Mazera Mega Story Thread

Master Sergent Sigillum let the blade of the knife slit open the palm of his right hand. His face was emotionless, and Lord Ilyth admired the man's willpower as he was handed the knife himself. He quickly let the blade open a wound on the palm of his own right hand, and took the hand of the Moroi.

Sigillum chanted the ritual. Lord Ilyth felt a strange warmth emanating from the hand of the man as he ended the ritual with the words: "My Blood Is Yours, My Life in Your Hands Lie. I Heed only You."

Lord Ilyth nodded in approval. "Perfect. Master Sergent Sigillum, you can consider yourself the general of the regular Calabim army as well as our magical troops."

The Master Sergent bowed. "Thank you, Master."

Flauros stumbled into the small Grigori village. He looked around to find a well - he was extremely thirsty. He began to walk but was stopped by a cold metal gauntlet landing on his shoulder.

He turned around to stare into the eyes of a Serpentine Slayer. "Follow," the man said. Flauros looked at the man, clad in a decorated armour and with a mithril blade hanging by his waist, worringly near his hand. Flauros had no weapon or armour, and was completely exhausted. He followed the man into a small, neat house.

Inside, another Serpentine Slayer, also with his hands worringly close to the handle of the weapon in his belt, stood. As Flauros was taken past, he heard the man hiss: "You're lucky, Calabim. Had it not been for my orders, you'd be dead."

Flauros was taken into a room, where a beautfiul young woman sat behind a desk. "Sit," the Serpentine Slayer said, walking to stand next to the woman. She looked at Flauros. Her gaze was amazing; he knew immidiately that she was used to power, and had an iron will. His mind magic tricks would be of no use - and he was under her mercy. She was clearly the one in charge, even the soldiers obeyed her.

She handed him a bowl of water. "I am Mouar of the Grigori. You are Flauros, is that right?"

Leonan was lying in bed, fast asleep. All you could see of him was a dark purple mane of hair. His room was quite large, with Duskwood flooring. In the center of the room was a fountain of polished, carved Oak, bewitched to be waterproof. The water, which was an unusual shade of pure, pale blue, spilled out of the top and flowed down the sides of the fountain, where it flowed down a groove in the deep brown flooring, into a small crystal embedded into the floor. There it seemed to disappear, replaced by a strange humming sound that wafted out of the crystal.

Time moved on, seconds, minutes passing. The sun rose, light suddenly shining through the ornate, arched window. The sunlight glistened on the water's surface, setting the room ablaze with colour. The water seemed to absorb the light, and glistened softly, throwing faint rainbow patterns that danced around on the plain white walls. As the light hit Leonan's face, he stirred.

His eyes opened. They were the softest lilac colour, like the pure amethyst that the dwarves were so fond of. He pushed the sheets off himself, and strode across the room, to a place in the wall that looked exactly the same. As his hand touched this section of wall, it seemed to dissolve, and he stepped inside. Inside were his clothes. Ranging from the warm, knitted jumpers, to his formal robes, which were a deep, pure red with the golden crest of the Pegasorn family. He reached out and chose some plain Magenta robes, the robes of an Adept.

Flauros drank greedily from the bowl. Mouer studied him, before speaking: "So, Flauros, why have you come to Grigori lands?"
Flauros looked curiously at her, holding the bowl still only inches from his lips. She sensed the underlying madness that had been part of his being since Alexis' death. And she could see his fangs for a second. He put down the bowl, carefully, and focused on her.

"There are multiple reasons. First of all, I needed to get away from the illoyal scum you know as the Calabim army and that backstabber, Ilyth..."
Mouer supressed a slight chuckle. She knew that Flauros - at least the one she had heard about - would have acted in much the same way, had he been in Ilyth's shoes.
"... And secondly, because I hoped you could help me. I need help to reclaim my throne."
She could not resist the urge to jest with him a bit: "Your throne? I thought the Calabim nation was led by a gathering of nobles from all the noble houses," she added with a low, innocent laughter. Flauros sighed in disappreciation. "We both know that is a facade," he added wearily. She returned to business. "How would the Grigori profit from you regaining your throne?"

He sighed. "I... I am not the same. I will treat my people better - better than before, and certainly better than Ilyth with all his monsters running around!"
"And...?"
"And I will lead them away from the Veil, of course. I am sure you as Grigori can appreciate that."
She nodded. "From the Veil... To what? The sneaky deceit of Esus, or the blind ambition of Aeron?"

Flauros told him. She glared at him. Even the Serpentine slayers loosened up slightly. She gaped. "You... Are serious? A church... Calabim church... To Succellus?"
Flauros nodded.

Leonan rushed out of the cathedral, and across the cobbled streets, until he got to the University Of Nimarail, one of the most advanced places of academic learning in Mazera.

He looked up at the grand building. It was made of marble and shined softly in the sunlight. At the base of the tower were some buildings, some made to mimic Dural architecture, some made in the style of the Ljosalfar, and some in the style of the Malakim. Nicknamed the Tower Of Kylorin, it was where the best mages had studied. Even Os-Gabella had visited. But that was a long time ago.

Leonan walked through the gardens, marvelling at the flowers that grew there. Bees hummed softly, flying from flower to flower, butterflies every colour of the rainbow sitting in the sunlight that filtered down through the leaves. As Leonan walked through the garden, he occasionally saw an elf sitting in the flowers, talking to the plants. And, as he got to the base of the tower, the trees cleared and the cobbled paving turned into marble slabs. He walked up the steps and walked through the massive archway. As he stepped through the doorway, he felt as if he just went through a veil. The air in the tower was thick with the humming of magic. He went through the hall, into another room, which looked out into an open-spaced garden, where a giant crystal seemed to be growing out of the ground.
"Beautiful, isn't it."
Startled, Leonan turned around. An archmage, with dark, black hair and deep green eyes was behind him. Her robes were not the customary magenta of an Amurite mage, but a deep, dark purple.
"Wh-Who, Who are you?" Leonan stuttered. And, before she could answer, he rushed off to his class.

Mvadang couldn’t bear it anymore. She was looking at the sky, trying to get them out of her head. Heavy clouds. Where was the bright blue sky she longed for? For a brief instant, a thought hovered in her mind; the thought that all what she had longed for was already gone now. Vungu’s voice made it go away.

“We could send a small party to find Lengdu.”

“Vungu, it’s of no use to take Mvadang’s side. More than half the Council has already agreed…”

“… but who will be in charge of Shwa, now?”

Mvadang glared at Vungu. She was nice and, certainly, honest. But she wasn’t very convincing. She never was and certainly never will be. Especially since every other member of the Council think she has too much affinity with Mvadang.

“We will make sure that a new Town Council is created in Shwa”, answered Dungi Bearshape, one of the youngest members.

“Even though Town Councils are a great idea, I insist that we need to find Lengdu. His disparition is a deep blow to Shwa’s morale.”

“Mvadang, we…”

“We have the resources, you just don’t want to use them for that, I got it.”

“Lengdu isn’t a Council member, nor is he a Town Councillor. He was just appointed to Shwa until the Town Council be established there, so…”

“I appointed him to Shwa because he has the required skills to run it.”

“Mvadang, stop being a jerk”, cut Hasher of the former Mdiri tribe, a Councillor since the foundation of the Ngomele Zanganga. “The Council said ‘no’, it’s no. Whatever you’re up to with Lengdu is your personal issue. We won’t try to recover your lover from Archosian lands or wherever he may be now.”

Hasher was older and even bigger than Mvadang. She was more than eight feet tall and had a grey, black-spotted fur; she was impressive, some would say terrifying, and she also was a model of perfection among the Ngomele. Even Mvadang couldn’t help to like her. She had this typical Mdiri accent, with so many more diverse sounds… Mvadang didn’t answer. She was unable to. She looked at Vungu and saw that she was impressed, because her ears were turned away from Hasher.

“Well, let’s call this session closed, would you mind?” asked Dungi. Every member nodded and began to move away from the trunk they were using as table.

Outside the Council Tree, Vungu came towards Mvadang and seized her arm.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” She gazed at Hasher, who was walking back to her duties. “She pisses me off.”

“Let’s walk, Muva.”

“Not know.” Mvadang pushed Vungu away from her arm. “I’ve work to do with Beba.”

“I thought we would go to Ziri’s and drink something. You need to chill out.”

Mvadang sighed. “Probably”. She caressed Vungu’s forehead. “But not now, I’ll join you later.”

“Fine, then. See you later.”

Mvadang looked at her friend while she walked away. She then took a path behind the Tree. Bwoheshegu’s roads were the most beautiful ones of the whole Zanganga. They were made of a yellow stone flourishing around the city; they were a drain because of the maintenance but citizens themselves donated their money to help them stay in good shape. Travellers from less urbanized cities of the Zanganga were always saying: “Oh, look, they walk on stones here in Bwoheshegu! They’re afraid of getting they feet dirty!”.

She came near a large tree in which a circular path was carved and was going upward all around it. This was a less well welcomed idea. Hurting trees was always something taboo in Ngomele’s culture. But the rise of the Council brought changes, as well as the spread of the Green Sea did. Non-Gnolls travelers were always surprised when they saw such trees; for them, the Green Sea is all about preserving the Nature and, thus, the trees; unfortunately, the Council and even the highest ranked Green Sea priests came to the conclusion that trees were of better use this way than by just being left alone. And in Mvadang’s mind, things were getting even deeper. She took the circular path. Halfway to its end, she stopped; there was a rather big structure here, all built around and according to the disposition of the branches. She pulled a small string of flower which was suspended near the main entrance.

“Come in!”, said a cheerful voice from the inside. And so did Mvadang.

The inside was even more chaotic that the outside was. The floor was uneven everywhere; the whole thing seemed built in a bizarre angle. There were papers everywhere. It was a fairly recent invention around here but it spread really fast. Writing itself was old already; Mvadang being born in a tribe where many know how to read and write, but they were used to write on dried skin or some such. Paper was fantastic.

A small Gnoll jumped out of nowhere and gave a warm hug to Mvadang.

“Come on, Beba!”, she screamed while pushing the young one away, “Since when do you greet me like this?”

“Ah, don’t be mad, Muva, ‘tis just how travelers greet each other! ‘Dunt you saw it?”

“I did. But they were in love or sisters or something.” Then, she frowned. Beba laughed.

“You shou’ see your face!” Mvadang then scowled. “Dis one too!” And Beba laughed more.

Mvadang grunted and sat down on a chair. “Do you have something for me?”

“You’re so serous a’ the time!”, Beba said while closing the door and locking it. She gazed at Mvadang but only saw her ‘serous’ face. She sighed and walked towards one of the windows; a simple hole in the wall. She rummaged the desk there, sending papers away and pushing books. She eventually grabbed a letter folded in four and gave it to Mvadang.

“Who’s that from?”

“Seemit from Lanun! Given dis small seal dere.”

“Oh, yes.” Mvadang unfolded it and grunted again. “I need-“

“Dere you go, Muva!” Beba was holding a big book with the same seal than the one on the letter. There were Ngomele symbols on it as well as Lanun’s. A dictionary. These things were useful but hard to make. Fortunately, any attempt at a Ngomele to another language dictionary was directed by the Council, so it was easy to get them if needed. The Lanun one was, to Mvadang’s memory, the first one ever created for the Ngomele language. She thanked Beba and began translating the letter.

Beba sat down before her desk and began writing some things. Even though not many would guess that, she was quite known among the Ngomele scholars for some books she wrote; and, despite her young age, she already wrote a lot of them. Her more studied books are her poetry ones; she would prefer it if scholars studied her birds’ books, though. She spent a lot of time watching and taking care of birds, enough to think she could write books on some subjects; and she was knowledgeable enough that her theories and other discoveries were widely accepted in the Zanganga. She would also have liked to spread Ngomele literature to the outside civilizations but the Council’s restrictions upon importations and exportations also affected books and not many outsiders were able to translate or even read the Ngomele languages. Even inside the Zanganga it was hard to accommodate to the various languages.

All of a sudden, a bird landed on Beba’s head and began shrieking. Beba heard Mvadang laugh discretly while still translating her letter. Even before she could take care of that bird on her head, a second one came through the other window and landed on a shoulder, effectively shrieking in her ear.

She took them one by one and put them on her desk. Out of a bag she was wielding at her belt, she pulled some bird food and gave them. She talked to them under the amused eyes of Mvadang. After she took the papers they were carrying, they flew around a bit and then got out. Mvadang was used to this enough to know they weren’t gone but just fooling around in the tree.

“What is it?”

“Ours.”

“Really?”

“Dis one is a Banga’s.” She got up and gave the first one to Mvadang. “An’ dis one… No idea. Short, no sig.” Mvadang took the letter from Beba’s hands and read it quickly. “So?”

“We’ve got two Medicos.”

“Whaz dat?”

“You know, Grigori healers.”

“Oh! Luvly!” She gave Mvadang a big smile. “An’ wha’ abou’ Banga’s?”

“I need to see him.” She paused and tore up the letters. “The Council must not get these, understood, Beba?” Beba nodded. “The Lanun one is just a trading thing, nothing important, you can send it to the Council.” She nodded again. “Not translated. Let’s give Hasher a headache.” She giggled. “Also, I want you to contact Ri.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Don’t be afraid, she’s safe.”

“Not sure, Muva.”

“I am, trust me.”

“She… She not a gnoll!”

“I know. But she will help us find Lengdu.” Beba’s eyes began to shine. “See? You’re all happy to go see her.” Mvadang laughed. “However, you can’t go with her. I just want you to tell her in person what she must do. Then you come back here. I need you for the birds.” Beba nodded. Mvadang caressed her nose and got out of the house.

“I’m sure you’re up to something.” Mvadang nearly jumped. She turned and saw Vungu getting up from her seat just near Beba’s house. She came near Mvadang and took her arm again. “You won’t get away this time.” They began walking down the circular path around the tree. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Come on, Muva, I’m with you since the beginning of the unification. I won’t let you down.” Mvadang gazed at her from the corner of her eyes. “I want to be a part of it.” She smiled. “And I always like a good cunning plan, you know that.”

“Let’s drink something at Ziri’s.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”