[Location: Vitrax] Serving Chaos (Awaiting mod)

by **Dervish** on January 8th, 2011, 4:40 pm

28th Day of Winter 510 AV
Street outside Vitrax Gates

A few snowflakes coursed through the air, and the cold seemed to lie lie a blanket on the road. A faint wind occasionally sending a white freezing flurry across the pavement, causing Dervish to shudder as he walked through the well-paved street. The air was more blue than white, despite the snow. The sun had risen recently, and a cold light barely illuminated his surroundings; and his destination. Dervish actually enjoyed this weather, the beauty of it, the apparent serenity and it's obvious ability to shift with the wind. A sudden gust threw up his cape and he pulled it closer around him, cursing what he had blessed a moment ago.

As the snow settled, a massive stone wall seemed to step out of the mist, towering twenty feet in the air and leaning its weight down upon the street and anyone in it, eyeing them with it's two fifty-foot towers, at either end of the wall's massive mouth; an iron gate, opening up into the maw, heart and mind of the Ebonstryfe headquarters. Dervish looked up at the towers and walls as he walked closer. He imagined he could see figures standing atop the parapets, looking down upon the city and its inhabitants with eternal, invisible and sleepless eyes. The sheer power and awe of the place seemed to demand service, but also offer protection, and Dervish stepped felt not only intimidated but also enticed. If this was what he would become, then it might not be so bad after all.

The open gate and towers grew taller, and at the corners of the entrance stood guards armoured in black Brigandine, tall and erect, faceless but for their helmets and the seal of Rhysol on their chest. Dervish slowly approached one of them, an instinct somewhere in the back of his head telling him to run, but he overcame it and approached the soldier with considerable confidence. This was the face of power on Ravok, and he were to take up that mask one day.

Dervish took a breath of cold air, coughed, and started speaking to the Ebonstryfe before him;"Greetings. I wish to join The Ebonstryfe Order, can you inform me where to go and who to approach?" he asked, in a clear voice, awaiting an answer that would decide his future.

by **Seth** on January 9th, 2011, 10:17 pm

The emotionless mask of a man cocked his head, cold black eyes staring directly at Dervish. He made eye contact with him, and held it, as if searching deep within his soul for something. The eye contact would last almost for a few minute, if Dervish didn't make an attempt to break it. He would definitely get the feeling that breaking said eye contact wasn't the best course of action, though. There was a sort of tension in the air, like some kind of test had already begun. If he was to look away, that would show weakness, and weakness was not what they wanted standing at these gates. If he stood there and simply matched the gaze back, then he would still have something of a chance. Who knew if he actually possessed what the soldier was searching his eyes for. He was going to find out pretty soon, though.

The soldier stepped forward, breaking the silence with the clanking of his black armor. A cloud of cold air gushed out from inside of his helmet, the man taking a deep breath as he moved to stand chest-to-chest with Dervish. The cold steel of the armor was nearly brushing the half-breed, and once again, he would get the distinct feeling that this was just another part of the silent and assumed test. If he was to back up, that would show weakness, and weakness was not what would be allowed to pass these gates. Once again, Dervish was caught in a staring match with the soldier, who was more than happy to continue the silent contest for another full minute. Would Dervish and his temper get the best of him at this silent scrutiny? Hopefully not. He was no match for a fully armored soldier, especially one that had a friend standing right on the other end of the gate. That friend didn't really seem that interested in the conversation though.

Suddenly, the soldier leaned his head in beside of Dervish's, and spoke, his voice whispered and cold. Deadly, almost. "Dervish. A petching half breed, dropped out of his mother's womb onto the doorstep of a filthy brothel. After spending a bit of time sucking the teet of whores, you quickly took to the streets, and then were thrown in an orphanage. Of course, no one would want you, so you soon left, moving elsewhere. I know you. A forgotten child, a troublemaker, and a scoundrel." The soldier paused, hissing out a breath, the warm air smacking Dervish in the cheek. "How do I know this, you wonder? I remember you. I worked at that orphanage for a short time, and the owner wouldn't shut up about you. Always causing trouble, always getting into fights, petching stealing stuff from the orphanage kitchen. Stealing. A petty little thief. You got a job at the blacksmith, didn't you? I remember walking into that place once, and wondering why in Priskil's name would they hire some filth like you. A stain on a good store, if you ask me. And now, here you are, asking for the graces of Rhysol?"

The man pulled back, spitting on the ground, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Shkye. Why the hell should I even care? After all that, now you want to make a life of yourself? Petching sewer rat."

by **Dervish** on January 10th, 2011, 3:28 pm

Dervish matched the soldiers' steel gaze with his own, dark, zealous stare. A few snowflakes started landing in his hair as he looked back at the man before him. He refused to feel scared, he knew, or rather felt, that he should stand his ground. He rarely backed down to anyone.. Yet. The steel of the soldiers' armour made his body language harder to read, except for the menace in his eyes and the brooding silence. He felt the threat, the power, and the test of the situation. He couldn't back down, despite the insisting voice somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to get away before this predator cam-- Dervish composed himself, feeling something akin to the bloodlust that sometimes overcame him strengthen his will, rather than overpower it.

The soldier stepped forward, steels boots making a grinding sound as they flattened the little snow that had gathered on the plaza. He seemed to emanate cold rather than heat as he approached Dervish, his armour granting him height and an overpoweringly threatening appearance and aura. Dervish felt a muscle twitch in the back of his thigh, but as the soldier came up to his chest, he forced himself to straighten up into his full height, meeting his dark gaze and cold, hard armour at an uncomfortably close range.
Their chests touched, both of them not putting in weight but standing so close Dervish felt like he was going to be thrown off balance by the sheer presence of the man in front of him. His arms twisted faintly, muscles constricting and the tension growing between them, the man seemed to look at him with cold hatred, which Dervish answered with a fiery, angry stare.

Suddenly, he leaned in, Dervish felt his balance toppling slightly but barely steadied himself, it had hardly been noticeable, but he suddenly felt his muscles loosen - And the man's word almost caused him to instinctively go for a dagger and drive it in his guts.
His words were like poison or icy daggers being stabbed into him, and Dervish' subconscious screamed at him to kill, to maim, to stab and to run, how could he stand through this, his eyes flared and the muscles in his arm twitched, fingers sliding across the familiar handle of his dagger at the very moment the guard mentioned the graces of Rhysol.
No. This would not end like this, -he- would not end like this. As the man pulled back, Dervish' mind seemed to step out of the tangled memories of his criminal past, and he looked the man hard in the eyes, returning his cold stare after the soldiers comment about making a life for himself;"Yes. That is 'exactly' what I am here to do." His voice faltering at first but ending cold and hard.

It was what he was here to do, at all costs.

by **Seth** on January 21st, 2011, 3:28 am

The silence once more reigned, and the soldier simply looked on, staring at Dervish with those cold eyes of his. After a bit, he nodded, turning on his heel. "And Rhysol extends his graces to all. Even if you are nothing but a petching pathetic excuse for a peon, it is not my place to turn you down at these gates." He walked back toward his post, giving Dervish a motion, signaling for the mixed breed to follow him. Once he was at where he had stood before, he fell into a stance, clapping gloved hands behind him and holding his chest out high. His dark eyes stared forward, and his body stilled, making him a motionless statue of a man. He was the perfect image of a trained soldier.

He spoke again, his words soft. "Tell me about yourself. Everything. Do not hide a single thing. Tell me your history, your future, your friends, your enemies. Everything there is to know about you. Where you live. Why you live. Why you are here before these gates." The soldier paused, then slightly turned his head to fix his eye upon Dervish, raising a single eyebrow at him. "Answer quickly, and don't reply with any sort of a smart tongue. This is only the first step in a very long process. How am I supposed to know you aren't a petching Sylirian, trying to sneak into these gates? Perhaps you are just a half-witted man, doing all of this on a dare you made with your friends? Show me your worth, boy. Tell me your worth. How much do you want this?"

The man glanced at Dervish and smiled a bit, the grin somewhat sick and ill-humored. "You just approached the gates of the Vitrax, and asked for a petching job. This isn't like the blacksmith, boy. You better start talking. And fast."

by **Dervish** on January 21st, 2011, 5:29 pm

The foreboding silence seemed to descend upon them again like a blanket, and a creeping nervousity got to Dervish, untill the soldier nodded. He felt a calming surge set over him, at least for a moment, as the man turned around and walked over to his post, taking up a stoic stance in the cold.

Little to no wind blew inbetween the tower, although it was still bitterly cold. Dervish ignored it as best he could, it wasn't comparable to the cold of the soldiers' behaviour, or the heat of his dormant anger. He'd have to keep that in check, he thought to himself, but focused his mind as the soldier started talking. He truly couldn't afford to be unattentive.

Questions. Private questions. Questions he had already answered, told him. This random asked him things he never told anyone, and thought he'd simply spill it all? Dervish looked at him, the rage from earlier seemed to emerge from below, moving towards the surface, but he shook his head faintly, then nodded as the man finished his speech. For all his anger, he'd known this was what people though, and this was the way to change it. Besides... The soldiers' demeanour seemed to have changed, he was asking him serious questions, his seemed less sharp, and he was treating him with a very small, cold, but none the less slight respect. Dervish reasserted his poise, looking like an ragged imitation of the soldiers' poise he began answering his questions in a controlled and polite manner, his voice calm but hard and clear.

I want this. Why do I want this? To be someone, something, in this place. My name is Dervish... He paused, took a breath and looked at the soldier with a mean and angry look. He didn't want to tell him this - But he wouldn't lie, either. They would get to know almost everything.
Almost.

"My name was given to me by my best friend, Lorcan. I live in his house, I've paid for my stay with mizas." Dervish shook his head, then seemed to backtrack and start over from the beginning, he was hardly the great orator and remembered half the man's questions, namely "everything", he'd get what he wanted...;
"I am an orphan, I believe a Zith-Human halfbreed. I was raised by whores, untill I ended up at that.. Orphanage." The pause was barely audible, and he continued;"Before that I had done some petty larceny, street fights, whatever... I still did it. Rarely." Dervish fingered the handle of his knife inside his cape as he spoke, and looked at the man with a flat stare, going through the events of his life as he recounted them;"I made a friend, he left. A short time after I came out. I started doing a few oddjobs, illegal ones, legal ones, whatever came at hand. I set out to find Lorcan after a short time, and when I did, I rented myself into his house." Dervish looked around at the gates, then continued dully;"I was never anything. I never had a future, the streets were my real home, and I scraped a living off the greed and hatred of people. I fought, and I stole. I always thought I could do more."

Dervish looked up at the soldier, he'd already decided this, there was no turning back;"Despite what I was, and am, I am proud. I am angry. I am happy, and I am chaotic. I am most certainly no Syliran, whoever they be I know little of them, their hollow and empty goals mean nothing to me." Dervish stated bluntly. he'd convince this man, he'd prove himself in the end, even if it meant changing completely. If he really wanted to know who Dervish was.. Then he'd tell the truth that he knew;"Why I live, and who I am? I live for myself, I am a warrior at heart, I have only one friend. I have no loyalties except for Rhysol, and my devotion is superficial. I am violent, and my temper is like a raging storm contained behind a door which won't keep closed, the handle is broken. I'm known as a ruthless man,and I take what I want in the ways that I know." He smiled faintly at the man, his white, and very slightly pointy teeth reflecting the blue light in the sky and the falling snow.

Dervish felt impatient, but knew this was important, whether or not this man was actually important was indifferent; he was currently his only connection. He focused on the man again;"That's all I know.. I want this, I want to be this." He ended flatly, after a small pause. Was this a good idea? He thought so, and although he had doubts, he wouldn't show it to this man. No fear, no hesitation. This was a day of promise, a day of the future.

by **Seth** on January 27th, 2011, 3:36 am

The man nodded throughout the quick explanation, grunting in agreement at some parts, mumbling something under his breath at other parts. For a person so full of opinions about Dervish, he managed to keep impressively quiet though, simply standing there and letting Dervish tell his tale in his own way. He twitched at one part, the part about superficial devotion... but didn't interrupt, managing to keep himself fairly quiet all the way until the end.

"Interesting story, truly. It brings a tear to my eye. Give me one moment to compose myself." The man went quiet, and just stood there, still in that same stance, still staring straight ahead. The sarcasm was pretty thick in the air. After a few moments had passed, he started right back up again, speaking as if nothing had happened. "Where do you live? I will pass along your message, and you can expect to see someone coming by there in a few days. I actually know someone who might be interested in meeting you, funny enough. Lucky you. We will see if you actually can back up all this devotion you are speaking of. Normally it wouldn't be this easy to get a chance at it, but I can see where he might get some... amusement out of this situation. And I owe him some new playthings."

That was rather interesting way of putting it.

"Bring this Lorcan, too. Since he seems to be the only other aspect of your life worth caring about, the guy will be wanting to meet him." The soldier paused again, taking a deep breath and exhaling it, the cold cloud bursting from between his lips. "This is all about devotion. There will be no superficial devotion in these ranks. Rhysol and the Voice are everything. Remember that. Now give me your address, and get out of here. Be waiting, with this Lorcan, on the eve of the 32nd."

OOCStart up a new thread, please. Lorcan included, at your house. Just link your last post here to the first post there.

by **Dervish** on January 27th, 2011, 2:28 pm

The man's sarcasm seemed to lash out at him, his entire existence and past spoken of with scorn and indifference. Dervish' stare remained cold, he almost hated this man. In his mind pictures played of how to kill him, mutilate him, but it was merely fantasy. He had decided himself, and had no intentions of realising any of it... Although he would look good with a knife in his eye.

Where he lived? What was he playing at...? It sounded as if this visitor would arrive to kill him, or Lorcan, for further tests of his ... "Devotion". This 'guy' sounded dangerous, but there could be no turning back now, hopefully things would not turn out for the worst.
Dervish began to speak, coughed once as he stumbled over the words and then proceeded in the same cold tone as earlier;"We live in the eastern section of the docks, very close to the Defiled Blade in the merchants quarters. Leaving the merchant's quarter and heading east along the road or canal, the 17th house along the same street as the smithy. Look for a small house made of stone with wooden beams. It's pretty old and the building looks like it's about to jump into the water. Dervish explained, he was sure they could find it even without his assistance, but figured they might need to general area. Most likely the Ebonstryfe had plenty of intelligence, yet the docks and poor quarters were quite desolate and, if anything, chaotic.

Dervish nodded at the man, not so much politely as acknowledging his command without questioning it;"I'll remember, Rhysol and The Voice are everything." He spoke, as if stating a simple undeniable fact. He knew they were everything. To Dervish they were everything of power. He had no particular 'love' for either, yet devotion could grow in time. This was his chosen path.

Dervish turned around abruptly. This had already been difficult, vastly more complicated and perhaps also more dangerous than he had expected. He pulled up his cloack around him, and rested his hand on the hilt of his dagger as he started walking through the snowy streets, fading quickly from the soldiers' view.

OOCI hope the directions fit with the layout of the city and what could be expected -- They should.

New Thread of the 32nd