Mazera Mega Story Thread

[Dean_the_Young]

Mock post. As in, mocking the pretense of intimidation. Also, for public admission, pretty much my opinion/response to a 'threatening'
voice from the night.

---

Witness death.

Cassiel raised an eyebrow at the whisper from the night.

"Is that it?"

Huh?

"Nothing else? No insinuations of what, no motivations, nothing of importance?"

That's not the point. 'Witness death...'

"I mean, if you're going to try and intimidate someone, you should at least try and do a good job of it. I mean, let's count times that I, personally, have been at risk of assassins from another leader or person. Clan of Embers, Svartalfar, Archos, Yokaido, Chislev, Onstad Hastil. All of them, at one point or another (and three of them now) have had cause to have me killed."

I am a mysterious messenger, the whispers of the night. Witness death...

"And you know what? It really doesn't matter. You aren't the first, and you won't be the last 'mysterious' individual to make ominous remarks. There's a cottage industry of them here. Let's look at this pile here. See these letters? I get mail and missive every week. Let's just look at a few of them."

"Dear Cassiel, I've included a vial of cologn for you. Please rub it all over yourself and take care to breath deeply. Sincerely, Queen Faeryl."

"To mi frend Cassael. Hab includeded spice-hot breathmint for you from Mother. Please enjoy,... can't read the name, but it's not hard to guess who it is."

"Both Sheaim have sent me letters, which we were unable to open. Now, while writing in blood ads a nice touch to an aggressive missive, it has a tendency to stick the pages together. But they also ominous and dangerous, and I'm quite frankly bored of them. Are you starting to get the picture?"

But you do not know who I am. Witness death...

"Oh, right, like that makes a difference. Do you have any idea how common anonymous and 'mysterious' threats are in Mazera? Look, look outside this window."

Cassiel strode over to a window, overlooking the city. The skyline was covered with buildings of various heights.

"You pick a building there, I guarantee you there's some 'spy' or anther hiding on a roof. You can't walk through a shadow these days without tripping over a conspiracy or a spy." Magical or mundane, murderous or just passive, there's always someone watching someone else. Double with assassins. Look there, on the street. You see that Grigori official walking down the street?"

Yes.

"See the Svartalfar Assassin trailing him, hiding behind the next building?"

Yes?

"Who's behind the next building?"

How would I know?

"You wouldn't because you're new to how these things work. Behind the Svartalfar assassin is a Malakim agent. Behind the Malakim is a Archos. Behind the Archos is an Elohim. Behind the Elohim is a Sheaim assassin. Behind the Sheaim is a Black Medicos. Watching the Black Medicos (who I don't know about yet) is an Agent of Onstad. And sneaking up behind Onstad's man is a Laughing Man. See what we have here? A chain of stalkers. Or, in this case, a chain of assassins."

Who's watching the Laughing Man.

"Others. The invisible watchers who know all. They're watching us right now, as we talk."

"Yes, that's right. I know you creeps are watching. Especially YOU, Adrian. Alright, your name is probably not Adrianbut it was worth it for the reactions of all the Adrians out there. But I'm onto your game."

Did you just break the fourth wall?

"Yes I did, which just highlights a point: you're relying on them to break the fourth wall as well, to give any care about your oh-so-frightening two-word statement that doesn't even qualify as foreshadowing. It could be a warning, promise, threat, or simply a character-building adviserary statement, all in equal measure. There is simply nothing in-character that anyone could do one way or another to 'prepare' that wouldn't be jumping at a shadow in a world rife with deceit and death. And it wouldn't matter if they did or did not anyway, because you're going to do what you do regardless."

"I mean, how would you like it if I started making random insinuating statements? How would you know if they are true or not, after a point?"

Get over it.

"World Update! Remember the ides of march!"

"World Update! No one expects the Inquisition!"

"World Update! Scooby Doo, where are you?!"

Now you're just mocking me.

"Only a little. 'Witness death' is also a comical threat in a Dark Fantasy world where hell is trying to assimilate us all."

Up yours. Witness death...

"I am Cassiel. I already see dead people."

 

[Diamondeye]

Dean. That. Was. Pure. Awesomeness.

 

[Seon]

Oh my god

 

[Dean_the_Young]

I kid you not, I once wrote an end-of-series fanfiction piece that had people crying. Crying. And not for the typos I couldn't be bothered to catch.

 

[lemonjelly]

...Wow! =] That was awesome.

 

[Tasunke]

::applause::

 

[Opera]

Really funny! Clever!

 

[thomas.berubeg]

Dean! Perfect... I was looking for a way to say it too, but you got it down pat.

 

[Dean_the_Young]

Hey, Tasunke edited his praise to something else!

 

[mimic]

Good stuff.

 

[Valkrionn]

That was epic.

 

[Diamondeye]

Spoiler Exiled III :

Sigillum had spent some days in the village, but in the end, he grew restless. The old mayor came to talk to him as he was preparing to leave, cladding his horse in its scaled barding.
"So... You are leaving?"
Sigillum merely nodded, picked up his bag, and mounted.
"Most of the exiles who venture out vanish and are forgotten..."
Sigillum waited for the man to finish before taking his leave.
"But I think you will be one of the chosen few that make it. By what name will your tales reach us, Adventurer?"
There was silence for a moment, before the Calabim lowered his body down and whispered into the mayor's ear. Then, he sat up and rode away, galloping.
The old mayor was nodding in contentment. He mumbled to himself; "Good luck then... Comillo."

 

[Tasunke]

The feet of the forward party crunched on the frosty tundra, as they made their way deeper into Doviello lands. Used to tracking foxes and bears in the temperate forests in the midlands, this frozen earth seemed like a souless husk. Hardly anything would grow here. The soldiers wondered why they had wandered this far north, away from the forests. Their commander had said it was better for the horses, but it was hard to believe any hippus could benefit from this much cold.

As they scaled the slippery hill, slowly and stealthily, they saw a herd of large, hairy creatures, with curved horns growing out the sides of their heads. They were lumbering beasts, and seemed to be eating some small amount of vegetation poking through the icy crust. Then they moved further on, and to their amazement they saw the beasts disappear into a field of grasses, taller than a man and a half. They tracked the beasts, wondering what was on the other side of the field.

As they moved onwards, the grasses were getting taller. Zubellius, the leader, ordered the party to fan out to gain more ground. They split into five groups, each having a compass.

As a pair of hunters were trekking through the grasses, they didn't see the slope dropping down before them. They slid into a large, icy rock, and took a moment to readjust bearings.

They started to hear faint screams coming from their brethren. Lukas sent a hawk out to investigate. It was then that he noticed the icy rock had opened its Eye. A giant, yellow, glowing eye.

 

[cypher132]

Witness Death 2

Spoiler :

Onstad was kneeling on the hard ground of the cave complex he had chosen for his hideout. No one had bothered to search the cave complex just off the Hippus border and so, he had been able to work in secret out of this hideout. He was in deep thought, deciding his next move to alter the course of Mazera. He had once been an angel of Dagda, but he had fallen long ago, choosing to keep the Balance in Mazera in the physical realm instead of manipulating it through dreams and visions.
He had attempted to make contact with Cassiel, but was denied due to his inability to understand that the Balance is more important than any one person. He had attempted to bring an end to the Infernals before they could set foot on Mazera, but he had not received enough help and was unable to. He had been able to assassinate Mother Enningas, preventing her corruption at the hands of Uxol, but it had not prevented the further corruption of Mazera. He was failing his mission so far.
Onstad's eyes shot open when a small sound resonated from the back of the cave. He stood slowly and turned to see what caused the noise. He had forbidden his servants from entering the room while he was in meditation. Who could be so foolish as to disobey an order? Onstad's arms were suddenly pinned to his sides and his legs snapped together, causing him to fall to the cave floor. He struggled, but try as he might he couldn't move his arms and legs. He then felt a cold, sharp point press against he throat and slice the skin open.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The body of Onstad Hastil was found by his servants when he didn't reply after several hours. His head was missing and on the cave wall, written in his blood, was the phrase "Witness Death."

 

[cypher132]

Lost in Thought

Spoiler :

Votakara was distracted. A voice had whispered in his mind last night, saying the phrase "Witness death." before he heard of the death of the Nortek foreign adviser, Krogar Clawfang, also the man left in charge of the Nortek while Deremei assaulted the Fane. Nothing had broken through Sidar security since he had taken the position as High Chief of the Sidar, which is what worried him. What could get past the Sidar assassins, the top level of Sidar security and feared by other nations for being the ones that hid in the shadows?
Votakara was snapped from his thoughts when the door to his throneroom opened. He looked up and saw his military adviser, Abaer Oseroh, and the Ljosalfar priestess, Alessea. "Oh. I apologize, I didn't realize how late it was. I've just been distracted as of late." Abaer bowed. "It's ok, sir. We are in the midst of a war that could decide the fate of Mazera. While we stay neutral in the war against the Infernals, we must decide what to do with the nearby Jotnar. They are very mistrusting of shades and may decide to attack."
This worried Votakara. The Jotnar were giants and would most likely massacre his standing armies. Sure, Rathus Denmora had been recalled from the Calabim palace, no longer required to watch their leader after Flauros overthrew Lord Ilyth. Rathus had begun training their warriors in the art of stealth and shadow. He had instructed Abaer Oseroh in the ways of Austrin warfare and he had then taught a mixture of Austrin and Sidar warfare to the soldiers.
"Sir?" Votakara snapped out of his thoughts once more. "Sorry. Send an envoy to the Jotnar and attempt to prove our good wishes. The last thing we need is a war against giants. Is there anything else?" Alessea stepped forward and bowed. "Greetings, High Chief. I am Priestess Alessea of the Ljosalfar. We are worried about our former sisters, the Svartalfar, and would like to request protection. We do not want to vasselize, but we would like to hire Sidar security to protect our government officials."
Votakara nodded. "Of course. Just speak to Rathus Denmora once this meeting is over. Oh, Abaer. I want you to send an envoy to the Grigori. Some of our traveling shades were mistaken for demonic agents and have been imprisoned in the city of Edge. I only request that they be released to our lands and that the guard of Edge gets a lesson in what a shade is." Abaer bowed and left the throneroom with Alessea. Votakara returned to his thoughts the moment the throneroom doors were closed.

Open letter to: Prime Minister Esirce of the Grigori
From: General Abaer Oseroh of the Sidar


Prime Minister,

Some of our traveling shades recently went through your lands, specifically the city of Edge. The city guard there mistook our shades for demonic agents and have imprisoned them in the dungeons of Edge. We request that our shades be returned to our lands and the guard of Edge be educated on the Sidar and shades. We request no compensation and hold no ill will. We just want our men back.

Sincerely,
General Abaer Oseroh

 

[Dean_the_Young]

Upon verification that Sidar shades have committed no crimes in the Grigori jurisdiction, they are to be released without incident.

 

[Tasunke]

what about only if they have not commited any crimes ever?\

(joke post)

 

[cypher132]

FUNERAL, REVENGE

A funeral was held today for High Chief Votakara's son, Harland, who died fighting against the Infernals. Votakara was silent throughout the funeral, speaking only for five minutes in which he spoke of his son and vowed revenge on the Infernals. Sidar vessels have already been constructed on the coast and the Sidar armies are now marching towards them to assist in the war against the Infernals and Sheaim.​

 

[Diamondeye]

Flauros had no idea how much time passed by before he let down his guard. He knelt, and prayed to Succellus. Someone, somewhere, wanted the world of Mazera to witness death. Flauros would make them witness Life instead.

As Flauros sank deeper into his meditation, he felt the major surges of Life throughout the lands. The bustling metropoli of the Kuriotates, the wicked and scarce life that was the Sheaim lands, the complete absence of life in the Scion lands, and the vague and formless lives that were the shades of the Sidar.

Suddenly, he felt something jolt through this balance. Something large. He almost lost his concentration by the mental blow when an angel died. He looked up with horror in his eyes, leaving his trance to ponder on the posibilities of the death. He knew of two mortal angels. Cassiel, and his counterpiece... But could Masamune die? He hurried towards the Throne Room to find a messenger.

Personal Letter to: Cassiel of the Grigori
From: Flauros of the Calabim
In case of the death of the reciever, this letter is to be handed to Mouer, personally.

Friend Cassiel,

I was visited by a strange vision this night - I know you care little for the trifles of the Gods, but I will just state that I was in connection with Succellus through my prayers. It was a vision of a most gruesome death. The death of an angel, here, on Mazera.

My thoughts immidiately centered around your person, and this is why I write this letter. I would like a confirmation from your own hand that you are still alive, and that Masamune is safe as it should be.

If this is the case, I strongly suggest sending your Adventurers to find out more about this strange occurrance.

I hope you will trust, if not the words of the Gods, then at least my words,

Your Friend,
Flauros.

 

[Dean_the_Young]

Personal Letter to: Cassiel of the Grigori
From: Flauros of the Calabim
In case of the death of the reciever, this letter is to be handed to Mouer, personally.

Friend Cassiel,

I was visited by a strange vision this night - I know you care little for the trifles of the Gods, but I will just state that I was in connection with Succellus through my prayers. It was a vision of a most gruesome death. The death of an angel, here, on Mazera.

My thoughts immidiately centered around your person, and this is why I write this letter. I would like a confirmation from your own hand that you are still alive, and that Masamune is safe as it should be.

If this is the case, I strongly suggest sending your Adventurers to find out more about this strange occurrance.

I hope you will trust, if not the words of the Gods, then at least my words,

Your Friend,
Flauros.

While it was never much of a surprise to anyone that Mouar was a political ally of her Father, Prime Minister Esirce. When he had tasks that needed his name but not necessarily his presence, she was his favored agent. Even so, it was still unusual for him to involve her directly in the affairs of state.

Mouar looked up from the letter, slightly confused. "So he had a vision," she said. "I do not deny that such things happen, or say that a god's word should simply be ignorred because it is a god's, but what are we expected to do? This is a dangerous world: I was at Ethne the White's funural seemingly just last week. We know there are assassins in the night."

Her father leaned back. Cusping his hands. It was a nervous habit he had, one he covered by doing even more often. But Mouar could tell the difference.

"Normally, this would be the case," he said. "But this... vision. It was not limited to your fried from the Calabim. Cassiel testified he sensed it as well. And others have as well: some of our friends from across the continent have admitted to a similar experience. Whatever this is, has occurred to a number of us. In truth, we think the force that killed the Nortek minister has struck again."

"The rumors of Hastil's demise?" Mouar asked, ignoring the distaste in her mouth from that man.

"Indeed. I don't believe them myself: Cabal was dead and returned, and so I expect for that man to do the same. But we have the Laughing Men looking into this matter; both in the scope of their task against that man, and to find out what force is threatening us."

"That's good," Mouar agreed. Anything the Grigori could hope to find out, and even what they couldn't, the Laughing Men would, and then some. That was their task. But still... "While this is all very interesting... what would you have me do? Why bring me into this now?"

Though her father remained still, the aides and other ministers in the room shifted uncomfortably. Her father simply said, "Because that was what your friend asked."

Mouar blinked once, twice, not understanding. And then she paled, and was glad she was already sitting.

"Cassiel, is he...?"

"We don't know." That confused her even more.

"How would you not-"

"We don't know because nothing is there," snapped her father's aide, the stress in him finally revealed.

"What Romulus says is correct," her father interjected. "We don't know because there was no evidence in Cassiel's chambers. Cassiel simply was not there. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood, nothing."

"Where were the guards?" asked Mouar, incredulous. "Why did they not catch any intruder?"

"Cassiel bid the guards to leave for a time, farther away from his chambers," one of the ministers explained. Mouar recognized him as Goodreau; the former Bannor merchant had risen in Grigori politics because of his reliability and effectiveness. He had been Cassiel's favored agent of secret commerce, and had earned his place beyond all doubt with his achievement of the Nightmare stock and the quiet purchase of the Grigori fleet from the Lanun. And there were whispers of other, more secret, exchanges as well.

"Why would they accept that order in the first place?" asked Mouar. "And why would he ask that in the first place? Did he plan this?"

"Doubtful," Goodreau said. "This was part of a usual patter for him. As for what..." he coughed again, but this time out of discretion. "He and Lady Capria were to have another of their, ahem, private conferences on the Grigori-Bannor alliance. She was the one to alert the guard, and found some of them unconscious. They had been drugged with Medicos anesthesia."

Mouar shook her head. "No no no no..." she whispered, and all in the room had shared her reaction. She looked up quicker than they had, but with no more hope. "Is there any news? Any clue, any suspect? Anything at all?"

Those in the room looked to each other, and it was left to the Prime Minister to once again share bad news.

"The last person known heading to Cassiel's chambers was Volonna," he said, referring to the former Svartalfar spy who had turned after spending so much time with Cassiel. She had become the unofficial chief of security in the Palace.

"The guards were knocked out shortly after, and can not say if she returned or not. But she is also now missing." The unspoken suggestion was there. Traitor.

Mouar couldn't believe it. She had come to know Volonna even before the woman exposed her original loyalties. They had been friends, even. She had believed Volonna's passion and devotion to Cassiel as one beyond question.

"Is it possible that she was also taken, or pursued the thief and was unable to alert the guard? You know how devoted to Cassiel she has been..."

"I also know she was once a chief spy of the Svartalfar, sent to kill Cassiel," her father said.

"We have nothing one way or another. We have no proof she was involved, or if she was a victim. We have nothing at the moment. And that is why we are turning to the Laughing Men. To find out those questions. I can only hope they are successful."

"But she was involved with the Laughing Men," Mouar said. "If she is truly the culprit, then-"

Her father nodded. "I know," he said. "I know."

There was silence in the room. And then Mouar remembered her duty. "What would you have me do?" she asked again, indicating Flauros's letter.

"Write back," her father simply said. "Order, beseech, beg, threaten, whatever you think best. I am not one to seek or rely on the gods assistance, but I will not spurn their followers genuine offers of aid."




---




Personal letter to: Flauros
From: Mouar

That I am the one writing this letter is proof that your fears seem to be justified.

Masamune, the sword and the Fallen Angel of Dagda, is secure. For obvious reasons I can not tell you where it is, but it remains chained and bound by magic and mundane. The first to dare steal it is in for a swift, and final, surprise.

But Cassiel...

To our shame and disgrace, we do not know where he is. He may have been murdered, or kidnapped. We have no sign either way. I ask, plead on the basis of our friendship, that you do not reveal our public deception. We are seeking him now, and our closest allies with us.

Head of the Malakim... no, Flauros, the earnest and convicted man I met on the Grigori frontier, I ask that you join those ranks. I ask that you prove your sincere efforts not just to us, but to the Mazera that still suspects you. Please, help us find our center, or conscience. Cassiel, even now, is more important to our people than you can fathom.

This letter can not be presumed to be the basis of anything, but my Father intends to prove our sincerity to you. If you wish to be crass, to name a price, we will accept as best we can. If you do not, we will be all the more indebted to your assistance. But regardless of why, I promise that your efforts will not be forgotten by our people, or myself.

Your friend,

Mouar