Into the Depths [Murmur]

[Gillar]

Fall in the Year 510 AV Although the year was on the downward spiral toward a close bringing with it the frigid chill of winter, in Ravok it was warm, moist with only the occasional rainstorm to break-up the otherwise seasonably unnatural weather. Thanks to city's resident deity, Ravok remained more-or-less comfortable all year round. It was early afternoon, the sun was still high in the sky when Deven, known also as, Murmur, found himself standing on one of the balconies of the Vitrax, headquarters to the dark, secretive, Ebonstryfe. Below lie the courtyard where soldiers and apprentices alike honed their martial skills. Unlike most days, Murmur would not be joining the rest of the men and women in the courtyard. Earlier that morning he had received word to report with the rest of his unit to one of the debriefing chambers. There they would all be given information regarding an eminent mission. Not every member of the Ebonstryfe had the privilege to serve in secret, undercover, spreading deceit and wreaking chaos upon the inferior. Murmur's unit, like many others, were responsible for performing exploratory missions into newly discovered, pre-Valterrian ruins, seeking out ancient relics and fragments of times long gone and ensuring that the borders of Ravok were more than secure. All Murmur had been told was that the next mission was an exploratory mission and that he needed to report to debriefing a short time from the present. When ready, he would find the short walk from the common room where he was currently waiting to the designated debriefing chambera couple levels below. The hallways were frequented by a number of apprentices and soldiers with a commander or two making their way to their own duties. When he finally made it to the debriefing chamber, he found a couple members of his unit already waiting; standing before a podium backed by a large black slate chalkboard. The commander, a large man well into his 40's, stood behind the podium, patiently waiting for the rest of the unit to arrive. On the chalkboard was drawn rough map with Ravok prominently labeled.

[Murmur]

Time seemed to fly by. Tanroa seemed dead-set on that, at least from what Murmur could garner from it. Things changed. They always did. Apprentices and comrades either moved forward in life or were inspecting the floor in some macabre joke. Murmur had always strove to be better than his peers; to give his existence in the Ebonstryfe some sense of reason. But then again, didn’t they all? He was content to meander and do activities most apprentices did with their unit, but when there was a time for something that fell out of the norm, the young man felt a surge of adrenaline, not unlike that which he felt many years ago. So even as he stood on the balcony, with his hands dug deep into his pockets, his gaze fell over several familiar faces. His expression, as always, was lax, with a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. Time had taught him to confront conflict with passive diligence. He was the conductor of neutral energy, energy he could utilize in ways he has yet to fully master. He knew there were still traces of skepticism and doubt in their hearts. It was only human nature. “It’s always the Weakness in our meek hearts.” He smiled. His peers took the backburner. Murmur twirled to re-enter the common room, still as stuffy as he remembered it. The walk to the chamber was silent enough, as he had no real reason to delay the briefing much longer. He had, for several years now, made it his goal to avoid any reason he could give to a commanding officer to punish him, having already suffered once the pain of a lashing. Now that he was in the chamber, Murmur was at least grateful of his innate ability to be punctual. He took his position before the podium after a quick greeting to the man behind it, with his hands instinctively remaining behind his back. His eyes, however, driven by his inquisitive nature, absorbed the drawing of Ravok lain out on the chalkboard. Intriguing! Now it was true curiosity and a swirling vortex of speculation that preoccupied him as the rest of his unit trickled in through the door.

[Seth]

One person was late. Murmur would be well aware of who it was. His unit consisted of five soldiers, the commander, and two apprentices, one of those being Murmur himself. Currently, the commander was standing at the head of the podium, patiently waiting next to the chalkboard. All around the podium, situated to either side of Murmur, sat the five soldiers. That left the other apprentice. They hadn't been really given a clear stated time for when to arrive at the podium, but "quickly" had been a stressed word. Now, pushing ten minutes from when the last soldier had come into the little classroom... It was definitely a poor showing, especially for one of the first major missions of the unit. The commander remained quiet and calm the entire time, and simply stood there, dark eyes staring at the door. He was an imposing man, dressed in pure black plate mail, the worn steel showing signs of various battles. A giant sword was strapped to his back, perched there diagonally, the tip of the sword just barely managing to not drag along the ground. He also had a longsword equipped at the hip, being the most loaded man in the room. The others simply had on chainmail or leather, with a sword or daggers at their hips. They were all imposing men, but even they paled in comparison to the aura that the commander was slowly beginning to give off. Even if he was being quite patient and calm, one would begin to get the feeling that it was simply a show. He was a well-trained man, and could easily make his outsides a stone wall. Inside, perhaps he was boiling. A feeling of dread was thick in the air. "Timing, boy. It is all about timing. Be on time." The commander suddenly lashed out with his long sword, much faster than he had just moments before, brutally stabbing it into Murmur's shoulder. The cold steel pierced flesh, and impaled right through, continuing on to embed itself in the wooden wall behind Murmur. "See, if you would have been on time with a dagger block..." Blood erupted from the wound, bubbling around the cold steel, and the commander turned, walking away, leaving Murmur stuck to the wall. "Be on time for our next practice session, boy. I take a personal interest in your combat training. You better petching respect that." Murmur might recall the memory. It had been that "lashing" he had received a few years back. The Commander had always been strict about being on time. All at once, the missing apprentice stumbled in, a mass of armor and weapons, frantically trying to equip himself. He was halfway dressed, and rather tired-looking, as if he had been roused from some kind of sleep. The moment he stepped in the room, he froze, feeling the sudden murderous sensation pouring from the Commander. Stopping short, he took a deep breath and swallowed, stopping all action. "Sorry, Commander. It won't happen again. I will report to you for punishment after the briefing. Do not let me hold you any longer. Thank you for your kindness in waiting." Even if he had been late, his quick apology and humble attitude was an excellent start to recovery. He would still pay in blood, but certainly not as much. The Commander didn't even acknowledge the situation, just turned, focusing his attention on the blackboard. Picking up the chalk, he began marking the map, quickly speaking in a deep, husky tone. "We are being sent out on an exploration mission to a site roughly 2 days from Ravok. Scouts discovered some ancient ruins west of Ravok, on the very edge of the Cobalt Mountains. The scouting unit was attacked by raiders before they could finish their search of the area and were forced to retreat. Only three of eight-man unit returned. Directions were left by the scouts on how to return to the area, so a follow-up group could be sent. We are to deal with any raiders we find, while also finding out what the ruins are and if there is anything of use there." The Commander paused, turning to regard the group, his eyes flickering over Murmur, barely paying him any real notice. "Any questions?" That murderous aura still lingered in the air, and one would have to wonder if it was worth it to speak up at this point. "If not, we will set out today. Since none of you fools have any experience on horseback, it will be a trek by foot. Supplies will be provided. We will be meeting outside of the Vitrax, ten minutes from when we leave this room. Questions need to be asked in the next fifteen seconds." The Commander glanced over to the other apprentice, who visibly shuddered. He was in for a rough time, it would seem.

[Murmur]

As passive as they come, Murmur stood still, hands clasped behind his back, with his eyes trained on the wall for several chimes before the clatter of weapons and armor stumbled into the room. He watched the apprentice as he apologized far more quickly than he should have arrived, and he wondered for a moment, why the Commander had not punished him in that instant. Building suspense, no doubt. He smiled inwardly. And Murmur could remember all too well the punishments he received during his training here, and more would come, no doubt. He steeled himself for it, as it would be inevitable, but for every torn flesh, every blood shed, it was for the glory of Rhysol, and Murmur ultimately understood this. As the Commander began to speak, he watched him with rapt attention, noting the map drawn on the board and the unsettling matter of the deaths of the scouts. It wasn’t so much that Murmur was feeling sorrow over the loss of his fellow Ebonstryfe, it was the fact that they had been disposed of by raiders. Were they not better than this? So easily dispatched by common thugs? The thought disgusted him. Perhaps, they were no ordinary raiders. Syliran Knights? Mercenaries? And out of all the men that could be sent, apprentices are chosen. It was either a compliment to their skill or a death sentence, and Murmur was damn well prepared for either. No one spoke up, and Murmur had nothing to say, so after the Commander had released them, he made his way through the hallways and corridors of the Vitrax and outside where the rest of his peers aligned themselves for the arrival of the imposing man.

[Seth]

The Commander arrived quickly, bringing a large pile of sacks along with him. He dropped them to the ground and immediately went straight to the apprentice who had been late, stopping in front of him. The man swallowed, and held his position in the line they had formed, gazing his Commander right in the eye. After a few moments of deadly silence, the Commander held out his hand, speaking in a cold and even tone. "Discard of your chainmail, and hand it to me. As punishment for you arriving late, you will go into this little quest of ours with a handicap." The apprentice paused, and then nodded, swallowing hard. Working quickly, he removed the layer of chainmail he had put on atop his shirt, and disposed it into the outstretched hand of the Commander. With a nod, the giant of the man moved on, tossing the armor onto the ground behind him. "I brought a bag for each of you, along with tents." The Commander pulled a bag for each person from the pile, and tossed it at them, tents attached to three of the packs. "You seven will share two, and the third is for me. Commanding officer and all." A short malicious grin was given, one of his rare ones, but no one dared to grin back. With that, the Commander motioned them on, and they all fell into rank, following quickly behind. Secret : Continued here.