The Crucible: Part 1 (Murmur)

[Verilian]

The Crucible (Part 1) Timestamp: 25h of Winter, 511 AV Location: The Vitrax Chaos is the voice of change, the seed of creation, the one truth. Chaos always prevails. The year had been rather uneventful for the Ebonstryfe. After the incident with the Rising Dawn in the spring, everything seemed to come to a standstill. To some the lull was a blessing, but to those who thrived on chaos it was torture. Whatever field Murmur might have fallen into, he was probably getting tired of all the simple and mundane tasks he had been given over the year. All that changed when he received the order to report to the debriefing chamber for his next mission. Murmur didn't know just how important this next mission would be when he was given the orders, he knew only to report. When he arrived he would be surprised to find the Ebonlord himself, Gru'tral, waiting on him along with his commander and one other apprentice, the baffoon known as Gar. The Ebonlord said nothing as Murmur entered, and instead allowed the commander to speak up. "Apprentices. Each of you have served your time well, and more importantly, you have survived all the trials put before you. Today you will take your final test, the Crucible. Succeed, and you will be soldiers of the Ebonstryfe. Fail, and die." The commander stepped back and the Ebonlord stepped forward. He was a mountain of a man, a Druvin, the highest rank any servant of Rhysol could hope to achieve, save for the Voice herself. It was said that the druvin were immortal, that nothing could kill them and they never aged. Gru'tral had been the Ebonlord as long as anyone could remember, so few could.dispute those claims. When the man spoke, his voice was deep and resonated throughout the chamber. Though he spoke only a few words, they seemed to carry the weight of worlds. "Today you begin your Crucible, as all Ebonstryfe before you. Rhysol has chosen you. Do not fail him. Earn your place among the order, earn your mark, and make Rhysol proud!" After that the Ebonlord left and the commander took over once more. Their mission was far from simple, as the commander made sure to remind them. It was divided into three parts, each with their own set of difficulties. "In the city jail there is a woman, a Konti. Her name is Larael. She is a Syliran knight, though the guards do not know that yet. She was arrested for speaking out against one of the Ebonstryfe. Your job is to break her out. You may do so by any means you please, though if at all possible we would rather you didn't kill all the guards. Be creative and use your brains. On top of that, you need her to trust you. Convince her that you are friends. That shouldn't be too hard considering you'll be busting her out of jail. Now for the second part. There is an old temple to the dead god Sylir six days west of Ravok. We recently discovered the temple, and will give you a map leading to it. You are to bring this woman to the temple, still under the pretense that you are friends. Once you arrive, kill her. Spill her blood on the altar of Sylir in the name of Rhysol. The last part of your mission ties into the second. She must be killed with this." The commander held up a dagger. It's blade was straight on one side, and jagged on the other. It was made of a jet black material, resembling the black shard that grew from the center of the lake and dominated the main chamber of Rhysol's temple. "Kill her with this. Run her through, and stake her body to the altar. After that... You will probably want to run. Do this, and you will have completed your Crucible. You will return a soldier of the Ebonstryfe. Now, are there any questions? Once you leave this room, you will be on your own."

[Murmur]

This was the moment Sir Fren had molded him for. After years of training and discipline, following his officer's exact orders, listening to the advice of his foster father Jartu, Murmur was more than ready to accept his fate in the Crucible. For good or ill, his choices would either lead him to the favor of Rhysol, or to an early grave. He stood beside his fellow apprentice, Gar, someone he was familiar with during past excursions, and revealed little of his distaste to see him there. The large apprentice would either become his enemy or an accomplice during the Crucible, and should the wheels of fate head into an undesirable direction then his blade would become nondiscriminatory in its pursuit of blood. Murmur stood to attention, offering the Ebonlord a proud salute. "Victory for Rhysol." After the commander debriefed them both on the mission, he glanced sidelong to Gar. "Yes, Commander, if you would allow me the priviledge to speak. We are both to be gaining the trust of this Konti, or is it... whichever gets to her first?"

[Verilian]

The commander's smile was all too pleased. Both apprentices had been groomed for this day, and to see one of them figure out the truth was always a blessing. Though perhaps Gar had figured it out as well and simply kept it to himself. Not likely, the man was a fool and a show off. Surely he would have spoken up. Gar didn't react to Murmur's question, he must still have not figured it out. Neither of them had to wait for an explanation, however, because the commander decided to be forthcoming. "The chances of your success will be much higher if you work together, but Rhysol demands only one soldier from the Crucible." Gar did react then, but only slightly. A slight shuffle of his feet, a slight repositioning of his body so he could better see Murmur out of the corner of his eye. The commander only grinned wider, and with a not to the two apprentices he turned and exited the room. On the desk next to the door he placed the dagger. Already on the desk was the map. Only one dagger, and one map. And two apprentices. As soon as the commander was gone Gar turned toward Murmur, his hands poised to draw his weapons if need be. "So, do we kill each other here and now, or do we work together?"

[Murmur]

Murmur watched him with cold gray eyes. Eyes that have seen betrayal, eyes that have watched chaos unfold over and over and over again. He knew how his life worked. You trust someone, and you end up just another rotting corpse in the canal. It was better to trust no one, to be the one that others feared, to hold their life in your hands, not the other way around. "It's nothing personal, Gar. But I don't trust you. This simplicity you harbor, it has to be an act. You could be put here to ensure my own demise, stab me in the back the moment you see the opportunity arise. I know, because that's what I would do." The fingers of his left hand shifted, changed, the djed forming the digits into vicious claws, while his right hand clasped the hilt of his long dagger, a precaution that had finally become a routine. "But if by some twist of fate I do end up with my face inspecting the ground, I will make sure to come back and haunt you. Come, we have an assignment to do." He moved toward the map and dagger, grasping them both in one hand. Yet daunting thoughts nagged at his mind. He could just be another test. An older officer hidden under a facade of a simple apprentice. The possibilities are endless. That is what you've always taught me, father. Murmur glanced sidelong to Gar, waiting.

[Verilian]

Gar tensed, noting the way Murmur seemed to be preparing to strike, the hand on the dagger, ..the other hand. Gar too prepared himself, ready to pull his twin swords at a moment's notice, but it didn't come to that. Murmur instead turned his back on the apprentice and walked out the door. Gar could have struck then, could have tried to kill Murmur right away, but he remembered the commanders words and knew he would need his fellow apprentice at least for a while. Instead the baffoon rushed forward, grabbing Murmur's shoulder and turning him around. "Hey! It was a foolish move, but Gar was not unprepared. If Murmur tried to strike out at him the apprentice would bring up a swift hand to block. Perhaps he was a fool, but he hadn't survived in the Ebonstryfe as long as he had without at least knowing how to defend himself. His eyes fell to the dagger and map, and he reached for the wrinkled parchment. "Maybe we should each carry one piece, that way we have to work together. You take the dagger, I'll take the map." There was a moment of intense eye contact between the two before Murmur reacted. Either way, Gar was prepared to face the outcome of this tactical maneuver. His right hand twitched, ready to draw a weapon if necessary, while the other held firmly onto the map. He was more than prepared to rip off a piece, if only to force Murmur to keep close.

[Murmur]

oocSorry this took forever V, school stress and then coming back, but I am determined to finish! Murmur watched his adversary and ally for a time that seemed to extend beyond his recognition. Those hard, gray eyes remained transfixed into the eyes of this fellow apprentice who stank of deception, but perhaps that was just a pathetic rise of paranoia. It seemed like he didn't breathe in the span that Gar reached out to grasp the map, but in his mind, Murmur was debating the consequences of relenquishing the only item that determined the location of their target. Better to trust him with parchment than with another knife. He glanced down at the weapon granted to them by their commander. A glistening blade of deepest obsidian, beautiful if not for its malevolent design. This is what we need to slay the fish girl, so be it. Abruptly, Murmur let out a dramatic sigh. "Calm down, my man. If we're going to accomplish this, then fine, keep the silly map and direct us, by all means. I'll keep the dagger safe and warm, I can assure you." He shrugged and gestured for Gar to move. "Lead on."

[Verilian]

Gar took the map and carefully folded it up, placing it into his belt pouch. It seemed that Murmur was willing to work with him, at least for the time being, and Gar was ready to accept that. Letting his fellow apprentice lead the way, Gar followed him out and into the Vitrax courtyard. There were actually two levels to the prison, the entrance to one of which was known by all in Ravok. The well outside the temple, known as the Black Hole, was the entrance to the secret dungeon of the Ebonstryfe. Then there was the public prison, the entrance to which was just across the courtyard. "So.. where do you think this Konti will be? Down the Hole, or in the public prison?" The prison was not heavily guarded, though that didn't mean it was going to be a walk in the park. To enter the public prison, one simply had to be a criminal or a member of the Ebonstryfe, though actually going down to see the prisoners was not so easy, and getting one out would be even harder. There were always at least two guards on duty, but considering the prison's location, any escape attempts could easily be responded to by any of the Ebonstryfe nearby. As for the Black Hole, it was not guarded. The entrance was always open to any crazy enough to climb down it. It was whispered that there was another entrance somewhere in the Vitrax, but if there was it was known only to those of the highest rank. Gar paused after he voiced his question, waiting to hear what Murmur thought. OOCIt's all good, we'll get it done one day.

[Murmur]

Stepping out into the courtyard felt more akin to treading a den of snakes. There was no one about in the vicinity that he could percieve from his position, but he knew the eyes were on them; watching, perhaps even waiting for the ripe moment to react. The question was what they intended to do when the opportunity presented itself. Paranoia was always a staple of living under the scrutiny of the Ebonstryfe, but Jartu had always taught him how to hide his fear in the face of an adversary that craved for it. He glanced across the courtyard, toward the entrance to the standard prison, brow furrowed. Too easy, an unpleasant scenario. "If this fish girl was so important, keeping her in a public prison seems a waste. There's no harm in checking, but I don't doubt at the end of the day, we might just find ourselves in a Hole." He couldn't help but smirk at himself and the frivolity of his demeanor. A quip had always kept him stable. "Friends, acquaintances," He called toward the guards as he approached, "My name is Deven Rosier, and this is my man-servant, and part time fellow apprentice Gar, I've only need of a moment of your time. Might there be a Konti residing within a prison cell, by chance? My officer, Sir Fren, has asked me to find her whereabouts."

[Verilian]

Gar frowned as he was introduced as Murmur's manservant, but he managed to hold his tongue long enough to see what the guards would say. The guards did not react the way Murmur had hoped, either. The pair looked at each other, one of them raising an eyebrow curiously, before the other stepped forward and placed his hand on his sword. He was a large man, and to some the move probably would have been intimidating. That's what he was going for, anyway. "We might 'ave one, we might not. You got any proof yer who you say you are? I need a written order to release any pris'ners." Gar stayed behind Murmur, though his body tensed when the guard stepped forward. His right hand hovered dangerously close to the hilt of his own sword, and the look on his face did not go unnoticed. The other guard also stepped forward, hand on hilt, and stared directly at the apprentice. Neither made any moves, but all waited to see what Murmur's answer would be. OOCI know this is a short post, but dialogue usually is. And sorry for taking so long, I got swamped for a while.