When The Darkness Falls The Music Swells [Open]

[Duskshroud]

Duskshroud waited with furtive resolve as he watched the other two open the box, their faces, their identities of little consequence. It was what they did, how they riddled the box, that concerned him, and this he watched with desperate intent. His very soul trembling in the hopes that their efforts might make his attempts more successful.

[Leo Varniak]

Leo did not know what to think of the song - except that he could not ignore it. What he bothered him most was that he could not place it in any of his mental categories, he could not easily label it. And so, he didn't like that. It never occurred - and probably never would - to Leo that the problem might lie with him rather than with the song. He didn't like the fact that it spoke of things without mentioning them, that it took detours around its own topic. It was being purposefully vague, and in doing so annoyed the fire wizard. Ironically, it was accomplishing the purpose of drawing him out just as well.

He did not remember ever coming across this particular clearing in the woods, but there was no mistake that this was where the song was flowing from. He walked on, for it could not be called marching or striding or sneaking. It was not too slow nor too fast... just doing this at his own pace. It appeared that others had made it to the source of this strange event, and he wondered for an instant if they were all flies meant for the same spiderweb. He rejected the notion as soon as he considered it; no, it seemed too much effort just to capture four people - well, three people and a ghost. Too much effort... unless the immortals were involved. You never knew what to expect when those were involved.

Leo saw the woman and thought she was beautiful, but he felt an immediate dislike for her and everything she stood for. Fire and darkness never mixed well, after all. When one blazed, the other retreated; when one died off, the other swallowed it whole. It was not just that - Leo instantly felt she was the personification of ambiguity. All manner of things could take place under the cover of darkness, many of which Leo actively fought against... not in the hypocritical way of the Syliran Knights - a lot of talk and a warhorse - but actually stopping the bad guys from doing bad things.

"How many fools have you cheated this way?" he wondered aloud. "Do you do this for power, of just for your own amusement?" His dark eyes, underlined by black, insomniatic rings, narrowed to slits as he let his distaste show through. "Your night has lasted long enough... have the only thing I will ever offer to the likes of you."

As if condensing from the very hatred that lay under the ashes of his soul, he formed a small orb of fire and let it hover near his open palm. Murmuring the familiar words of a practiced incantation to aid himself, Leo threw the firebolt at the glass table, seeking to ignite it with any "offerings" that may be on it, thus piercing the lingering darkness that had engulfed the world.

[Gossamer]

She was gone - disappeared, before any further questions could be asked. All that was left was the table and the onyx box upon it. Nialls question about the acceptability of his offering went unanswered, so too did the others. Akajia gave no room for questions, no answers in regards to if the offered exchanges were appropriate. Niall would recognize her for certain, for Akajia was one of his race's patron goddesses - their mother, if the Akalak lore was to be believed. When it was Niall's turn, he could certainly try - or take it away from Voreasos to seei f he could do better. And though there was no comment about Vor writing his name in blood and offering his soul, the box did not harm him as he picked it up.

Turning it over and over in his hands, Voreasos could find no true way of opening it. There were no seams to it, no obvious entrances, and no decorations. To him it looked like a simple large stone cube. Casual observation would tell him nothing - that much was clear. He'd have to find a way to open it.

As for Duskshroud, the weapon he unbelted and laid upon the table was an interesting choice. Once he released it from his person and laid the faint afterimage of what once was onto the table, something odd happened. The sword materialized in full glory, looking battered, rusted, and aged over time. It smelled of salt and was corroded like it had been in the sea, encrusted with a few generations of the ocean's denizens. But it was recognizable and real. The faint glow of the surreal blade reappeared back on Duskshrouds belt. What he offered Akajia was real. He was free to keep his ghostly remembrance. And he was free, he realized, to try the box himself when his turn came or if he grew impatient of waiting for Voreasos.

Leo's actions however, didn't have the desired affect. It was as if someone unseen reached out and plucked the fireball from the air, absorbed it, and snuffed it out effortlessly. A light and mysterious sound - at first not easily recognized - later understood as a sad sort of sigh filled the air. Leo found himself standing alone, outside of the group, unharmed and tolerated, besides all his flaws. He was free to try again... and again ... and again if that is what he wished. There was little doubt however, to anyone left standing in the group, that his actions would have any more success than the initial attempt.

[Duskshroud]

Duskshroud stared at the image of the blade, a recognition flickering in his mind. It was any cutlass he had lain there. It was his.

And, realizing this, he wondered a moment if what he had offered had been what he sought.

Duskshroud watched Voreasos now, intent and impatient. Like watching a whip coiled to lash, and the spectacle drew an ire that reverberated through his misty form - a dark swath that blotched over his pale blue facade and slowly grew, surging like beats from a heart distant and dead.

He would wait - and watch. And while he did, he fought to remember - Artur - Artur was his name. And Artur's prized possession - his possession, had been a cutlass. A symbol, perhaps - but a thread that he would follow, if only he could think of it - the box was here. His efforts were in vain, the box was all that he thought of now.

There are answers in the box.

[Duskshroud]

Ghosts are not like mortals, of flesh and blood, they are both free - so many of the world's constraints on mortals did not apply - and yet they had their own laws, laws that were in some ways more restrictive and much more real.

The cube was not a cube, but a shadow of something material, painted on the same canvas of this material world around it. At the same time, it was very solid. A box, existing on his canvas like two images superimposed over one another.

Watching and waiting, Duskshroud finally pulled inward the resolution to open the box. One attempt and only one.

The ghost pulled every shard of his will, he poured his thirst, his need and his spirit into an effort. Extending his soulmist took so much concentration that his material form evaporated, his was little more then a wisp now - whose misty tendrils began to envelop the box - like feelers seeking an opening.

In moments that passed in trembling eternities, his efforts in opening the cube were futile. But he was trying to open it like a man would, it seemed natural to do so.

He was not a man.

Realizing this, he instead began to try push his essence, himself, into the box - attempting to collapse himself and enter it, like passing through a wall - perhaps open it from the inside.

In the fierce exertion of this effort, the crashing sounds of waves seemed to echo from him, a falsetto that scarcely represented the sheer concentration of will he now directed.

[Niall Raghnall]

It would have been more clear for Niall who this woman was had he been living in riverfall. as it was not the case, it took his mind a small amount of searching before recognizing the name with revered awe and feeling as if his father had reached out from the dead and slapped him across the face. "Forgive my ignorance, Akajia" came his quick reply as he bowed with great respect to the mother of his people. Niall then stood back and watched the others before moving forward to tempt his own fate with the mother goddess' nightlund. He let the words Akajia spoke resonate through his mind over and over. The special box would open different for each person. So no matter who did manage to open the box, it would not open that way for the next person. It also meant that even though one person opened it, the box would close and have to be reopened by the next individual. No gift would be the same for each person either, so it did not matter what each person might obtain ... assuming the gift was a physical one which all could observe ... because his gift would be unique for him assuming he could open the box. Niall stepped forward and took the smooth onyx nightlund in his hands when his turn came up. He took a moment to feel the object and how perfect it was. This was a creation of the goddess meant for this precise moment. So did it beg to differ that the energy of the eclipse somehow powered the locking mechanism of the box? It also made him feel that the box wanted to be opened on this day, so desire played a key role. Lastly, Akajia was the mother goddess of his people. Could race play a part in how the box was opened? Akajia was the goddess of secrets and gave the akalak their personal secret of having an alter identy. An identity filled with rage that drove some akalak completely mad. Niall pulled his lakan, the soul blade of each Akalak, from its sheath and held the blade in the paln of his hand then let the onyx nightlund rest over that. His other hand was placed on the onyx box as well. The inner turmoil of the akalak was their rage and the discipline of the akalak granted by Wyser helped them control it. Holding the nightlund so that the light energy of the eclipse could surround it, Niall allowed his demon within to surface. This inner beast was given to him by Akajia, so it made sense that it must surface. Mentally, he called for the discipline and control of Wyser to help him contain the raged animal within him. He spoke out loud in the tongue of the Akalak, "By the will of Akajia and Wyser, nightlund open" then used his great strength to attempt to twist open the onyx device. The beast within him wanted to be let completely loose. The blade of the lakan cut into his palm. Would his praise of Wyser and Akajia allow him to control the beast and open the nightlund?

[Leo Varniak]

"Tch," Leo's eyes narrowed in distaste as the entity put out his bolt of fire before it hit its target. Still, he made no big scene over it and simply stood there, arms folded across his chest, waiting and watching from a distance. There were many ways for one to constrast the plans of the immortals, for even though they were for the most part unfazed by mortal attacks, their plans were not as invulnerable.

The woman, he reasoned, must obviously want something from the group (and of course, she had readily found a pack of dogs eager to bite off the scraps she threw at them). There was no telling what would come out of the box if they managed to pry it open, and really it took a total fool to enter a lottery knowing neither the real price of the ticket nor the ultimate prize. While Leo very much wanted to walk away and let the others enjoy the consequences of their carelessness, there was a possibility of things getting out of control. He focused on his breathing, and calmed down. He needed to save his power in case things here took a turn for the worse - to dispose of threats coming from the Nightlund... or those around him if they were changed by it to the point of becoming a threat.

The waiting game was a game Leo could play.

[Voreasos Alisier]

Vor did not try very hard to open the box, for one he did not have a lot of time to sit and watch it before the ghost took it. He did not mind for he enjoyed to wait and watch others before trying things himself yet he did have to ponder why an Goddess would go in this game and why he was called in such a way.

Was this human who tried to blow things up with fire right and it was a trick? For once he did not care but he also enjoyed the fact that no one paid him much mind. Another looking like a knight of some sort also to caught up in things to attack him or give him a new look.

Yet Vor just stood on the sidelines, his eyes taking in the box and the table. Was it a normal table or was there something more to it? What gift could be given in return to whatever they gave to Her? Did it even matter or was there something else she wanted.

Vor just nodded his head and made his way to the table. "Your song made me feel alone, it also told me you were alone. I can offer you many things yet between me and you. I offer my friendship and a way not to be so alone." He whispered softly so the others would not hear him as if he was talking in her ear. He knew she would hear and she was still around.

It was a priceless gift and a priceless offer in his eyes. He did not care of the box but he did care of friendship and the fact that it could end them both being so alone.