On the Nature of Daylight

[Taelian Edevane]

47th of Frost, Year 4622

"And so He said, 'To everything, and for everything, its time. And to everyone, and for everyone, their absolution.' And then the God of Light, Lord of Order and Creation in a discordant, barren universe held up His fist, and He forgave us: He forgave us our weakness, our impotence, our trespasses upon the light of the Gods and their Kin, to whom we owe the existence of our world and our very lives." Creation, 2:6.

. . .

"And so He soured, our Lord and God, and faced away from her. He turned His head back to the woman in her time of need, and he muttered of how cruelty had jaded Him, even Him, our Creator and Lord of Lords. Even as He spoke the deepest of His secrets — for even Gods have those — she, a flawed and impotent mortal, could not comprehend them and continued merely to beg. Venadak gave her a meal of worms, and within the Light He fled. Short became the patience of that perfect being, in the face of His inherently flawed flock of lamb. Lamb who sought not His wisdom, but begged gnawingly for His grace." Precipice, 7:12.

. . .

"'Whisper to me,' He said, to the sinner who had stolen from Him the Eye of the Leviathan, 'whisper to me why I should allow you to live; why a man who takes what he is not owed should survive in a just world?' And then the beggar murmured, and mourned, but never did he provide our God, Great Venadak, with a reason or even a coherent utterance. And so our God slew him, tore him limb apart—all, and burnt him to ashen nothing." Justice, 12:5.

. . .

"And so He ripped out her spine, Vakyren, His daughter who had betrayed Him; He pulled her throbbing, pulsing, vile heart from its cage and lunged His teeth into its crimson shape, and blood poured as He wept. And so the blade of Valen, defiler, struck into His chest and Venadak wailed, as the Leviathan pooled at His feet and signaled The End. There was the Corruption, there was the Bleeding of Venadak. There, in the face of Great Adena, our world's most brilliant mound of ash, did He claim His mantle as our first Corrupted, Imprisoned of the Infernal Land, whose reverence became hollow and whose emergence we would dread as the ruin of the earth.

He pulled that blade from His chest, and wept the Leviathan did from His heart, coagulating only as He seared shut the broken boundaries of our world. The stars collided with the Mortal Plane like rain upon soil, and again we became mud. Venadak fell to His knees, whispering the last Holy Word His voice dared to utter for another thousand years:

'I am not God,' He cried in bitter rage. 'God has spilled from my veins.'

And so was the beginning of the end."

Bleeding, 14:9.

- - -

It was a quiet day on the streets of Vardrek. The chilled mountain winds blew into the windows of countless homes, the sun looming high among the clouds as blue little birds perched and chirped, sharing stories of their adventures among the valleys below. Despite the elevation and the time of year, Vardrek was warm. It was a temperate place, really, even for its ascension in the sky, but today it was especially so: the sun radiated warmth onto the skin of the people who resided there, as doorways of light opened and eventually closed.

Five travelers, who would all join and linger within a stony plaza surrounded by mossy grey stones overlooking a fall thousands of feet down, assembled before the Eternity Priory, which loomed above Vardrek below, nestled within the sky as it hung from pillars of earth and stone. The great citadel brimmed, its gates — eight meters tall — closed before them, with two Keepers of the Order guarding its entrance, cloud-facing halberds held between their hands. Along the edges of the citadel's castle wall were the sculpted shapes and images of eight women and men — humans and Elves alike — each with crown and regalia as they peered down towards the edges of great Mount Varden.

The Light-Touched: Serana, Redel, Trisseia, Veriyil, Drephas, Lelhainn, Niven and Lyria. Before every soul in Vardrek, they loomed, Serana's arms extended wide as if to welcome her flock into a warming embrace, Redel cold and stoic as he peered out towards the sky.

There they hung, watchers of the great fortress of the Keepers of Light, the Eternity Priory. Taelian stood quietly in the courtyard, his husband beside him, his discerning stare spanning out across the eight monoliths as his mind imagined them contorting and drawing their spears and blades.

"To everything, and for everything, its time," he muttered beneath his breath. "Blessed are those who stand proud in the face of pain. Blessed are the empty vessels to whom the voice of the Path might fill... blessed are..." He shook his head, the man's breath shaky. "We're going to Bel... we're going to Bel. No one here, or in there, is ready for that. I hope they can become ready... for their sake. And mine."

[Ford Edevane]

…Something new every day…

This sentiment was something that had been Ford’s mantra for a while. It had become heavily apparent that his life had changed, from the busy streets of Starkwayte, to coming to learn a great many things from the Covenant, Taelian, and even the Mage’s Guild. One thing he had never, ever planned on seeing in person was Vardrek. His father would have lost his ever-loving mind had he known this was happening. It would have to wait, though, because as they approached, Ford was too busy staring in awe. Even for Ford, who took most things in stride, this was not something he could merely look at and keep walking.

Silently, he stood beside Taelian. His brilliant blue eyes seemed brighter, wider even as he stared at the sights before them. First, he took in the Keepers of the Order, followed by the statuesque shapes that had him lingering on every one of them. It was… Mind-blowing, encapsulating, he wished he had the time just to remain and study everything. However, he knew there was an importance to this trip, an importance that transcended most, if not all, of them.

Shaken from his reverie, this bright blues seemed to relax when he heard the soft mutterings from the man beside him. Slowly, his gaze slid over to Taelian, and while his husband was distracted, he would feel the lightest touch of a finger to the inside of the Knight’s right hand. It was the pad of Ford’s middle finger, tracing [/i]something[/i] in a path along Taelian’s palm. Sentimentality, perhaps a weakness to most but not to Ford, it would never be lost on the Griscian. So, while the finger finished its traveling around the unseen symbol, Ford’s hand slid into his husband’s and squeezed his hand tight, pressing both of their palms together as he looked up at Taelian’s face.

“I made a promise. Remember Tae? You are not alone. Every step of the way, I’ll be there.”

Truth be told, Ford was scared. Not only was it the unknown for him, but his society found it necessary to teach him to hate everything in his surrounding about this place. To hate Taelian, to hate the very essence of what they were about to do. It did not matter, though. Ford was a man of his word. An honorable, respectable man, but just that, a man. So, taking a deep breath, he let it out through his nose as he allowed his gaze to wander to the guards again, unable to really look away from them in that moment.

[Gloomcrest]

47th of Frost, 4622

Taking a moment to look around in the quiet chilled streets of Vardrek that some citizens of Atharen called home. For a moment, the Alistian thief was taking note of the raised land that houses much of the alabaster architecture that kept this small place warm. With his weary amber-eyed gaze taking a moment to look at the chirping navy & cerulean blue birds which the thief could have easily mistaken for a tit or possibly a sparrow or starling.

The linger warmth that layers the city itself felt forlorn to the Gentevarese thief for he did not know what kind of warmth he was missing from within. Was it companionship or a mother’s embrace, it wasn’t food or a hearth that was for sure but a few questions that seem to linger for a moment or two as Jared continues to make his way through the streets.

Despite wearing a thick, furred cloak that was dyed as close to the night; the Daravinic male was feeling the chill down his core; for his home back in Alistian felt warmer & humid all-year round, but here at Vardrek; while the city itself was warm, the semi-gelid winds was enough to make the thief tuck his arms into his cloak, chattering through his thief for a moment as he attempts to steer his body to regulate itself.

It was understandable why the thief was feeling more sensitive to his environment as his condition with his Mageblight has been fairly present throughout the Frosted season. It didn’t help that his recent encounter with a worthy foe left him crippled for a month & was only able to return back to his feet albeit winded in fortnight.

“I just don’t get… What did I have to do with the Keepers of the Light… I don’t even know who they are, and what they want with a Street Rat like myself…”

The confused rogue continues to slowly make his way through, taking note of his surroundings but something about being here at this very moment felt right… As if a singular stone, not big, probably the size of a pebble fell in place, yet the thief didn’t think it was right for a lowborn such as himself to receive a summon if one could call it that.

Briefly rummaging through one of the many hidden pouches that the thief kept hidden inside of his cloak; Jared took a moment to withdraw a small rustic beige pouch which contained a couple spiced hardtack he had made prior to leaving Amoren. After all, it was better to be prepared when traveling, and going hungry was something the thief did not want to experience at any moment in his waking dream.

Sticking a piece of his hardtack into his mouth, before chewing it slowly. The faint linger aroma of cloves & cinnamon; Warming spices that would be hard to collect for the average citizen but the amber-eyed thief had other means of obtaining it. Nevertheless, being high-up in the mountains felt like home, and for a moment; the thief’s thoughts were as simple as a child’s dream, to merely fly from the ground and wander across Atharen to his heart’s content.

Even so; Where the thief was heading to was heading to the unknown, and Jared would need to figure why he was here; A simple nobody that was barely it through in his life as a thief. With little to go on other than, the simple directions and building description; The citrine-eyed thief makes his way towards, feeling a bit nervous as he felt exposed for being dressed differently.

[Arkash]

A little man, dark of skin and hair, joined them in the courtyard of stone. Dressed in black, leather, fur-trimmed garbs with a cloak of raven feathers to drape his narrow shoulders, he'd look more at home in the frigid reaches of Von Rabe's influence. Yet there he basked, hood down, gloves off and dirty skin aimed skyward, drinking the warmth of the sun's life.

Eyes lidded, the little man stayed that way for minutes, reveling in the temperance of the afforded mercy. His nostrils flared and his chest expanded with every breath he drew, and on the air, a hundred thousand scents relayed their stories, their positions to him. With so many new things to see and explore, it took time to sort through everything in the environment and the homes of the city's dwellers.

He swallowed often in his basking, smiled, and sighed each wistful breath whenever he was done taste-testing the denizens.

"Mmmm," he hummed as he let down his head. "I'm sweatin' balls," and opened his dark eyes, peering to the Godling as he did so.

"I wish ew'd said it wasn' freezin' cold up 'ere, I'da dressed lighta'," flat white teeth chattered behind his lips with every word, stark against the darker pink of his waggling tongue.

One hand placed upon his stomach, Arkash rolled his eyes as the Godling began a prayer, then cast a hungry eye at Ford. That same eye shifted between the human and the elf before he jostled his head in a little quiet nod. "Topa' the mornin', three," he said before the hunger in his gaze settled on the others to have joined them, each to receive a custom greeting.

A step back saw him look over the Citadel before he shook his head. Widened eyes took his gaze before he snapped his attention to the approaching Jared, scanned him head to toe, then smiled a bit and nodded a greeting. "Betta' late than neva', right?" Whenever the boy was close, Arkash would nudge him with an elbow and whisper "'You know you're in deep shit when someone build's somethin' fancia' than an Ulen castle," he said with a motion of his thumb to the raised Citadel.

He propped his hands on the back of his head as he took a stance beside the rogue. "Which one's 'ew dad, Steve?" he asked a little louder with a motion of his head to the statues that lined the walls.

A dark brow of his rose at Taelian's rambling. "About time, betta' not ditch me this time."

Image source.

[Moop]

¤

Standing with the others, Moop leaned on her staff, waiting for something. She scanned her surroundings, noting the feeling of moss beneath her boots, the stones on which they grew, and the statues of people she didn't recognize lined up along the walls. Coming from Dagrun where statues and art were commonplace, she wondered at their stature, their lives, their stories each. Some of the others gathered here spoke to one another, seemingly familial, but she knew no one and kept to herself.

She spied a rock at her feet perfect size and shape for skipping but resisted the urge to pluck it with her mind and toss it down the chasm. She wore her leather armor as she had just came off the road and came straight to the meeting place. After many days of travel she still had with her the effects she always wore, and brought with her the backpack she kept on herself at times with her rope, her lantern, her bedroll, blanket, toiletries (soap included), tied to the pack or stuffed in various pockets.

Not with her was her sister or her dog, she felt rather alone among the strangers. Part of her wondered if they were mages, suspicious in a way, as with her recent encounters in Daravin everyone seemed to be some variety of eccentric or cruel mage, or both. She decided then that if the assembled party was rude to her she would either ignore them or only answer them in Kaedic, as she wasn't the same person those mages had met before. Tired of being shoved around and adverse to mages in Daravin, she decided then that she would be giving tit for tat from here on out. If they wanted the best of Moop, they would have to earn it.

[Taelian Edevane]

This was a surreal moment, for him. Here he was, hand-in-hand with his husband as the man traced along the symbol of the Arlaed, the silver pattern that had embedded itself into their palms. Here he was, being consoled by him, overlooking the descent of a mountain, perhaps two or three kilometers high, into a gilded Elven valley. Vendigad laid at their feet, and for the first time, the man could see the ivory-colored spires of his Hyr'norai kin. He nearly lost his focus for that moment, but as his husband's voice entered into his ear, Taelian's eyes reaffixed to him and he offered the other man a small, smooth smile. "You're right," he muttered. "I just hope you can forgive me... for what you are about to know."

And then others came. Jared, who Taelian knew from a soiree in Daravin and a few interactions afterwards; the man seemed to be wondering why he was even there, which Taelian supposed was an experience he could not relate to. He had been specifically and pointedly invited, while Gloomcrest perhaps felt like an afterthought. Taelian did not think to mention to him that he had specifically encouraged the Keepers to invite him during their communications, as a possible fit for an expedition to retrieve the lost man they so desperately sought.

Next was Arkash, and upon seeing him, Taelian's chest immediately tightened. He was alive. He appeared to them just as Taelian had left him, really, even wearing garbs appropriate for the Northern Realms they had met in, not the warm, summery air that seemed to stew within Vardrek and the Priory. The moment he opened his mouth, Taelian began to chuckle, grinning widely as his old, dear friend met with him again. He opened his arms to offer the man a hug, rolling his eyes as he tried to reabsorb the skills he'd acquired in interpreting Arkash's thick Lower Nivenhain drawl.

"Steve," he repeated, immediately chuckling. "Ford, uh -- my legal name in Lorien is technically Latham Stephan Venger von Klade. That's how Arkash met me, so... forgive him his trespasses. I'm quite partial to the name Stephan, but I loathe the travesty that is Steve." The Knight cleared his throat, before bringing a fist to his mouth as he appeared to catch something in his larynx. His eyes watering a moment, Taelian quickly nodded his head. "None of them are my father. These are the Light-Touched, Empyreans of Lucence who were worshiped as Gods. Venadak, my father, killed all of them thousands of years ago . . . except for one, I suppose. That's why we're here."

The last one was a woman he did not recognize, and she was small. Taelian had not seen a Gnome in months: a few worked to service the Aether Cannon that was currently active in Westfalen, but he hadn't been back for a while, and--to be honest, the sight of a Gnome always brought a smile to his lips. He wondered what specialty she would bring to the expedition. "Welcome," he merely said to her, preparing to properly introduce himself before...

The great door opened, the wide metal gate creaking, its behemoth stature clear in the rigid, powerful noises that came from its slow swing open. At the center of a gate was a silver-haired man with a worn eyepatch, dressed in a well-fitted, rich matte black doublet, with a coal-colored gabardine acting as a coat. He tucked a book between his side and bicep in one arm, while his other hand rested on the bulbous pommel of a blade. Beside him was a handsome, golden-haired Hyr'norai, with tan skin, brooding features and eminently clear discipline and grace. As the two left the rigid iron gates, departing the Priory, they made their way very distinctly towards the group.

"Welcome," the white-haired man began, extending out one arm before bowing his head before the group. "I am Jaris Tilandrek, Herald of the Keepers of Light and Shepherd of Vardrek. This man, beside me, is Lexavin Val'Bhreith, Ordinant of the Keepers of Light, and the man who will be organizing this expedition--with Lord Edevane's help, of course," Jaris nodded, deferring to Taelian with a tip of his head. "Most of you may wonder why you're here. To be honest, I wonder why most of you are here, but it was not my choice. When the Light-Touched speak, I listen. Taelian sent me a list of the men and women he wished to come, and he included some... intriguing picks, to be honest. I did not go with most of them. I, ah, accidentally left a list of his picks and mine by a hot flame, and it burned as I turned away to do my errands. What was left were five names, the edges around them seared save for small little strands of parchment to keep the integrity of the document. Taelian Latham Stephan Venger... I could keep going but the Lord's name is quite long, Ford Edevane, Arkash, Moop Rynbii and Jared Gloomcrest. Your names were the ones that remained. I stewed over this for the entire night; I was frantic, I--I called Lexavin into my room and begged him to help me understand. So, we did it again; we wrote down all the names from both Taelian's letter and our own dossier, and we left them over a fire. The same five were left by the end."

The tall Hyr'norai, beside him, nodded his head. "It is true," he muttered in a low, stark voice, his tone deep and raspy. "I know it must sound mad, but after our third attempt -- when the five names were the same -- we decided it was the Light-Touched calling on us. You five are the correct people for this expedition, and we do not know why yet, but we know that you are. Welcome to Vardrek and to the Eternity Priory. I am Ordinant Lexavin, and you will be working with me throughout your time here. As Herald Tilandrek said, I am the man organizing this expedition. Taelian will be opening the gateway into Bel, and I will be preparing our rations and accompaniments. I am also aware of the location of Light-Touched Niven's prison, so I will be our navigator," he nodded.

Taelian's lips curled. "If you do not mind, ah... Herald, and Ordinant... are you truly certain of the location of the Light-Touched?"

Jaris nodded slowly. "Yes," he answered. "As certain as I have ever been. You see... I have spoken to him. I have... been able to speak with him since I was a boy, growing up far away from here. He led me to this place, he led me to reform the Lightbearers into the Keepers. He has guided my hand for decades -- to this land, to you, and now to him. The time is correct for his return; the Gods have come back to Atharen, but they bring only war. The Gods of Atharen have become maddened by this... creature they abhor. We have no conception of it -- they hide that from us -- but we are expected to be their infantry in the great war they would wage upon it. We, in Vardrek, do not wish to fall prey to that war: we wish to lead fulfilling lives, and we will need Niven's guidance in order for us to continue our way of life."

Lexavin exhaled. "We will be leaving in two days," he said, stoically. "Until then, you lot will settle in and be prepared for the venture ahead. You have all been given dormitories -- Moop, Arkash and Jared are in one large room, where Taelian and Ford have been assigned a room together. Jaris and I both have quarters on the northern end of the Priory, by the balcony where we overlook Vardrek from above. I suggest you explore the Priory as it is, because when we return from Bel with Light-Touched Niven, it will never be the same."

[Ford Edevane]

Ford seemed appeased with the notion of Taelian’s refocused attention after their short exchange of words. In the moments following their conversation, people had begun to arrive. First was someone who seemed more unsure of his existence than simply why he was where he was. With a raised brow, Ford looked him over, partially amused, but welcoming the addition of more people. It was odd. Normally, Ford entrusted many things that could be handled by himself or even Taelian. At this moment, he was content to know there would be others in their presence.

When the other joined, this one seemed to be one Taelian had known. “Good morning.” Ford offered with a congenial smile, noticing the body language exchange between the two. However, during Taelian and the other’s exchange, the Griscian’s blue eyes slid over to Taelian’s frame with a disquisitive glance. Ever-so-slightly, his eyes narrowed as they slid down to what was perceivably the level of the man’s shoulders, and lifted his gaze back up to Taelian’s features. The comments regarding Steve, though, had been intriguing, something he would ask about later when their worlds weren’t about to be flipped upside down.

Luckily for Ford, something else happened. The investigative nature that his features had taken on had bled out to sheer amusement. He had only ever seen a Gnome from a great distance and had never had the opportunity to interact with one. Ford studied people for a living and studied their interactions with others. For the life of him, at the most inopportune time, he had wanted to approach her and just talk with her, get to know her. Bemusement was plastered across his own face as he was lost in his thoughts, thinking about the endless possibilities he could learn. Ford could not resist. He wanted to assault her with questions and curiosities, but instead, he chose to keep some dignity. “Hello.” Ford probably seemed imposing, but he hadn’t meant to; he was just (un)fortunately taller than most. There was a small gesture of his hand to the Gnome in greeting because, at that moment, they were being approached as the door opened with a creaking of metal.

The names that had been read off and the story regarding the paper burning triggered something within Ford. And where he could meet the Hyr’norai and his companion’s eyes when they were speaking, the mentioning of the burning of the paper saw Ford’s eyes sliding downward, focusing on the ground as he listened to them talk.

Two days…

Taking in a deep breath, whatever had been on Ford’s mind had been pushed aside, and his attention was brought back to the present, where he lifted his gaze and attentiveness to the party that had gathered. He had nothing to add at that moment, mostly because other things had crossed his mind. Though his eyes did focus on one or two of their group, hopefully, he would get to know a little more about them before they delved into the mystery that was about to come.

Smile, Ford. It is the least you could do, considering.

The blonde did just that, plastered the politest smile across his face, and slid his hands into his pockets.

[Gloomcrest]

47th of Frost, 4622

As the Alistian thief continues to ponder for just a mere moment; an odd feeling seems to trickle down his back, and while the sensation wasn’t unpleasant, it did put the thief on edge for a moment as his citrine-hued gaze takes a moment to look around.

It didn’t help that Jared was dressed more of a commoner in Daravinic standards but the clothing the thief wore shows much wear & tear, especially his furred blackened cloak which was more in tattered conditions around the edges, the pitch black cloth that usually hangs on the lower half of his face was currently hanging around his neck.

His usual marred facial appearance seemed to have dissipated through the thief could only say that it was truly the work of the Necrodoctor that he had hired, just only a fortnight’s ago as the thief was gravely injured, and needed time to rest. It was just by mere luck, or fate that where Jared ended up was in the care of someone skilled rather than bleeding out in the ditch, but for now the thief was just thankful for being alive now rather than listening to the perish songs that loom over those claimed by death itself.

Slowly chewing through his spiced hardtack as the cold was increasing his metabolic rate to just keep warm while moving through Mount Varden; The thief couldn’t help but choke for a moment on his food as a familiar face appeared. The Knight of Lorien that the thief had encounter a while ago, Taelian was quietly sitting alongside with another man in the courtyard.

Quickly grabbing the waterskin that hangs off the side of his rucksack, the thief quickly takes a large gulp of water which felt rather icy, capping his waterskin once more before wiping his wetted lips with a linen rag that he kept in his pocket; After all, it was easier to digest hardened & dried biscuits with water than having an unfortunate moment of choking on one’s homemade rations.

“Well… zis eez a surprize… a familiar face”

The thief couldn’t help but mutter to himself as his gravelly, gentevarese-heavy accent lingers for a moment in the air as the thief takes a moment to observe just a bit longer. Based on the body language alone, the thief could at least deduce that there is a familiar bond between them, and it was best to keep to himself as the thief usually did, but that sentiment would quickly change as another figure appeared to be bathing in the sun’s splendor.

From what the thief could observe; this man who stands just slightly above his own small frame of a human had a darker complexion compared to his own; leaning more towards a pale tone to his skin, though by the looks of it all; The thief could at least determined that based on the darkened leather grab that was laced with furred trims & cloak made of ebony, raven feathers that covers his frame.

The thief could safely assume that this person in question was also called here since just like himself stood out of place, but also could tell that Taelian, and this other ebony cloaked male were friends of sorts? Something that the thief would have to investigate just in case nonetheless.

It was only then that the raven-cloaked man turned his gaze over to Jared who was making his way over to the courtyard.

“Greeténgs... Ai guéz zo... To bé 'onest; ai am not éven sure why ai am hairé, but zumtheng tells me zat eet eez mairé than just a simple gathereng of people…”
(Greetings... I guess so... To be honest; I am not even sure why I am here, but something tells me that it is more than just a simple gathering of people…)

By then, the thief merely looks back at the raised Citadel as Arkash pointed out in a very casual motion, and for a moment; The Alistian scoundrel couldn’t help but ponder as to how he even got to this mess, but all will be revealed soon. Though his attention is brought to a rather small feminine figure who was approaching the courtyard by their lonesome albeit they seemed prepared.

From the backpack that was holding some rope, a lantern, bedroll, other miscellaneous items; A brief smile would creep along the usually stoic face, a reminder that he needed to sift through some of his own trinkets, and baubles as even the most mundane of things could hold deep sentimental values.

In any case; the thief wouldn’t linger for too long as it seems that everyone was here for a reason, and all of that will be revealed soon as multiple figures would slowly step out to greet the group; Greeting everyone with a warm gesture which was a nice change for the thief for all he knew though to be fair, his social skills hasn’t been the sharpest tool in his kit due to being naturally a recluse for majority of his life.

Carefully listening over to what the white-haired man had to say; There was a lot that the gentevarese thief didn’t really understand which would show easily on his face as confusion settles in, but the thief continues to attempt to understand what is going on to the best of his abilities.

As Jaris Tilandred along with Lexavin who was by his side, explains about the situation in hand; the amber-eyed thief couldn’t but raise a brow for a moment as the white-haired man recounts a list of names that was submitted to him, only paying very little attention to & leaving it exposed to flickering flames.

The burnt parchment revealed a few names, some of which are familiar but what did catch the thief’s attention was that Taelian, and the figure with him at the time was named Ford had the same name. Based on the deductions alone, the inquisitive thief put two, and two together.

Keeping a side note that they were a married couple, the thief took a moment to also make a note of the other names as well: Arkash, and Moop Rynbii; two names that were very unfamiliar to the thief, but the thief keep an eye on the other two figures; watching for any potential flinches or ticks as names were being called out so that he could tie those informative loose ends.

Nevertheless; the story being told seemed quite amusing to the thief for just a moment as it was explained that Jaris, along with Lexavin repeated the notion not just once but twice which brought about weary confusion on his face. Though, the thief would not admit, in Jared’s eyes, it seems like fate wills it whether the citrine-eyed thief liked it or not.

As the conversation draws closer to what the summon was all about; It would soon become apparent that this was no ordinary summon. To put it bluntly in Jared’s mind, this was a call to find someone who was in another realm or plane of existence, which really puts a wretch in what Jared’s expectations were. It did not help that Taelian posed a worrying question of discerning the true location of this so called Light-Touched, and the mere reassurance does not put the thief at ease.

“i’m jenna need to sit down fair a bit, and clair mon 'ead… zis eez a lot to tak in…”
(“I’m gonna need to sit down for a bit, and clear my head… This is a lot to take in…”)

Muttering to himself as Jared would always do, it was beside the point; since he was here now, might as well get it done, and over with. It was explained that the group had two days to prepare, and was given rooms to rest for the time being with himself, Arkash & Moop sharing the one large room while Taelian, and Ford would be sharing a room together. Jaris & Lexavin being present in the northern end of the Priory.

With the lingering suggestion of exploring the Priory; the thief immediately spoke up, albeit in a concerned manner.


“Do you mind mé useng yur kitchén... Ai would lik to prépare zum rashe-ons, though ai am not too sure 'ow foodstuffs weehl be affécted when we entair into bel.”
(“Do you mind me using your kitchen... I would like to prepare some rations, though I am not too sure how foodstuffs will be affected when we enter into Bel.”)


Though it is an extremely odd request to have access to a kitchen, for the Alistian thief cooking was a method for him to clear his thoughts albeit in an odd way.

“i am also 'appy to cook though ai am not too sure what you 'ave accez to & what kind of méahls do people éxpéct…”
(“I am also happy to cook though I am not too sure what you have access to & what kind of meals do people expect…”)

[Arkash]

He did meet Taelian's smile with a grin of his own, not quite as wide but inevitably happy all the same. He of course accepted the hug, a little taller than a child's stature in comparison to the giant, he rested a cheek on Taelian's shoulder and pat his back with an open palm.

His shit-eating grin did grow when Taelian spoke of his hatred for the nickname. His eyes affixed to the giant with brimming glee, at least until he begged the question - which of the statues represented Venedak?

The smell of salt in his teary eye made his palette water, and he swallowed.

"Empirans..." he rolled the word in his mouth, looking up in thought. "Your dad's pretty hardcore, killin' all those..." He looked to the left in thought "-Empresses." It didn't take a lot of reading into his expression to find that Arkash wasn't too sure of the footing with those words, perhaps because an empress against a God in mortal combat didn't sound like much of a fight.

A returning grin was offered to the slightly taller giant when his greeting was returned, a brief nod followed before Taelian's gaze over his shoulder drew his attention, and he all but spun on the spot to find... The Gnome.

Arkash's eyes were wide at first, concern apparent in his gaze. "No..." Arkash said, and bent down a little to place himself at eye-level with the Gnome. He lidded his eyes a moment, drew a deep breath through his nose, and opened them on the exhale. "You're no kid... You're a dwarf?" He asked. "Me too, don' worry," He stood up straight and pat her on the head. "Might not look it, but my kind's supposed to be aroun' the eight-foot range."

As the doors cast ajar, Arkash cast a single glance at those that opened it, then directed his attention to the daravinic accent once more. He grinned a little at the thief, some hint of approval lining his gaze before he delivered due attention to the Hyr'Norai and the Man to join them.

A half bow was offered in turn, a slight step backward with the bow of his head. Jaris and Lexavin, two names he muttered under his breath while the silver-haired one spoke. Edevane? he rose a brow at Taelian.

Sir Steve, Ford Eddie, Moop Rynbii, Jared Gloomcrest... And Arkash, not Derek. He bared his teeth in a cringe, once again he'd outed himself. "So many bloody names..." he muttered.

He furrowed his brow at the explanation. The flame had burned all but their names twice in a row. No, three times. Arkash crossed his arms. The smile he bore in all his disregard was gone, and his gaze stern through the story unfolded.

"Niven," he grinned a little. "Soun's like 'ome."

"'Alright 'en, thank 'ew sirs. Trust 'ew've got a butcha' round 'ere somewhere?" He looked then to the Gentaverse cheff, stars in his eyes. "You's a cook?" he grinned wolfishly.

"Och! Jared innit?" He called as he threw an arm around the thief's shoulder. "You an' I are gonna be th' best a' friends, I promise 'ew that."

Pearly whites on display, Arkash's hungry eyes darted about the place, he scanned every nook and cranny with uncanny excitement. "You cook meat, right? I smell the spices on 'ew breath, doesn' smell meaty, but who doesn' like meat, eh?"

"Fancy some explorin'?" he asked, but the weight of his hold carried more command than any sort of request.

Image source.

[Moop]

¤

While the rest of the group made small talk Moop felt rather out of place. While the tan one bantered in a thick accent she picked up that he had a sort of lackadaisical manner of speech that put her on edge. Getting close to her face she shrunk back when he came so close to her, no manner of respect. He explained he too was a dwarf, whatever that meant, and commented that he was small for his race. She was surprised. Against her better judgement she couldn't help but blurt out,
"I didn't know humans could be eight feet in height."
Two men, large, imposing, welcomed her and she smiled in greeting, waving a mechanical hand but before she was able to greet them in kind they were interrupted. Moop listened with as open mind as she could, but had many questions. Casted their name in the fire and yet it still showed each time? She found this hard to believe and wondered what a "Light Touched" was, there was mention of this when she got the news back home but she still hadn't gotten a direct explanation of what that was, or what the point of her being here necessarily would be. She noticed one of the larger, but not the largest, men seemed to take charge and spoke to these Keepers of Light-- this must be the one with many names.
'Taelian taking us to Bel?'
She looked at the giant man again this time with scrutiny before shaking her head. Why her? Although she was having some misgivings she was curious by nature and wasn't sure how many Gnomes had been to Bel. This could be a huge break for her in the Seekers and perhaps lead her somewhere profitable for her Quest. In fact, when phrased that way to herself, she smiled a bit. The news about the Gods re-arrival on Atharen was concerning, though she remembered seeing for her own eyes the blackened sky seasons ago with the rude one. Back then she thought this was a fortuitous moment, a sign for herself, but it brought her only confusion and ruin yet again dragging her to that infernal desert they call The Badlands.

Belief in the Gods among the Gnomes was... not common. Belief in the sense that they were worshipped, as they had created their own God with their own hands, the Pantheon and other religions outside of Dagrun were more curiosities but known to be existing in some fashion even if they had not shown themselves in a long time. Gnomes' history was steeped in the Bleeding as her people built war machines and perhaps had a hand in the harkening of the Event itself. This was told to them by CORE whose faulty memory could only process remnants of scrolls and books found in Dagrun and Dunes. Much was still left unsaid. But children and all people willing to listen were taught this tale in the aspect of the Tenants of Technology, to never make this mistake again. To Moop, the prospect of other God's existence was interesting as well as frightening; CORE was a kind soul, Gnomes were civil beings, Humans and the rest of the world seemed unhinged, untamed, even thoughtless of their actions. Would their Gods reflect this nature? If the blackened sky was anything to go by and her experiences after.... She shivered at the unfinished thought.

With business concluded they were instructed to explore the Priory. The one with no personal boundaries seemed to be who she was bunked with and he seemed to be buddying with the one with the Gentrevese accent. She hoped he wouldn't do anything creepy while they slept and decided then to keep her things close, lest they be molested or rended by curious fingers. Taking a last glance around the impressive entrance, she went inside. She decided she would explore on her own, something she was good at after all, and try to find a library or even a stray bookshelf. Surely there would be some manuscripts there that could be interesting, maybe worth copying and bringing back to Dagrun for catalogue. She wasn't fully trusting of anything at the moment and needed more explanation, she was determined to find that before deciding her loyalties. Right now, it all seemed too good to be true. She wandered for some time before finding a washroom, gratefully she would use the water there whether running or in a basin, to wash the road filth off of her body. When she emerged her long curly hair was wet and she wore instead her Daravin everyday clothing, save for the mask, and smelled like vinegar and roses. It was after this bath the hunt for a book began.