False Advertising

by **Miro** on July 28th, 2013, 7:48 am

66th day of Summer, 513 AV

Nervousness as severe as this was quite the profound experience for the wizard. His general attitude, along with his experiences, even the clothing he donned, it all assured him to be confident. His mind had practically be warped around the concept, and in most any situation he was in fact overconfident. But now at the Temple of the Black sun, before two Ebonstryfe guards, he was never more unsure of himself. The fool that Miro was, he put a large amount of stock in everyday situations. Something so simple for the citizens of Ravok as to walk by these men and enter the temple to worship Rhysol was a daunting task for him. The way that the Ebonstryfe had been introduced was alarming in itself. Then to follow it he had promised a grand prayer to Rhysol. For one so unnatural at feigning genuine emotion, he had set the bar quite high for himself. His natural grandiose nature made every action seem some life altering decision.

So the Reimancer carefully climbed the stairs, staff in hand, mask upon his face, and chest in knots. He could see the two Ebonstryfe eyeing him suspiciously, but whether they would do anything was unknown. Decidedly though, it was best not to give them any reason to think he was up to anything. In fact, it would be best to sway the guards staring him down into giving him passage without any trouble. He was a Hypnotist after all, and that was their drive and purpose. First he would start with the one on the left, a delivered suggestion by eye contact. It took awhile to build the Djed in his eyes and begin to channel it due to the distance. The world faded out except for the glare and his footsteps that ascended the stairs in rhythmic succession. It became a metronome, the tempo to further deliver his focused Djed. As each step drew him closer and closer to his target, the connection to him became clearer.

The Hypnotist glared through the eye slots of the Mask of Many and into the petulant guard's gaze hard. The caster’s grey eyes no longer dull, now filled with a flare of apparent emotion. A suggestion was bore of this connection into the man's subconscious, "Do not hassle this man." He continued up the stairs further, his nerves now replaced by his usual confidence. The steps became quicker, the tempo hastened, and eyes shifted to their next target. The connection to the next man was easier, and the conditioning was quickly driven across eyes. Djed woven into the form of suggestion read as such, "Allow this man to pass without strife." Though there was something about the snarl of the guard's smug face that did not bode well. The manipulative art was anything but infallible after all.

The Chained One proceeded up the stairs casually, but just before the iron gates was stopped. A hand reached out and grasped his staff, halting him in his advance, though foolish it was. One does not simply grab a wizard's staff without consequence, especially a Hypnotist's. No gesture or incantation was needed to deliver a conditioning when one was in direct contact with the wooden channel for Djed. Immediately the connection could be felt, and there would be no hesitation in casting. Without the strain of casting through the eyes or vocal cords, the magic flowed without resistance. Djed almost seemed to accelerate when being sent along Ionu's Light. A set of emotional responses were delivered. The first was regret, followed by anxiety, sympathy and finally passivity. In a calm, coy tone, the undead spoke to the guard. "Excuse me, is there some problem?"

For a moment the Ebonstryfe hesitated, considering his actions, but then released the staff. "No, no problem. Welcome to the Temple of the Black Sun." And a signal was given to the other man, resulting in the gates peeling apart and allowing entrance. So the Reimancer proceeded onward and entered the next room, an enormous chamber of magnificent beauty. It was circular, the ground of shimmering black, outfitted with numerous branching rooms and balconies. The carvings strewn about were indeed works of art to be admired. Above was a mural, much different than any he had witnessed, of some grand figure guiding lost souls. Likely this was Rhysol, hero of the people in Ravok. Most notably though was the black obelisk in the room's center, large and tall. Before it was an altar, and pews in line between the pillar and himself. People were scattered about the room, many seemingly in deep communion with their god. Without doubt, this was where he was to be. As promised, he would deliver a grand prayer to Rhysol.

But seeing as this was Miro, a selfish and flashy man, he would not do this just for the god. This was to show all of Ravok his dedication to their city. However he was no expert, and had only a little secondhand knowledge from a single Ravosalaman. He was quite literally fresh off the boat. It was likely what he would speak was repeated to him or made up on the spot, but it would definitely be his best effort. With his staff across his chest, the Reimancer walked down the isle toward the altar. When upon it, he knelt to the ground and placed his staff across it. His head was then bowed and eyes shut. Already in his mind the words were coming together, reclaiming what was just spoken to him and ready to be spout forth. Being near the strange shard caused him to fill with an unnameable feeling, yet somehow he felt closer to the city. Or maybe it was that he was closer to Rhysol himself, and finally ready to make contact through prayer.

In a booming voice, one that would likely disrupt the rather soft murmur of praise, Miro started his prayer. "Rhysol, father to every man, every woman, child, animal, and every slave in Ravok, hear my voice. I come to your temple, to your altar, to give praise in your name. For I so enjoy your city and its safeties. The beauty of its glistening waters and glorious structures that strike awe in my heart. Weather that is calm, and a promise of security as long as the Ebonstryfe walk the streets." Though at this point he was starting to run low on material. The prayer would feel empty if left as is, so he would need to improvise. His head was raised to stare upon the black monument before him. "Though I do not intend to only serve you with my voice in prayer. I hope to grow closer to you, and to be guided by your will. That I might please you with my actions and to earn your favor. Be deemed worthy of enjoying your gifts. Worthy of life under your care.."

With that to finish it Miro was satisfied at his efforts. It was a fine prayer, as good as they come. His promise was kept, and he even felt a bit refreshed. Though he was not sure if the spectacle of a prayer he had issued would be well received. Or even sure if visitors were allowed to approach the altar. After getting up and turning around, he noted a bit of unusual attention on him. A man in a black robe with a white circle surrounding a black sun. His face was kind, though his smile seemed devious. Quickly approaching the wizard, he appeared ready to talk. The Reimancer knew well what the symbol meant, and their eyes met. The intention of each party was a mystery to the other, but the Chained One knew what his must be. He managed to channel enough Djed for one last suggestion. "This man truly wishes to serve Rhysol." Though with the amount of Hypnotism flown through his eyes, his vision was blurring and a headache was forming.

by **Abstract** on November 10th, 2013, 10:42 pm

The man folded his arms and nodded at Miro, a small smirk in his expression. "I have not seen you around the temple... are you new to our glorious city?" he asked, but it didn't seem to be the important part of his statement. He immediately turned to that, however, continuing with brisk words.

"You seem quite devoted to Rhysol. We are always looking for people of that kind... the Ebonstryfe in particular. We would welcome someone like you into our ranks.... if you pass a certain test." The Ravokian paused here, letting the words and temptation of the statement sink in.

"Now... I have a particular task in mind. There is a man... under the guise of a street musician... who had been working against Ravok and our god Rhysol. I need you to find him and... deal with him." He watched Miro carefully, a single eyebrow raised in question. If the newcomer agreed to the plan, he would continue with an explanation of the man he was supposed to go after.

"He has short, light red hair... and is tall. But thin. He plays the drum, a tall one. You might find him somewhere playing it, as he pretends to be a honest performer. If you introduce yourself, he should call himself 'Harold Borivan'. A false name, of course, but one he is under in this city. Find him, and kill him. Publicly, or in secret. However... remember that the Ebonstryfe do not know you, or this man, and would not take kindly to murder in broad daylight. I highly recommend the latter option. Bring me back his drum as proof of his death." Speech finished, the man turned away with a wave and strode off deeper into the temple.

----

The man was, just as the Ravokian had said, playing his drum in a small market place. A few people were mingling around, but most ignored the plain musician. If Miro approached, he would grin widely and stop his drumming. "Hello! What would you need on this fine day? A song request?" If introductions came around, he would name himself as "Harold Borivan, humble drummer at your service."

Notes :

by **Miro** on November 11th, 2013, 2:11 am

Miro was quite surprised to get such an offer. If Rhysol and his followers were always this direct, then maybe he could get along in the city. He could join, but they would need to see what he could do. Luckily the task was to kill, so he could easily accomplish the task. Obtaining the drum was an added task, but hardly an issue. It was insisted that he should do it in secrecy, which he believed simple enough to do. All of it seemed simple, though he needn't let on of his opinion.

The fact that there were performers around the marketplace wasn't news to him either. It was one of the things he did appreciate, for outside of Alvadas performers were truly a rarity. Though a drum was not a particularly magical instrument, he would deal with it. The man did not sound familiar, but would be easy to spot. The first task would be to find the man. He could accomplish this task, and would gladly accept the deal.

"If it is to serve Rhysol, consider it done. I shall serve the city and the task shall be done. I shall go to retrieve your drum now. It shan't take me much longer than a ride there and back." The Reimancer left from the room and back down the stairs to fetch a Ravosala out. The Ravosalaman was given direction to the Merchants Ring and he rode off. It would not be long from the center 'til he arrived.

When Miro arrived he paid his tab and passively sifted through the crowds observing the performers. He sifted for chimes on end before finally he heard the beat of a drum mixed in with all of the voices. He quickly pushed his way through the crowd to arrive upon the man and face him. The performer had just finished up a song and looked up with a smile. "Hello! What would you need on this fine day? A song request?"

The drum, hair, and then he said it, "Harold Borivan, humble drummer at your service." Humble drummer, perhaps not. Harold Borivan, he hardly cared to know even that much about the man. His fate was sealed by orders, and any complication was hardly of benefit. The Reimancer began to produce a thick liquid under his cloak out of sight. "No song, not today, but I am interested in your drum." The thing was old, cheap, hardly worth anything at all.

"This old thing, what for?" The man seemed quite nervous, as most did based on the wizard's appearance. "To buy it of course. It looks quite old and worn, but there is something about it. You play it well, and I believe that the best instrument to learn on is one that has been played well." The man began to fidget and look around for a way out. He appeared as if he might flee at any point. That would be a problem.

The Hypnotist began to talk in a cheery voice an expand his aura of influence. He focused his Djed on an emotional response of relief and pushed it on the man. "You are quite the performer, and I am looking to learn. I would pay you enough to get a new drum of course." The wizard began to flow his Res down his leg and seep into the ground and make its way under his target.

Now he would finish things off and be on his way to complete the task. With the Res moving to its target he would now retrieve the drum. A final hypnotic spell would be pushed to ensure things flowed nicely. This time a suggestion, a subtle influence of his subconscious. "Name your price, whatever it takes, I must have it." But the words would implant the suggestion, "I need to just get rid of this guy." The performer sighed and set the drum forward.

"Ten Miza and it is yours, though I will have to be done for the day." Miro counted out the coins and handed them to the man before picking up his drum. The Res moved ready to attach to the target. Finally he could conclude his business. "Pleasure doing business with you." The target began to stand, but as he did felt something moving underneath his shirt. It crept up and settled on his back. The Reimancer was already walking away with his drum and calling a Ravosala.

"Hey what is that?" The man began to twist about and paw at his back. "Get it off me!" He began to yell and make a scene about it. Just as he was going to remove his shirt, the substance was transmuted to lightning. The element was guided to strike his destroy his heart and kill him, then proceed travel naturally out of his body. The result was a scream and convulsion as the man fell to the ground and died. Surrounding witnesses were left clueless and terrified, though Miro did not stick around to watch.

The undead took his drum and gave the Ravosalaman directions back to the Temple of the Black Sun. Surprisingly enough the trip back went quickly, and the man was paid his tab before being bid farewell. He walked back into the chamber to greet his Black Sun patron. He looked pleased to see the task completed so quickly. Things like this were no trouble to the Reimancer though, it all came too easily. He set the drum down next to the man and gave a slight bow.

"Ah, you return, and quickly as you had claimed. You have the drum, so am I to assume he is dead?" The wizard grinned as he gave his reply. "Of course, just as you requested." The advocate was interested in the applicant. "And there is no trail back to you? The Ebonstryfe is not aware of your status as a murderer?" Miro gave a chuckle. "I never even admitted to killing the man. All I told you was that he is dead, and I have offered you the drum. Need you any more proof?"

The man shook his head and reached into his robe. He pulled out a badge with the symbol of the Black Sun on it. "This is the badge of an Ebonstryfe apprentice. Use it as proof of your status. It will grant you entrance to the Vitrax where you will begin your training. You have served Rhysol well, and shown both the skill and loyalty needed to serve him. You also have access to the Institute of Higher Learning and free enrollment. Of course there are other perks to being an apprentice, but you do not have the same benefits as a soldier."

The apprentice bowed his head and clenched his fist to contain his excitement. "Thank you, I shall serve him well." He made his way out of the Temple one last time, only now this time he would walk home. Ender was in complete shock at what had happened. "I had decided to hold my tongue and wait for the correct time to spite your endeavor, though the time never came. Never before have I seen you successfully operate with such tact and precision."

The wizard grinned at the praise. "I have always been this cunning, though I have learned a few new tricks along the way. The task was simple with my skills, so it came naturally. Perhaps maybe next time you can focus on how to assist my efforts." The Irylid scoffed at the remark. "It was a skillful operation, though I saw the entire thing. I was ready to prepare an alternative death, but saw no opportunity or need."

The tone of the conversation shifted, and the master worried of his Familiar's intentions and loyalty. "You have gotten what you seek though, and we are safer for it. Your flashy and careless nature attracted just the right attention, and your deceitful and deadly tendencies finished the job. Your magic was impressive, and now you are one step closer to completing our task. Though we will see what comes from your dedication to Rhysol and the city." Miro gave another cackle from behind a grin. "We shall see indeed. There is so much more to come."

by **Vanari** on December 4th, 2013, 1:48 am

Miro

Rhetoric	+1 XP
Persuasion	+1 XP
Hypnotism	+2 XP
Familiary	+1 XP
Praying	+1 XP

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