Quest II. The night the towers cried [open]

[Hadrian]

Too much was going on, and Hadrian was turning inward in his attempt to figure it all out without enough information, as if he could intuit what was going on. But he was momentarily distracted by naughty thoughts when he saw two Konti speaking to each other. Then even that was interrupted by Nilkayn's horn. That Akalak had always been strange.

[Cilaes]

"Of course Ms., if that's what you want. Do be careful though, startled people in a small place are dangerous regardless of your size." He moved slowly, gently placing the Pycon on the crumbling tiles, trying not to jar her just as she left his hand. Straightening to look Talen in the eye the Ethaefal listened carefully, the boy seemed to have stumbled on something. "Aquiras? God of Doorways you say, that makes a good deal of sense." Talen seemed so relieved at the thought of Aquiras, or rather, of his connections to Priskil that Cilaes felt a small weight lift from his own heart. The Goddess of Hope has a noble sphere of influence, few would last long without her touch. If Talen's confidence is well placed we must be in caring hands indeed. "Talen, the God of Travel is long dead, are you certain about these signs? How do you-" A young boy rushed up to the pair at that moment, disrupting the Ethaefal's smooth voice. And then he scooped the poor Pycon up in a far too enthusiastic embrace. Cilaes tried to make himself heard over the excited jabbering, and raised a cautionary hand just as another man followed the boy to their small group. "Pardon me but that is not a toy, it's a Pycon and I most certainly do not own her. I'm also fairly certain Ms Zlakalia doesn't appreciated such a tight grip, if you'll forgive me for saying so. My name is Cilaes by the way, a pleasure, I'm sure."

[Miro]

Showing obvious displeasure with Kinneas' comments, Miro's face couldn't be much less than a snarl. "We take care of EACH OTHER. And i was just trying to keep it safe!" Upon hearing the explanation, Miro looked at the man with the horns blankly for a moment. Not realized the extent of his actions fully, he casually looked over to Kinneas with a confused stare. Feeling his arms start to squirm, his demeanor started to change entirely. A broad grin crept across his face and his eyes changed to a bright yellow.

His arms released the small creature referred to as a 'Pycon' only to catch her by her arms. As the creature squirmed in his grip he started to laugh, completely ignoring her. IT'S AWESOME! Hey Mr, can you teach me to animate one just like it? What was it you called it again? a zlakalani? COOL!" Miro gently placed the small doll-like creature down on the floor.

[Zlakalia]

ooclol I love this. Zlakalia was so close to trying to stab you, Miro. As Zlakalia stepped off Cilaes's hand she turned to curtsy, not looking around first. If she had she may have noticed the rushing dark-haired young man, heavy footsteps pushing through the crowd to her side. By the time she did hear him she was scooped up in his arms, pressed against him like a rag-doll. His grubby fingers and hard nails were wrapped around her, keeping her from reaching the knife tucked beneath her cloak. The boyish words proved his intentions to be non-harmful right after Zlakalia decided to try shifting her hands to reach the knife. Rather than continue moving her body to lengthen her arms, she just went limp for a moment, like the doll he thought she was. Zlakalia couldn't speak with her face practically smashed into the young man's shirt, irritatingly pushed against him. She felt the spark of anger growing but couldn't get free as the bigger people talked above her. The short drop was the most irritating of all. Zlakalia flailed her arms as she fell, but was snagged in the air. It hurt a tiny bit, the suddenness of his actions against her. She dangled for a moment. Her feet kicked useless at the open air. Zlakalia didn't even think to talk at this point, rage now bleeding out of her. At last he set her against the splintered stone floor, more gently than his previous actions. Zlakalia fell to her knees, eyes dark. The smooth iron of her blade was cold on her back. Perhaps she could get him to pick her up again, get a good stab at his throat. Or maybe his thigh, if she could sink the blade deep enough. His blood probably was too light-colored, one of the ugly reds that seemed to thicken even slower than she would like. She gnashed her teeth for a second, ready to strike, feeling like a snake hidden in Endrykas grass. This unsuspecting horse would go down quick... 'No, not now.' The thought was irritating, even more so than the boy's actions. But it WAS right, she couldn't kill this kid with so many other people around to get revenge, she'd already learned that lesson this season. Zlakalia stood and brushed herself off. Turning to the two newcomers she smiled sweetly, putting her hands behind her back to look more like an innocent child, her eyes wide as well. His voice was sweet and was higher pitched than normal, but she still held the smooth and polite tones within it. "Hello. My name is Zlakalia, and I doubt he could teach you to animate something as high-quality as me. Cilaes is right though: I'm not a toy. But I can still play."

[Miro]

Still amazed by what he was seeing, his attention now flooded onto the small Pycon that sat before him. "Zlakalia, huh? You are possibly the most amazing site these eyes have ever beheld!" He reached a hand down to her and smiled very politely. The joy practically pouring from his pores. "I would love it if you would be my friend, Kali. If you want, i can carry you! I'd be very upset if something happened to something as precious as you! If you don't mind ice, i could even make you a seat!"

[Bob Barton]

Just another normal night walking around Sunberth, unless you count in the lightning. Then we have a problem. Bob had this little issue with lightning. It always makes him a little jumpy from a past experience. This time was no different, and he raced all the way back home to get some shelter from it. But no one, especially Bob can outrun lightning and he had the unfortunate experience of being struck by one. "Gah! I am too young to dieeeeee."

When he opened his eyes he found himself in a strange place. Very strange...it had drawings all over the floor. Stranger still was that it had a gathering of people from all races and life. Bob would have gone up to meet some of them. They would have proved to be interesting but then again, he was still recovering from the shock of the lightning. Lightning which seemed to bring more and more people each time.

Many people...Too many people. And Bob's thoughts were interrupted by an Akalak blowing a horn in the middle of it all. Was he the one responsible for this mess? If the horn was to get Bob's attention, the akalak had succeeded. Bob could not hear what he was saying properly from the noise around him but figured that the Akalak was calling people to him. So he tried to wade through the crowd in order to reach him and get some answers.

[Talen Stirling]

Cilaes questions were reasonable, and in truth Talen asked himself if he was simply not being optimistic. And perhaps he was, perhaps he was sure about the signs that he were given because he wanted to believe in them. Perhaps the place itself was simply owned by them, but how could any other force have brought them here? No, it had to be her. Finally he would be able to serve her after years of devotion... A thought ocurred to him. What of all of these people? Obviously they were not all people who would help the lady of Hope. Perhaps she had no care for him afterall, it was random and he was no-one..? He raised his voice to answer the Ethaefal, eager to explain but suddenly two people appeared and raised a commotion. A boy, picking up the Pycon like a toy while yelling about how miraculous it were. Tall 17-year-old men who were still children was not something he favoured, it made him look the same. When he was 17 he was already planning his marriage that never came to be, and his future... Not screaming about toys. Talen answered Cilaes as soon as he regained his attention and a chance to speak. "I don't rightly know but both their signs are here and who else would, and could, bring us here? I just feel and hope it must be so... And what feeling is she more likely to inspire than hope?" He smiled a small doubtful smile, he was rarely the one to bring the answers and revelations. He was usually just a watchman, and rather enjoyed that role too.

[Cilaes]

Cilaes was about to speak to Miro again. "Miro, she's not something I, or anyone alive today made. And I am sure Zlakalia would appreciate being set down now." His tongue was already beginning to shape the cautionary words when Zlakalia spoke for herself. I'm sure she prefers that a great deal to my speaking for her in any case. The mixed blood seemed to have calmed down slightly. At least Zlakalia was no longer in danger of being crushed. The Ethaefal returned his attention to Talen, keeping one indigo eye on the others as a precaution. The Denvali's smile was kind and soft, Cilaes found himself smiling in return. "That is a pleasant line of thought, Talen, and a reassuring one. Though, whether she is the one who summoned us or not, and I fervently hope she is, what your Goddess will have many frightened prayers to answer tonight." Cilaes remembered the warm calm that had so often washed over him in passed years as he had prayed to the very same Lady. Let me not fail my Lord in having returned to Mizahar. Give me strength to please him, the endurance to find a purpose here. Sustain me in these dark hours when the moon's light seems so faint. They were sentiments he had sent to her many times, when he had felt lost and lonely on Mura, when he had felt most forsaken by Leth. Though a skeptic would have said it was Cilaes's own doing, for him it seemed she had listened, life had become more bearable for the Ethaefal, though very little had changed.

[Faroul]

The city of Ahnatep flared with light. The Golden Watchtower's storms illuminated monuments and temples, spires and walls, broken ruins and gilded obelisks alike. Atop the Pressora's palace, Bashti and her advisors marveled and fretted at the strange and portentous occurrence; priests at their chapels prayed to the gods, seeking answers; and common folk huddled in front of their doors, aghast and wondering if the world was to end. Even the criminals, whores, and addicts at the Pillars of Dust squeezed together behind piles of rubble, under fallen columns, or inside scant hovels, knowing there would be no one to save them should the gods finally demand a reckoning. A divine war. A second Valterrian. A premonition of doom. However Ahnatep's inhabitants viewed the storm, the fact was that a city divided by blood and rank and ancient prides now sat united in one thing: fear. Faroul could only laugh, even as haphazard fingers of lightning arced into the bowels of the city. The absurdity of it all, the irony, gripped him as hard as the terror. That he should be freed, that he should know the sky again, just as the heavens cracked apart! That the gods should bring vengeance on Ahnatep, just as he had contemplated doing so himself! Madness. Surely, if the gods had a plan for him, it must only be to witness suffering. No other explanation could account for what he had endured, for the things he had seen. If death will come, I will face it, he resolved. Just like every other time. Gripping his khopesh and his cane, the pillars of his life, he sank to the floor. He ran his fingertips over the names carved into the cane's wood, the annals of his Chronicle. Perhaps today he would join the dead in Dira's grip. But even as the lightning pierced through the open window to strike him, he knew it wasn't time. *** Perhaps ages later, Faroul woke. Reaching out, he felt a carved and broken floor, the space where his body lay. He could hear murmurs, movement, a low hum. The lightning's touch still tingled inside his muscles and gut. The comforting weight of his blade and his cane rested against his side. But there was no light – only darkness. Absolute darkness. He tensed, trying not to shake. Surely this could not be death. Not yet. If it was, why did his heart still beat? Where were Dira and Her fabled jackals, to bear him to the God of Fate? Maybe there were no gods, after all. Or maybe, by some mad happenstance, he had returned to the pit. The thought paralyzed him. He clutched his khopesh to his chest until his knuckles ached. But even as he lay there, suffocated by blackness and fear, he could feel the old jackal rouse in his breast. As it stirred, his instincts returned, sharpening his senses. This could not be the pit. There was no subterranean coolness, no smell of ancient stone, no looming presence of a cavernous ceiling. No howls in the distant dark. Wherever he was, it was a place he did not know. Once Faroul had steadied his limbs, he sat up. Blinking, his vision slowly returned. As shadow receded, he could make out a glimmering sea of stars overhead, the giant disc on which he rested, and the silhouettes of many gathered people. Nearby, the lip of the disc fell away, revealing a glowing blue orb draped with drifting clouds. Perfect and untouchable, it floated amidst shining heavens, as serene as passing eternity. It was the strangest and most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Having no god to supplicate, the Benshira sat there in his dusty turban and ragged robes, staring at the slow spin of this vision far beyond his ken.

[Ma'ii]

A lot of things were happening around Ma'ii that he could not understand. The robed woman beside him had rushed to another woman and they were conversing in a tongue unknown to him. The large, green-skinned man had blown a hunting horn and shouted something that Ma'ii could not follow. Another small group, one with a tall, horned individual that glowed, were having a heated discussion. There were two red-headed woman conversing a ways off.

Through all this Ma'ii stayed silent and alert. He had heard the word 'gods' mentioned throughout the conversations and considering Brother-Crow's propensity for tricks, Ma'ii would not put it past him to have had a hand in this.

However, the newest arrival made hope rise up in Ma'ii's chest. A Benshira! he thought to himself. Perhaps he could help me talk with the others.

"Peace be with you, Benshira. I would like to enlist your aid in communicating with the others here. I speak but little of the Common tongue and can communicate better in your native Shiber."

FAROULMa'ii is talking to you in Shiber of course.