Meet a ProphetAre you sure you ought to write things down like this? As they happen?
No. No, I'm not sure. But so far, Aurora has been successful at keeping all evil entities out of the Library, so I figure, so long as They don't know we're recording this, They can't make it so it never happened. That none of it never happened.
But you run the risk of--
Enough. Let me write this down.
Phoenix and Mestoph will be traveling to Eagle's Rook to look for the Prophet.
When the two members from Folkestone arrive at the eastern entrance this morning, they get asked the usual of whom they are and what buisness they have in Eagle's Rook. It's a much more bustling city that's around the Keep than outsiders remember, and there's even a new map made by Balthazar (and copied by cartographers) framed up to show where most of the important places and buildings are in Eagle's Rook.
When Mestoph mentions what his business is (looking for the prophet), the watchman on duty just shrugs and comments casually, "Popular guy, eh?"
When Phoenix starts off saying who she is, the other guard straightens up and offers her a salute. "Thank you, Guardian, for all you did for my kind!"
The first guy raises an eyebrow with a questioning look on his face, and just waves the two through.
After traveling on foot through the cold but busy streets, eventually a voice is heard, leading the two to a square. More than a few people point the people from Folkestone the way to the prophet. There is a male's voice, higher than the others but strong and loud over the general chatter as they make their way to the front to be closer to the wooden box he stands on.
"...and when the Time comes, we shall know him, with his family on his left, and his children on his right. We shall know the one who brought us into this way of life, we shall know him by his voice, by his words and deeds, by his very soul! For although he carries with him the weight of darkness, his character is the same in the dark as it is in the light, and therefore we know him to be true, his life to be true. We can faithfully believe in the one who sent us the message, the way to cut through lies!"
He lifts a sheathed dagger into the air, with a ratty scarlet ribbon tied around its hilt. Some people whistle and a few clap, but most start going back to what they were doing before as he finishes up. "I have said too much already this morning, but I implore you: look to each other, look to yourselves. What needs to be fixed? What needs to be done! No more procrastination, no more laziness, for the God Curt abhors such things. What job is it that holds you back? Get It Done!" he shouts.
"And So We Shall!" shout back a couple of people before the crowd disperses, leaving Phoenix and Mestoph to stand there with the Prophet.
Meanwhile, a very excited watchman lets Sir Vawn know that Guardian Fleuris is in town, with a friend that's really bald.
Mestoph approaches the Prophet and say, "Greetings, voice of Curt. I hear you may have been looking for me."
"I am but one of many voices in the wilderness and throughout the cities, though titles do not suit me as they take too long to say." He gives a smile before taking a step down off the box into the busy street to join them on solid ground. "As for looking specifically for you, that all depends. You certainly wear the heraldry, as does she," he thumbs in Phoenix's direction, "of one of the old Northern families. Tell me, what have you done in Curt's name lately?"
It isn't a tone of challenge, but one of inquiry. If it wasn't for the fact that he was shouting out to the people before, the garments he wears (except for the dagger) are old, worn, and mostly utilitarian and forgettable. He also has not offered a name. When he lifts a lock of long hair to place behind his ear, though, it is quite pointed: an elf.
"As he is the one that serves Curt, I'll allow him to speak for us both, as I doubt you or your God would be pleased by extra idle conversation." Phoenix comments and moves slightly back, remaining where she can hear but allowing the other two to carry on the primary conversation.
"I dislike the term 'serve'. I do not serve Curt, nor do I do anything in his name. I simply act as I see fit and encourage others to do likewise. However, I am the one known as the Battle Priest," says Mestoph.
"So, it is true, then? You have kept the change and made it your own? You have accepted the destiny that you have forged for yourself, instead of the one Time originally had laid out for you?" Again, more as an inquiry than accusatory; the elf has acknowledged Phoenix's step-back with a simple nod but nothing more.
"I think we all forge our paths. Life is in flux, and destiny is always of your own making. I've been more fortunate than some, and perhaps less than others, but regardless. You were seeking me?"
"Jury's still out on that. Come, I've been granted a small loft to sleep in for the barn I helped to recently raise. It's not warm which will facilitate a quick discussion, but at the very least we can break bread and share water. Will you follow, northern family of old?" He points towards the west.
"Gladly, lead on, good sir." Mestoph and Phoenix follow after him.
As he leads them on, small talk is not made. The walk itself is brisk in the cold with no buildings to keep the wind away. Once off the beaten path of cobblestones to dirt, the elf makes a turn at a faded signpost and Phoenix and Mestoph can see woods ahead.
Not much is in the woods, save a small stone tower (not more than three or four stories tall, if that) shaped like a fat black rook in from a chess-board. About fifty paces after that is a house that looks rather aged yet patched up, and a new barn not far from it.
He slides the two barn doors aside and leads them up the loft. The one cow and one ox are stabled separately, and the one horse seems to be asleep. There are a few woolly sheep in another pen that he passes without a glance, pointing up the ladder, and then going up first.
Once Phoenix and Mestoph have made themselves as comfortable as possible in the hay and the cold, he offers from his own stash some hardened (but not stale) bread and cold water from a pitcher directly. "Don't give me wrong, I'm not fasting," he says with a smile. "Although it had been some time since I had a meal with humans before I first came to Eagle's Rook, I shirk it not. In my time that I'm from, the Ravener was the talk of towns, and Eagle's Rook itself was under the rule of Sir Pyr, although I hear that now he is dead, may he rest in peace. The winter in Eagle's Rook, while most of the Realms suffered, did not extend into the lands, and some thought it to be the work of a dark magic from the Castle up high on the mountain. I can see now that the purple haze of smoke and fog is gone. That's a relief. Rather not stir up long-dead ghosts for this tale as well."
He bites into his bread and drinks a swig of water. "My name is Caiven, pronounced kye-bend. I'm from these Realms, but skipped a couple of decades when I came in contact with a very large bend in Time; I had lived a normal length until the late nine-hundred ninety-eight, give or take a Mortal's Reckoning. I was called to follow Curt over a hundred years ago, the week before I was to marry. That did not go over well with my beloved's family," he smirks, although his eyes show anger. "But that was that."
He then brushed his hands off. "Battle-Priest, the message is thus, take it as you will. 'You knew not what you were doing, and yet did it anyway. Blessed and cursed shall your path be, for a man who forged his destiny from the beginning of Pathos and further, and the end of time and beyond. You might think this message long, but now I can finish the work, I can be done waiting for you. I have had to adapt as well; no longer shall I be just a 'northern thing', but available to all. Come, seek out my stories from the ghosts. Look into the past and see what has changed. The fish-snake feast comes, and many words will be spoken, but now is the time for action. This is the year for action. Learn all you can, bring with you good, hard workers, and let us tackle this together. Time must be righted, the pandora's box closed once and for all.' "
Caiven eyes Mestoph. "And now, hopefully, is where you tell me what this means?"
"Well some of it is fairly clear," says Mestoph. "On the night I became the Battle Priest, I encountered a Time Snarl. Deciding that sometimes a bad idea is better than nothing I stabbed it with Curt, who at that 'time' was still in the form of a dagger. This sent him into the past, apparently many hundreds of years. Previous to that Curt was a lesser known Northern God from our home of Folkestone," he gestures at Phoenix when he says this. "It would seem that since then Curt has left the dagger and begun to expand his influence. As for the rest, I'm not entirely sure what the ghosts he speaks of are. Though I suspect it is 'the ghosts of the past'. A God being sent back in time almost cannot help but leave their mark, and quite likely events have been altered from what we might remember. The Fish and Water Feast is Leviathan, the Pandora's box is almost certainly these time snarls which need to be taken care of. The reference to Pathos is an interesting one, as I did not involve myself in the fight against him. Which almost makes it seem that the man being referred to there is King Alexander Cecil of Chimeron. This is quite a bit to think on, Caiven, and for that I thank you."
"Then my work here is done," replies Caiven. "I'll work for a few more hours in this city in return for supplies, and trek down to The Great Swamp. There's been activity there that one of our own hasn't come back from yet, so I grow concerned. In the mean-time, should you need a dagger by your side or another blunt voice on the field, send for me, Battle Priest, and I will be there." He finishes his cup of water and says, "Now, unless there is anything else you wish to ask me, I have work to attend to, and many miles ahead."
"The Great Swamp? What has happened there?" asks Mestoph.
"The Great Swamp has been a hub of activity lately, drow or dark elves; cannot tell which terrible god they worship." Caiven's mouth sets into a thin line mentioning drow. "The lights bobbing around the edges suggest they go under the Swamp from some surface opening. More recently, an adventurer wearing blue went in there to check it out. One of the Miserable' allies I've been in contact with, a creature who likes to keep itself covered went in after the guy, to make sure he was aware of the dangers, but no one has heard anything since. I don't have coin to pay a seer to look into such things, so by foot I go."
"Perhaps we can help. Phoenix, do you have your spy glass with you?"
Phoenix nods then takes it out of her bag and hands it to Mestoph. "This is Captain Binky's Spyglass, it gives the user a vision. Would you like to make use of it before you depart?" he asks.
"How does it work?" asks Caiven as he gingerly takes the offered artifact from Mestoph. "Do I just hold it up to my eyes, or... I admit I've never used a 'spy glass' before."
"I've never actually used it myself. Phoenix?"
"Just think about what you want to see and look through it turning it slightly..." says Phoenix. "Sometimes it takes a bit but a vision should come to you."
Caiven, when it is explained to him, does just that, and looks for about a minute or two before frowning, and then handing it back to Phoenix. "I saw a spirit getting into a ferry...that does not need any further explanation for me." Mouth set into a thin line once more, he makes sure Phoenix and Mestoph have asked all they've needed (and that he can answer) before he gestures "ladies first" to Phoenix when heading down the ladder.
That's all I can write in here. There are other notes, though. Look, Realms. Look, and read. See what has changed, if anything at all. History can repeat itself, tis true. Old foes rear their heads. Old grievances aired. Victories and losses celebrated and mourned. And yet the mundane, the every day... what has changed? What changed? Changed?
...who are you?
Created by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 03-26-15 05:31 PM
Last Modified by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 05-12-15 04:11 PM