Flashback [The Bronze Wood] The Lonely Tower (Piper Naravane)

[Perplexity]

90th Day of Autumn 509 AV 10th Bell The cold winds of autumn blew down from the northern Cobalt Mountains. Indeed, they were the prelude to the changing season. It was a mark upon the world that the tide of time was flowing ever onward and Bala would soon be stepping aside so that her sister Morwen could walk the lands. Winter was coming. And with it would come change. Change that perhaps the world was not quite ready for but there were stirrings in the depths of the world. Whisperings that one era had come to a close and a new would soon be arising. Campfires were abound with stories that the gods were rousing from their introspective ways turning their attention more directly on mortal affairs in ways that Mizahar had not seen since the Valterrian. The winds picked up. They danced with the leaves of the trees within the aptly named Bronze Wood but there was one part of the Bronze Wood that seemed eerily quiet. There the winds did not dance. They did not swirl about in whimsical frivolity. The Bronze Watchtower. It was there that the world seemed to grow still. The tower stood as the monument to an age none quite remembered but none quite forgot either. Its magic was all but spent save for a single purpose: the keeping of time. The proverbial clocktower of inland Sylira stood, as it always had, watch over the region. How many memories were etched in the chips on its stonework? How many days had it seen since the sundering of the world? What secrets were kept within its resolute walls? There were so many questions and yet so many answers that the Watchtower provoked. Yet, if the great tower could speak perhaps it would reveal that Time, like the Avitar river, was ever winding and this moment was but a drop in a seemingly endless stream. Or perhaps it would just tell the questioner to shove off because it had bird droppings to avoid? In any case, today, on this ominous Autumn day, the Watchtower had a visitor.

[Piper Naravane]

The world around her looked like a brilliant light show, different combinations of colors mixing together in perfect harmony as the leaves touched on the moist dirt pathway. Each tree was as old as the next, each with their own tale and stories that would continue on for eons. The leaves twirled around in their own dance, riding the whispers of the wind that had seen its own sights and experienced its own journey. The Zavian horse slowly walked along the path, passing by the shrubs and numerous critters that filled Bronze Wood. "Tch, stupid merchant said that these furs would keep the cold out..." Piper said to herself, getting a hold of the edge of her fur coat, pulling it over more to mask her neck. A mild fall breeze cloaked the air in an chilly embrace, Piper ducking her head and almost lying down. She was forced to hold tight to the reins, holding on for dear life at her own lack of experience with riding a horse. Being the daughter of a blacksmith, the heat of the forges and the hard labor of shaping a fitting weapon was her calling. Her mind right now was filled with the different irons, different blue-prints laying around the house that she made for her own work. Her happy place was the forge, so it seemed like that kept her warm inside. "Oooo, huh--?!" She snapped out of her day-dreaming, looking around as the wind ceased within an instant. One slap from her lock of hair in the eye made her rub it vigorously, peering through it to see a standing structure visibly affected by father time. With each step, the hooves of the white horse crumbled the fallen leaves, as if a cookie was broken into pieces. The horse was calm, or it seemed like to Piper, she could not tell what it's emotions were besides what it was now and when it totally acts wild and kicks around everywhere. "Animals are so difficult man. But..." her sentence faded into the background, Piper firmly gripping the rope with both hands. She rose up her right leg first, bringing around from the back as she stood up on the harness as to let herself down. The hilt of her tulwar was a dark brown, stark contrast to the bright colors around them. Untying the sheath, Piper put the leather rope around her waist and fastened it with ease, placing the sword on her left side so that she may grab it with her dominant hand. It did not matter to her though, she was ambidextrous. Then, before she forgot, there was a stump close to the tower that she was able to tie the horse too, so that it would not wander off somewhere else. Surveying the area slowly, Piper wanted to check for anything or anyone. A bad vibe emanated from her core, but shook it off as she closed her eyes for a brief moment. "I pray to you now my patron, Tyveth, that you may help me uphold the honor of my family, thyself, and the creed of the Syliran Knights that I aspire to join. Let no truth be hidden from eye and let me be your vessel as I courageously embark on journey in life," Piper finished with a deep inhale and exhale breathing motion, at peace with her own mind and her own surroundings. She simply stood at the foot of the clock tower, trying to develop an idea of its whole structure. Piper looked for entrances, windows, weak points, anything magical or out of the ordinary. She did this by walking around at a slow pace, every three or so steps she made sure to slowly look on the stone, including her own surroundings from time to time. No need to be ambushed here, as she was a quick draw with her blade, in her own opinion.

[Perplexity]

The invasion upon the silence of the grove where stood the Watchtower seemed like a ghastly intrusion on sacred ground. For every step that Piper took into the immediate vicinity of the tower more and more she would gain a sense as if she were being observed by unseen eyes. Or perhaps she was being watched by just one? At the top of the tower stood the legendary Watchstone. At present it was a striking crimson that sparkled with obviously magical light. The swirls of scarlet, ruby and rose colored light within the facets of the magnificent gemstone were stunning to say the least. For all of its grandeur though Piper wouldn't be able to shake the feeling that she was not welcome in the purview of the brilliant Watchstone. The stonework of the tower was much like one would expect any structure to be. The masonry was of such fine craftsmanship an expert eye might say it surpassed the skill used to build even Stormhold Citadel. With the exception of a few cracks at its base and the slim windows up and down the walls of the tower it appeared to have survived the cataclysmic Valterrian mostly in tact. Littered around the grounds of the tower were monuments to the bygone era. As she walked Piper would find rusted suits of armor near buried in the foliage blanketing the ground. There were rust and dirt covered swords, broken carts and carriages, rotted trunks whose contents were either just as decayed or they had been empty for ages. The most obvious question to the observer might be, what happened here? Perhaps the most obvious of answers might also be just as simple as, Death. It was as if farmers, craftsmen, travelers and soldiers all alike had sought refuge beneath the light of the Watchtower in hopes that they could build a life amongst the wreckage of the new world. Though that was centuries ago it seemed the Watchtower was reluctant to let go of relics from the past. It was as if the tower stood watch over the refugees even to this day. What mysteries lay within the refuse scattered about the grounds? But as she walked the base of the tower one thing came into her view. It was an archway built to jut out from the structure as if to prop the tower up that it wouldn't fall with every passing wind. It was not the archway that captured Piper's attention though. It was what was inside of it. There within the archway swirled a kaleidoscope of colors. Within each color there was painted the picture of another world. Maybe even another time? The light that twinkled from within this unusual archway seemed only to shin within the canvas of colors itself. It reflected off of no surface. It shed brilliance upon nothing other than the stones of the archway. The swirling vortex of mystery was both welcoming and foreboding. To put it simply, it gave Piper the heebie-jeebies. Maybe this was the fate of all those refugees who had gathered in the shadow of the Watchtower all those centuries ago? For now, it was best to leave the archway alone. It was very obviously magical and among Syliras the Knights preached enough about the dangers of magic that all citizens would know to leave well enough alone. One thing would catch Piper's eyes though. Propped up against the wall immediately in front of the archway was a skeleton. A remarkably preserved skeleton given the status of the grounds and what lay around it. It was garbed in tatty robes that bore no real significance but it was what was clutched in its bony hands that might have intrigued the woman. A book. Perhaps an ancient text? Maybe it was a book on magic? Maybe it was just a fanciful passtime? Maybe, just maybe, it was a journal of some sort? There was certainly only one way to find out. OOCDon't. Follow. The Lights! AKA don't go into the archway. You can go near it. Just don't go -into- it.

[Piper Naravane]

The littered wreckage that was half-way dug into the soil wasn't an amusing sight at all for Piper. She stood there staring at the used carriages, splinters poking out from every inch of the wood. The deep hue of the brown rust that covered a piece of metal legging, almost created camouflage for it. Quickly realizing this, further inspection of the rainbow floor revealed swords and bodies of armor, all of equal condition ; battered and bruises, permeating the smell of rust through the area as a gust of wind washed over. "Was there a battle here?" she first thought to herself, pondering reasons behind the aftermath. It must of been a long time ago, but even then, a major battle would of been recorded by the Knights, some type of warning for the citizens. Nonetheless, maybe the tower had done such a thing, aging all of those that tried to stand up against it. Deeply sighing, Piper knelt down and thought about the tales the dead of old would tell her, how life was before the Valterrian happened. Ridding herself of senseless thinking, she stood up and turned her focus back to the tower. "Your existence shall not be a secret," valiantly Piper thought to herself, wasting little time pursuing that same endeavor. Turning around the corner of the watchtower, a gorgeous sight enthralled her. The colors were of the perfect mixtures ; just as the fall leaves were. No doubt whatever the hell it was, it had origins in the disciplines of magic. Piper had gotten a hold of several texts mentioning magic, though never had she come across anything that described what she was witnessing in that moment. In the back of her mind, a nudge and kick came now and again. It was telling her to get closer, to investigate. To jump through to the other side, to jump on the other side of truth. Piper whipped her head back and forth, fighting the will of whatever it was. The shimmering lights bounced off the nearby stone, as if it was complimenting the main attraction. Rid of influence, Piper looked at the skeleton propped next to the archway. "A book?" she thought to herself. Such a weird place for it to be. Maybe it had a connection to the lights? To the watch tower? To whatever happened to the carriages and soldiers? To why the skeleton was perfectly placed their and seemed to be their for a reason? Piper unsheathed her tulwar, gripping the hilt with a firm grasp. Holding it from a lower than traditional position, her gaze was focused on the ground. A quick moment to check for traps, trip-wires, who knows. Then, she grabbed the book with her left hand, before going for a rising slash in a diagonal, the path of the blade traveling across the torso and coming out of where the shoulder bone was. Quickly, she turned around and bolted for her horse. With the Zavian horse still there, calm as can be, somewhat more jittery than before, she stopped in her tracks. Piper stood next to it, surveying around once more as her nerves were taking some toll on her. She still had the tulwar in her right hand, the words engraved in it just shimmered at one perfect ray of light ; "Truth, Never Hides in My Presence." Opening one of the saddle bags incase of an emergency, Piper would be able to place it inside and close it up to give her time to react whatever would want to come. "Lets see what this book says..." as she took her thumb, placing it in between the pages to open the book to a random page. It was comfortably held in her hand, as she began to read its contents to the best of her ability.

[Perplexity]

Whether the existence of the battle was a well guarded secret or simply the work of magic wrought by the tower, there was really no way of knowing. When magic was involved with anything it tended to distort the lines of fact and fiction. Regardless, upon picking up the book the first thing that piper would be aware of was that the wind took to lazily waltzing through the grounds of the tower whereas it had been absent before. Her horse nickered slightly shaking its head back and forth. The great beast pawed at the ground as if it were uneasy but it was otherwise docile. Still rooted in place beside her, faithful in its duties as a mount. Piper's attention was focused more so on the text taken from the hands of the dead man. "...the fires were unlike any I had seen before. They danced and swayed as if with a mind of their own. It was a dream made real." The book was a journal though on the current page there was no mention of names nor intent. The fact that its pages were covered in the private thoughts of its deceased owner were highly evident upon closer inspection. What questions could be answered by delving into the life of a dead man? What questions could be raised? Where had they come from? Answeres that could only be gotten by reading further. Upon turning to the very front of the book there would be a small dedication in stiff but legible script. "To all of those who seek the Light of Freedom and Hope." A curious note that prompted the need to read onward. "My name is Kaegan. That is not the name I was born with but rather the name I gave myself when I became aware enough of a world beyond enslavement to desire one..." So that was the answer. They were a party of slaves fleeing whatever land that had been their home. Seeking refuge. From the state of the caravan it was obvious that one of two things had happened. They had either reached their destination or they had died in pursuit of their freedom. "I was born in the city of Ravok. My mother was the whip. My father the iron chains that bound me. I never knew my birth parents for the masters never saw fit to give me that knowledge. The masters themselves had many names but there was only one of them that truly mattered and he remained nameless. For his name to be uttered from the lips of a slave was the pinnacle of heresy and spelled doom for any of us who were unfortunate enough to let it slip from our mouths." Obviously a highly intelligent individual, Kaegan posed more questions at the moment than he answered. Intrigued by the prospect of learning about life in another part of Mizahar, Piper wanted...no..she needed to continue reading. "Life as a slave for The Master was, to put it simply, frightening. As a ranking officer of The Black Sun he expected absolute obedience. If he saw even the faintest glimmer of defiance in the eyes of a slave he plucked out the very eye in which he saw it then and there. Naturally, no slave ever looked him in the eyes if they could avoid it. For all of his cruelty though, he refused to be surrounded by incompetent idiots. He required all of his slaves to possess the ability to read and write. In hindsight, perhaps this was the instrument of his undoing. For it was this knowledge, the thirst for more of it, that planted in me the desire for more. And so was born my desire to rise above myself. To be more than just a slave." OOCMaddeningly irritating code. Maddening I say!

[Piper Naravane]

At a meager pace, the wind started to pick up. There wasn't an myriad of clouds in the skies, deep ocean blue colors in between the grays. Winds swirled around Piper's face, cold brushing against her warm cheeks. Hair seesawing from the wind currents, she moved some strands behind her ears to avoid obscuring her vision, continuing attentively with her reading. Both hands on the book, leaned against the horse, the world introduced to her was profound. Though, first she was confused with the couple sentences she had been reading. It was random recounting of events, thus she turned the book in haste to the front page. The statement at the top, referencing freedom and hope. It gave some clues for her own inference. It resonated within her, a sense of freedom. Her freedom to craft the boldest designs and make whatever her heart desired, it was a privilege that Piper refused to be taken away. She felt connected, although perceived in a different light. While reading the passages, it came to her, that no doubt there was constant danger of being caught. Constant states of panic and high levels of anxiety plaguing the runaways until the end of their days. Kaegan had only known the hard life, stripped of pleasure, of enjoyment in any personal fashion other than for that of others. Her own feelings came into the equation, highly determined to solve the mystery, save others from the same fate. To rise above something, to change your own destiny and put it in your palm, it was the most inspiring writing read by Piper in her youth years. "Ravok..." she read aloud that one word, the meaning of it not much at this point in her life. It did mean something to Kaegan ; a location that brewed up resentment and hate in his heart, that forced to abandon all that he had known in that god forsaken land. Piper continued to read, looking for as much information on the culture, on paths taken by Kaegan, and much more focused on the little bits of info others would not take account as major. She could piece things together definitely quicker than most, showcasing intelligence. Maybe secret codes? Secret maps? He had of hidden valuables before perishing, so who knows Piper would find in the journal...

[Perplexity]

As Piper continued to read through the journal she was given insight into the daily life of the citizens of Ravok. At least from a slave's perspective. While some parts were troubling and gruesome there were others that were genuinely inspiring. One such passage caught her attention. "I know in my heart that this was the moment where freedom became my strongest desire." Kaegan's pages were filled with articulate thought but this was perhaps the most poetic of his passages yet. "The waters of Lake Ravok lapped against the forbidding walls of the outer most building in the city. It was a strange silence that had settled over the populace. Syna, Her blessed radiance, had kissed the dancing waves of Laviku's bastard. It was then that opposite of Her I could see Him rising in the eternal dance across the skies. Leth. How He chased after His beloved. Always reaching out for her in a waltz that painted the heavens with their love eon after eon. For a moment, as Syna sunk below the horizon the world seemed beautiful. The pain wasn't so insufferable. The shackles around my wrists seemed bearable. For a moment, I felt free. And once I had felt it I could never forget it." It must have been agony having to live in servitude for such a long time. Nowhere was there written how old Kaegan was. There was no way of judging how old the remains and the caravan were. Exposed to the elements as they all were the wreckage could have been there for weeks or maybe just a few days. There was obvious sign of struggle though. It could not be mistaken. As Piper continued to peruse Kaegan's many thoughts and varied opinions there was a stirring on the other side of the clearing. A rumbling of dirt and a shaking of stones. Such disturbances could have been covered up by the winds or the natural noises of the woods. Her horse whined in agitation. Its animal instincts flaring but only just. It was still standing dutifully in place having merely shaken its head and pawed at the ground.

[Piper Naravane]

Rummaging through the contents of her newfound journal, Piper had become enthralled with its vivid descriptions of the slave life within Ravok. Some of the torture methods and harsh punishments given to the author was not common to the woman. Compared to the restless nights, forced to work to exhaustion in unsanitary conditions, comrades and others of common interest dying or being taken away for simple offenses, Piper’s life was harmless. Much of her life experiences could not compare to the Ravokian slaves in hardships, negativity. It was at this moment, Piper realized the blessing given to her by the gods. A life of tranquility, submerged in the depths of safety and behind stone walls and proper justice, other places did not have that. Although Piper knew about the horrors of the world outside of the Syliras walls and her own forge, the specific details was more than she expected. Upon coming across one paragraph, the wordplay of it surprised her. Imagery that fueled her imagination with metaphors that concealed meanings, it was beautiful. A poet? A jester who made one too many bad jokes? Or a writer forced to use his brawn instead of brains? The writing of a slave would have been less refined. His knowledge of the gods was more than rudimentary, so what was his place in the whole fiasco? The horse started to become restless. Piper had him chosen for his calmness though, the whines highly uncharacteristic of her steed. Taking a break from her reading session, she caressed her horse. She passed the back of her hand through its mane, descending down the side of its face. Small grunts and deep exhales softened to sighs, or so Piper thought. Once he had quieted down, the stirring from the bushes made her heart start to race. She could not hear it earlier from her own concentration. The horse’s complaints did not help her either. Piper scrambled to put the book away, fumbling it in seconds as it danced away from her fingertips, “Eeek!” she yelped, bending down to pick it up. She put it in the horse saddle, swerving her head around. Looking side to side, she felt like it was an ambush. Securing the bag, she faced the shrubs where she heard the noises from, unsheathing her Tulwar. The steel slid off the scabbard with ease, a beautiful sound resonating throughout the forest. It could have been considered a war cry, a beast of a sword showing its fangs. A perfection of craftsmanship making its wielder and maker proud. “Aye, I advise you to show yourself, you shady vermin!” she yelled out to the wild, expecting an answer from a person of equal intelligence. If the snarls of a beast or another monster in the forest would respond, she was not prepared for that. But her stance was held, the mixture of colors a stark contrast to the her steel blade. Her legs were shaking from anticipation. Maybe fear too? She would see when her pursuer would reveal thyselves

[Perplexity]

Piper didn't need to wait long for her answer. The horse standing beside her nickered and fidgeted even more nervously. Something was most definitely agitating it. There was a subtle current of unease in the air. A sense of oncoming doom that made one's hair stand on end. For a moment there was naught but silence. Then that silence erupted into disarray. "YUUUUUUKKK!!!" Distorted hands burst forth from the ground like claws reaching for the open sky. The ground rumbled. It shook with an aching groan as mounds of dirt pushed up from the earth. More hands burst forth from the dirt soon to be followed by deformed torsos laden with the minerals of the earth. "Yuuuukk!!" Garbled cries issued forth from horrific mockeries of human faces. Some heads were elongated. Some faces didn't have the features in the right place. The only commonality amongst the atrocious deformities that were sprouting from the ground like daisies was the revolting noise bubbling up from their throats. "Yuk! Yuk!" As soon as they pulled themselves free of the dirt these earth-men, mangled nightmares from children's fables, began charging one another or standing there with vacant albeit curious dimwitted expressions on their faces. A hand burst forth from the ground right next to Piper, the malformed digits grasping for something, anything to hold on to. It found what it needed in Piper's ankle, grasping onto her leg as one might a lifeline in an attempt to pull itself free of the rapidly rising dirt.

NoteOMG!! I apologize profusely for the delay. Feel free to swat me for being a terrible moderator and making you wait so long.