Fire Dreams (Leo Varniak)

by **Gossamer** on June 19th, 2011, 7:07 pm

Timestamp: 52nd of Winter, 510 AV

Darkness seeped through him. It soaked into his skin, permeated his body and infused him with a substance he had no name for. It felt like hatred and tasted like bitter disappointment. It smelled like tragedy and choked him like defeat. If there was an embodiment of evil, the boy felt it as he lay shivering in the narrow space where he lay in total darkness. He shifted and screamed, denying what was happening to him in his mind. Someone kicked him harshly back in the physical, told him to shut up, and he whimpered. Everyone here was stronger than he was. Everyone was more emotionally broken down too.

They didn’t think here. They didn’t feel here. They only worked like animals.

There were other boys around him, too many of them in fact, though twice as many wouldn’t have kept them warm in the straw. It was winter and even here, below ground, it was bitterly cold. It would be even colder down below when it was time to work, or up top in the wind. At least here there was filthy straw to nestle into, especially if one didn’t mind the stench of urine. The boy rolled over, still sweating. He knew the moisture on his face would be the death of him, chilling him to the bone. Here sweat was death because it cooled you too fast and the goal was to keep warm. But he didn’t know what was worse, not getting any rest before work started or falling asleep and falling back into the dreamworld where he became infused.

He suspected it was from working the mine. What else could explain the darkness inside him? Coal dust was everywhere. It covered him and the boys that lay around him. Second shift. First shift was at work, some up top in the snow transporting the rock they pulled from the shafts up to the surface to sell. Some where below, where there was no air and no light and nothing but black rock after black rock that set greed into the eyes of the adults. Everyone worked. Even the boys sound asleep shifted restlessly in their prone positions, their minds busy gathering coal.

Slavery wasn’t allowed here so they weren’t slaves. But each boy had a story and a name. And slowly over time, each boy began to forget. Even the boy thinking about it had started to forget. What was his mother’s face like? He loved her dearly and still remembered the way she smelled of lavender and roses. There had been no father in the picture. His mother was an herbalist that specialized in potions and healing salves, one who traveled to gather her supplies and to investigate old ruins. But she had a secret life too, one of devotion to something the boy hadn’t grown old enough at her side to truly understand. All he remembered was her love of fire and how she’d have one going everywhere they lived or walked, even if it was just a simple burning lantern to light their way. And she talked to the fire, as if it were her friend or a living breathing person. He’d always wondered about that, not truly understanding, even though he could tell it was important to her.

She protected him too, from things he hadn’t truly understood. They moved around a great deal, moving from one big city to the next, often traveling with caravans or taking ships filled with scholars from a city he’d once lived in that he only remembered from his mother taking him to its great library. So many books in one place hardly seemed possible. He knew how to read, even though he had forgotten how long it had been since he’d held a book. He’d wanted to stay there, wanted to study at the … a word eluded him… stolen by the coal. They hadn’t stayed. His mother had awoke him in the middle of the night and had told him the fire said it was time to move. The boy had never heard the fire speak, but he believed his mother and had gathered his things.

They’d left, moving on, moving northward. She was looking for a place of trees so tall he couldn’t see the sky. A people lived there, she claimed, that looked like none of the people they’d met thus far. They knew things and had information she wanted, his mother had insisted. So they were looking for … another word eluded him. He’d forgotten so many in his time at the mine.

Rolling over, his thoughts wandered again as sleep eluded him. Daven. The boys longing returned, missing Davan suddenly. The man had met his mother and he on the road. He was a quiet fellow with soft blue eyes and hair the color of warm sand. They’d struck up a conversation that had flown over the boys head and Daven had loaned his mother books that he carried from his own pack to make the journey go faster. He too was looking for the Jamoura. The boy almost smiled as the word came back to him. Sometimes they did. It almost made him believe the coal wouldn’t steal things from his mind forever. He believed until he looked around at the empty eyes around him. A year. They traveled as a family for almost a year. Davan told his mother he knew and showed him a sign on his palm that was etched with three marks from the God of Dreams – a twisted geometric pattern that had mesmerized the boy.

His mother hadn’t understood. Not at all. But Davan had taught them. His words had filled up the boys wide open mind. He learned about the chavi, and the chavena and more importantly about the Ukalas. He met a god, an actual god, and the god marked him elaborately but left his mother untouched. Nysel opened a new world to him, not because of who he was but because Nysel wanted to see what his mother and the boy could see – he gave them the ability to read the chavi under Davan’s guidance and more importantly change it. He visited them, especially Davan, and spent hours in conversation the boy was too young to really understand. He said the mark was a favor, to a broken friend, who needed his people stronger than they were currently in the world. The boys dream mark was similar to his mothers fire marks, though hers was complex and ran from her neck to her tailbone, licking flames. It connected them, to each other, and to the fire and now to his dreams.

People of the Gods, his mother used to call them. Davan had asked her why the boy wasn’t marked by fire yet. She’d just smiled and said simply that fire came when it would, and once it came there was no putting it out. She was glad the boy wasn’t marked, not yet, though she was certain he would be. He just needed time, like all of his kind did, to grow up enough to embrace it.

But the boy embraced the dreamworld, and in doing so let darkness in. Nysel protected him though, taught him, and forged what he could of his soul in preparation for what he would become in the future. Davan was there, on that path, because he needed to be. His self sacrificing turned into no sacrifice at all, because before long the boys mother was looking at Davan as she looked at the fire. And her emotions in doing so seemed only to make her stronger.

That’s when the boy had started seeing his chavi and having the dream that woke him in the now time. Davan had always comforted him, telling him he couldn’t know what such a thing meant because one had to understand and see the chavi’s that came into contact with his own. Reading them singularly never gave a true picture. And so the boy had asked and asked and finally Davan had given in. He’d pried about the strands that were not his own, his mothers, or the boys and looked at them carefully. He’d looked for the darkness and found its source. He’d seen the cause and saw the sacrifice and told the boy the darkness was of his own choosing because it had been crucial for someone else’s survival who was far more critical than they were. It was a burden, this Dreamwalking, this knowing, moreso than talking to the fire.

But Davan gave him power through it, made it a tool in his hands.

Davan taught him then, to walk his own chavi, and in doing so the future became no surprise to him. He saw his coming of age, growing up, even the mine. He saw too that there would be life beyond the mine and that he would fall in love, and that he would sire a child on a woman that he would love the boy more than his own life. Lina was special, but her chavi was short and her souls choices had been made well before the boy would ever meet the girl growing up in Syliras behind him, on the road they had already walked. He knew it from the beginning, even as a small boy in Davan’s lap reading his chavi, that life was as he’d chosen for himself. And when he understood that, accepted it, and learned to manipulate his chavi in ways no boys should be able to, he began to hear the voice in the fire.

His mother wept when she heard him speaking to it. Davan had comforted her. And two days later they were both dead. The boy should have known that Davan had looked and Davan had told her their fate. Dreamwalkers weren’t supposed too. But they weren’t supposed to love either, not really, because they saw too much and knew more than any mortal should which was why they were so rare. And to those that knew the truth of what they could do, they were often killed.

The boy had never looked at their chavi. He didn’t want to know how long he had with them. It didn’t really tell for sure anyhow, for each day, each action, each in-action changed the chavi so one was really never sure exactly what would come. Raiders came, unforeseen by the boy and unexpected. He was spared because of his age and health, taken to the mine to join the other workers there. His mother and his best friend had died.

And his life had become something different. Devoid of love. Devoid of warmth. Even devoid of emotion. Had they wanted to lock up a Zaital and kill his need and drive, then they’d done a good job of it.

Leo’s dreams were fitful, restless, and so sharp they almost felt like memories. The trip to the Valintar had went well. The man had assigned him to an Avora status and gave him duties that pertained to maintaining the ovens in the kitchen and the heating system in the volcano. He had a duty roster, a salary, quarters that were very comfortable in the warrens, and a pair of Yasi named Naili and Banui to serve his needs including acting as guides for him throughout the city. The two children stayed close, taking a chamber within his own as their own to be at his beck and call until he learned the lay of the Volcano.

His work would be easy and evidently he would be asked to eat at meal times where people actually got fed. Ulric had been assigned similarly, though he was required to hunt and teach rather than maintain part of the working structure. Leo’s duties gave him more freedom of the place and gave him a chance to really take his time to investigate the whole of the reason Glav was here.

There would be a meeting with Glav later that day, after they broke fast in the morning, But that was hours away. It was strange, even though they were housed so deeply in a volcano (Leo’s room in his warren had an outside window) the weight of the ceiling and the feel of stone all around them didn’t seem… overwhelming. It just felt protective. It felt, strangely enough, almost like coming home. Leo could feel, with his second mark, the power of the volcano and the magma beneath them. He could feel the echos and faint traces of power that infused the whole of the stone around him.

He could almost feel Ivak’s footfalls in the hallway, as if a ghost paced its length and breath, circling the volcano restlessly, knowing it was a prison. They were deep thoughts, ones more suitable for the light of day than at night. But Wind Reach was seductive at night like that, drawing in deeper thinking, pulling forth dreams. Even now, Leo could hear a strange song in the hallway, as if someone played a wind instrument of some sort and paced its length, pensively. The music called him back to the dream, only this time the boy wasn’t cold. He was fairly sure the boy would never be cold again.

The boy screamed in rage. Fire burned through him but it didn’t touch him. What touched him instead was awareness as a double mark etched into his skin seconds before it would have been too late. A power rose in him long buried. It blazed through his blood as he clutched at the body that he’d stumbled over in the dark. There were more bodies all around him, thrown here, discarded, unwanted. Boys, all of them, worked to death or died of exposure in the mine where they had no proper coats, not enough food, and certainly not enough rest. There must have been hundreds. There should have been a smell, a stench of death, but it was so cold down here that rot wasn’t an option. Nothing bloated and was eaten for there were no vermin to feast on the tragedy of the situation the boy found himself in. Pain coursed through his weakened form and he knew his body too would be on top of the pile one of these days if things didn’t change. Emotion rose, fed off the pain and turned into something altogether different.

Dreams had driven him here. Dreams that always haunted him and caused him to seek.. and seek he did; a new emotion.

Rage.

It coursed through him and became part of him. So too did the voice born of the tiny flame that had lit his dim lantern. As the rage rose, words spilled over him, comforting ones, that caused him to hurl the lantern at the bodies, breaking it open and spilling the oil all over them. One would have expected the whole of the pile of corpses to go up, especially where the liquid splashed. But the cavern was filled with coal dust, and so too were the bodies. The very air that people breathed beneath the surface was filled with the tiny glittering suspended black particles. And he lit it up, the entire mine, and caused a wash of flame to rage through it like a tidal wave washed the shore after an earthquake.

No one lived but the boy. No one walked from the flames except his small malnourished form. He walked out calmly, fire still rolling behind him. Dreamwalker, Azenth, instrument of the Gods. He walked forth with new purpose. He’d earn the darkness if it was going to consume him anyway. He’d earn his fate with every breath and every step, taking as much of it from the world as he could before it captured him. He never stopped to question what would happen afterwards nor what he would become or why he would become it. He only knew that his life was leading to one point, a sacrifice, for something greater, and he was going to make every last heartbeat and every single thought count.

Alvias Zaital would make himself something the world had never seen, and wouldn’t stop fighting until it was necessary to stop… until the darkness consumed him. Being seven wouldn’t put a damper on things at all. Not one bit. He’d already seen where he’d go from here, already was reading his own chavi even as he walked from the mine, no one left outside to stop him. Trees smoldered as he walked by, having been victims of the backdraft that had exploded out of the shafts.

He kept walking all the way to Syliras to a safe place there where he could grow into a man to continue his work.

Leo woke sweating again. He was always warmer than everyone else he knew, but this heat was a blaze in his blood. Once again, he could hear the music in the hallway. It was strangely alluring as if pitched only to his ears and played only for him. It was dark and rolling and warm and dancing like a flame itself. Calling… calling to him.

by **Leo Varniak** on June 19th, 2011, 9:37 pm

In the words of the late Allistir Varniak, Leo had hit the jackpot in Wind Reach (and the pig had been good at that if nothing else: taking the goods and leaving the pieces). For one, he was now a paid worker, a valued community member, someone who actually played a role in the greater scheme of Wind Reach. No more odd jobs for Leo Zaital - though he still went by Varniak with the natives - no, he was now an Avora, roughly translated as 'artisan' but perhaps more along the lines of 'needed but eagleless'. Highest among the grounded.

Leo appreciated his newfound standing to a degree; even more so when made aware of the living conditions of the lower castes. He still bore no love to the system, finding that it reeked of injustice, but he was long past the stage of trying to fix every single thing he thought unjust. Time (and being captured over and over again) had taught him, if not wisdom, at least a little prudence. He wasn't here to start a revolution before Ivak was freed; besides, the serfs themselves - Dek as they were called - did not question the setup. They simply envied those above them, arguably wishing to replace them, which robbed Leo of most sympathy he might have felt for them.

It wasn't like he had nothing else to worry about.

Leo had never been a happy person. He was possessed of the gloom that often comes to those who spend too much time thinking. He relished the moments of pounding action in between his ruminations about life and purpose, but they were so short. Even in victory he found it hard to rejoice. Battle was a fistful of frenzy and desperation, and if you won you could cross a name off an endless list. Then came the emptiness, the dreadful whisper that it had all been pointless, and that the goal (whatever it was) stood at the end of the rainbow, not an inch closer than before. It had been like that with the Black Hand, too. He may have ripped off one of evil's many masks, but underneath there were only more masks. It would never end.

And the tragedy, the real tragedy was that Leo couldn't have stopped even if had wanted to. Like a windup toy he had once seen in Syliras, he would just keep marching, mowing down enemy after enemy until he died, even if the uselessness of it all had become apparent. He would be reduced to living for the sake of those fleeting moments before each battle - the moments when he felt larger than life. But larger than life was the only size Leo Zaital knew.

Life in Wind Reach was good for one as privileged as he. It was a good change from the ship. They had even given him two children as assistants, though he wasn't sure if they expected him to teach the two of them Reimancy. If so, they would likely wait a long, long time. Leo wasn't fond of selling out his magic for status, and wasn't expecting to do so for long, but passing down its secrets was where he drew the line. The kids seemed bright enough, however. He let them see his jet black hands, for they were bound to find out eventually. He told them they were not dangerous nor catchy in the least, and asked them not to tell anyone. He said he would know if they did, as he knew that children rarely obey any order without a suitable deterrent. For the rest, he assured them that he wouldn't bother them if they didn't bother him, and that one rule would ensure they got along just fine.

And so, he'd begun his work. He didn't mind the underground - it felt like home, actually - but maintaining the ovens sounded dreadfully close to the tasks he'd attended to as a child. He figured it would drive him insane over time. It all reminded him of his mother - Lina at the potter's wheel, Lina holding the brush and painting ceramics. He thought that, had he been more sensitive, he might not have made it this far. He had his small heart - and great will - to thank for some of the things he had survived. Glav Navik knew that just as well as he did, for he likely would have died on the way here if not for Leo. It had taken someone as merciless as the Azenth to root out the Shroud infestation. Glav was just too soft - too political, sometimes - for certain things. The Windoak, cunning tree that it was, had blessed him with the companions he needed, the right people at the right time. A pity to have lost Sharn when they did, though. Leo had appreciated the Jamoura's calm logic.

Speaking of Glav, the rendezvous with the man would hopefully shed some light on their purpose here. Leo had planned on getting some sleep before the meeting, but found that sleep brought him no refreshment, only strange dreams. He had long abandoned the idea that anything happening to him could be mere coincidence: there were simply far too many divine stakeholders in his life to believe that for a moment. And so, he embraced the dreams uneasily, but deep down he was extremely attentive.

Boy. Cave. Boy trapped in cave. Coal mine. Something that wants to burn, if only given a reason to. Slaves. One among many. They think they put all their flames out, but this one is just hiding in the embers. Leo doesn't know who the boy is yet, or actually he does but won't dare think the name, even to himself. Because it's not that hard, is it? The boy is Leo but can't be Leo, and that leaves a single man.

He woke a first time, feeling restless and watched. All around was the volcano and it lived. No-one knew that better than an Azenth. Leo could feel its heartbeat. He must have felt this way in his mother's womb, but he probably hadn't been frowning back then like he was now. He wasn't alone. The gods had a way of never leaving him alone, and he felt sure now that Nysel had thrown his lot in with the others. With Wysar, Ionu, Rhysol, Akajia, Yshul and the rest of them revolving around Ivak.

Leo thought he could hear a melody out in the corridor, at the very edge of his perception. He didn't even realize he was back in the dream realm, where the latter part of Alvias' story awaited. And sure as daylight, he did what all Azenth always did in the end: he raged. You had a problem, you raged and the problem went away. The world went away if you were Ivak. How Leo loved and hated that gift. Such a controlling man, forced to worship that absence of control. It was an abomination, and it was necessary. Alvias had gone much further than that, however. Even Leo found it unsettling. His father had dared spin his own fate-thread! Talk about being larger than life, Leo caught himself thinking. He was standing in his father's shadow, and everything he had accomplished was but pocket change next to the man whose childhood he was now reviewing.

Above all else, Leo felt a dangerous sense of rivalry, that electrifying bolt you get from finding your match when you least expected it. It had admiration to it, and at the same time the conviction that Leo could surpass it. It was perhaps the closest he could still come to feeling joy. He rose from the bed, sweating and alarmed to hear the song still. He put his shirt on and stepped lightly across the room. He remembered his gloves at the very last moment, just in case anyone chanced by. Slowly, Leo opened the door and slipped out into the hallway, looking for the source of the music. He knew he wouldn't be disappointed.

by **Gossamer** on September 10th, 2011, 9:11 pm

The moment Leo slipped out of the door, Banui was after him. The Yasi was a shadow following on his heels. "Avora... are you looking for the music?" Naili was probably off at lessons. The girl went everywhere with a book and seemed to consider her 'babysitter' duties of Leo something of a bother to her, even for an eight year old. Banui was nine, but slow in maturing being smaller and slimmer than the younger girl. Banui had let it slip that his mother and father both rode eagles and that he too would ride one when he was old enough to be a great hunter. In fact, every time Leo had just about began to enjoy silence and privacy in his chamber, the boy would somehow wander by and began cleaning and talking. Naili would roll her eyes and with a singular glance at Leo offer to make the other Yasi disappear. There was that in Wind Reach too, an undercurrent of violence that was definitely threaded more heavily through the lower castes than the upper castes.

Leo could guess why too. Energy. Since he'd been in Wind Reach, Res production was no problem. It was almost as if power dripped from the walls and could be taken in with every breath. The denizens of Wind Reach noticed it not at all because very few of them were gifted with magic. But to a visiting mage, seeing them live within their confines was akin to watching a farmer with no sense of smell tromp through steer manure and think what he was walking on was just good clean soil.

"It's Inclimate Weather, Leo. But its not open yet.. not now. After second shift and through the whole of third it fills with people. Right now its just the musicians." He could tell then that the music was drumbeats, like someone somewhere in the distance was giving the mountain its own heartbeat. It was appealing, almost summoning, as it called to him.

"Come and see it will you? They'll let you in, you being an Avora and all, to watch the practice. You can even play with them if you have an instrument or sing." Banui said. The Yasi took the lead, weaving through corridors and taking several short flights of steps down. They passed through an open archway and then pushed open a huge set of double doors that were hung so skillfully that a toddler could probably have opened and closed them without effort. Once opened, the drumbeats filled Leo's soul. Banui pushed forward, and they moved into the light of the club which was totally deserted save for two musicians on the dais. There was only one that might have caught Leo's recognition. The reclusive Syliran eccentric sat on a chair, shirtless, and tapped out a rolling thunderous beat on a grouping of hide drums with a set of drumsticks. He once lived in Syliras and Leo might have known him by his face and reputation which was for being a powerful magecrafter in his own rite. He'd also accompanied Glav and the party part of the way to Wind Reach, though he'd disappeared in Karjin when they'd stopped for resupply and to switch from boats to be picked up by giant eagles and their riders and flown straight to Wind Reach, thus avoiding the overland travel they'd otherwise have to experience. Akvin Kultra was playing the drums phenomenally well. An elderly man watched him, joining in occasionally with a quirky smile on his mouth. He held a glittern which he strummed occasionally as if he were getting in the mood with all Akvin's drumming.

The room was filled with a sense, a thickness, as if Djed flew between the two men even though there was no magic that Leo knew about that did such a thing. They were having a good time, enjoying themselves, somehow tapping into the very magic that dripped from the walls of Wind Reach.

When the Yasi lead him into the club, leo had time to explore. It was another cave, not surprising, but this time filled with the instruments for folks in Wind Reach to relax. It also had just enough hint of debauchery to suggest that the Inarta weren't above other culture's ideas of fun. Signs of drinking - a full bar with casts of ale and wine - and private alcoves spoke of social activities that only came alive after dark.

Inclimate Weather :

Never having seen the light of day, the nightly revelry that is Inclement Weather sits nestled into the very bowels of the mountain. The interior of Mt Skyinarta is filled with corridors, rooms for living and work space, making it difficult to find a sheltered place within the mountain big enough to house the party space. Since the purpose of Inclement Weather is to entertain massive amounts of people, space was of the highest priority. So, the builders just went deeper; further in past all the living quarters and hallways, and down far enough that the raucous celebration of inebriated individuals didn't disturb the otherwise peaceful nightlife of Wind Reach.

Formed by stone reminancers, Inclement Weather is simply a humungous room. Because of the nature of the stone, the walls were far from smooth and possessed many natural shelves and pockets ranging from the size of a mans fist to that of his head. Instead of the rooms perimeter arcing in a graceful curve from either side of the entrance way, the walls were filled with small alcoves and indents, forming more of a jagged oval than the preferred clean circle. The floor was smoothed down by the reminancers, removing most of the natural bumps or cracks in the stone. Since the dance floor was going to be dark, it was unsafe to leave the floor in such an uneven state.

Using everything to their advantage, the many Inartans who were set to decorating the room used the pockets as sconces; lights shining from the hundreds of pockets along the wall giving the room a warm glow. The shelves were also smoothed and evened, left bare to be used as tables or a place to lean. Chairs were placed in the small alcoves for those wishing to sit; those spaces big enough also boasted small tables. Curtains hung from poles secured high up in opening of the alcoves so those inside could close themselves off from the noise of the club if they so wished.

Spaced evenly around the room, certain alcoves were reserved for the musicians that gave the revelry life. The positioning of the alcoves and their sizes, in this case, were intentionally created for maximum acoustics.
To the left and right of the entrance way were the bars. Emerging from the wall, the bar top stretched almost to the doors with stools on one side for the patrons. On the other side was the bartended, and behind him was level upon level of shelves had been sculpted into the stone. Any party must have alcohol, after all. And Blue Mold Paste. There was a bowl of it at the very end of the bar. It had been there for so long that it was starting to look like the blue mold was growing mold. No one really liked the stuff, but they were out of peanuts.

The main floor of Inclement Weather was left open for dancing and mingling. The lights from the walls cast a soft glow around the entirety of the space, but doesn't fully reach the very center of the room, leaving it dark and mysterious. Not surprisingly, this shadowy heart of the room is where the 'miscreants' of Wind Reach are found. Cloaked by the darkness and the press of bodies, superfluous drug and alcohol abuse have been known to occur. As it were, the curtained off alcoves along the wall are another safe hideaway for such debauchery. People do come to Inclement Weather to have a good time, after all.

Leo had a bit of time to explore, but when the musicians wound down and paused, Akvin having stopped to catch his breath and stop drumming, a friendly nod was given to him while the Yasi was ignored. "Can we help you with something, Leo?" He asked, smiling at Leo. The Magecrafter knew Leo and nodded to a vacant chair on the dais. "There's room to join us if you play." The older man said nothing, just simply seemed to watch curiously.

The older man shook his head after a moment and then shrugged. "If you are here , Leo, things are moving faster in the world than I anticipated. I'm not sure whether these are signs for the better or signs for the worst. It truly doesn't matter though. Both are fore bearers of change, which is often what's best for the world. My name is Cedar. Akvin here seems to already know you, but I've not had the pleasure yet. I can feel him so strongly on you though. Is that why you are here? Our beloved guest?" He said thoughtfully.

by **Leo Varniak** on September 11th, 2011, 9:08 am

His eyes darted at the quickly approaching Banui, and he wondered if the kid was practicing his hunting skills on him as a would-be Endal. The boy certainly did not let go of his prey easily, but what annoyed Leo was that his curiosity seemed satisfied with just the pursuit. He squandered his time in meaningless chatter when he had access to someone like Leo, who knew so much about the outside world and might be persuaded into sharing a little - with some effort, of course; nothing valuable ever comes for free. Not a chance. They were taking this opportunity as a chore. They weren't learning. He had learned far more about them than the other way around. He could grasp the basic social dynamics of the Inarta now, the things they valued, the power balance between individuals based on a mix of perceived strength, usefulness to the community and adherence to the 'Inarta ideal'. They barely knew his name.

"No," he replied, "the music is looking for me." He shook his head. "But I'd like to get to the source all the same."

He let the boy lead him through the labyrinthine corridors of Wind Reach's cave system. Why was it that people couldn't see? Why couldn't their eyes peel more than the outermost layer of things? The expression of pure stupidity on Banui's face annoyed him. Leo had been smarter than that at nine. Smart enough to at least recognize when he didn't know something, and how to fix that. He hoped Banui could snatch himself an eagle and join his parents in the hunts, because if he didn't, well, chances were he wouldn't make a good Avora. Not sharp or curious enough. From there it was a free slide to the lower end of the Inarta food chain.

"Inclement Weather?" he repeated the name, and realized it was what passed for a club in Wind Reach. The last time he had been in such a place, people had died. He had almost died too. He might have reconsidered his decision, if not for the Inarta boy's later piece of information. So it was empty. Very good. "Excellent," he said, and turned to Banui to share one of the rare things he had to teach. "Knowledge doesn't like crowds." He knew he was probably speaking nonsense as far the child was concerned, but it would be a success to at least get him thinking.

He allowed the boy to lead him further, until they came across the heavy double doors. Curious, how thick walls and doors could block most sounds except the really low-pitched ones. Drums had a way of breaking through that was fascinating. He took in the interior of the Inclement Weather with all the caution that life had kicked into him. Always watching out for ambushes when entering an open space, especially if he was unfamiliar with the territory, Leo had learned from the careless mistakes of the early times. His enemies never offered second chances. This place looked safe, though. The whole of Wind Reach seemed safer than Syliras in a way, and while the natives tended to get passive aggressive with him, no-one had threatened him yet.

He recognized the man playing the drums as a famous Syliran mage, a magecrafter. He'd never had business with the man, his products being way beyond Leo's budget, but he could remember him - Akvin Kultra - from the journey at sea. Why should an accomplished and rich mage want to leave his city and relinquish his status to follow Glav Navik, if not because he was entangled in the same web with the rest of them? The older man, he had no recollection of.

He took a little time to explore the place while Akvin played the drums. He could imagine this cave filled with Inarta dancing the night away to forget that they might not be alive to celebrate the next night. Alcohol, the destroyer of man. Also other activities that could be clearly inferred. People were people everywhere, and that, he had no interest in. He approached the dais and stood in silence as the Syliran brought his performance to a close. There was magic at work here. He had heard of musicians tuning their instruments to the sounds of little metal tools, but it seemed like Akvin was syncing his drums to another, deeper rhythm. A heartbeat. It had been perhaps clearer when Leo had first heard it muffled. Right now the magic was blatantly obvious, though.

He raised a hand in greeting but didn't smile. His attitude wouldn't surprise any who knew the first thing about him. "Actually, I was hoping you could answer that question for me." He took the offered seat and gestured for Banui to leave. He'd done enough for the kid's growth today. The discussion here would be completely outside his comprehension.

"I'm afraid what little talent I have runs more towards the visual arts. My mother used to sing a little, but I never got into it. I was brought up in a family that valued things you could touch. Still, an impressive performance by all accounts. Indeed, I could almost touch those beats."

When the old man Cedar introduced himself and spoke, Leo had to frown a little. He seemed to know a lot, and he didn't seem to talk like an Inarta. The Inarta were not prone to deep philosophy. Nor did he have the peculiar mind conditioning of one, given that he felt Ivak's touch on Leo. Too bad he had white hair and you couldn't easily tell what race he was -- or wanted to look like. "Well met, Cedar. Leo Varniak, of Syliras. Here of my own will, to do what I must. I don't actually know what I have to do, or how to do it, but I know why it is necessary." And there was no doubting that the world needed Ivak to be freed eventually. Even the gods who had imprisoned him must have felt that way, or they wouldn't have spared him in the first place.

"Do you know the 'beloved guest', Cedar? Do you know who he is?" Leo felt his curiosity perk up. Of course, if you ever want a piece of truth, you have to ask an artist.

by **Gossamer** on September 11th, 2011, 5:48 pm

Cedar smiled, though if Leo's question startled him he didn't let it show. Instead he gave Akvin a thoughtful look then thought carefully before he framed his answer. "Oh yes. I know him. Even now he paces restlessly throughout this stronghold, does he not? Can't you feel him, Leo, like a heartbeat through the walls?" The musician was ever the artist. Leo was right in that manner. "But we have to be cautious. Always. A dear friend of mine died here to stop our guests madness. And even though long has the guest and I maintained a friendship, that was in the before times and not as it is now. No one knows how it is now. But that Sylir's son and Ivak's grandson multiple generations removed are both here now speaks of music yet to be composed. We just don't know what the tempo is going to be." He old man said, grinning, displaying a row of perfect teeth. It was a charming smile, welcoming, though it was tinged with caution.

"What speaks to me even more deeply is the respect Glav and yourself show for one another. Five hundred and eleven years ago we would have never guessed a sort of friendship would come of those two bloodlines." The old man said, smiling. "It's why we've all been here watching, Leo. If I am not here, someone else is, though there's been no contact at all. We've seen the world right itself and slowly recover, but the harmony is still off. There's no peace, no true expression of emotion like once existed in the world. Don't you feel it, even in your mortal flesh, Leo, of how wrong things still are?" Akvin nodded to Cedar's words, sliding his hands over his drumsticks and turned to look thoughtfully at Leo. His nod drew Leo's attention, and when he had it Akvin spoke carefully. His voice was a rich silk, compelling and haunting all at the same time.

"Nothing here, no one, is as they seem. Ivak's guardians are a motley crew, filled with those that once loved him and long to love him again... enough at least to see him walk free. But magic bound in divine blood is specific. And only more divine blood of the same bloodline can unbind it. We need you, Leo. We just aren't sure if we are ready for you yet and if you will cooperate. From what we've seen of you, we can only expect the unexpected. You've killed creatures you shouldn't have been able too. You've met more of the pantheon than most ever will in a hundred lifetimes. Half you've enchanted and half you've enraged. If Ivak is a wild card in a street came of Shimmy, you're the joker, Leo." The magecrafter turned drummer said, glancing at Cedar.

The old man spoke again. "That's why we called you here. You've asked a frank question, now we've got one to ask you. Why? Why are you here now.. and what is it that you really want?" Cedar said, his voice serious even as it carried throughout the club.

by **Leo Varniak** on September 11th, 2011, 9:56 pm

Leo nodded slowly in response to Cedar's mention of the heartbeat. Oh yes, how clearly he could feel it. It resonated deeply through his flesh, especially when his mind was relaxed and his subconscious given free reign. He supposed it was just like an unborn baby feeling its mother's heartbeat in the womb. By now it was clear that Cedar may not have been a simple musician, and that Cedar probably wasn't even his real name.

He listened, hardly a hair moving. Half-hearted did not apply to anything in his life: whatever he set out to do, it was an absolute. What followed cemented his hypothesis that Akvin had been a part of this all along. How many protectors, and how many enemy spies had there been? How many faces in the crowd had been watching his every move? More than he could imagine, to be sure. And yet he was just a man. You could certainly find better men and better mages. "Things aren't just wrong. They are getting worse." And perhaps this was exactly it fell upon him, because he could see what others did not. Once their pouches, plates and beds were filled, most men would close their eyes and call themselves content. Leo, on the other hand, would never be sated.

"Sure, there are more and more buildings, more people, more structure. But underneath, it's like a festering wound. The world is not rebuilding itself the way it should." He had long stopped trying to get the point across in Syliras. It wasn't even that they called him mad (though some certainly did); it was that they didn't care, or they didn't think they could do anything about it.

What the magecrafter and the musician said explained just why he'd been summoned here. Their need for answers was just as burning as his. They wanted to know what manic force drove Leo's feverish will, pushing him through feats common sense would have called impossible. That was fine. They were going to get their brutally honest answers. "You ask me to define what possesses me to do the things I do, which is probably as difficult as trapping fire in the palm of your hand. I will try regardless. I am not a nice person. Whether I am a good person is debatable. I am not fond of most people. In fact, the average man thoroughly disgusts me. The feeling is entirely mutual. I can't stand to be in the vicinity of anything petty. Petty is the word that best describes the man I thought was my father for a long time. He was the first one I burned, right after he strangled my mother and set to the same to me. I burned down everything. It was a splendid fire. It's not hard for me to sympathize with Ivak if you look at it that way. Ivak is greatly misunderstood. We are both creators through destruction."

Leo's voice was almost devoid of inflection right now. He was pouring all the good and bad in him. They could draw their own conclusions about them. "But then I found there are people who aren't petty. They are somewhat rare, but they can be found. Like Glav - I had my reservations about him, but I realized he has to look at facets of reality I cannot even imagine. There are good people in this world if you look hard enough. I have spilled blood to protect these few from the many. And that's part of the reason I embarked in this quest. Between Rhysol and me it's kind of personal now, and Ivak's release is pretty much the only thing that can stop him from seizing too much power in this world. But, I think, it goes deeper than that."

"Within each of us there is, I think, a desire to be great. Not in the sense of amassing riches or power - no, those are simply forms greatness takes on to deceive lesser hearts. My heart is utterly possessed of this thing, this desire. Nothing else gives my heart any sense of fulfillment. I don't just want to succeed. I want to be... magnificent, if you get what I mean. I want to be there, standing amidst the fire and smoke, standing when everyone else would fall. For better or worse. And that's most likely what sets me aside from the rest. You can find a man with better morals, greater skills, even from the same bloodline. But I can't be bought with money or trinkets, sex or threats. I just won't stop until I'm dead, and it's the one thing that makes me so terribly dangerous."

He cleared his throat and smiled just a tiny bit. "This is Leo Varniak... no, Leo Zaital in a nutshell. Nothing but truth and straight black lines."

by **Gossamer** on September 11th, 2011, 10:49 pm

The two men on the dais listened, quietly, as Leo launched into his speech. They did not interrupt, but instead listened quietly. A few sentences in, footsteps echoed on the stone floor in the perfectly amplified space and a third figure joined the gathering, a red-headed Dek accompanying him carrying what looked like rolls of maps and cartography equipment. The two new figures heard everything Leo said clearly, though both Cedar and Akvin didn't seem bothered by it. Glav was familiar with Leo and after a fashion the two were old friends. At his gesture, the Dek put down the maps and started spreading them out over tables that the lowest caste member had to push together to make big enough over in the eating area. Glav, equally burdened, added his load to the pile before he joined Cedar and Akvin at the dais.. not climbing on it, but rather leaning against its footings as he watched Leo speak.

When Leo was done, Akvin was looking thoughtful while Glav was looking intrigued. Cedar only nodded. "Good. That's better news than I could have hoped for, Leo Zaital. Your name is special, you know, because it means to burn in the old tongue. Fitting, I think, that you know and recognize it as yours. You remind me, young man, of a young godling that spoke a lot like you did when he was in a place where he was moving forward blindly, driven only by the instinct that he knew that if he couldn't shine like the brightest flame he might as well burn out. I can tell Ivak's blood runs heavily in your veins." Cedar said, sighing and sitting back.

"It's time for truth Leo, and the oddly enough you already know what we are going to tell you... you've sensed it." Akvin nodded and flicked back his hair as Glav turned to face Cedar and nodded as well. "The world won't survive this imbalance because Rhysol thrives on it. That you sense it so clearly is a wonder, but its luck we won't question because everyone knows Ovek has been fickle enough in helping us." Cedar said, looking thoughtful. He met Glav's gaze, then Akvin's in a manner that suggested they didn't know what he was about to say now... but that the was equally as curious as to their reactions.

"Ivak must be freed. I think you know that as well as we do. We can't do it until several components come together. Glav has the key. You can turn it. But you aren't just a pawn on this chessboard, Leo. If we don't break this stagnation all to pieces and end the foothold Rhysol has gained, the world will fall. We may not know how or when, but it will." The man said, who had long since ceased speaking like a man but was instead seemingly implying Ivak and Rhysol was his equals.

"No, your place is something more, something special. If Ivak isn't sane... we must eliminate him because we can't wait any more for his influence on the world to be felt again. That influence can't be tainted with madness. It must be whole, neutral, and boiling with all that Ivak is. Glav must fill a vacuum that has existed overly long and ascend to Sylir's throne. And once he does, only he can do what needs to be done by slaying Ivak and creating another. The power here is enough to do it, more than enough. If he is not whole of mind and body and soul, we are out of time waiting. Leo Zaital, you are our contingency plan. Do you understand that?" Cedar said, looking thoughtful, his voice serious and somewhat challenging.

Akvin dropped a drumstick abruptly which landed in the hide frame with an out of tone thunk and Glav glanced sharply at Cedar then turned back and looked at Leo. "You mean... Yes. You do mean...." Glav said, shaking his head and looking startled. "Cedar... all the signs point to the timing being right, that Ivak is fine. Why bring this up now? There shouldn't even be a question of Ivak's survival." Glav said while Akvin slowly bent and retrieved his drumstick. He twirled it in his hand thoughtfully, studying everyone in the room... save perhaps the Dek that went ignored.

Cedar seemed to be waiting for a response from Leo, since he said nothing more as the room filled with awkward silence.

by **Taln** on September 11th, 2011, 11:53 pm

The six foot Inarta held several large leather scrolls and heavy equipment, but on orders, he shifted it completely to his left arm. He grabbed the edge of a table and dragged it with his right hand, stooping slightly under the double load. With that one moved fairly quickly, he shoved in the other table to make enough room for everyone's deposits. He remembered the implicit instructions and unrolled each of the maps carefully, taking special pains to make sure each was laid out properly. They were excellent work and he wasn't going to be the one who ruined it.

Task completed, he moved back a few steps in his usual slow and quiet way. Done correctly, most people forgot he even existed and he was privy to many more secrets than most. The Dek stood immobile, as always enjoying the one good thing about his caste; the anonymity it constantly provided. He'd heard some wild conversations in his life, but this one topped the volcano! He kept his head bowed down as always, his long hair shielding the man's eyes from the subject of his gaze, Leo.

Taln's emerald eyes intently scrutinized the man before him, seeing him in a new light, and couldn't imagine what he'd say or do in response. To be in a direct line to the Gods themselves, feeling the shared magic blood flowing so strongly through your veins. How could anyone bear to walk the face of Mizahar with such power, and so casually do nothing about it?

He knew he'd spent his whole life believing he was something more, something so much stronger than just a Dek and these men were living his dream! If his arms didn't still ache from holding so much for so long, he'd think he was asleep on the warren floors somewhere.

The large man strained his ears to the utmost, feeling like he was missing something not quite tangible and it frustrated him immensely. Cedar and Leo took their turns speaking, but each word felt like it was just there to be heard; like thoughts given voice without a mouth.

These words aren't real, they can't be. This talk of Gods and great destinies for the closed off, hard minded man standing before him. Taln stopped himself just short of shaking his head in confusion, knowing it would break the illusion and he'd be allowed to hear no more.

The Gods were distant things to be cursed at and shouted to, not a walking, talking moving piece of Inarta humanity! His green eyes looked through the thick coppery mane at Leo...Zaital. He looked to be an ordinary man, who lived and breathed as much as he himself did.

Thoroughly used to sudden noises on his acutely sensitive hearing, Taln didn't move a muscle when Akvin dropped the drumstick. The Dek's eyes however, were in constant motion, first at the drummer and then at Glav's quick reaction.

Silence felt like a thick suffocating blanket between the men and he wanted to shout to break it somehow. Taln's heart battered his ribs from the inside as he fought the urge to yell.

'Stand up and speak firm! When you stand on the ledge and do nothing, you'll teeter and fall! Jump in with both feet man! Don't step back from this! How can you have the blood of the very Gods within you and remain so silent! Take this with both hands, grab it as hard as you can and go with it!'

His mind ran swiftly with urgent thoughts, wanting to yell, to shake Leo hard out of his outward stupor. Taln knew he was just a Dek but he would give anything to have his feeling of being something more brought to life. For someone to breathe it into flames as Cedar was doing for Leo. His eyes swept each of their faces in turn, watching, waiting for the privileged to speak already!

Sweat trickled down his back and he unclenched his hands, leaving small crescent marks on his palms. He would gladly give up his life for all that Leo was just shown. To be recognized as more than an outward shell of humanity. Taln did the only thing he could do as a Dek. He waited.

by **Leo Varniak** on September 12th, 2011, 8:37 pm

Glav's arrival with an Inarta who couldn't have been anything but a Dek (although Leo referred to them as 'serfs' as a matter of preference) caused him to raise a brow, but he did not stop talking. If the others weren't bothered by this stranger, they either trusted him or simply trusted he would forget pretty much everything of any importance come the next morning. Leo suspected the latter. This selective amnesia of theirs came in handy; and it was difficult to think it could have kept Ivak's prison hidden for long. Once someone figured it out, the mental device designed to protect the secret turned into a bright red arrow pointing straight in that direction. It occurred to Leo that it might have been planned for that very reason.

After setting down a series of detailed maps, the man carried himself with all the comfort of someone who'd just swallowed a broomstick. Leo felt his gaze on him as he spoke, but that didn't stop him at all. There was no shame in being who he was. In fact, the Dek was quickly forgotten as Cedar made his reply. The beginning of it ran along expected pathways he had already discussed with Glav several times before. Ivak must be freed so that Glav could ascend to godhood and take Sylir's place in the pantheon. Leo had accepted this. Glav's tendency to get political had exasperated him at times, just as well as Leo's tendency to confront his enemies head on must have irritated the son of Sylir. The job description, however, pretty much required a lot of politics and as such Glav would be perfect.

Even Leo was surprised by the turn things took when Cedar mentioned the contingency plan. He doubted his ears for a moment. Was the old man implying what the Azenth thought he was? That Ivak might have to die and Leo himself handle his power as a replacement of sorts? Akvin's reaction confirmed that the abrupt announcement had not been agreed upon. Glav was more emotional about it, which spoke of his friendship with the god of fire. Leo was rendered speechless for a moment, and he could feel a heavy silence falling upon the musicians' dais at the Inclement Weather. Even the Dek seemed to be awaiting his reaction with mounting impatience.

Then he spoke. "This is odd. I remember - very clearly - a discussion I had with Glav when we first met. We were debating the idea that Ivak should be freed, and I remember taking your side of the argument, Cedar. I said I wouldn't free him unless I could ascertain the safety of doing so. To which Glav replied that such a thing wouldn't be possible and I would have to have faith and act on it. Many things have happened since that day. I met Ivak, if only for a short time, when Yshul and her friends made it possible. He didn't sound like someone being consumed by insanity. Is it possible that he may have deceived me? Entirely. He is brilliant and has a way of eliciting the feelings he wants in another. This power he gave unto me is proof enough. Still, I decided to have a little faith after all and that's not about to change now. I came here to free Ivak and that's what I am going to do. I will take responsibility for the consequences; we all will. If I make a mistake, I'll do whatever I can to fix it. Anything. I'm not going to leave this world worse than I found it."

Truth told, Leo wasn't blinded by the prospect of becoming some godlike being. He knew what mortals saw about the gods was just the good parts of it. All the peasant sees of the king is the crown and feasts. The eternal struggles, the need to surround themselves with the best, the recruitment, the rise and fall of their fates... and most of all, the idea of living with his constant dissatisfaction - forever.

"I understand your point of view, Cedar, and I respect it, but I want the future to prove it wrong. And while I may even do it, I would count it as my defeat if it came to that. I saw the way he looked at Kova, and that man is still there. Besides," he added as another thought struck him, "I want you to give me your opinion on this. If I am to be any kind of support for your contingency plan, as you put it, tell me in all honesty if this is nearly good enough."

He turned sharply to the two off the dais and fixed his black gaze upon the Dek. "I can feel your anxiety a mile away." He inhaled deeply, rolled the tip of his tongue against the palate, and charged the power word. "Release." He had discovered he found it a little easier if he associated a word to the command. It was how you did it in personal magic: reinforcement, as they called it. Much like how you teach a dog to 'sit' and 'stay' with a word and a gesture. He unleashed the pent-up force of the Azenth always bubbling within him in Taln's direction, in an attempt to liberate him from the weight of the enormous tension he was feeling. His audience would then see - all three of them were certainly gifted enough to perceive it. All the limits of someone who'd barely just started wielding Azenth would be plain to see. He had induced mass hysteria the first time, suicide another; he had since gotten better, as he realized that absolute control was hopeless and one must use this power like a leaf in the storm, but would that be enough for anyone to rely on as Ivak's replacement of all things?

by **Gossamer** on October 4th, 2011, 4:15 pm

Wind Reach hadn't had an Azenth grace their halls since the best and brightest of all the Azenth had been penned up for his own good beneath the bowels of the city. And because he'd been bound, creatures like Taln existed in distress more than they needed too. Endals stalked about feeling more stress than they ever should have in regards to feeding the population. Wind Eagles were more snappish than by rights the level headed creatures needed to be. Even the Yasi, the youngest of the Inarta, took their games far more serious and felt each others harsh words far more acutely than a normal child would. All of them. All of it. Because the world lacked something it needed that only the Azenth had access too fully. None of Ivak's followers had ever graced these halls, not in more than five hundred years.

Leo's power reached out and touched the very walls of Wind Reach itself which on the best of days only dripped djed and reeked of divinity a little and magnified. His word echoed out enforced by his small measure of talent and borrowed power and touched the walls and ignited like an inferno. Cedar moved to stop him, not sensing his intent before it was too late... and even he felt the words wash over him and arched his back crying out as an incedible release of emotion moved through him. The Azenth's power redoubled and tripled by the very essence of the volcano caused the God who was only mascaraing as mortal to arch his back and cry out much like a man finally finding his release in a woman's body. Glav and Akvin were no different. Glav gasped and tears began to flow down his cheeks while Akvin suddenly laughed sun-bright and joyful.

The wave of power moved on, swept through Taln, and suddenly all the pent up emotions inside him rocketed free. Everything Taln had ever felt and held inside was suddenly released. It had the essence of a good cry about it, the relief and the healing, but it was a thousandfold in nature. One could equate it with a physical orgasm but it was so much more than that, so deeply rooted, so incredibly spiritual. He was left exhausted afterwards but feeling so good, so strong, so completely and utterly lighter and unburdened.

The wave of power hit the far walls and like a tsunami arched both upwards and downwards spreading through the mountain. The power contained in Wind Reach fed the Azenth and resonated throughout the city releasing as a whole the entire occupants. The Inarta wouldn't understand it of course, not in the least, but they'd feel it. Everyone would feel suddenly ... better. Fights over food in the Commons would suddenly cease and folks would reach out to share what they had with those that had nothing. Apologies would be issued for unintended bumps in hallways whereas cuffs often followed if a dek accidentally stumbled into someone else overburdened or over-hurried on their tasks. A woman in the infirmary suddenly sighed and gave birth to her triplets after more than twenty hours in labor that had the healer convinced the woman wasn't going to survive.

Leo would have felt nothing like that in all the times he'd used his Azenth and it would be almost immediately recognizable how dangerous the use of magic in Wind Reach was under the current conditions. The place dripped in djed, enough so that people that normally shouldn't have had the ability to be mages were successful because of the abundant power.

Dangerous power.

Silence filled the hall, punctuated only by the men's reactions to the releasing and by Leo's own breathing. After a time, Cedar spoke, backed up by Glav who was trying to get his sorrow under control. "We should have warned you. You should have sensed how it is here. There's so much power its threaded through the wall sand practically dripping off them. Sylirs sacrifice caused this. It is why Glav is here. Your Ivak needs released while his father's energy needs contained." The old man said, though he suspected Leo realized the full extend of the situation now.

Glav spoke then, his voice lighter less lacking the grief it had carried before. "I think its time as well. I think Ivak is ready to walk the world again. I think you were born to do this, Leo." The Akvina said softly. Then Akvin spoke. "I've been looking for his prison since we arrived. Its down somewhere off the Underground Forest. The entrance is concealed even to divine eyes. You'll have to find it on your own, Leo. You have our blessings to do so." He added gesturing to Taln.

"He and his kind know where the Forest is." The drummer said still visibly laughing, lighthearted, and joyous.