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Cinders
Jul 26, 2007 8:45:05 GMT -5
Post by Akkar on Jul 26, 2007 8:45:05 GMT -5
A fine mist played through the air, catching the pale glow of the Ayleid stones. Lonely but for a breath of wind, the wispy white stirred, a caveat to the awakening of an elven figure splayed over the stone. It rose, mist swelling in wake of the movement. Red eyes shone out from the man’s face, one brighter than the other. A long line etched its way across his features. His cheeks were gaunt, thistles of hair stubbed along the chin. In an unsteady movement, Jiub got up; awakening from his troubled sleep to find himself in a nightmare once more. He ran his blue fingers across his chest; they rose and fell, describing the pattern of cuts and scars from too much battle. Long arcs threw themselves into each other, memories returning with each one. A contract in Elsweyr… encounters with the Legion… and, most recent of all, the battle with the Tong. His hand stopped on his side, touching at the wad of bubbled flesh where the traitor, Sevan, had once stabbed him with a poisoned dagger. He sighed, reaching for the robes that marked his place in the world. The linens were fresh; his other set in tatters. A twinge in his shoulder made itself heard as he threw the dark fabric over him, turning away to face out over Garlas Agea, resting a hand on a chipped ledge. It was not so long ago that he was dragged, barely living, to this place. A few scattered items lay behind him – empty bottles, scraps of leftover food. It had been many days, and still there was no news of the Listener. He had felt the blast sweep through the earth, heard Kalikir’s cries. They hadn’t found the body, but Jiub doubted there would be much left to find. There wasn't much left of the Brotherhood, either. Word had come that the speaker of Leyawiin had fallen, not to mention all of the assassins who had fell with him. Those left were uneasy, their connection with the Dread Lord severed with Kalikir's demise. Nobody had taken the throne - not for want of trying. The Lucky Old Lady was silent. Good thing, too, Jiub thought bitterly. He felt a sudden detestment for the gods who played on the instincts and greeds of the mortal races, using them like pawns for their dark, and often meaningless, bidding. He wondered himself why he had not ran, not fled from this world of blood and fire. His Sanctuary was nearly emptied, save for the few who were lucky enough to come out of it all with their lives. Still, Jiub knew he could not go; he owed his life to the Brotherhood that had saved him so long ago. He had pledged his loyalty to Sithis – to the death, he had said. Death, it seemed, did not come so easily. (( Yes, I’m very bored and in need of dire RPing. I’m a bit rusty, as you can see… ))
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Cinders
Jul 29, 2007 12:11:34 GMT -5
Post by Lorren on Jul 29, 2007 12:11:34 GMT -5
((There, it's fixed. Now let's continue please.))
The air inside the ruin was still and the mist that settled was disturbed only by the light footfalls of the Bosmer as she moved through it. There was something about an Ayleid structure that made one feel as though even the slightest movements would disturb the strange peace that settled over it.
She entered the first room, the high ceilings filled with no sound, the only source of light being the pale blue glow cast by the ancient crystals. They lit the way to the stirring Dunmer, untouched by everything in the outside world. Funny that so much war and death could take place, but these ruins never changed. They had not been so lucky.
There was almost nothing left. What was left was almost worthless. They were without a god, without guidance. The Listener had fallen, and with her many others who had once been an integral part of the Brotherhood. Of course the Tong had suffered as well, but at least they had a leader.
The war had been difficult, but it was all ended with one earth shattering blast. It was the aftermath that seemed impossible to overcome. The destruction was easy. The whole structure had crumbled to the ground without much resistance. Now they were left to rebuild, and that was the hardest part, for it seemed they were missing their foundation.
"Will we recover?" She asked this question aloud, not really caring who answered. Perhaps, if they were lucky, Sithis would answer. Or the Night Mother. But she could tell even as she stood there that the wind held no traces of either, and the only one available to answer was the Dunmer that she now stood next to. She had a sinking feeling that he did not hold the answer either.
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Cinders
Jul 30, 2007 0:49:50 GMT -5
Post by Silence on Jul 30, 2007 0:49:50 GMT -5
((*Sighs* I suppose this means I'm supposed to post Si's character sheet too?))
Rubbing her right arm gingerly, Silence winced as she saw the blood seeping into the cloth she had hastily tied around the wound, as a sort of bandage. She padded along the countryside, her green eyes duller than usual as she watched the Dunmer and Bosmer, who both seemed dispirited, and with good reason too.
What will become of them now? The attack had gone so badly wrong, the Listener was gone, and so was Shady, Speaker of Leyawiin. Or perhaps it should be ex-Speaker. Grywyn, her own Silencer, had dissapeared to who knows where, and she did not have the time to search for him yet.
Where were Sithis and the Night Mother through all this?
She sighed quietly, brushing a loose strand of matted auburn hair away from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. Silence pulled her hood over her face, sighing again.
"Hena sakkir Kalikir?" Silence whispered, using her native tongue, the Elvish language of the Bosmer. The words simply meant: why leave us Kalikir?
The war with the Morag Tong was over.
What now?
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Cinders
Aug 4, 2007 20:29:49 GMT -5
Post by Akkar on Aug 4, 2007 20:29:49 GMT -5
(( Yep yep yep, doing so. I guess this isn't such a great time to say I wasn't expecting any replies, eh? kekekekeke....... ))
Sensing a disturbance in the ruin's silence, Jiub hurried to clip up his garments. The last thing he needed right now was an unnecessarily awkward situation. He turned his head to see Lorren round the corner, and with a slightly relieved sigh, nodded to her in acknowledgment. The Bosmer he knew only as Silence followed shortly after, and with their presence, Jiub felt a sudden rush of perspective.
So this was where his life had led him - left to rebuild an organisation he had no faith in with two women he barely knew to serve a god who had abandoned them. Making a noise like a soft cough, he smiled. He could not cut and run; the Brotherhood was too widely spread, they would catch him in the end. Even if he managed to evade them, there were others who did not think too kindly of him - he would never be able to lead a civilians’ life while the Legion still pursued him for the crimes of a past life. Somehow, the Dunmer could not help but feel apathetic.
But he could not keep this mood up for long. Alone, he could sulk away, but these two would want progress. Obviously, they wanted his help, and for that he felt heartened. He realised that they would have similar thoughts as he did - questioning the guild they had so much faith in, thinking more for their own survival than the preservation of the Brotherhood. Duty and honour was what kept them here, what drove them to gather with him and plan a future for them all.
His expression hardened. In a quick flurry, he leapt over the railings, robes flowing in a delayed unison. Jiub straightened, meeting the eyes of the two speakers.
There was work to be done.
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Cinders
Aug 6, 2007 10:34:00 GMT -5
Post by Lorren on Aug 6, 2007 10:34:00 GMT -5
((There are railings in the Ayleid ruins? )) It seemed strange to her that something had brought her here, some unexplained sense of duty and responsibility. If she could have her way, she'd get up and leave for some far off country, hopefully to never hear of the Brotherhood again. But something told her not to. There were things that needed to be taken care of, messes that needed to be cleaned: a mess that she'd helped make. It just so happened that they were the only ones left to clean it up. The emotions going across Jiub's face made her think that he was going through some of the same internal battles, and Silence merely said nothing behind her. Lorren half expected him to send them away, to tell them it wasn't worth it, that the Brotherhood was dead, over. But he was a better man than that, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Face hard, he came to stand in front of them and Lorren gave her best expression to let him know that she would do whatever needed to be done. "The Brotherhood is in our hands, Speaker. What are we going to do with it?" she questioned. Their top priority was either to find the Listener (would she even be the Listener still?), or find her body and get a new Listener appointed. Everything else they did was pointless. They couldn't recruit, they couldn't get contracts. None of it mattered without a Listener. She figured they both knew this already, but perhaps having it voiced would help. "We need a Listener," she sighed. She wasn't quite sure how they would find one. Generally Black Hand members ascended to the rank of Listener, as far as she knew, and even then the Night Mother had to offer them the rank. Perhaps that was it then. Perhaps they had to go to the Night Mother and enter her tomb, offer their forgiveness, and ask her advice. Lorren wondered if they'd even be allowed in.
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Cinders
Aug 6, 2007 14:32:23 GMT -5
Post by Eaving on Aug 6, 2007 14:32:23 GMT -5
The time for slumber was almost over.
Voices were calling, desperate whispers hurting her ears with their urgency. The black hall had grown dull, the dark man with his hand lovingly on her shoulder tensed, and she looked up at him, her face childlike in its open trust. Her hands stilled in their motions, playing with the red ball of wool, the string twined intricately between her slender fingers.
The time was definately close.
The woman, in her black silk gown, looked drawn and sickly as she bent to put her face close.
"Things are spiralling into motion," she whispered, "and none can be decided upon but you."
The man nodded one, curtly. His displeasure a dark mist that he draped about himself.
"Before all is lost." He said, giving her cheek a loving caress. "You have another purpose, daughter. Another chance."
She looked up at them blankly, not understanding the depth of what they spoke. Death had clouded her mind. Things were not clear. So, she smiled sweetly at them, and returned to playing with her wool.
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Cinders
Aug 6, 2007 18:37:32 GMT -5
Post by Akkar on Aug 6, 2007 18:37:32 GMT -5
Jiub nodded at Lorren's words; the helped to clear his head of clouded thoughts. Without someone to hear the Night Mother's words, there was little they could do.
The Dunmer opened his mouth to speak. "If-" He was cut off almost instantly, a queer sound turning his head. A faint noise, emanating from no point in particular, but audible nonetheless. It seemed to sweep past them, and with a strange sense of déjà vu, Jiub recognised the sound. Like a thousand voices whispering their secrets, it pressed around them. There had only been one time he had heard it before – in Kalikir’s home. It was the sound of the Void.
Jiub’s heart raced, a sudden surge of ice pouring through his blood. The light of the Ayleid stones faded and flickered. Shadows crawled across the walls.
Then, as suddenly as it had happened, it stopped. The chill passed, light returning to its normal state. He turned an eye to the other Speakers – judging by their looks, the phenomena had not been limited to him.
The obvious question begged to fall from his lips. But the others would have little better idea of what just happened, but would know of its source. If the Dread Lord greeted them only with the Void, then perhaps he wished for them to join him there. If not – well then, strange happenings were bound to occur.
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Cinders
Aug 6, 2007 19:28:59 GMT -5
Post by Lorren on Aug 6, 2007 19:28:59 GMT -5
A memory flickered across Lorren's mind, just as the crystals of the Ayleid ruins flickered in and out of illumination. They'd been in her sanctuary- they being the Tong traitors, herself, and the Listener Kalikir- when suddenly everything had stopped. As if by magic, the Listener and the traitor Haven had been shifted from their original spaces, both deeply disturbed, and the only clue as to what had occurred was a lingering, bone chilling cold. This was similar, only now time didn't stop.
The Dread Father was speaking to them, but there were none present able to hear his call.
The Bosmer now found it pertinant to voice her opinion. It was time to seek council with the Night Mother. Whether she was angry with them or not, she would not leave her precious children to flounder in the dark for long. The blows had been taken, the lessons learned, and now it was time for retribution.
"We need to speak with the Night Mother. If we enter her tomb, surely she will offer us guidance."
She looked to both Jiub and Silence for confirmation, but whether they agreed with her or not, she was going. The Night Mother may kill her for the intrusion, but she didn't care. They'd been stuck with an orginization that wasn't theirs to lead, and now they needed to make the strides to make things right again. The Brotherhood could wait no longer.
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Cinders
Aug 12, 2007 10:53:22 GMT -5
Post by Silence on Aug 12, 2007 10:53:22 GMT -5
Silence recoiled with a soft hiss when she felt the sudden, unnatural chill. It was bad enough to be stuck in an Ayleid ruin, where she could not see the sky, or feel the cool wind of the outside on her face. She would be glad when she left.
She tilted her head, considering, when Lorren spoke. The plan was a sound one. The only flaw in it was that there was too much of a chance that the Night Mother might injure them, or worse, if they tried to enter without some sort of sign. Unless that strange moment where they felt and heard the void was the sign...?
If only Kalikir was here.
So many if onlys. Scowling, Silence pushed them from her mind, and turned her focus to the other Bosmer Speaker.
"I have no objection to going, but perhaps it would be better if the whole Hand went, not counting Kalikir?"
She wondered if the other two knew she was thinking about Shady, the Speaker for Leyawiin, whom she thought she had seen falling to the ground, a sword buried deep in his chest. Even if Shady had miraclously survived, he was nowhere to be found. So who shall take his place? His Silencer, M'aiq the Liar?
Silence didn't think it was too much of a choice. M'aiq was too...odd for her tastes.
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Cinders
Aug 17, 2007 3:59:42 GMT -5
Post by Rannok on Aug 17, 2007 3:59:42 GMT -5
And then reality shook, darkness spread out like an incoming tide, splashing in as waves then retreating back into the ocean of dark. A cry was let out, pitiful and terrifying, the only audible word being "Kalikir!"
With every step his perception scattered sporadicly, blackness and light. Every step made the man feel as if he were going to vomit. His soul was filled with anguish and terror, yet, a twisted insanity was once again taking over his mind.
Anger. The uncontrollable emotion flooded him every time he retraced the battle. He had gone in at his Listener's side, and yet they became separated.
Rannok couldn't even recall how many victims fell to his blades. All he remembers is the red of the blood all around him, and screaming Kalikir's name. He had thought their separation was a plot of their enemy, a tactic for the bold. Many white faced Tong met Rannok's blade, but it was futile, all of them a distraction to separate Listener and Silencer.
This was his fault. Power corrupts.
So many had died, the battle was in the past. But there Rannok stood, in the Ayelid ruin, the speakers trail vivid in his memory. There he stood, in the same armor he wore on the day of the battle, filthy. His blades covered in dry blood, he dragged against the floor; they had not left the tight grip of his hands.
With one more lurch forward, anger and hate filling his voice, Rannok let out a deep and terrible cry,
"Where is she!?"
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Cinders
Aug 18, 2007 7:51:55 GMT -5
Post by Eaving on Aug 18, 2007 7:51:55 GMT -5
She was pulled to her feet, roughly, and without grace. She winced, and realized she felt pain, that here bare feet were cold upon the black stone flagging. The souls trapped in the mist beyond the once-living human pillars, screeched and squealed and chitter-chattered with voices she recognized.
"Where is she?!" Cried one voice that made her heart ache.
"Kalikir?" Cried another, a female voice, a child's voice, that brought tears to her red-green eyes.
"Kalikir? Where is she?! Where has she gone? Why did she leave us? why? Where? Kalikir!"
She gave a distressed sob, wrapped her arms around her distended belly, instinctively protecting it, yet not knowing why. The woman in the silk gown, whom she called 'mother' came forward with open arms and embraced her, but she did not offer warmth as one might. She was cold and clammy, her skin translucent yet corpse-ish.
The dark man was there also, the dear man. His touch was ice and fire, vile like a poison that trailed across her skin at the brush of a fingertip, yet he loved her. She was his daughter.
"Beloved daughter, pretty lady." He cooed, breaking the embrace of the other woman and placing a strengthening hand on her shoulder once more. "The time has come. Too much has passed. They are weakened without you, not as I had hoped. A leader they want, a leader they shall have."
With his hand he turned her gently, so that she faced the silver-gray mists beyond the pillars.
"See... Remember."
The mists became solid, a mirror at first. She saw herself, pale and bruised, cuts and abrasions marring her skin. They were old, the last she had received. They would not heal. Not here. Not in this state of undeath. Slowly, her image faded, until that of a man was before, clad in black armor, his face completely masked. He looked lost, hopeless. She reached out a hand for him, but her fingers touched nothing but cool air. He called her name, voice full of pain, anger.
"Rannok!" She called to him, and remembered.
"Ahh, good. You know yourself now?" The dark man queried.
"Yes, Great Lord." Kalikir answered, bowing her head in reverence.
"Then it is time for you to leave us." She could not see, but sensed his smile. A force struck her, like a great invisible fist colliding with her breastbone and sending her sprawling.
"I dragged you from your first life, now I shall force your birth into this one."
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Cinders
Aug 18, 2007 8:38:06 GMT -5
Post by Akkar on Aug 18, 2007 8:38:06 GMT -5
(( Lolzors, home of Jiub, Rannok, not Kalikir… yes, I’m ever so pedantic… =P ))
Jiub stood stock still, torn between the urge to approach Rannok and the fear of his rage. Though the Dunmer could claim his throne of rank, it was Kalikir to whom the Silencer listened. This made him closest to the Night Mother; not one to tempt into anger.
“I don’t know,” Jiub said plainly. Empty though the words were, they were better than false reassurements. Not knowing what bond the Listener and her Silencer had shared, the Dunmer said little else.
Jiub felt light headed, and rubbed his head in exhaustion. A strange buzzing filled his ears, like metal being scraped over metal. A crescendo echoed in his head, then silence.
“…Remember.”
A flash, and Jiub found himself in the ruins once again. Realising that he had thrown his head up in shock, he regained his composure, heart beating adrenaline through him at a considerable rate.
Jiub looked to his feet to avoid the perplexed stares. At a loss to understand what had overwhelmed him, he stayed silent, musing with a befuddled frown. The deep voice reverberated in his mind like a lingering shadow. It was a fel sound, dripping with unfathomable malice.
But it was not to him that the voice spoke.
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Cinders
Aug 19, 2007 4:37:40 GMT -5
Post by Rannok on Aug 19, 2007 4:37:40 GMT -5
(heh, sorry Akkar... a little confused when I posted.. was also very tired!)
"I don't know"
Of course they don't know, no one does! Take hold of yourself! Control what you are! Keep your feet steady you bastard, emotions can't control you not now! But Kalikir.... Vengeance! No. Hope! She must, exist, must! She is with me now.
Rannok's inner turmoil was not evident on his face, but his stumbling movements made it clear that the emotions he was feeling left him in a worse state then any sword or arrow wound. Far worse. He seemed to ignore those he should be showing the utmost respect to. People who had earned their position, Speakers, that normally would not stand for such insolence.
Weakness, lack of control. This is what was overtaking Rannok, he wanted to tear the room apart, destroy everything in his path that wasn't Kalikir.
That wasn't Kalikir and his child.
But she existed, the somber voice in his head told him so. And the coldness that swept the room as Rannok watched Jiub react to something, was overwhelming.
Then an explosion of fleeting thought filled Rannok's mind, each one holding it's own insecurities and doubts. Rannok fell to his knees shaking, but fought his way back to his feet again.
Something must happen.
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Cinders
Aug 19, 2007 8:56:10 GMT -5
Post by Silence on Aug 19, 2007 8:56:10 GMT -5
((Eh...So, we're not in an Ayleid ruin now?))
Silence's hands clenched themselves into fists, her nails digging deeply into the flesh of her palms, almost drawing some blood. Almost, but not quite. They were shattered, shattered without Kalikir. Silence saw that now. Rannok looked as if he was ready to tear apart everything in his path. The Bosmer felt uneasy. No, more than uneasy.
She was scared.
The over-whelming exhaustion, her wounds, and the fact that she hated, hated being confined in a small space, like an Ayleid ruin or Fort for example, made her irratable. She wanted to shut herself away, curl up into a small ball and sleep, sleep until this nightmare was over. But she had to do her duty, duty to the Dark Brotherhood, and Sithis and the Night Mother, whether or not they truly have left.
Some say that Assassins have no concept of honor. Silence felt a small flicker of satisfaction as she proved them wrong.
Still, that small flicker was rapidly swallowed by the darkness of her fear. She fought like one drowning, trying to keep her head above the waves that were her emotions. Fear, anger, hatred, sorrow, all mixed into one...
Silence let out a soft groan.
"Kali...You've got to be alive...Somewhere..."
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Cinders
Aug 19, 2007 16:03:45 GMT -5
Post by Eaving on Aug 19, 2007 16:03:45 GMT -5
The three Speakers stood in an informal half-moon facing a make-shift altar to Sithis and the Night Mother. Access to her tomb was unavailable to them, not without the Listener or a fourth Speaker. This little sanctified room in the bowels of Speaker Jiub's home was the best they could muster. It would serve its purpose well enough.
Rannok, Silencer, lover to the Listener, was standing unsteadily between Speakers Jiub and Silence, his own eyes turned toward the altar, yet not seeing. His thoughts were turned inward, as they so often were.
An ethereal wind swept through the subterranean chamber, causing the few candles to sputter and the shadows upon the walls to dance merrily, reminding them all vividly of the Shadow Imps that Kalikir had so readily called to her command.
Their breath began to mist before their eyes. The Dread Lord was definitely present.
The few bones upon the altar began to jump and shudder, flying from the flat surface to land upon the floor in the shape of a rough triangle, a human skull grinning up at them with its empty black sockets.
Upon the ceiling, in counterpoint to the skull, thin, snake-like back lines began to issue forth from nowhere, curving and winding and twisting their way own the walls, toward the layed out bones. They were familiar to those who had seen Kalikir work the Dread Lord's power. Tendrils of the black lines gently reached out and caressed the skull, probing the eye sockets and hollow cheeks, before seeping inside.
The room began to echo with a woman's cries, the sounds of a woman agonizing through the labor of birth.
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