25th Day of Fall, 518 AV
Belugnir would awake to the familiar taste of iron in his mouth.
Rough and callous hands dragged him from the boat and unto the old, creaking docks of the Caldera Manor. Little kindness or concern was shown as the sellsword was dumped unceremoniously unto the rotting planks of the mansion’s private wharf like a sack of potatoes, nor was his treatment made any less harsh when his captors noticed him begin to stir and awaken after his unpleasant landing. Dark, shaggy hair damp with sweat and lakewater cascaded across the prisoner’s face in greasy tendrils as his limp form was pulled across the yard of gray, mottled grass. The old, cracking faces of ancient heroes and arrogant dead men made immortal by stone statues stared in ignoble indifference as the beleaguered group passed under their endless gaze.
Elias could sense blood in the air as they drew nearer. It appeared as if his apprentices might have taken their orders to retrieve the vagabond warrior a bit… overzealously. By the look of the bruises and fresh welts upon each of their faces however, it would appear as if it was well deserved.
The duo of initiates stopped before Elias, hauling the groggy Belugnir unto his knees before the robed figure. His back was to the mercenary, and flanked on either side of the swordsman had been assembled a gaggle of perhaps more than two dozen youths all dressed in black. Few bothered to even acknowledge the man, fewer still seemed likely to even if he’d been dragged in kicking and screaming to high heaven. Many of them were far too enthralled to give such mundane matters their time, for something else seized their attention, something truly magnificent. The mercenary would find it difficult to not take notice of the strange occurrences going on before long. On one side of the cloaked commander rumbled a plethora of smiling, giddy faces, all excited beyond reason and practically dancing in place. On the other, the mood was less serendipitous, but instead sickly with envy and wicked eagerness. It became clear why when a flash of flame from the right sent a ripple of cheers and laughter amidst the crowd. It had come from a young boy’s hand of all places, and his wasn’t the only glimmer of djed on display that night. Swirls of stones hovered in the air while serpents of water slithered through the grass and across open palms. There were gusts of wind as well as gouts of fire, and amidst it all no natural explanation for any of it. This was clearly the glamor of magic on display in almost reckless and childlike wander, as if they were kids playing with their new toys.
In the distance loomed the manor, the birthplace of the Caldera’s reborn from the ashes that had once claimed it. Lights faint and fading, flickered in a few windows here and there, but for all intents and purposes, the house was deathly still. No living soul roamed within, for Alija and her boy had been sent away on some distraction that would see her entangled in her business long into the night, leaving the large house barren of life, at least for a while. Just long enough for Elias to finish his glorious work.
Before the Ebonstryfer lay a young girl, stripped of everything but her small clothes, she lied stiff and trembling upon an alter of stone that was clearly not natural in its formation, but instead created by the one who now presided over it. Elias laid his hand on the apprentice’s head, sensing the fear that now flowed forth from her in nauseating waves. She went chill at his touch at first, but as their eyes met she eventually found her calm. “Remember,” Elias whispered firmly “you are chosen.” And like that, the mage watched as anxiety fled and gave way to resolve in an instant. She was ready, and not because he believed it, but because she did. With her nod of conviction, the Caldera began.
A chant began to arise among the attendees, deep and guttural, both sides of the apprentices took up the call as all focus shifted to the reimancer and the initiate. “I-si-kai… I-si-kai… Is-i-kai naruk!” The chanting grew louder, emphasized by the beating of chests and the stomping of feat upon the hard, lifeless soil beneath. Res began to emanate from beneath the robes Elias wore as his summoned his power into existence. Hand outstretched to the heavens above, the blue, effervescent glow of his djed enveloped him entirely before long. Surrounded by the magic and emboldened by its magnificence, the mage cast his gaze downward to the girl once more, saw the faith in her dark eyes, and drove his hand down upon her forehead.
She screamed as the cloud of res descended upon her like a resplendent tide. Unabated and unstoppable, it weaved itself into her eyes, mouth and ears. Her body went rigid with shock, arching and convulsing as the res seeped and scarped its way ever deeper. Her knuckles had gone white from the strain, clenched and bleeding as the ritual scars upon her palms were torn open in the chaos. Her screaming soon died in gurgled gasps, and yet even then the reimancer did not stop. He drove his power –her power ever deeper, into her muscles, her bones, her very soul, for only in that hallowed place could it find a home worth taking. There was no going back now. No stopping what had begun.
“I-si-kai… I-si-kai… Is-i-kai naruk!”
Faith! Faith in your strength!
For chimes this went on, and for chimes the chant continued, with even Belugnir’s captors joining in as they continued to hold him. There was a light reflected in their eyes as they watched the ritual in awe, the same light that shone in every apprentice and initiate in attendance that night. It was the fiery glint of zealous certainty and holy fervor… that or just plain madness.
Finally, the girl went still, her convulsions brought to an end with an abrupt slack as she fell listless upon the alter. Despite her apparent condition, the chanting continued, and had been growing louder and louder until at that point it was all anyone could hear anymore.
“I-si-kai… I-si-kai…”
As unexpectedly as she’d gone silent the apprentice shot back to life, a deep and desperate gasp heralding her return to the land of the living. Shakily, she arose from the stone table with Elias’s help and managed to find her footing soon after. She looked pale, paler even than Elias and it was clear whatever hell she’d just gone through had been just as horrible as it had looked. The crowd had gone silent now, all eyes staring in quiet anticipation. The stryfer, slowly but firmly, helped the girl raise her hand out before her, his own supporting hers. “As I thought you.” He whispered gently into her ear. “Just as I thought you…”
There was a stillness to the courtyard, and eerie, unsettling air of dire expectation that permeated everything like a melodious odor. Then it happened! Something glorious and beautiful beyond expression. Something that sent a shockwave of joy and raucous celebration through the recruits.
Fire!
A flame, weak and sputtering, burst into existence above the girl’s hand, her res finally taking root and answering her call. The elation upon her countenance was as bright as the wheezing gout of fire, and it looked as if all wariness and doubt had been brushed aside in a single instant.
“Kasai! Kasai! Kasai!” Her brothers ans sisters chanted in jubilation.
Destiny.
Even Elias was smiling as he pulled back to hood of his robe and admired the tiny flame. Yet another of his chosen disciples had survived the initiation. Now their path was sealed, and they had taken yet one more step towards their righteous and holy- Something was wrong.
The Caldera noticed it in an instant as the res within the apprentice’s untrained grasp began to leak from her hands. It slithered like grease down her wrists and arm, yet in her bewitched wonderment she did not notice the slip in her concentration, nor the crack in the dam. Her folly became abundantly evident when that excess res caught flame and burst across her arm and chest.
At first, there wasn’t pain in her tortured expression, only the sheer terror of confusion and panic. As the flesh began to bubble and melt however, the screaming started in earnest.
“Control it!” Elias commanded with a resounding bark. “You are its master, bend it to your wi-”
“HELP ME!” The cry echoed across the courtyard, ending all hope of salvaging the moment as the poor fool began struggle and flail. With a sigh, the master mage flicked his fingers at the pathetic girl, putting an end to her torment as a savage gust of wind crashed in her and sent her flying backwards before landing with a sickening thud nearly ten yards away. The flame had been doused, but so had most of her consciousness. Elias merely glared in disgust and contempt.
“Weakness.” He spat.
Then, for what seemed like the first time, Elias noticed Belugnir. The mercenary was still on his knees, held securely by the two students. Pallid blue eyes studied the unkempt killer, glaring at him like a butcher would a slab of meat.
“Place him upon the alter.” The reimancer growled.
“I-si-kai… I-si-kai…” The chanting began anew.
Rough and callous hands dragged him from the boat and unto the old, creaking docks of the Caldera Manor. Little kindness or concern was shown as the sellsword was dumped unceremoniously unto the rotting planks of the mansion’s private wharf like a sack of potatoes, nor was his treatment made any less harsh when his captors noticed him begin to stir and awaken after his unpleasant landing. Dark, shaggy hair damp with sweat and lakewater cascaded across the prisoner’s face in greasy tendrils as his limp form was pulled across the yard of gray, mottled grass. The old, cracking faces of ancient heroes and arrogant dead men made immortal by stone statues stared in ignoble indifference as the beleaguered group passed under their endless gaze.
Elias could sense blood in the air as they drew nearer. It appeared as if his apprentices might have taken their orders to retrieve the vagabond warrior a bit… overzealously. By the look of the bruises and fresh welts upon each of their faces however, it would appear as if it was well deserved.
The duo of initiates stopped before Elias, hauling the groggy Belugnir unto his knees before the robed figure. His back was to the mercenary, and flanked on either side of the swordsman had been assembled a gaggle of perhaps more than two dozen youths all dressed in black. Few bothered to even acknowledge the man, fewer still seemed likely to even if he’d been dragged in kicking and screaming to high heaven. Many of them were far too enthralled to give such mundane matters their time, for something else seized their attention, something truly magnificent. The mercenary would find it difficult to not take notice of the strange occurrences going on before long. On one side of the cloaked commander rumbled a plethora of smiling, giddy faces, all excited beyond reason and practically dancing in place. On the other, the mood was less serendipitous, but instead sickly with envy and wicked eagerness. It became clear why when a flash of flame from the right sent a ripple of cheers and laughter amidst the crowd. It had come from a young boy’s hand of all places, and his wasn’t the only glimmer of djed on display that night. Swirls of stones hovered in the air while serpents of water slithered through the grass and across open palms. There were gusts of wind as well as gouts of fire, and amidst it all no natural explanation for any of it. This was clearly the glamor of magic on display in almost reckless and childlike wander, as if they were kids playing with their new toys.
In the distance loomed the manor, the birthplace of the Caldera’s reborn from the ashes that had once claimed it. Lights faint and fading, flickered in a few windows here and there, but for all intents and purposes, the house was deathly still. No living soul roamed within, for Alija and her boy had been sent away on some distraction that would see her entangled in her business long into the night, leaving the large house barren of life, at least for a while. Just long enough for Elias to finish his glorious work.
Before the Ebonstryfer lay a young girl, stripped of everything but her small clothes, she lied stiff and trembling upon an alter of stone that was clearly not natural in its formation, but instead created by the one who now presided over it. Elias laid his hand on the apprentice’s head, sensing the fear that now flowed forth from her in nauseating waves. She went chill at his touch at first, but as their eyes met she eventually found her calm. “Remember,” Elias whispered firmly “you are chosen.” And like that, the mage watched as anxiety fled and gave way to resolve in an instant. She was ready, and not because he believed it, but because she did. With her nod of conviction, the Caldera began.
A chant began to arise among the attendees, deep and guttural, both sides of the apprentices took up the call as all focus shifted to the reimancer and the initiate. “I-si-kai… I-si-kai… Is-i-kai naruk!” The chanting grew louder, emphasized by the beating of chests and the stomping of feat upon the hard, lifeless soil beneath. Res began to emanate from beneath the robes Elias wore as his summoned his power into existence. Hand outstretched to the heavens above, the blue, effervescent glow of his djed enveloped him entirely before long. Surrounded by the magic and emboldened by its magnificence, the mage cast his gaze downward to the girl once more, saw the faith in her dark eyes, and drove his hand down upon her forehead.
She screamed as the cloud of res descended upon her like a resplendent tide. Unabated and unstoppable, it weaved itself into her eyes, mouth and ears. Her body went rigid with shock, arching and convulsing as the res seeped and scarped its way ever deeper. Her knuckles had gone white from the strain, clenched and bleeding as the ritual scars upon her palms were torn open in the chaos. Her screaming soon died in gurgled gasps, and yet even then the reimancer did not stop. He drove his power –her power ever deeper, into her muscles, her bones, her very soul, for only in that hallowed place could it find a home worth taking. There was no going back now. No stopping what had begun.
“I-si-kai… I-si-kai… Is-i-kai naruk!”
Faith! Faith in your strength!
For chimes this went on, and for chimes the chant continued, with even Belugnir’s captors joining in as they continued to hold him. There was a light reflected in their eyes as they watched the ritual in awe, the same light that shone in every apprentice and initiate in attendance that night. It was the fiery glint of zealous certainty and holy fervor… that or just plain madness.
Finally, the girl went still, her convulsions brought to an end with an abrupt slack as she fell listless upon the alter. Despite her apparent condition, the chanting continued, and had been growing louder and louder until at that point it was all anyone could hear anymore.
“I-si-kai… I-si-kai…”
As unexpectedly as she’d gone silent the apprentice shot back to life, a deep and desperate gasp heralding her return to the land of the living. Shakily, she arose from the stone table with Elias’s help and managed to find her footing soon after. She looked pale, paler even than Elias and it was clear whatever hell she’d just gone through had been just as horrible as it had looked. The crowd had gone silent now, all eyes staring in quiet anticipation. The stryfer, slowly but firmly, helped the girl raise her hand out before her, his own supporting hers. “As I thought you.” He whispered gently into her ear. “Just as I thought you…”
There was a stillness to the courtyard, and eerie, unsettling air of dire expectation that permeated everything like a melodious odor. Then it happened! Something glorious and beautiful beyond expression. Something that sent a shockwave of joy and raucous celebration through the recruits.
Fire!
A flame, weak and sputtering, burst into existence above the girl’s hand, her res finally taking root and answering her call. The elation upon her countenance was as bright as the wheezing gout of fire, and it looked as if all wariness and doubt had been brushed aside in a single instant.
“Kasai! Kasai! Kasai!” Her brothers ans sisters chanted in jubilation.
Destiny.
Even Elias was smiling as he pulled back to hood of his robe and admired the tiny flame. Yet another of his chosen disciples had survived the initiation. Now their path was sealed, and they had taken yet one more step towards their righteous and holy- Something was wrong.
The Caldera noticed it in an instant as the res within the apprentice’s untrained grasp began to leak from her hands. It slithered like grease down her wrists and arm, yet in her bewitched wonderment she did not notice the slip in her concentration, nor the crack in the dam. Her folly became abundantly evident when that excess res caught flame and burst across her arm and chest.
At first, there wasn’t pain in her tortured expression, only the sheer terror of confusion and panic. As the flesh began to bubble and melt however, the screaming started in earnest.
“Control it!” Elias commanded with a resounding bark. “You are its master, bend it to your wi-”
“HELP ME!” The cry echoed across the courtyard, ending all hope of salvaging the moment as the poor fool began struggle and flail. With a sigh, the master mage flicked his fingers at the pathetic girl, putting an end to her torment as a savage gust of wind crashed in her and sent her flying backwards before landing with a sickening thud nearly ten yards away. The flame had been doused, but so had most of her consciousness. Elias merely glared in disgust and contempt.
“Weakness.” He spat.
Then, for what seemed like the first time, Elias noticed Belugnir. The mercenary was still on his knees, held securely by the two students. Pallid blue eyes studied the unkempt killer, glaring at him like a butcher would a slab of meat.
“Place him upon the alter.” The reimancer growled.
“I-si-kai… I-si-kai…” The chanting began anew.
WC - 1581
