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 Posted: Sun Jan 24, 2016 6:44 am
The Little Annoyance
Response For: The Approach, Lightning Strikes Twice, Now Get Out
212 Words
Raemos had enjoyed his crafting vacation, but he was happy to get back to work when Celieda returned. Soon, he knew, he would have his last few missions with the Sterbens before they returned to their homeland to join the army there. He wished it was not so, but such was the way of things.
His Guild was starting to, temporarily, dissolve or – more accurately – detatch it's branches from each other. War complicated things, and the Guardians – no matter who they were or what side they fought for – would still uphold it's name. But they would also be pitted against each other. No one was talking about that aspect of it. No one wanted to. So, the guild broke apart. It would re form. It always had.
But soon, his friends would not be in his chapter of it, and they may well die in battle – killed by the warriors of light. It hurt to think that those he supported from the bottom of his heart could be the slayers of his friends, but in the end, that was war, wasn't it? All for the greater good and for Seren's light.
He wanted to enjoy what time he had with them before any of that became relevant.[A concept sketch of Red]
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Posted: Wed Jan 27, 2016 3:28 pm
Idle Drinks and Harsh Words
Solo
892 Words
Raemos idly studied Selzas face as she spoke animatedly to her brother. The conversation, of course, was not for him. Indeed, they were across the room, their voices hushed. They were not talking about him, in fact they did not even glance his way. But Raemos was interested anyway. He knew what they were talking about, though... what else would pass the lips of any full blooded Soldulan Oblivionite during these strange times?
The darkness to the North was stirring, building like a storm, and the light of the South followed suit. They prepared to clash – Raemos imagined there would be whirling blades, thunderous screams, and rains of blood when the time came for their meeting... for War.
Raemos was an Oblivionite, but he was not Soldulan and he was not welcome in the discussions of the Soldul region. He was not even permitted to hear of the Guardian's Oblivionite clients abroad. Not, of course, because of any wrongdoing on his part. In fact, he had done things right – his superiors knew well his political and religious allegiances, and when he had been placed in situations that compromised his beliefs, he had behaved professionally and in the Guardian's best interests. No. His superiors were not punishing him - they excluded him out of respect and courtesy.
Raemos could not join the fight against the Orderites - he would not fight against those he considered his own – and fighting the Oblivionites as part of Aevah Avi's great army was beyond impossible. Even if it was not, 'his' people's opinion of him would not change. To them, he was no more than a soulless abomination, pitiable at best. He had come to terms with that.
Out of respect for his stated alliegiences and in preparation for the changes war would bring to the semi-neutral Guardians, his superiors had shuffled him around. He thought that perhaps they had gone a little too far in removing all Oblivionite and half-Oblivionite members from his unit, and in putting him off duty as they re-formed his unit with Guardians in equally awkward situations, but who was he to question his superiors? He trusted them to organize their organization so that he – and others - could perform nonwar duties at their fullest capacity.
He turned away from Selza and Talon as they continued to talk, closing his eyes and taking a deep swig of ale. The implications of war, of course, went beyond his situation and even his family. It could make – or break – his friends and acquaintances in the Guardians. People he knew might fight against other people he knew. Some would not return to the Guardians when this stage of war was done. Some might not be able to. He drank again, trying to drown out the dark and dire thoughts.
“Hey! Rae!” he opened his sockets blearily to see a shadow over him. He did not need to look to know it was Selza.
“Hello.” he said, subdued, looking into his now-empty cup. He contemplated it for a moment before turning to more fully face his friends. Such as they were. “Doing well, I hope?”
Talon stood behind her, glowering at Raemos. He was sullen as ever. Rae decided to ignore him. Selza, as usual, ignored the animosity between them both. “Yeah! You?” she didn't wait for him to respond. “So, Rae, I... uh... wanted to ask you. So, I'm getting married soon...”
“To...”
“Yeah. And, uh. I know how you feel about this... but I've got to bring this up. Your, uh...” she gestured at her throat, “Your amulet... when you come to my wedding, will you be wearing it, or...?”
Raemos reached for the icon at his throat and fiddled with it, watching Selza's face carefully. It was a symbol of Seren – he could wear it freely here, in Tukyere, where there were stranger freaks than a Seren-worshipping Oblivionite. “Selza, you know me better than that.” he said, carefully, “When I am not somewhere where it is welcome, I keep my opinions discrete...” he flicked his tail.
“Oh... yeah.” she said, nervously, “What I, uh, really meant to ask, was...”
“Do you think I would not buy an appropriate gift? That I would bring you some sort of enchanted object glittering with light magic?” he said, a little more harshly than intended, “Or say something inappropriate about my love for Seren and her light? Or perhaps dance a jig naked? Or sleep with your husband?”
“No, I...” She seemed taken aback, “I'm just...”
Raemos closed his eyelids and took a moment to calm himself – perhaps he didn't need another drink. Not in public, anyway. “I'm sorry. I know what you're truly asking... And you need not worry – I'm not going to your wedding, Selza.”
“Oh.” she sounded disappointed.
“You know how I feel about going to Soldul. You know how our superiors feel about me going to Soldul. You know how your brother feels about me getting an invitation at all. I'm not going. I can't go.” he paid the bartender, “But... perhaps I wanted to go to your wedding.” He stood. “And, perhaps, I would not have done any of those things.”
“Raemos, wait...” she called after him, but he was already walking away.
[Selza Portrait]
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Posted: Wed Jan 27, 2016 3:30 pm
In These Dark and Troubled Times
Solo
706 Words
He returned to his rooms and closed the door behind him. As a Sergent, he was permitted a spacious set of rooms to himself in the guild hall, and after having lived in the dorms for some time, he appreciated the luxury of having his own rooms greatly. He had noticed, when he'd first moved to these rooms, that a place of one's own changed depending on what – or who – was in it. When he had friends over, his rooms were pleasant and invigorating. When he was tired after a long days work or a long travel or hunt, they were dull and comfortable. When his parents visited (or, rarely, his sister) they were somehow humiliatingly slovenly no matter what he did. When he had a lover, it was warm and intimately cozy.
Now, though, alone and tired and inebriated and miserable, they simply seemed cold and uncaring. Mere rooms, of mere stone and wood and cloth. Nothing more. Raemos sat on one of his chairs and stared at the floor for a moment before taking out a bottle of something acquired as a gift in his travels. Good liquor. He poured himself some and resumed his drinking.
Raemos did not typically drink as much as he did, but the more that he thought about the oncoming war, the more he realized that, right as things had become stable and pleasant, everything would change. Selza was marrying a Soldul-stationed Guardian. She would have her happy day, and maybe she had found true love. The story of her life would have a beautiful chapter in it. Raemos envied her, and he truly, honestly, would have loved to be there for her on that day. But he wasn't, and he couldn't.
How long, he wondered, would she and her husband have that beautiful marital bliss before they both became a part of Lord Draco's voracious war machine? Raemos knew that was their fate. Guardians though they were, they were loyal to Soldul and to that side of the unending war between dark and light. Their guild knew how to deal with this – it had dealt with such challenges to its unity before, and it had many carefully wrought policies in place to expertly handle just such an occasion.
Raemos endured the more complicated of them, as did the hybrids and other residents of Tukyere and neutral towns. It was rough, indeed, to navigate the paperwork involved, but he could only imagine how complicated it would be to be a part of two armies at such cross purposes. How did one balance the needs of the Guardians with the army of a country? Was it truly possible? Raemos supposed it was, but he didn't imagine that it was easy.
Raemos knew Orderites who were a part of the Light's side of the war, who wished to fight for Seren and Aevah Avi (and, unlike him, had nothing in their way). Maeron included. What if his father and uncle joined them? What if they clashed with Selza and her brother on the fields of battle? What if they killed each other? Raemos knew that there was nothing he could do about either case. He was trapped on Eowyn, stuck in a web of neutrality and nonwar assignments.
The Great Engagement, however, raged inside of him. He worshiped the goddess of light and loved her people as his own, but yet his body was crafted of shadows and darkness, their sworn enemy. His identity was at war with itself, a constant and growing conflict that was sometimes nearly unbearable. Only when he was encased in the uniform of a Guardian did he know who he was and what he was for sure – he was a Guardian. That much was certain. The pending war, however, was breaking that identity apart, splitting it along the lines of war. It hurt.
The drink helped very little. He put it down shakily and stood up, head spinning. He staggered to bed, vaguely shedding a few clothes as he collapsed onto it's comfortable mattress without even turning off his light. Already, Raemos felt a little sick, and he dreaded the morning... and all things... beyond. And there was nothing he could do.
[A bottle of wine, a half empty glass, wine spilling onto the floor...]
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2016 8:51 pm
The Client
Solo
947 Words
Raemos had a new job assigned to him from on high, and as Guardian jobs went, it was pretty bland; It had nothing to do with the war, or with policing, or with anything particularly heroic. Raemos was all right with the mundaneity – he had, long ago, come to terms with the Guardian's unique take on the mercenary lifestyle. As he packed his travel kit and selected his men, he was grateful to be helping a private client. Desperate to escape the fevered discussions of war and strife that made him burn with frustration, he knew he could not simply sleep until it was all over, hibernating in his dorms in the desert outpost. So he did the next best thing – he worked.
“Allnright.” he said, addressing his troops. He had been assigned a bunch of misfits like himself, those who had no part in the upcoming war either by virtue of belief, accident of blood, or near-forgotten sins. They were good people, all of them. “This is a simple escort mission. A merchant wants her caravan to travel it's desert routes safely, and has hired us to do so. This means that the key living hazards to be aware of will be bandits and... opportunistic... soldiers. As well as dragons and other wildlife. The caravan is exclusively Oblivionite. They have not specified any race restrictions, but any of you who are uncomfortable with that, please let me know. You will be put on scouting duty or will remain here at HQ for other orders.” He looked at each of them in turn, quietly. Raemos might have, at one point, been sensitive to the species of his clients, but he no longer made that distinction where they were concerned. Clients were clients and in a place like Tukyere, you could not get hung up on their race, species, or proportions thereof. He would not be dropping out of this, but he wanted to give his people the same opportunity he had been given. Discomfort was not, however, an excuse to get out of good honest work. “Even if you are not with us, your services are valuable to us and to the guild.” he assured them. “Those who are going, pack for the long trip, bring any barter goods you may have, and meet me at the gate for further debriefing.”
A few hybrids and Orderites approached him, and he reassigned them according to their skillsets and life factors with little fuss or fanfare. There was no shame in declining to protect something you didn't believe in protecting. Raemos believed in the reputation of the guild, and of the right of merchants to trade freely. But with the upcoming war, some would not believe in the rights of Oblivionites to live on Seren's Magesc, and they would not protect their charges as effectively as they should.
He met with those who would join him, and gave them the general plans of travel before joining the merchant group and going over them as well. He checked them thoroughly, and assured himself that they had all the right papers, with completely legal goods as far as he could tell, and that they were for the most part decent merchant folk. He had the feeling, though, that something wasn't right. It was a sense he couldn't quite place - something about the subtle furtiveness of their gazes, the gestures they made as they talked to each other, the easy grace with which they moved, and the slight lilt to their accents... It set him slightly on edge. They were more than merchantfolk, he felt.
But he was determined not to let that matter. He was escaping from the politics of war, and what exactly they were – soldiers, spies, or smugglers – as long as they did nothing illegal or immoral in front of him or on his watch, he would do his job. He would protect them.
He got his troops settled into the caravan's ranks, and approached the troupe's leader. Something about the woman seemed familiar, eerily so, but again, he couldn't place it. He knew he would have plenty of time to figure it out, though, on their journey. Still...
“Greetings. I am Sargent Raemos Medrol.” he said, holding out a hand for her to shake, “Forgive me for asking, but have we met before?”
She smiled, faintly, taking his hand in hers. It was gentle and soft but edged with strength... and also familiar. “Perhaps. In a dream.”
“Pardon?”
“Mmm...” She held his hand for a moment, just a moment, too long before letting it go. “No. We have not met before... But perhaps we were... fated to meet.”
Raemos let the comment slide. He did not believe in fate. The future was what you made of it, and the present was being determined – scry-able, yes, but also mutable. “We are in place, ma'am.”
“Please.” she interrupted, “Call me Meridiana. Meridiana Aslal.”
“Ms. Aslal.” he said, compromising, “My troops are prepared to go when you are.”
She smiled, showing her very white teeth. “Good. Then we leave at once.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you.” she said. The amount of feeling in those words puzzled him. Why should she be so thankful? “For taking this mission.”
Raemos kept his face composed. “I'm doing my job, Ms. Aslal.” he said cooly, saluting her, “I will take my place, then.”
Meridiana Alalsine Veyos smiled as he left, a predatory look passing briefly over her face. “Yes, my Sanadeyr... You will. Soon...” she whispered, before turning to her goods.
It was time for the operation to begin.
[The Caravan]
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Posted: Sat Feb 13, 2016 5:06 pm
Strategic Information
Solo
757 Words
The traders depot was not busy, but it was well stocked, and so the merchant caravan and its minders decided to use it to rest their weary feet. Raemos attended to his troops, checking on their status and gathering reports from the scouts he had asked to investigate this part of the route. And, at the same time, he kept part of his gaze on the people they were there to protect.
As the troupe had travelled on their route, Raemos had watched them closely, but he hadn't seen anything particularly out of the ordinary. While he could not refute that they were more, or other, than mere merchants, he could not figure out exactly what they were. Sometimes, he wasn't sure he saw the odd actions that put him on edge. Their true purpose, if they had one, remained a mystery.
At the same time, traded as merchants did, bartering supplies and goods for other supplies and goods, and news for news. His troops joined in the trading, too, and Raemos sat back to watch them. It was, he knew, healthy to be wary. He was a Guardian, and Eowyn was a dangerous place. False wariness was as necessary as true wariness. It made him pay attention. Perhaps, indeed, his feelings about the merchant troupe was nothing at all, a suspicion fueled only by their shadowy heritage.
However...
Raemos narrowed his eyes at the group of uniformed Oblivionite soldiers at the trading post. Their new-issued uniforms were crisp and pressed tightly against their toned bodies. War was on the horizon, indeed, but what were soldiers doing here? This was far from the blood fields, or from any Soldulan base that he knew of, or from anything at all really. In fact, this region, once ranches and hardscrabble farmland, was completely abandoned aside from the outpost and a holding or two. So... What were they doing here?
He brought out his notebook and began to draw them, sketching every detail he could of their gear and the items near them. He made a note of the location and the time, his hands moving quickly, releasing his unease onto the page. He was not permitted to take a side in the war, but he knew where his heart lay. If Lord Draco's army was somewhere they were not supposed to be, Raemos knew that Seren's light compelled him to speak. He had to report it, if not to Mistress Avi herself, then at least to the Guild Leaders.
His wings prickled, and he closed his sketchbook quickly, looking up to see the merchant leader watching him. It was hard to tell intent with empty eye sockets, but the smile on her face was at once pleased and far from comforting.
“Ah, Sargent Medrol.” she said, “I didn't know you were an artist...”
“I dabble. Mostly, I draw naturalistically.” he flipped to a page with a kargoth, showing it to her. “Animals and such.”
“I see.” she looked at him for a long time in silence, making his tail twitch with the intensity of her expression, “You are a man of many talents.”
“So I have been told.” he said, closing the sketchbook. “How may I help you?”
“Oh, I didn't come over for anything in particular.” she said, smiling mysteriously, “Just checking on you. You are a part of my troupe after all. If you see any good deals, please let me know... or...” her smile widened, “Feel free to partake it them yourself.”
“Thank you.” Raemos said flatly, “I will do so.”
He watched her as she left, tail flicking uneasily. There was something about her that bothered him, aside from the fact that she had clearly seen what he was doing. She felt off to him, as if something was out of place... or in the wrong one.
He took out his letter-writing supplies and wrote a quick missive to the Guild leaders, putting it – and the sketch – into the envelope. When he was sure he was unobserved, he slipped to one of his scouts. He pressed the letter into her hands, imploring her to bring it to HQ and to the leaders with the uptmost discretion and haste.
She did not understand why he needed a letter delivered so secretively, but she trusted his judgment and followed orders. Soon, she had left the trading post, taking flight on quiet, hidden wings, and Raemos could only hope and pray that she was able to transmit the vital information to their superiors. His business was here, his mission not yet concluded...
[The Soldiers]
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Posted: Sat Feb 13, 2016 5:20 pm
The Ambush
Solo
720 Words
The market that the merchant troupe's currently graced was not a pleasant one. The small, dusty, lawless Eowynian town had seen better days. It was dry as burnt bone and, though only a half days march from the bustling port city of Tukyere, it was utterly desolate. A ghost town, essentially, with just enough people here, apparently, to make a brief stopover somewhat worthwhile for the merchants.
Towns like these had many dark secrets woven into their old wooden beams, secrets that made his magic shift and shudder with a strange anticipation. Raemos had learned to trust his instincts and his magic, and he kept a hand on his sword at all times as the merchants set up their shop.
They would only be here briefly, and Raemos would be happy to leave this town behind. Next would be Taliuma itself, a much better place than this for all its flaws and filth. There, he could purchase necessities and gifts and send his letters far overseas to the Land of Light, where his sister waited (always) for news. He could also pick up his own mail, and learn whether her current suitor was, indeed, 'the one', or if he had been swapped out for a different model. He often wondered if she would ever settle down...
In the meantime, however, they were here, and Raemos intended to make sure that they – all of them – left in one piece. Raemos set up a perimeter with his Guardians, watchful for any strange movements or actions. Towns such as this were tricky, and the few people that were here were likely to be desperate and dishonorable. The laws did not apply here - he and his troops were its only representatives.
“Well.” Raemos watched the caravan leader out of the corner of his gaze as she addressed her people. “We have the merchandise here...” There was something about the way she said it that made Raemos grit his teeth. Something was off. Something had been off the whole time, to be sure, but now... “I guess it's time to take inventory, eh?”
The other merchants smirked, and Raemos had an uncanny feeling that masks of some sort were being removed. The odd feeling persisted, but the course of action was unclear... until a cloth impregnated with sickly sweet chemicals was pressed onto his nose and mouth. Then he knew that he needed to fight. He struggled, unaware that his men, too, were struggling as well, trying to throw off his attacker or call for help. But the drug soon worked it's magic, and he passed into a confused unconciousness, to wake to a nightmare beyond his wildest imagining...
-----
The leader did not want witnesses. “Shame to kill them all.” she said with a sigh, “Such a waste. They're capable fighters and some would make great assets for us. Pick a few you think can be turned, or your favorites, and kill the rest.” Her people got to work, taking prisoners, killing Guardians... they did both with equal compunction. She personally brought Raemos to his holding room, touching his face gently as they got him 'settled in'. “Soon, Sanadeyr...” she purred, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Bind him very tightly, dear.” she said, turning away, “He'll be a tricky one.” she smiled. “He is family, after all.”
She left him there, smiling. Her plan was coming together well.
-----
The Veyos spies hadn't wanted witnesses, but they did have one. They had scoured the surrounding area, dissuading or killing any incidental visitors. But they missed this one, young scout. Of Orderite and Aedaun khehora blood, the young hybrid hid in her web of illusion, peering out at the massacre from behind spells of light. Sweat dripped from her brow onto her Guardian uniform as she grit her sharp teeth and restrained herself from rushing in rashly. Those were her friends, companions, and commanding officer down there, being attacked and kidnapped and killed, but she could not save them alone.
Quietly, the scout made her way to a safe place before taking off into the sky on quiet feathered wings. She used the sun's glare to hide her as she turned towards Taliuma, message pouch gripped in her clawed hands. She had an urgent report to make to their superiors. Covertly if possible. It was painful to fly away when she could smell the blood of her comrades on the wind, but she knew she had to. They, the living and the dead, were counting on her to save them...
[A bloodstained scribble of some sort]
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