Quest The Dark and Old [Verin, Sevris]

[Abstract]

Summer 55th, 514 AV

It wouldn't be in public, nor would it be very obvious or open. Verin would be on a Ravosala, or walking through a small back street. Maybe he would be looking down into the canals, into the deep, dark lake, wondering about the fish that had been lurking throughout the city. Whatever state he was in, at one point or another... he would feel a tap. Just a light one, touching him on the shoulder from behind. It might feel like a ghost, something not truly there... but when he turned, there would quite certainly be a figure behind him.

It was a man, whose face was hidden by a dark cowl during the first moments of sight. However, he quickly lowered the hood when Verin turned, letting it fall loose on his shoulders and revealing a calm expression. The man was dressed all in black, in simple robes that fell to his ankles, but did not cover his shoes. His hair was dark too, as were his eyes, creating a black and mysterious feeling all around him. The only pale things about him were his face, and the obvious emblem embroidered onto his right shoulder... the sign of the Black Sun.

"Verin Rush?" the man asked, and when the name was verified, he would nod and continue. "Verin, we know a bit about you. We know of your services during the Rising Dawn execution, and your skill set that is rather... suitable. We also know that you are devoted to Rhysol and his worship. On top of that... we know of some of your... intentions. To push your devotion. And both of that know where this leads." He paused, staring straight into the Rush boy's face. He was being remarkably blunt, though never bothered stating who 'we' meant. It would be too obvious.

"Now the question is..." he said, after a long pause. "Is it still your wish to pursue this? To become a truer and better Ravokian?" It was a legitimate question, though stated as if there was no other answer than the obvious one.

---

Sevris would find himself with the book. The big, red, book that he'd earned just a season before. It wasn't a book to read of course, and most of the time, it was illegible. Actually, it had been illegible since the day he'd found it, silent, in a way. Nothing but black scribbles that meant nothing, no matter how deep you tried to go into their purpose. They never stayed long anyways, flicking in and out, sometimes fast, sometimes slow.

Still, it was a curious artifact, and one not to be ignored. After all... who knew when that red ink would come again, to leave a message or purpose? Today would be the day, and when he opened the front cover, a blood red image would await him. It filled the entire page, with nothing else to show. There was a pair of eyes, but in no way identical. One was a normal eye, with pupil and iris drawn in simple lines. It had an eyebrow too, a trait shared with its partner. The second eye, however... could be considered simple, but it was possibly the more important of the two. It was white, empty. No hint of any of the normal shapes in an eye. Nothing at all.

That image would stay for nearly a chime. Sitting there, un moving. Every once in a while a bit of black would peek out, a shape trying to take its place on the page, but it would quickly disappear. Only after a very, very long time would the eyes vanish, fading away slowly into whiteness.

But the page didn't stay blank for long. The most clear and concise thing that it had ever showed turned up. A message, almost a letter, scribbled in sharp handwriting, but unsigned. It too was in red. Though it was only a few sentences it sat in the center of the paper, surrounded by a sea of white.

Come to my temple.
Find one of mine.
Pale haired, new.

Follow and Watch.

That was all, but it lasted longer than the image had, until Sevris has committed it to memory. He would be left to follow the request... or was it an order?

[Verin Rush]

In a dimly-lit canal passageway, upon an old wooden walkway, stood a darkly-clad figure. The pale shirt and dark trousers were covered entirely by a fine, black woollen cloak, which had tasteful embroidery lining the edges. A gift for his services a few seasons ago, it was perfect for the warm season. Distinctive blond hair fell at two or three inches long down the back of his head, and piercing, pale blue eyes gazed down into the weathers of the lake upon which his scurvy stood.

The water was clear, to a point. The young blond could see several feet into the depths of the crystalline Lake Ravok, and he watched as a very small school of fish swam towards the surface and then under the wooden walkway that he was standing on. They weren't big fish, and Verin was surprised that he had spotted them, as the reflective surface of the scales was offset by the reflective surface of the water, which shimmered in the low light of the shaded, slim canal. There were not many fish left in Ravok - such had been the case for quite some time, and Verin, as a bartender at the Malt House, had been one of the first to notice the shortage?

Unlike most folk, Verin had not fallen to the fear-mongering that ran rife with the rumours surrounding a giant Fish, a monster deep in Ravok's depths. Whilst he had had proof of some truth to it (with the lack of fish import to the family-friendly tavern), he had not wanted to accept such a fantastical tale of danger lurking beneath his beautiful city. So, until relatively recently, he had decided that the rumours were just that: rumours. Tales told by drunken men late at night, perhaps even a bedtime story for children which had gotten out of hand,

But the Black Sun had announced truth to the rumours, and had even sanctioned a number of attempts to help the lake-based city against this... Fish. For the Rush scion, that was enough. The Black Sun's word was law in the city, and they embodied the voice of his God, which allowed Verin to let his heart and mind follow their proclamations.

However, with his new acceptance of the existence of a monster in the lake's depths, came questions, questions that he couldn't answer, questions that no one but his patron God could answer. The most dominating, and common, of these questions was why. Why would Rhysol seek to punish his city in such a manner? Verin had no doubt that the monster was of divine, or at least magical, creation... and The Defiler caimed strong dominion over the territory. He wondered what the city might have done to displease the God, and wondered what they might do to rectify it.

His thoughts were cut short, however, by the faint sensation of pressure on his shoulder, and he spun around with some speed, cloak billowing in the breeze that he had just artificially created. He was surprised that someone stood directly behind him; he had heard nothing, save the slosh of water against the supports to the city, and muffled voices in the distance. Verin recognised the figure instantly - not the face, nor the person, but the organisation; that was the only important detail the blond needed. The man inquired as to his identity and Verin nodded mutely, though he did his best not to betray any emotion on his features.

Internally, his mind was racing, he remembered watching Master Parnell being dragged off by the Ebonstryfe almost a season ago and he wondered why he would be sought out, unless he was suspected of something. But as the man continued, he relaxed the tense muscles, only slightly, and slowly, so that it might not be obvious to the member of the Black Sun. Yet, at the realisation of what was being said, Vetin heart began to pound; this was his chance! He had been noticed!

When the two questions came, Verin didn't respond immediately... not because he had to give his answers any thought; he had known for a long time that this was his sole ambition. No, he paused in order to settle his stomach slightly, to give himself time to get his head around the opportunity placed before him. Only a few ticks passed, but finally he replied, “My life has always rested in my God's hands. My devotion unmatched by most... I would devote my everything to Rhysol's service, if found worthy.” Internally, he cringed, wondering if his words seemed too ridiculous, but it was hard to find words which could aptly convey his utter devotion. A concept so closely linked to emotions, to the soul, was not inherently logical, and so, there was no language to express it.

[Sevris]

55th Day of Summer 514 A.V There's so much more this book. But its nonsense! The thought lingered in the youngest of Paladin's head. As usual the pile of papers littered around his deck. Most of them reports from people about a loud "wailing" they've heard. Which only caused him more headache. There was only so much time a man could look at a book that made absolutely no sense to any mortal. Then however today it seemed the day for it show him its true meaning was about to be revealed. After finishing his paperwork and called in his servant to get the work and the big red old book. She came in, a human slave, to do his bidding. "Back at work Master?" She asked him picking up the papers and placing the book in front of him. Sevris rubbed his temples and replied, "Did I ask you to speak Mana?" He was slightly irate and it was always his slaves that felt the brunt of this side. She bowed her head fast and was quiet once more. Sevris dismissed her with a hand. Rude but he would make up for it when he called her to his chambers. He had to keep appearances that he did not favor his slaves. But now his attention was on the book. He grabbed it and opened it. When it opened he was instantly blasted with a strange image. A random page but he was sure it'd be the same message on another. The image was blood red. In between the images appeared a pair of eyes. One of them was cold eye pupil the other was missing its pupil and was blank and damning. He knew eyes like this before, he had seen them on his grandfather and his now deceased cousin Ansel. He they stared at him for a chime, and made no attempts to please Sevris when he fevered tried to pry secrets from it. But suddenly, not that Sevris helped, a message appeared. Come to my temple. Find one of mine. Pale haired, new. Follow and Watch. These were the words he had been waiting for. Cryptic but the Paladin could make some head to it. "I must make my way to the Temple. It seems I have been willed there. This pale-haired person would enlighten me further." The Lazarin got up and put on his silk clothing, and his cape. Strapping his double-blade to his back and longsword at his side. He made his way to the Temple. Where he would get some answers.

[Abstract]

The man waited patiently for Verin's answer, before nodding in acceptance. His face showed no expression for the majority of the time, though when the small speech was finished the corners of his lips curled slightly... though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Good... follow me, then. You can prove your devotion to The Defiler himself." Response given, he turned, with a little swish of his black robe. He quickly began striding away, long legs taking big steps, which still seemed graceful. "We will be going to The Temple," he added, before falling silent for the rest of their journey.

It wasn't a long walk, but it was a quiet one, giving Verin plenty of time to contemplate this new event. Though it hadn't been said directly, the point of all of this was obvious... and one which the Bartender had noticed himself. There was nothing else that needed to be said.

The Temple of the Black Sun was quiet when they arrived, a few citizens and a few Black Sun members mingling around. Some were talking quietly in corners, others were sitting on benches, heads down in prayer. The Rush would be lead directly to the black shard that protruded from the center of the building, and stopped a good five or six meters away from it. "Kneel, and speak to Rhysol," he was told, before the man slipped away to watch and wait.

---

Sevris would arrive without conflict in the Temple of the Black Sun, though the Ebonstryfe at the doors nodded to him as he entered. In the empty building - the day's mass was long past - the blond boy would be easy to spot, kneeling in front of the black shard from the water. Hopefully the Paladin would deem it fit to wait for the Rush to finish his prayers, and then approach.

As he watched, a new figure would appear, seen by only him and the Black Sun member with Verin. By appear... the man turned up out of nowhere, body fading in from a shadow almost naturally. He walked with grace and power, as if he owned the place... which he did, in all the sense of the word. He would come up behind Verin and wait, wait and listen. The bartender would not notice the new arrival, not until he was done and Rhysol deemed it the proper time to show himself.

[Sevris]

Donned in brilliant gold and black silk clothing Sevris always made an appearance wherever he went. Rather it was on purpose or not, he could always be seen in some outfit emblazoned with gold colors. And also the Lazarin insignia on his back. They knew who he was by face but it was always good to give people the remembered fear of his family. He strode through the temple, the man did enjoy the grandness of the structure. A piece of history he was now apart of. Before he could pick his mind on the strange message shown to him in the red book. From his peripherals he noticed a blonde boy praying at the black shard stationed in the middle. A Black Sun official standing watch was there with him as well. A strange sight. Sevris hovered by waiting for the boy to finish his prayers to Rhysol. Suddenly in a blink of an eye there was someone who appeared behind Verin. The air began to leave Paladin as the atmosphere changed drastically. He walked with such grace and power, entrancing to a mortal like Sevris. Transfixed by the sudden appearance. He could only watch what would happen next.

[Verin Rush]

It was a disconcerting look that Verin received from the member of the Black Sun, but he worked hard to stand firm and keep his composure against the man that he wanted to impress. The two walked in silence; neither initiated any conversation, and the blond bartender took the time to work through what he knew was happening. He had waited for such a long time for this opportunity, had dreamt about it, prayed that he might get the chance to prove himself worthy of working with Rhysol's elite. Now that he had the chance, he could hardly believe it. A grin that would put a travelling Fool to shame threatened to appear on his face, and his legs wanted to hop and skip in celebration and excitement, but Verin fought against the desires, and walked sombrely behind the man who bade him follow.

He wondered what it would be like, when he next saw his twin brother, if he were to greet the younger wearing black. Not the black cloak that he was currently wearing, the fine wool with beautifully embroidered lining, but a true black cloak, with the emblem on the chest, announcing just what he had achieved to the world. No longer would he and his brother be thought of as the sons of a Sylirist, their Ravokian mother forgotten. For once, they would, in their right, be considered loyal to their beloved city.

As the pair approached the Temple of the Black Sun, Verin glanced up in wonderment. Though his hours of working at the Malt House were unsociable, it left him plenty of time to pray, and he endeavoured to attend the Temple once every two or three days, if not more frequently. He had entered the Temple countless times, and knew the idols better than he knew his brother's face. Yet, each time that he entered the majestic building, he found himself in awe, as if looking at it for the first time. A shrine to the Defiler, there were few things as inspiring as the creation he stood within.

Looking at eye-level, Verin saw a number of other black-cloaked members of Rhysol's faction, and a few more citizens, whom had also come to pay homage to the God who gave them sanctuary. As he made a rough estimate, including those milling outside , Verin noticed more people than usual, imagining the higher presence of people praying for absolution from the Fish Crisis. But he wasn't here to pray to be rid of the water-based monster, he was here for himself. As directed, her stepped forward, facing the centrepiece for the Temple, and knelt down.

The bartender bowed his head in reverence to his God as he began to speak in hushed tones; the expansive room was quiet, so his low words might be heard by those standing closest to him. “To be kneeling here, in this way, you must have seen something in me, something that makes me worthy of serving you, worthy of your attention.” He swallowed, falling silent for a moment as he considered. “Only you can truly know my heart in a way that none else do. Though my father raised me, I am my mother's son, and I follow her God. I have devoted my life to your teachings.”

Never before had a payer been so hard to formulate. He had always wanted to believe that Rhysol had heard every prayer that Verin spoke to him, but this time, he knew, for certain, that he had the full attention of The Defiler. “And I will offer myself body, heart and soul to you. I beg to be your servant, and to please you, for as long as you will have me.”

[Ink]

The temple’s reverent gravity weighed heavy on the young uninitiated Rush. Verin prayed and the temple listened. Only Sevris and the guide could see the figure’s suddenly disjointed movements. It wasn’t a difficulty in alacrity but the opposite; the vision took all possible movements at once, like shadows overlaying his frame. Finally the chaos froze and solidified into one path and the man nodded to the agent. the man dissipated before Verin could open his eyes. Still in this seat of his power who would dare contend that Rhysol was ever truly absent?

As if on command, the Acolyte who had led Verin to the temple lifted his gaze one eye solid white and without iris. He stood in a shadow’s edge, he had meant only to observe but plans changed, especially when Gods walked. His eyes filtered over the worshippers and faithful, it past over Sevris once… twice… and finally fell on him the third time. He had not been the sender of the note, someone who better understood the will of their divine had been involved. The planning began to fall into place before the eyes of the manipulated. The Black Sun insignia distorted as he rose his hand to motion Sevris towards the supplicant. Robes threshed against his boot’s toes as the Acolyte rejoined Verin before the black shard.

He waited in contemplative silence. It might have been happenstance, or immediate workings that this was coming together so quickly, until a small messenger boy clipped down the stairs with a tidy envelope in his clean hands. The boy went no further than the Acolyte and passing off the message and then scampering away to do his next duty. It was one thing to be a pawn another to be unwitting. He flipped over the note and found it was sealed in wax with Black Sun insignia, though this did nothing to lessen his tension. He broke it open to find to find three separate letters within its folds. Two had names in swooping script. The handwriting finally dissolved the Acolyte’s tension, he recognized it. He passed out the first two notes, one to Sevris and one to Verin after he rose. The third, unlabeled letter, he opened himself. It took but a glance and the entirety of his letter was complete, he nodded in response and then turned to the paladin and the bartender. “Read your respective lettersI would suggest you not read each others letters to avoid spoilers.. When you are done we will speak.”

To Verin Rush :

You are being presented with an opportunity to prove yourself not only suitable for the position of Black Sun Agent, but with the chance to immediately elevate yourself from your peers. The mission offered is primarily political in nature, you will, with guide and guard, go to the island Citadel of Sahova and join the ranks of the wizards there. You will prove yourself equal to their standards and you will gain contacts among the Nuit. When you arrive you will be approached by a Black Sun member, they will assign you an additional task. If you can complete it you will have succeeded and may return to Ravok.

Until that day you will be given an honorary position. You will not wear the insignia of the Black Sun nor will any name you Agent, but you will find supplies to support your travel and stay on Sahova. Your guide arrives the 52nd of Fall.
If you chose to reject this mission use the word ‘blossom’ in conversation with the Acolyte. You may reject without consequence and another will be given this most fortuitous chance.

P.S. Making friends with your guard would be wise.

To Sevris Lazarin :

Your task is simple Paladin, you must guard your charge to the greatest extent of your ability. Your past exploits have been taken into account and you are deemed most suitable to protect him. He will travel to the Island of Undead Wizards known as Sahova. While there and within the citadel he will be safe from bodily harm and so you have an additional quest. You will join the ranks of mortal guards on Sahova known as Wardens. They fight against the magical abominations the wizards set free on the island. A contact has made clear that they have secrets which even the Wizards fail to suspect. Find out at least one secret of importance from this sect. When your charge returns you will return with him, you have until then to complete your mission.

You will be judged not only on your charge’s health but the information you return with. Declining is not an option, this is an order. You will depart on the 52nd of Fall.

The Acolyte watched each for reactions. The knowledge that this scheme had filtered down the ranks of his own Division had returned his self-assured body language. “Have either of you anything to contend or question?”

[Verin Rush]

Only after Verin had finished his soft muttering a of worship for his patron god did he slowly open his eyes and rise to stand once again. He had not seen the apparition of said divine being watching him from behind as the Acolyte or the Ebonstryfe soldier had, but the hairs that had pricked upon the back of his neck - as if a cold had descended upon him - had slowly started to settle once again.

Silence was the theme of the day, and the three in the triangle of men each regarded the other, making any judgements that might be made, for Verin himself, he found himself in relative awe of the other two, as he was amazed at any who had been trusted into the service of his favoured deity, it had been a dream of his for too long not to have great respect for any who had succeeded where he had not.

Soon, a young boy, a runner for the Temple, possibly, scurried down the stairs and weaved his way quickly through the few people who occupied the Temple, praying or admiring. It became clear that the boy was approaching them, such was the direction of his eyes, and the three waited, the bartender especially watching the boy, waiting to see what details were carried so carefully in his hand. The boy slowed and stopped and handed the scroll over to the Acolyte. Verin raised a brow as the inquisitive child stared shamelessly at the soldier and himself before scurrying off once again.

Once again, the blond's attention returned to the Acolyte and waited with feigned patience to discover what came next in his quest to be of service to the great Defiler. Eventually the time came and he took pains to accept his own scroll with a slow, unhurried air. Unrolling it, he devoured the information quickly, eyes skimming for left to right faster than he normally might read... some information was even lost to him in the first read.

Surprised, he raised a brow again at the option to avoid this rare chance; had he been opposed to such an opportunity, surely he would never have returned to the Temple initially? Rolling the scroll back bu, Verin merely shook his head negatively to the Acolyte's question, preferring to say nothing, rather than allow even the smallest chance of the safe word to slip from his tongue.

[Sevris]

Sevris watched with an eagerness that had been lost to him ever since he drew the last breath from Ansel. His God whom he followed with a heavy determination had blessed them with his presence. However there was always a reason for everything. And everything had reason to be made. The Acolyte had given him a letter that explained a lot but very little at the same time. But he knew his place and he knew his resolve. Whatever the Ebonstryfe asked of him, he would do it without hesitation. Even if that task led him to one of the most dangerous places in all of Mizahar. Sahova. Surrounded by the very abominations he said he would help destroy one day. Nuits were spawns of an eviler being to him and he thought they all deserved to perish. But the Paladin knew there were worse things than a Nuit to worry about. He would have to stave those feelings off. "Nothing to contend here. I understand what I have too do."