a journey. And a mystery, what perils lay in wait at the end of the voyage. The young man was starting to think the woman who'd fled past him had the right idea. He considered it. He had a student coming for tutoring later that trial. But maybe just a look? Surely there was time to climb aboard, explore a little and get off again before it set sail. In the end, it was academic curiosity that moved him in that direction, and up to the deck.

And it was as much of a marvel up close as it had been from a distance. It was out of its time, which made it all the more fascinating, not to mention it had risen up whole from the seabed itself. He knew the story from an academic angle. It was history. But in the flesh, so to speak, and in the moment, was something else completely. And then he spied the fine sets of armor and shield, and others picking them up. Some put them on, others carried them away. But it was as if the stuff was laying there in wait for those who'd been summoned. Where there was the need for armor, shields and weapons, there'd be reasons to use them, and little use for a young, hopeful scholar untrained in the sword. No, this probably wasn't any place for him. Not until he'd a lot more experience under his belt. Still, he picked up a set that might have been custom made for him, for as much as it looked the perfect fit.

It wasn't logical. His summons must be the immortals idea of a practical joke, he decided. After all, how much use would he be in a fight? He'd made up his mind. A look around, some nice armor and a shield to take with him, and he'd get off the ship and walk back home. Forget it ever happened. But as soon as he'd picked up the armor, slung the shield across his back and only thought about the exit, the old man began waving his arms and the deck lurched away beneath his feet, nearly knocking him off them. Padraig stumbled, righted himself and fought his way to the rail where others had gathered, gripped tight and looked over the edge at the waters racing away down below. Too late. No, this didn't bode well at all.

Off Topic

full set of master-craft leather armor
1 alder wood shield

[Alys]

Alys had never been superstitious. Her heart however, had almost stopped beating when she’d been visited in her sleep. It was a strange sensation, a feeling of weightlessness. Understanding that this was truly happening, and yet no understanding of just why? Still, the Immortals and their vessels were powerful beings and she was not one to turn down the summon of power. Destiny awaited and the tall woman found herself smiling as she dressed. She wore a brown dress with leggings beneath. The dress was a favourite and clung and dipped in all the right places to reveal milky skin. Long hair was plaited and held back from her face.

She made sure that her Mother’s ring was secured on her finger and that an array of small knives were hidden about her person and one looped in plain sight on her belt. It was curiosity that saw her following the road down to the dock. Irritation that saw her notice that she was not alone in her quest. Not the only person summoned from their bed or their dreams it seemed, less unique, less special. The woman grit her teeth, arms folded beneath her chest as she watched the ship rising form the waves. Impressive. Another display of power and awesome control. Her fingertips twitched with the calling and she strode forward. Shoulders back and chin lifted with confident the slender woman looked over the deck as it became slowly more crowded.

Armour was collected and pulled on. It fit snug against her frame and she was pleased. The shield was ignored however as she had no interest in looking weak if she couldn’t lift one. The store-keepers daughter surveyed the ship and felt like a Queen setting off to battle. She would answer the call and seek due rewards. She brushed the ring against her lips and studied the others who answered. At least there were a few men who looked strong, capable with a sword. Perhaps she should have been afraid, but Alys found that she was excited. Pulse lit with excitement.

Off Topic

Stealing armour

[Lei'lira]

Lei'lira woke from vague, troubled dreams. They had started out as the now familiar nightmares of her time as a captive. But the nightmares had faded, leaving her in a grey, misty world of nothingness. Time passed, but Lei'lira had no idea how much time she'd spent in the featureless greyness before a voice spoke to her.

The clearest part of her dream had been that voice, and Lei'lira thought about it as she got dressed for the day. The Immortals needed her help? How? Why? What could she do? Unless they needed someone to care for an animal for some strange reason, there wasn't a lot she could do to "help"...and somehow, that seemed unlikely to be the case. Still...this wasn't the first time that Lei'lira had followed a dream. The last time she had, her dreams had taken her all the way to Descind, and her familiar had been waiting for her to find her.

A quick glance at Lei'luna told her that the wolf spirit didn't have any more idea of what was going on than she did. But a summons from an Immortal...if that was indeed what this was...was not to be disobeyed. So Lei'lira ate a quick breakfast, packed up the supplies she would need for a trip to Andaris, and gathered up her katana; she knew that she didn't know how to use it properly, but if nothing else, carrying it around would help her get used to its weight, and help her to develop the strength she needed to wield it properly. Once she was ready, she made her way into the barn to saddle Kaiyu. It didn't take her long to be on her way.

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

The trip to the city was long, but uneventful. Upon arriving, the first thing she did was find lodging for her horse. With that out of the way, she found a room for herself, and settled in for the night. The next day would see if she was right to follow the command in her dream, or if it had all been nothing more than her imagination.

Lei'lira woke before dawn, and slowly made her way through unfamiliar streets towards the docks. As she walked, she wondered how she'd managed to find the courage to leave the safety of her home. But here she was, and she arrived just in time to see the ship rise out of the ocean.

The dream had been real...but that knowledge brought more questions than answers. What could the Immortals possibly want of someone like her? She was no daring warrior to defend their cause...whatever cause that might be. Her hesitation caused her to wait before boarding the ship. Where would it take her? What would she find when she arrived? Would she be able to return home unscathed...or at all? Unanswered questions or not, she managed to find the courage to board the ship after several other people had already done so.

Shields, and armor lay strewn about the deck, and after watching others take some for themselves, she decided to do so, as well. She looked around to find something that might fit her, and found some nearby. So she gathered it up, along with a shield. Both armor, and shield were beautiful, and clearly well made, even to her untrained eye. And strangely enough, there was no sign of damage caused by the salt water they had been submersed in for who knew how long. Lei'lira moved to an out of the way corner where she could study her new found armor and shield in peace.

OOC

Picking up a full set of master-craft, leather armour, and an ancient shield (made of a non-splitting alder wood) ‘of the first men’ decorated with gold plate and the image of two Mer holding crossed tridents.

[Tristan Venora]

The immortals need your help …

Tristan awoke with a start and sat up in his bed. His heart was beating so quickly that it threatened to jump out of his chest, and he was a little breathless. He had never had a dream like that before. Oh, he had dreamt about plenty of pretty girls that had wanted things from him, but he had never had an actual immortal appear to him and speak to him (apart from a red haired woman that had kind of looked like Ilaren). At least he thought that the girl had been an immortal. He wondered what she wanted from him and why she had chosen him. Was Idalos in need of a sculptor?

"Faith!" he whispered to his slave that was lying next to him. "Faith!" he spoke, a little more loudly and nudged her. "Did you dream about a pretty girl as well?" He waited a moment before he informed her, "She said I need to be at the docks at dawn. Are you coming with me or do you want to stay here?" He hoped that being given a choice would not be too much for her. Most slave owners didn’t ask their slaves what they wanted to do, they just gave them orders and punished them if they didn’t obey.

But then he wasn’t most slave owners, and she wasn’t most slaves.

---

Once he had taken a very reluctant Mistral to his neighbour, old Mrs. Delner, and asked her to take care of him while he was gone, Tristan was on his way to the docks. He was not used to getting up this early and was thus constantly yawning and rubbing his eyes. He sincerely hoped that it would be worth it and that the pretty girl wasn’t just some evil sorceress that wanted to drown him. But then again, bad girls could be fun as well.

He arrived just in time to watch the ship rise out of the ocean. His eyes widened until they were as big as saucers, and his mouth stood open. Upon realizing that it probably made him look like an idiot he abruptly shut it again though and tried to act as if he watched ancient ships rise out of the ocean every trial. He confidently strode across the planks and boarded the ship.

So the pretty girl is giving us free stuff? he wondered as he watched his unlikely companions pick up the pieces of armor and shields that were lying on deck. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if the armor was cursed or something – it seemed suspicious to him that they were just given things that looked so obviously expensive.

Upon noticing that none of the other people on the ship had dropped dead though, he quickly secured a shield and a set of armor for himself. He wasn’t much of a fighter – he barely managed not to stab himself with his sword cane – but he would at least look good. That was important as well, wasn’t it?

And then the ship began to move, and the noble who had never been on a ship like that before felt something most unpleasant in the pit of his stomach. I’m going to be sick, he thought.

Off Topic

full set of master-craft leather armor
1 alder wood shield