Those Time Set Aside [Cethin]

[Fallacy]

"Just what is going on?" she looked at him blankly, "Menna doesnt even know herself." she said growing more and more transparent as the conversation went on. She was blushing and cast her gaze down, "Menna just helps Mr.Karash with whatever He needs." she said, her body fading as a softer voice left her lips. It no longer held the energy that it did only moments ago before she had doll. Pulling the doll in front of her, she completely disappeared; only the doll remained there hovering in front of the undead. Its glossy black eyes looked at the man creepily. It had the stench of death on it, just like the nuit itself. Then the doll began to shake in front of the nuit, "Menna really doesnt know what is going on. Menna is just doing what she can for Mr.Karash" she reaffirmed, the doll shaking back and forth with each word spoken. "Menna is sorry that she cannot answer your question." she said, the doll still 'staring' at him, it slowly circled the man, never taking its 'eyes' off of him. "But" she retorted, "Menna is sure that you are here for a reason." the dolls head nodded as if affirming the words as it shook again with each word spoken, ”Perhaps something is calling you here, to help Menna?” she questioned, stopping her circling behind the man. It wasn’t every day that a dead man came into the shop. She wondered if the items drew him here or if it was something more. Such questions were always interesting, but the answers were always unpredictable. For now she would observe. Before another word could come out of the girls mouth the door opened behind them and in came an imposing figure. Six arms graced his body and a cloak wrapped around him, tattered and torn. Letting himself in, the person quickly crossed the space, passing the nuit and Menna without a second glance. Quickly he held three of his hands out and starting taking off the items he had on them. Each of the trinkets falling to the counter below… Rings, necklaces, bracelets, and talismans of all sorts were produced from the robes. All of it piled up on the counter. Finally taking off his cloak, he hanged it behind the counter. ”Menna,” he called to girl, ”Who is this?” he asked turning to look over the nuit. The doll only shook its head, indicating that she didn’t know. ”Well, welcome to Divine Legacy. I am Karash.” he introduced himself, his eyes following the nuit, looking into him perhaps too deeply. ”Mr.Karash” The doll shook with the words spoken, its eyes now on the owner of Divine Legacy, ”A letter came for you.” she said, finishing her sentence, ”And those people were back.” she added on, her voice sounding a little disappointed. ”A letter?” he asked sounding surprised, a hand coming up to rest on his chin in a thinking position, ”Well lets see it.” he said waiting for Menna to produce the letter. The doll dropped to the side, dangling by one arm as the girl searched her body, ”Menna doesn’t have it.” she announced, the doll ‘trotting’ about the store as the girl looked for it, ”But I will find it.” she said. Karash watched the other individual with a knowing look.

[Cethin]

Cethin leaned against a table, watching the girl as she seemingly faded to nothing. Mr Karash. Was this man who had been mentioned the source of all this mystery? Soon enough, the girl was gone completely, the doll floating before him the only indication that she still stood there. He was drawn to the doll itself, for there was something wrong with it. It smelt like... death. And if ever there would be a scent for Cethin to recognise, death was it. "A reason?" Cethin asked, before folding his arms, "I'm not so sure about that." He turned a little, the doll circling him. He was not frightened, but he was perturbed by its actions. What was it? Suddenly, the door to the shop opened. Cethin span and watched a six-armed man walk into the store. An Eypharian? He walked past them, pulling trinkets and rings from his hands and placing them onto the counter. He knew this place evidently. When the man finally turned back, his eyes landed on Cethin. The nuit kept the gaze. He would not give him the satisfaction of turning away. Though the girl failed to answer his question, the man welcomed him all the same. They began to talk again, and at the mention of the letter, Cethin winced. The doll started bobbing around again, hunting the shop for the scroll Cethin had picked up from the ground. The Eypharian looked at him again and this time he turned away. Though this situation was odd, he didn't sense anything evil. He didn't feel threatened within the confines of this shop. For a moment, he considered keeping the scroll. But the ink had seemingly shifted into his body, and he had placed the vessel left behind in his robes. He pulled the paper free and held it out towards the man and the doll. "Here. I think this is the letter you speak of."

[Fallacy]

The doll kept searching for the letter for a while, but when the nuit spoke up the doll stopped and turned, ‘looking’ at the newcomer who she had let into the shop. How did he have the letter? It was for Karash not him! What was he doing with it, did he take if off Menna when she wasn’t looking? Nonetheless the girl stood there and looked up at Karash as the man looked at the note in Cethins hand. How curious, why did he have it? Little did they know that Menna actually dropped it and the guy just happened to pick it up, but was it just a random accident? Or did things in Alvadas happen for a reason? When the nuit would hold out the letter to Karash the words would start to come back. Whispers of ancient tongue bombarded his mind. The whispers were not fast, but they were distorted in some way that one couldn’t quite pinpoint. The nuit would understand that it was a Nadar Canoch, but he couldn’t quite understand what it was saying. The whispers would grow louder and more forceful as Karash would reach for the letter. Soon they would it would be ear-splitting yelling as the shopkeeper grabbed onto the letter. No longer could the words be heard, but yet yelling, and those couple of seconds of when Karash accepted the letter and took it from the nuit would seem to drag on. The yelling in his head getting so intense that it hurt, and then it all stopped, oh the grand silence when the letter was taken from him. Silence… Nothing, the voices were gone. What were they? What was this magic that bound to him? Was it a trick of Alvadas, was the letter itself cursed? A cursed letter coming for the cursed shop owner. What sense did all this make? That is what Cethin would have to figure out, and so far he had pieces but he couldn’t quite see the whole puzzle. The letter was accepted from the nuit, and Karash looked it over. He seemed to recognize the skull seal in the wax. Some correspondence of the man, perhaps? Who knows, but as the man looked over the letter, turning it in his hands, a smile turned to a frown as if he had noticed something was missing without even opening the letter. It was then the man hurried over to the front counter and opened the letter. Eyes moved over the letter reading it, but he seemed confused by the words he was reading. Something was missing. Something was missing, something was taken, and something was stolen from him! The man would then turn to the nuit, his eyes observing him, and his lips moved, but Cethin couldn’t hear anything. The whispers were coming back, and they were speaking, and when they were speaking everything else could not be heard. The nuit would see Karash’s lips move, but not hear his speech, instead what was heard, clear as day now as if the Ancient Language translated itself to common, ”The Underground. The Underground. The Underground. Look beneath the Illusions to find its hiding place. Look beneath yourself. Look for the last place. Look for the first place. The Underground. The Underground. The Underground. The Temple lies shrouded in myth. Follow the lies to find the truth. Find the box to think outside of.” The words would depart as quickly as they came. Not a whisper more, but understanding was pure. The message, seemed to get more unclear as it went on, and eventually the ranting, the chanting, and the screaming would return along with the pain. What was this?

[Cethin]

The curious shopkeepers turned to him as he spoke up. The doll eyed him as if he were a criminal. As he held the letter, the voices returned. Ancient unintelligible words, filling his head. Louder, louder, louder. When the man finally approached, he passed the letter with speed. He gripped the sides of his head, stifling a scream, before the voices subsided again so suddenly. The man took the letter to the counter, reading it. Cethin watched uncomfortably. The words... had the words left the paper and entered him? He was confused. So utterly confused. He had walked Mizahar for so long, and yet still, this was new. He had never experienced such a phenomenon. Then, the man began to talk. His lips moving, and yet the whispers filling his head again. As loud as before. He gripped his head, shaking it, whispering no. But the words came. And this time he understood. Underground. Other clues. Other clues he didn't understand. Then the pain came again. He was not used to the feeling. It seared his borrowed flesh like something otherwordly. He stumbled towards the counter, slamming his hands down on it and gripping it for support. "Beneath the illusion?" he rasped.

[Fallacy]

Karash would set the letter down and observe the man before him. Why did he have the letter in the first place? Leaning back on the counter slightly, he crossed all his arms and just observed the show. He watched expression unchanging as he silently judged the situation before him. The letter was for him, and it held the key he needed to be able to enter the lost temple. Karash frowned, but the key was missing not to be found. The slight magical residue which had been left on the letter was all too obviously plastered on the man’s aura. Had he taken the key, even unwittingly it would be bad. His contact warned him about dabbling with the magic, but he had all confidence that with his trinkets he could control it. This man, however, was a different story. ”Menna, Karash finally spoke after long chimes of silent observation, ”Please grab our guest a chair.” he said motioning to the back room. The doll nodded and soon enough it was gone, only to reappear moments later sitting in a chair, which humorously floated over to the man. Only when the doll was grabbed once more, did Menna position the seat near the stranger, but in front of Karash. Motioning for the guest to sit the doll, Menna, waited for the nuit to take a seat. ”Now,” he started again, ”how did you come upon this letter?” he asked, ”What happened when you touched it? Did you try to open it?” he asked for information, ”I know something is missing from this document.” he said, ”This isn’t the kind of letter which you pick up every day.” he explained, ”but the thing which makes it special is missing…” he was going to continue, but a bell sounded, motioning that someone had entered the shop. ”My, my” A voice came from behind the nuit, ”You have really done it this time, haven’t you, Karash?’ the almost mocking question came with an all too mocking laugh behind it, ”Is it he who now possesses Sanrayu and not yourself?” There would be a sharp intake of breath, almost of pure joy, ”How does that make you feel?” The voice was feminine and she sounded excited, ”You have been searching for the Sanrayu for so long, and it was almost in your grasp, but then it was taken away from you. Oh, Fate plays the cruelest games, don’t you agree?” ”How did you” Karash was cut off ”You weren’t under the impression that your trinkets could stop me forever, were you?” A hand would fall on Cethin’s shoulder, ”Now, how about you come with me, and we can take care of that voice in your head?” she leaned in and whispered into his ear. If Cethin would ever look back to see the person who had entered he would see what could be described as a konti. Pale skin and white hair graced her form; her hair wrapped around her, and fell well onto her lower back. Her clothes, if you could call it clothes, rattled together with every movement. They were all highly ornate, with intricate carving and black etchings upon white stone. Many bracelets and odds and ends were present in the outfit, necklaces, rings, just jewelry, but none had a jewel in it. Nope. No jewels were present; instead there were more etchings, carvings, and art beyond the pale and cold form of gems. This was Yagame, the immortal priestess of Ionu. If Cethin would care to notice, at her touch, the letters and syllables that faded into his skin became visible once more. The black etchings moved with a grace across the nuits skin, but he would also notice something else: pain. It hurt when she touched him. ”Don’t go with her.” Karash said. Run the voice murmured in Ancient Tongue, Run away from this place. Far away, into Illusions depths.… The voice suggested that it leave both of them behind, Only you are worthy of seeing what I have to show. Leave them behind for his own gain.

[Cethin]

As the curious pair studied him, he gratefully fell into the seat, clutching his head as the pain gradually subsided. He was quite overcome. Something magical. Something strange. It had taken hold, and seemed unwilling to let go. The man began to ask him questions, but he could barely muster a proper response. "It dropped... and when I picked it up. This is what happened." There really was nothing more to it than that. He wished he'd never picked up the blasted letter in the first place. Suddenly a new voice came from behind. The man and the girl span, as a female voice spoke out, laced with triumph. Bittersweet triumph. Cethin's mouth curled at the voice. The man looked visibly flustered, and they spoke as if he had actively tried to keep this woman out of the shop. She was clearly an enemy of his, but for what cause? Suddenly, the woman's hand touched his shoulder. He wriggled, trying to shake her off. He did not appreciate being touched. Turning to face her, his eyes fell upon a woman of serenity. She appeared to be a Konti. All pale hair and blossom skin. There was an authority within her though. He frowned. The man instructed him to stay. The woman whispered otherwise. And then the words returned, telling him to run. He gripped his head again, shouting out, before scowling at the woman with baleful eyes. "I demand to know who you are. I will not go with you, when it could so easily be a trap. I have lived long enough to know when to stay in my seat, and when to get up. And this time, I stay."

[Fallacy]

”You demand?” she asked, frowning, ”How about this?” she asked lowering her voice, her hand still firmly planted on the Nuits shoulder even though he had his attempts of shaking her off. She wouldn’t be dealt with that easily, ”I tell you everything you want to know about the Sanrayu as we walk out of here?” she tempted him, ”I can assure you that it is no trap. We wouldn’t want to damage such a valuable spirit after all.” she looked up at Karash, ”So long as the Sanrayu is within you, we can ensure your safety if you work with us.” her words almost hissed like a snakes as she spoke through gritted teeth, ”That is more than what they can offer. More than what anyone else can offer.” she told him. When she was finished she slowly removed her hand from his shoulder, and stared at him. ”If you must know my name it is Yagame or maybe you have heard of the Immortal Priestess?” she said with a grin. Yagame, the Immortal Priestess of Ionu is renowned in the underground for her own cult dedicated to the god of Illusion. It is known that, strangely, anyone involved in Yagame’s service can move through the underground almost undisturbed by the strange things that go on in there. It has been noted that her followers have some sort of, what Yagame calls it, divine protection, but the exact nature of this ability goes undocumented, undiscovered, and only Yagame seems to know what it really is. There are many strange things in the Underground, but defiantly one of the strangest is Yagame’s cult. Karash has had just about enough of the woman, ”Get out.” he said pointing to the door, ”Get out of my shop.” he said again, remaining in a calm voice. It seemed that he didn’t really get mad, or rather it was that he was hiding what he would really say because he knew Menna was present with them. ”Leave and do not return.” he told her, his hand reaching under one of the counters to grab a craft of his. Producing it, the thing looked like a knife of bone, but with so much detail, intricate carving covered the blade and the handle. Red lines ran up and down, from side to side, forming into each other creating circles, and then the lines from the circles bled into each other forming separate images. Though when looked at as a whole, each circle was a part of a bigger picture, and together everything clicked so perfectly to form on image on the blade itself: A woman dying from being stabbed by the tool. ”Or I will show you just how immortal you really are.” he told her, looking her in the eye. Taking one look at the instrument that Karash had pulled out the priestess backed away, ”Fine, I’ll leave.” she said, slipping a bracelet off from her wrist. She threw it in the lap of Cethin, ”If you want to find me, let that guide you.” she said. The bracelet seemed to be of the same design as the bone dagger that Karash produced. The same shade of red dotted the intricate circles which formed into each other. Again, if the bracelet was looked at as a whole he would see someone following what looked like a stone trail, but within each ‘stone’ lay a different picture: one of discovery and commitment to the path the traveler is on. It was odd how their styles were almost exactly alike. With bracelet given Yagame smiled and bowed out of the store.