The Issues of Burgundy, Main IC Thread

[Six]

The cave air is cold and damp, clinging against your skin. However, the light thrown by the torches on the cave walls fully illuminates the small chamber in which you stand, as the stench of blood begins to reach your nostrils.

At one moment, you stood with Ivory plaques in your hand. The next, you had been transported away from this plane. You all know what transpired in your own moments. But now, you are back in the very place you stood, the ivory plaques gone from sight.

Somehow, even in this place, with teh shadows of the cave closing in about you, and the damp chilling your flesh, you can tell that something is...different.
Rymen's eyes are far off and glassy, and he stands taller. Aas holds a great weapon, the color of dragonfang. The length of a spear with a blade the length of a shortsword on the end, which hums with powerful energies. Where once were simple peasants clothes is now a great, shining breastplate of mithral with a dragons head taking up the entirety of the torso, the entire suit lacquered a deep blue.

In Ross' hands, a great glowing scimitar, with a gemworked hilt, the great Sapphire set into the pommel glowing an icy color. The plate mail upon his torso, and hefty shield in his arm show a strong color of emerald, though a moment's inspection would reveal their work to be not of gem, but of adamantine.

The glassy expression on all of the faces, however, are the same. Each has communed with something far greater than themselves. Each has come away far greater than they were mere moments ago, with one thought ringing clearly in their minds.

Count's Peak.

[ilbabo]

Upon snapping back to the reality that was the cold, dank cave, Ross was shaking. Dropping to his knees, he wipes the sweat from his brow. He was different than a mere moment ago. Stronger, with a purpose. A strong, overflowing sense of purpose was embedded into his mind. Nay, not just his mind. Into the essence of his being. What he had just seen and felt he knew were real, and he knew what had been bestowed upon him.

Ross stood up and composed himself. On his left side, a shield. His right, a great scimitar with a single sapphire embedded into the hilt. He runs his fingers over the sapphire, chilling to the touch. With goosebumps sent running down his spine, he sets it back on his side and examines his armor. Emerald in colour, extremely durable. Heavy mail, he could tell, but the weight seemed.. almost negligible. Each piece, clearly more than meets the eye. Almost instantly a wave of knowledge floods Ross's mind as he hears the words of Markís speaking to him.

"This is a very powerful weapon. It was my very own. Treat it well."

With words of wisdom left echoing in Ross's mind he sets off toward the entrance of the cave, his hand seemingly habitually resting on the hilt of the scimitar, fingers laid over the sapphire.

[Four]

Rymen stood adamant, aesthetically matching the man he'd entered the chamber's proper as; yet, as his grasp of reality dawned, he questioned his place in the domain of normalcy. That plane his childhood had exposed of him seemed raw with potential, seething with the unknown - even in the dark of this chamber, the sheer density of the air, he'd felt as though each burden was naught but pleasantry, an anchor that reminded him of his mortality.

His veins surged with eldritch might, a gift who's aphotic grasp was yet unknown; the chaos of his bloodline, imbued as it was by history, was eclipsed by the sheer presence of arcane ability. His thoughts were more clear, his conscience void of any obscurity. He felt clean, untouched by the ambiance surrounding; he felt more concise, an ability to discern embraced as though intrinsically available. He felt powerful, as though the world was at his mercy.. As though the world's evils were at his mercy. Most important, however, was in that he felt capable, that initial realization of what was replaced by the acknowledgement of what is, by what now might be. What now could be.. His thoughts trailed off.

Still yet, he doubted the clarity of his being. Never before so assuredly motivated, untouched as he was by the fetters of past idle insecurities, Rymen was, for once, able to grasp the thought of reality.. What it truly meant to him. With it, came the thought, though fleeting it was, that he more than existed; he could secure his reality. He would divert his gaze to the chamber surrounding, the initial panic of that first step toward Ross alerting him that this was, indeed, no mere dream. He forced himself onward.

Were he asleep, lucid would fail to describe the sensation that welled within him. His eyes glowed a dull hue of aqua, replaced by the assured confidence of what might have otherwise been a lifetime of experience. Granted, no voices rang throughout the confines of his mind. Only his own greeted his curious disposition, and responded with a remarkably ordered chaos, a myriad of confusion and certainty merged into one. Onward, once more.

The dim glow of near torches, the rancid stench of death abundant, drew him the remainder of the way to his awaiting body. The thought of being alone in this realm pervaded logic, and he immediately sought the presence of those comrades he'd entered with.

[ilbabo]

A few steps outside the cave, something was bothering Ross. He couldn't quite place the location, but he knew a name. It was... bothersome, and unnerving. A footstep of Rymen awakes Ross from his marching trance. Turning around, he looks Rymen in the eyes. There was a strange presence in those eyes, one he couldn't quite place, but didn't sense hostility in his direction. Unable to find the source of the uneasiness in Rymen's eyes, two words manage to slip out from Ross's mouth.

"Count's Peak."

Simply speaking these words brings a sense of direction and courage to Ross, and he finds himself able to speak more.

"I am unsure as to the cause and reason, but I feel there is something I need to do there. You are a capable warrior of the magical arts, and it is because of that I wish to invite you to accompany me. Those plaques did something to us. I am sure you felt it too. Some things great and others..."

His voice trails off, seemingly lost in thought.

[Abyssallord661]

Aas for the moment he was frozen in place in reality, it seemed like time had halted. He felt himself being pulled away from the cave. He closed his eyes to stifle the feeling of motion sickness. After the sensation subsided he opened his eyes to find himself in his native desert, surrounded by limestone building epic in their size and water and vegetation plentiful. At first he did not recognize where he was, but it slowly dawned on him as he recognized the building he had only seen from far outside its city walls, and the building he had seen before were crumbled and in need of repair. This city was new and fresh. It was at this point he heard a voice and turned around in response.

"This is your kingdom, rightfully yours, back in a day where the walls were sturdy and the river water glistened with the light of the desert sun. this is my time" a beautiful woman stood in front of him, her eyes and skin a light shade of blue, she wore a dancer's outfit, teasing most men with bare skin and leaving little to the imagination. Upon closer observation her mouth had recently been bleeding and a single scaly blue wing extended from her left shoulder blade.

Aas spoke for he knew who she was, "Aaila... am I dead? why do you appear before me?" he dropped to one knee to show is devotion to his people's deity. She was a blue dragon who mated with his ancestor, the king of his people at the time, and shared her power with his bloodline.

she spoke, "I stand before you to give you precious gifts, that will not only serve you in battle, but possibly serve you in rebuilding the luster of our kingdom which has been reduced to warring nomadic tribes who have forgotten to respect the higher powers that made them great" she spoke like a true goddess , angered by the mortals who choose reject her. "I give you my fang" she gestured to her mouth which was coated in blood, "as a spear. I also give you my right wing, as a suit of armor. I have maimed myself to give you the power you so desperately need. do not squander it Aas, for as your name suggests you are the hope for not only your tribe, but for me as well." she slowly walked over to him and touched his forehead. He was sent back to reality as he jolted from the familiar sensation.

He looked in his right hand, there he held the naginata "Aaila's Fang", he held it forward perpendicular to his body as the spear shrank and formed into the shape of a dagger. This was just one of its many ablities. He had hardly noticed the weight of the mithril breastplate, "Aaila's Wing" that he wore. He felt a great sadness as he recalled the Aaila tore off her own wing to make this for him. He knew as this new-found power began to stir in him that he needed to stay true to his path and not to squander these treasures.

[ilbabo]

"I do recall there being a third member with us. Perhaps he is back in the cave."

Ross treads back into the cave, almost walking into Aas coming around a stalagmite. Unfrightened by the sudden appearance of his acquaintance, he repeats his request to Aas.

"There is something I feel I need to do, some location known as Count's Peak." He takes a moments break to notice the newly donned armor and dagger Aas wore. Images of the encounter with Markís flash through his head, and he knew there was definitely something mystical about those plaques. "I am asking if you'd like to accompany me. It will surely be a difficult task, and from the looks of it you have been given very special gifts that would prove to be a valuable asset. In exchange, I offer my services to any cause you might have."

He held his hand out toward Aas, awaiting an answer.

[Four]

Rymen acknowledged the statement given by Ross, himself having wondered where the third man had wandered to. Upon turning, he'd find the apparently eager Ross already steps ahead of him, despite the closer proximity Rymen had held. As a result, he'd merely left himself to observe the exchange, those same words given; beyond, he'd recognize the varied appearance of his other comrade, Aas.

Rymen's mind swelled with curiosity, with ambition, with speculation; distracted ironically by the clarity manifest, as though set within the vice of a new world, he'd appear distant, somewhat untouched by his surroundings. Patiently, he waited. As that name touched his ears, Count's Peak, Rymen felt a fate he'd imagined hadn't so much as grazed the presence of those others present. He felt pride.

[Abyssallord661]

Aas looked up at Ross breaking out of concentration. Counts peak... he thought, he felt like he needed to be there as well. "Very well let us make way for Count's Peak." he said and shook Ross's hand. he then quickly belted his dagger and walked out of the cave with Ross and Rymen. Still in a half daze from what just happened, his bright blue eyes scanned his surroundings. Having blue eyes at all among his people was a sign of having ancient noble blood. he looked back at Rymen and Ross and asked "do we know the way?"

[Four]

Rymen took the initiative to speak, his first words spoken since emergence. The calmness he'd express startled even himself - not a stutter, not even an unnecessary pause. His tone was one of understanding, whether it seemed there was anything to comply in such a manner with or not. "Count's Peak is famed for its view." And its prophecy, he thought, as his gaze drove toward the direction of their home. He'd recalled, during his idle, obscure references spoken fondly by his teacher, to the utility of that peak in accordance to its supreme defensive location. Furthermore, were a crown to rise.. He trailed off.

He'd point, roughly, in the direction he'd remember it occupying; still miles away, though, he doubted his accuracy. He merely gestured for the sake of notification. "Let us not forget, friends.. We've a few individuals expecting our return." A smile touched his lips, having just now felt that sense of accomplishment derived of their recent victory. No matter how, we won, Rymen told himself. "Let's not be hasty. The peak has existed far longer than any of us have lived," he remembers his age, and laughs, a melodious flavor therein. "I'm sure that it can wait long enough for a night's rest, in a warm bed. Our superiors must be wondering."

[ilbabo]

"Ah, right. In my haste I had forgotten. Let us go."

Ross felt this strange urge to have a drink when he got back. He never was a big, or frequent, drinker. Perhaps his relationship with his deity was more than just that of a worshipper. He felt the formation of a bond with him, ever so present whenever his hand laid rest over the sapphire. He must like to celebrate after a victory. Perhaps not this time. There will be time for celebration, but for now there is work to be done.

Ross's voice broke the silence between them. "Rymen, you spoke knowledgeable of this place. Perhaps you could relay any history about the peak that you have learned? I would like to hear anything you know."