At the seat of a Highlord

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At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Arcerion on Tue Mar 03, 2015 8:44 pm

Dearest Family Member,

As you may or may not be aware the policy of secrecy concerning The Dorian Empire is to be lifted within a few weeks time.  The veils myself and Thargor placed centuries ago will finally be lifted, and full and open trade among my realm and others will soon be established.  I implore you to make your presence known at the capital of Kresh'alam Dor before we lift the veil.  It is my simple wish to keep all my wayward family be kept up to date on current situations and offer opportunity to those who have kept their distance from us since.  If you wish to attend I will ask that you adhere to a few rules.

Unfortunately I at this time cannot allow for any plus ones.  Apologies to those of you recently enamored with a new mate, but they'll have to wait outside while we conduct business.

No recording devices, spells, rote's or anything else of the sort shall be permitted on the premise.

Please make note of whether you prefer to have a transport pick you up or to simply take a gateway.

Sincerly
Arcerion Itath Vileur-Shuinsai
P.S.  I highly recommend the transport, gateways may be quick but my guards are still under orders to search anyone who comes through.

Y'ghatan the heart of the civilization, one of the major hubs of commerce and culture throughout the galaxy spanning empire.  The single megalopolis which spanned the whole of the planet was known as Kresh'alam Dor.  Spires of glass and metal rose of the surface, with interconnected walkways between every building.  Somewhere in its bowels a mass transit system shuffled bureaucrat’s diplomats and business owners alike through the trials of acquiring an audience to speak with someone of importance.  With new trade goods coming in the city was more alive than it had been in years.  There had always been a small trickle of immigration from the anomalous realm, it helped to increase genetic diversity, and those wanderers who ended up here did so enjoy the stability of day to day life, and a place for their odd skills to be employed.  With trade now opened up in another major hub, that trickle had increased to a steady flow.  Of course this was the reason the veil had to be lifted.

The palace itself was not one of the more imposing structures within the city.  It was smaller, hidden behind and between the spires that rose up past the vertical horizon of the naked eye.  While it was large by other standards it held nothing upon the titanic spires that rose up around it.  Those cyclopean spires were his defenses, his stalwart protectors and his people.  Why should he rise above them, when it is they who prop him up upon their shoulders?  Emperor though he may be Arcerion had a tinge of humility.  Though anyone who knew this lord well enough would probably doubt his own humility.  Those people were his family.  The palace was maybe thirty stories tall.  Decorated to look inviting, with terraces and balconies on which people could enjoy what must of been a breath taking view before all of the spires rose around them.  A garden and small lawn were even present with a pristine lake out front.  It gave an image of how this place may of looked in ages long past before society caught up with it.  It was the last bastion of what the planet looked like in ages past.

The interior of the palace was heavily decorated as one might expect.  Paintings of great value that expounded upon the history of this hidden galaxy.  War and Victory had been as much a part of life in this realm as life and death.  The decimation of the planet now known as Martyr, the UPF-Imperium wars of centuries past.  The Viceling rebelions, and the massacres of the natives.  Religious Zephyran's sacrificing to their gods and goddesses.  The many great scientists that made the change from a fractured people to the Empire they were today.  It was staffed fully, with only the most respectful beings he could find.  Though skin and hair color ran the whole color spectrum, there were other odder beings then the standard humanoid.  The avian Rykrean and Zeldrian races, as well as the almost ethereal Zephyran.  The masked Vicelings, and even an advanced AI or three wandering about.  There were even a few Dorian's about, though they were harder to distinguish from the humans around them.  Security was tight, as should be expected with so many off-worlders coming through at once.  The guards didn't even hide their weaponry when people came in.

Everyone who at one point in their lives or another had held the name of Shuinsai had been sent an invitation.  This included those sequestered away in pocket realms, would be gods and even those presumed or even proven dead.  Those who had never been seen in years, or who forsook the name would still receive invite.  It was after all the polite thing to do.

To list every name upon the guest list would be a tedious task.  Any child he shared blood with whether through experiment or actual birth.  All of his children despite their birth mothers or current standing in Arcerion's eyes were invited.

Any of the original clan Shuinsai who Thargor had adopted.  Of course his brother’s invite had been sent out first though Arc expected no reply.  Thargor had grown shy in the past couple of decades but that was fine enough with Arcerion.  It meant that he could have more control of their empire.  That he could crush what needed crushing and assimilate without adhering to the old council.  

Speaking of councils the other member had received an invite as well.  Dear sweet Kitsuko, the adopted mother.  Though her input was always valued he'd yet to be denied a thing by her.  Whether this was because his plans were always successful or because she feared him in some way was yet unknown.

The empress Kanatal would of course of been personally invited to sit with him.  Though he knew her responses well when asked to come from whatever held her interest at the time, Arcerion could always hope.

On and on the list would go, Jophiel of course with expressly written instructions to remove any gifts given by Celesin.  Of course it had never officially been confirmed but he would rather make an honest effort then appear rude.  He would find a way to send the one King he knew to associate with his family the same invite.  More may exist and show their head through the woodwork as time went on.

How they got there was a matter of who they were in relation to him.  While the Empress herself could simply step through a portal in her own realm and come out near her throne, and someone of Thargor's status would have little trouble finding a way here.  His most recent children of course held rooms within the palace itself so it may not be unheard of for the twins to show their faces.  The others had a simple choice.  Be escorted in style and class, though taking some time aboard one of his personal transport ships.  Catered to as the royalty they may see themselves as.  All libations and activities on these leisurely rides would be at no cost to them.  Arcerion pulled out all the stops for his guests that chose these options, as full body massages by trained men and or women were meant to relax them before they would see their patron.  Of course to those with more discerning tastes there were options.  But that never needed to be advertised when you invited a Shuinsai somewhere.  

The other option would be quicker but a little more suspicious.  Taking one of the many gateways he'd set up within the anomalous realm all his kin seemed to hail from.  Nexxian wasn't the only one, it was simply the most heavily guarded, on that side.  Anyone taking a gate would be met at some point with an armed escort, who would in fact search them as they did any other people who came through.  If the invite was presented they may get out of the more embarrassing bits of the search, but security was tight in this realm for a reason.  Of course Arc would have explained the difference in his letters to these people.  So they'd know what to expect.

Once here by whatever method they would be transported to the palace, given small tidbits of history if they asked anything, even served some foods before being escorted through the palace and directly to the throne room.

The throne room was efficient.  Multiple stories tall, open room and a long walk from the main doors to the thrones.  The deep red carpet which came split about midway through, moving at forty five degree angles to the main carpet in either direction.  One could see that there were three sets of thrones.  Though only the main one dead ahead was a pair, the others seemed relatively less used.  One of the few sentiments Arcerion allowed himself was this single hold over from a time when all three heads of clan could be present.  All thrones were raised upon a dais, and one even had a small pile of stringed instruments near it.  Once people began to arrive things would be brought in as would be necessary depending on who showed up.  The only thing that seemed at all out of place was along the back wall.  A massive pipe organ which had been constructed.

Arcerion Vileur-Shuinsai stayed where he was, the mass of will worked now receded after centuries.  The anchors were gone now those three cathedrals which held up the wards of centuries could now rest.  However without the constant power to be fed to them their stability would rapidly degrade.  Thirty standard hours at most before the energy would be released from its bonds in total.  It would make for a very unique display watching a pocket dimension fold in on itself.  Not being one to miss an opportunity Arcerion had sent out invitations to most of his wayward family.  He needed to make sure that they as a whole were on the same page.  That loyalty wouldn't need to be questioned and that he could trust his kin to do what he needed of them when the time came.

It also meant that those in attendance would be given a very rare light show of sorts.

Stepping between the worlds, parting the veil between spaces he exited from his former realm and into the throne room on Y'ghatan.

Arcerion himself seemed the same as he had been the day he'd come to this realm.  Garbed in clothes which hardly seemed to befit his station.  Being what he was he understood wholly that he could be a very disagreeable man.  Thus his trappings were not intricate.  A simple black dress shirt overlaid his chest, and draped over even simpler brown pants which tucked into well worn boots.  He only afforded himself very simple adornments that might show his station.  A black cloak and hood, the back of which was painted the red stygian raven.  When he moved the inside of the cloak could be seen to be a deep red.  The hood was pulled up and upon his face was a seemingly porcelain mask, bisected vertically to have one half pure white and the other a deep black.  The expression on the mouth less mask was absolute and utter apathy.  His hair was the same black to white with gradient in between.  The only hint of flesh upon him that was seen were his hands.  Strong and scarred from long use in combat.  They all knew or had a very good idea as to what he was.  He did not hide his scars from family.  They accepted the invitation.  He held no weapons upon his person, and the usual sound of wind chimes which followed his every step was not to be heard.  Making every one of his movements ghost like and soundless.  This should be fixed.  He reached over to the throne with all the string instruments, produced a lyre, and began to strum a haunting melody upon it.  While the tone should of sounded uplifting given its faster then usual beat, the strings plucked seemed to give off a subtly haunting sound when they bounced off the cavernous walls of the throne room.  That tune he played was one of longing, for the forgotten days, for the hunts with his kin, for the shroud of ignorance to his birth.  Unseen by his servants or even his family he grinned.  The grin of a man whose plans were slowly coming to fruition.  How could they not be?  Every one of the pieces on the board had made the moves he'd predicted.  Now he needed to make sure those in the neutral camp either sided with him, or kept their distance.

((So everyone knows if they have any questions, either ask me on Skype or send a message to me here. I'll be happy to answer any and ALMOST all questions concerning the Dorian Empire setting. ))
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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Nebuchadnezzar on Sun Mar 08, 2015 3:54 am

Sometimes, she wondered if the House could sense intentions before they were even formed in the minds of the lucid. Nebuchadnezzar, the King, understood that while the House and the Black were something close to intelligent that it could certainly not predict the future or read the thoughts of anything intelligent before it occurred. And so how, moments before the transport touched down or hovered in the oddly well manicured plains sprawling around the Black Spire back in occupied space— did the House manifest the double doors of the tower at the front of her manor?

Next to one of the many parlors in the enormous maze of a house done mostly in stained oak and mahogany the black, spined doors bloomed; overlapping the gold filigree crimson of the original portal. The King, only marginally connected on a superficial level to the intelligence (and lucky to be so favored by it much like Isaak) to the estate, heard the groan and closed the old tome she had been perusing. It was from the Black Sun Empire— Konstar, to be precise. The language was old enough that it was pre-coalescence. Meaning, the well preserved pages predated the Maur bloodline, unification and all Djinn interference by a millennia. Fascinating stuff, really— which lead to her actually releasing a very childish groan following the guttural, monstrous one racketing throughout the house as it established its connection with the Black Spire.

The messenger exiting the transport wouldn't see anything amiss as he approached the iron and onyx obelisk which, at a distance, would look only like a tall and needle-like structure with smooth and blank walls. Up close, they were complex: images of war, legend, demons and death were beveled into the sides and a man’s holy image lay over the doors; his long hair obscuring his features and his hands cupped to hold a fluid imagined to be glowing— did he cradle life or death? The answer was time, though, the visitor wouldn’t be privy to such knowledge unless he asked the host he presently sought.

Eventually, he’d have to reach the doors and they would swing open for him; what little warmth that was held in the pre-spring air escaping into a thankfully brief, weak void. How unnatural were his senses? Would he, like many others, get the impression that the darkness was actually watching him?

Luckily for him the King’s pale, bare feet were padding down the hall with an urgency that no one would ever witness. They were ever only privy to her in a state where not a single strand of hair was out of place and she looked luminous— but now, she was harried in her gray doleman-collar dress that left both shoulders exposed. Nebuchadnezzar simply swung the iron doors and reached into the yawning, dark void without pause. The young hybrid Exercion-Bale on the other side and in another world had better hope she gain purchase on his collar and never let go.A sensation of ants crawling over his skin as she’d all but yank him into the legendary House of Leaves— and into a din of noise.

“Shhhhh…..ssshh, little one. Give my home some time to adjust.”she’d say; tone sultry and free of every bit of tension made obvious in her stature; her free hand lifting her index finger to her lips while the other kept a strong grip on any fabric below his collarbone. Houses groaned, yes, but this one actually seemed moody. It was no illusion— the sun outside was blanched away with clouds, and, the messenger would no doubt notice that the interior of the house was much larger and certainly not possibly inside of the thin spire he had approached. Technically, he was no longer in the Nexxus at all.

The ‘fit’ ended abruptly with a sound of wooden straight and the flood they both stood on very abruptly sinking on one half and forming a small set of stairs in the parlor’s new and pointless divot.

“And now I see fit to warn you. Do not lose my company in this house or you may never emerge from it. Certainly do not open any doors— especially those which seem oddly placed, or, you could have sworn they were not there the last time you looked. Because you’ll have been absolutely right about those assumptions. And it will want you curious at that point” Her hand would drop away from the wad of whatever fabric she had seized while gazing over the, ah, interesting specimen. Without warning, Nebuchadnezzar would gently seize one of his hands and look over the thumb and five fingers that accompanied it. The mark of a Bale.

“Beautiful hands. Much like your mother’s I’m guessing? Then, obviously, it is my uncle, your father, who has sent you here.” She looked up and, for some reason her ice chip eyes were black as tar for a moment until the color faded like a dark starbust with a single blink. The sensation of ants may crawl over the lad’s skin briefly. Would he have been warned not to touch her? Pointless, no doubt as some sort of his DNA would be upon his person regardless. Nebu was far more sensitive to reading than Esarhaddon and all other Kings. "I assume that is for me? I am King Nebuchadnezzar if it isn't obvious unless, for some odd reason, you seek Isaak. Which I doubt an you'd be up shit's creek in that regard."

       ”Follow me…” Finally, the ghost of a crooked smile over her plum stained lips and a very obvious once-over. An about-face and she was leading him through the Victorian style maze, the thin fabric both modest and vulgar; covering everything from the swell of her decolletage to the ankles and still accentuating the line of her body while she moved with fluid grace. The King seized a rather pretty and portable sconce from a stand to use almost like a lantern. Why? Some places in the House of Leaves were much darker than they should have been with such serene and false scenery outside the manor….
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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Jophiel on Thu Mar 12, 2015 7:11 pm

Obligation leashed her to duty and it was now that duty she sought to attend. The transport was taken over leyline travel and gateways and while she somewhat enjoyed the scenic atmosphere and overall elegance the method had to offer it was still somewhat annoying to wait to arrive anywhere. Being at the mercy of another being, even if that being was a construct, wasn’t entirely ideal for the Duchess but to downright refuse the hospitality offered would have been even more troublesome.

At least when it arrived they were quick to get her off and booted feet would step along the majestic halls to lead her toward the approproiate destination no doubt hosted by Uncle (but not Father, never Father). Her clothing was simplistic in nature—though it always was—with white blouse and black jacket finished with slacks and steel toed boots. Only the thick red belt made of… leather perhaps? seemed different… unique among the business casual ensemble.

Still, there’s no hesitance as she made way to the decorated space, only sparing scant moments to look things over beyond the tinted frames of those custom made sunglasses. She found the space a bit too large, to grand, for her tastes but she was not a woman of empires and glorious high settled walls. Perhaps that made her somewhat common among gods, just a beast in the flesh of a professional monster.

Ah well, she found no issue with such and soon turned attention to finding her Uncle, carefully lacking of any gifts bestowed upon her by dotting Celesin lovers.

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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Arcerion on Fri Mar 13, 2015 4:09 pm

Lucien to Nebuchadnezzar
The transport that touched down a ways from the black spire was a simple kind. Twin jet engines for lift off, and separate propulsion sources for exiting the atmosphere. The light green of it, spoke that the material hailed from the spin ward rim of his home galaxy. Seeing as the edge of the galaxy was full of mad men and rebels, the fact that he had an entire ship constructed of it spoke of high station. Though he had other reasons for commissioning such a craft. The steps lowered and out stepped one of Dorian's own heirs, Lucien Thargor Vileur-Shuinsai.

Lucien was tall for his age, which seemed to be rapidly approaching his natural prime but not quite there yet. At 6'4'' he was only slightly taller then his fraternal twin sister. He carried himself in the graceful walk of someone who had developed a sense of balance through rigorous trial and error. He was dressed for moderate weather, a black long sleeve collared dress shirt, the sleeves rolled meticulously back up half of his forearm. Over top of that a crimson tie and matching vest. Pinned upon the breast of the vest was a simple raven pin, the crest of his family house. Black slacks and belt upon which as a sign of intent he held his sword, peace tied to its scabbard so that drawing the weapon would be difficult not to notice. He'd left his shield upon the craft. This was family he was dealing with after all. Black dress shoes padded along the plains and up towards the tower he walked. The ice blues of his eyes took in everything, while a six fingered hand brushed aside long raven feather black hair from his face. The length of it all coming down to his shoulders, giving this well dressed man a slightly disheveled appearance despite the rest of his good grooming. His other hand held the letter he was tasked with delivering. He certainly cursed that some of his family was as backwoods as this one. Having to hand deliver a letter? Had it not been father who had asked him directly he'd of tasked this message with one of his own servants.

As the doors opened for him, and the warmth was sucked out the young man stood his ground. The sense of being watched only perked up his senses, as a faint grin that revealed sharpened teeth beneath his lips. Was something that thought itself better and more abstract than he, watching him? He stared back, unblinking. He had seen what his uncle could do with darkness, this while potentially different was wholly similar to the unrealism of his family. What actually startled him was the hand which grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in close.

He kept quiet, though the look of scientific curiosity stamped across his face was quite obvious. The ants that crawled along his skin telling her things she should not be made aware of. Though he looked more like his mother truth be told then his father. The sense of unconquerable hunger residing within him, always at the back most primal part of his developed brain was a certain dead give away to his true nature. Being this close to the young Exercion could be rough on other species unless they were fully in control of themselves. As he had not yet hit his prime his power of control was woefully underdeveloped. Lucien was much like his father in some respects. Calm, Patient but at the same time he was young and untested. He was also Bale, a species well known for their detachment from emotion. So his control over the gift his father had given him upon his birth was even more lacking then it should of been. If her mind was not properly protected his aunt may find her mind wandering along certain lines. Possibly how annoying the brat must be to wear such horrendously dated clothes, or how the bright green of his transport clashed with the field it had landed on. Maybe these thoughts were there, true or untrue, they may begin to take hold, and she may begin small but still no less malicious strikes at her kin verbal, maybe even physical. Lucien was after all supposed to be the embodiment of Spite. Surely he wouldn't be opposed to the beating this King would deliver upon him. It would simply be, a snack for him.

She spoke to him, as one might a child. Which he supposed for all his maturity he was when compared to almost anyone of his family. He took the time to look her over and confirm mental descriptions of the person he sought. How lucky that he would not have to deal with any servants between him and the recipient of the letter. He nodded to her warning speaking coldly.

"It is understood." She grabbed his hand, which held the letter. "A pleasantly correct guess. My father does wish your presence, his words are written within." Once his hand was released he would massage it lightly before cracking the knuckles upon each of his six fingers. Following her as she walked he kept his gaze upon her shoulders and the back of her head. Though she was pretty his only interest in her would be from a purely scientific stand point. He certainly doubted that exploratory surgery would be acceptable. "That would make you my cousin wouldn't it? I am Lucien Thargor Vileur-Shuinsai. Is it true, that your branch of the family has never seen The Empire?" Though it may be hard to pick out, there was a certain degree of surprise in that voice. He waited for a reply, calmly, patiently as the house shifted and did what it would around them. "You're lucky I suppose. Being out here. You've missed a lot of trouble. Fringe battles, wars, all the bullshit with Celesin and the old Princess." While he may of kept his cool, the vitriol in his voice when he spoke of an older sibling he had no memory of was very distinct.

--------------------------------------
Arcerion to Jophiel
It had been by invitation true, though and while obligations and duty to family may sometimes clash, the fact that it was simply delivered through normal means instead of a personal invite spoke untold volumes. He was a hands on kind of person when it came to his niece. He meddled in her affairs a good bit more than he really should. So the fact that he didn't show up and invite her personally could mean a multitude of things he would let her think about on her ride over. A paranoid and antsy family member or two wouldn't be out of the norm after all.

The hospitality she was shown would be superb of that there would be no doubt. Any food she could think of would be offered, especially catering to her varied tastes as Arc was well aware. Her transport had all sorts of other treats and goodies on it. From candies too recreational reading there would be no lack of things to do on her short vacation to see her uncle. Taking this long may also get her more acclimated too the technology, the dialects and how people generally operated. She may be an heir should it fall to her, but she had little enough knowledge of the empire her uncle had forged.

Entering into the palace she would be greeted by friendly faces who had been informed of her particular relation to the emperor. While the crowd of people did not part for her like some great choreographed magic trick. They were nothing less than polite and some even offered to help her with food or drink, and tend to any of her needs. Eventually they would lead her towards her uncle after all other amenities had been exhausted. This wasn't any kind of mind trick, domination, or body control. Those people had simply been informed that she could possibly be in charge one day. Which meant they wanted to make a good impression. To keep their jobs and maybe even move on up. It was a matter of simple survival and betterment as motivation.

Unless she had any specific questions that needed answering she would of eventually been transported towards the throne room where Arcerion was strumming away at the lyre in his hands. He had spent ages mastering instruments of every kind in his free time. And while strings weren't his favorite, they held a special place in his heart for their portability and ease of use. The tune wasn't bad by any means, only a man who made a living solely as a traveling musician would be better than him, for he certainly was not reinventing the trade. The doors opened wide to let the music pour over her and the gate guards, big cloaked hunch backed things, whose hoods held a sort of malleable darkness that seemed to never be penetrated by the light. As the door opened a small metal construct, that came maybe up to Jophiels midriff wheeled around a corner on wobbly mismatched wheels. The face upon it was a poor simulacrum for a human face that lent itself distinctly into uncanny valley territory. It spoke in chipper common. "My lord, may I announce Jophiel. Your niece." It rolled on wobbling wheels and eventually moved out of her way and moved back towards the wall.

Arcerion's eyes cast over his Niece, those deep blues beneath his mask usually held an idea of what his intentions were. For the moment he was as distant as her own father may of been. Completely absorbed in the tune while he finished out the last notes on his lyre. It would take her time to cross the threshold and make it to him. Time he would take to finish his song and then set the instrument down by the pile with the rest. Whatever distance there was between them would be crossed ghost-like and silent as he was not wearing his chains, he did not hold his hand out to shake as a diplomat may do, but instead placed his hands upon her shoulders when he was close enough and looked her over. Something alive and more like him had flitted into his eyes, he seemed more like the uncle who cared too much once more. Once more flecks of red and orange tainted his eyes as he peered at her, deeper then someone really should.

"Its been a long time Jophiel. Have you hit another growth spurt? You seem leaner. Are they feeding you enough?" His hands removed from her. She was clean of any tampering, or other such devices that he could detect. He trusted her. He did not trust those she had decided to call friends that much just yet. He walked with her the rest of the way, hands folded behind him and his cloak in a relaxed manner that still kept his tall back up straight. He had developed a habit of hunching as of late. "I do hope your trip was relaxing. I'm still waiting on your cousin to come. They're the only confirmed people I received replies back from. Hopefully some of my own children decide to make an appearance. It would be nice for you too meet your extended family. I also invited your aunt, and your father and grandmother, though I doubt either of them will show up." He let out what could only be heard as a sad chuckle. Maybe one day he could call in all his old favors and give one last hurrah before the eventual heat death of existence. Then again he imagined this realm would encounter heat death before Himself, Thargor, Kitsuko and more were in the same room together again.

"I am glad you made it here first it gives me time to answer any questions you may have of ... my realm." The last two words were said witha single sweeping gesture of his right hand across the room. As he made that movement matter from up above the ceiling lost cohesion, sifted away into dust that parted to let in the glow of the massive city from his skyward windows. The ash that fell around them reassembled itself around them, forming a pair of chairs and a small table. Only their area beneath the skylight had light for now. It seemed like this may all be added on as more people came in. He pulled out a chair with little effort for her, and then moved on to one for himself and sat down. "Are you aware of why there have always been tensions between my kind and Celesin?" That was one hell of an opening statement.
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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Nebuchadnezzar on Thu Mar 26, 2015 1:30 am

Nebuchadnezzar had looked him over, surely, just as any other woman in her position might have. A face like that might have reminded someone human that, alas, it’s not like they were blood related. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the lad’s beauty. She knew who he was a product of and also understood it might considered disrespectful to be that sort of woman to the son of the Dorian Empire and her ‘relative’ Arcerion. Then again, she did not know their protocols beyond what little she’d heard from Mundus after all— and then there was that whole husband issue though he had gone missing again. that was when the sensation had come along; letters scrolling across her vision that alerted to a sudden spike of hormones to do both with aggression and something else, epinephrine, cortisol, a cocktail of a few others.

The King’s eyes suddenly flicked to solid red and she found herself having to turn off the effects of those perfectly simulated adrenal glands. The cognitive response, she gathered, was something like retaliation or another form of non-physical regression. It was something angry and it made her grin, if briefly. The little run off of his power hadn’t made her want to harm him, it had made her want to take advantage of him in order to spite Isaak for being gone again. The images that had played out in her head were of the Djinn finding them together, her straddling him in the halls of their manor like an animal and making eye contact with her husband as they released together.

’Now that was certainly interesting. For a moment there…— never mind. Beautiful hands, by the way. I’ve seen hands like that before, I think...’ she’d lead him away from the foyer and into the library after taking him down two dimly lit halls. Just before gesturing that he should wait, she would take the letter and use a delicately tapered black fingernail to slice the envelope. ’Hmm. Secret veils, no recording devices...I hope Oncle Arcerion is aware that I technically am a recording device, but alas. That ship you brought, was that the offered transport? If so, I accept.

The house itself was beautiful; seemingly  meant to be decorated garishly in the implaceable style that called upon Victorian, Edwardian and Tudor style architecture; carrying elements of all three in perfect harmony. Dark wood lined the walls to waist height and the walls were a damask black with velveted filigree on the wallpaper. The library boasted, between it’s vanishingly high bookshelves a tall panoramic window that showed a gorgeous grounds of clipped greenery, gardens and emerald mountains in the distance— that should not have existed. Either it was an illusion, or, the plains that held the tower he’d entered were very far away. Nebuchadnezzar padded across the shining wooden floor, past gray and expensive furniture; a lazy wave of her hand sent the chin-high fireplace to an instant roar from previously being unlit.

While gone Lucian, should he be observing his surroundings, would see one of those doors she’d warned him about. The light in the room would instantly dim, slightly, enough to draw his light in the window in a similar way to how heavy rainclouds change the light of day and prompt one to look to the sky. However, this wasn’t the possible nonexistant gardens and weather but the window itself was blotted out by a matte black door with a crystal knob inviting him to to open it— it was cracked slightly and he’d be able to tell from any vantage point in the library.

Luckily and shortly, the King reemerged in red rouched jersey, tight black blazer and leather stilletos in nearly record time. Assuming the lad was as focused as her impression of him she’d tuck a clutch under her arm; her hair pulled into a neat, minimal knot atop her skull.

”Lucien Thargor Vileur-Shuinsai, I am King Nebuchadnezzar. King of Kings. Usually I’d apologize for offering so many syllables...’ she gave him a sly, teasing smile for her heels click-clacked across the varnished oak in order to stand beside him and lead him from the house. The moment they left the library (again, assuming he hadn’t explored the door) she’d lead them what seemed like a much shorter distance  back through the house and to entrance— which simply opened into the cool, damp and overcast noon air of the plans that seated the ebony tower he’d initially approached. It would loom behind them upon exit, in fact!

’Do you mind...cousin?’ she’d say; having to look up at him with an expression that was earnest for once and her right arm, facing him, crooked for a physical escort down the excess of stairs the towers boasted. King Nebuchadnezzar was prepared for a rare outing offworld but there was one remaining problem.

Ah, right. Heels.
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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Jophiel on Sun Apr 05, 2015 3:02 pm

A feeling twisted through her gut, a slight sense of anxiousness that mingled well with her overall secretive nature. Though it hadn’t crossed her mind much Jophiel did find cause to wonder about Arcerion’s overall appearance. For the most part she chopped up his inability to deliver the message personally by the fact that he was host of the event he wished to put on. Meanwhile, Jophiel—being ever gracious and always polite—was in no position nor cared to question the method of delivery. Did she trust him? She trusted the strength of her blood and the wickedness of his plans. Her eradication would give him no advantage against his enemies (those known and unknown) so paranoia over a lack of personal escort was a wasted emotional venture. She knew her supposed place, had studied proper behavior, but wasn’t so blind by greed and acquired power that she’d placed herself in a dangerous position. She was fine, as fine as one could be in her family, and took to her trip aboard the transport with the grace and flare of a relaxed guest while the gears that churned her more calculative mentality set to weave more believable tales of why her uncle had done what he’d done.

All the while she kept tucked against her thigh via belt and sling a rather oddly flesh bound and tattered book that came with its own aura of atrocious sensation. One scarcely toyed with–though she did stroke along the spine once or twice to feel the flesh move and shift beneath her touch. There was no need to hide here, not among the people of her uncle, the people that she may one day manage to snatch should Arcerion and his first heirs meet and untimely and sudden destruction.

She wouldn’t have wished that upon them, though.

The catering, while thoughtful and pleasant, wasn’t sampled. Eating and drinking wasn’t an action Jophiel did often in the vision of others. In fact, only one person had really seen her eat in the manner humans consumed. Though she had to begrudgingly admit the menu did host a variety of meats and wines she enjoyed, even some she wanted to try.

Yet, suddenly there wasn’t enough time.

She was being ushered from the transport and walked through the vast imposing hallways of her uncle’s domain. It was an act she mentality noted though made no real notion of beyond her mind. Let the servants usher her forward, as was their duty and responsibility—what else could they possibly have been useful for if not to cater to the whims of her uncle and his guests?

Their silent journey would end once they were within the throne room and for a moment she found it odd that Arc had his hands about the bulk of a lyre. A memory stirred then, a fleeting image with fractured emotion—admiration, obsession, terror, and twisted love— and the smell of blood cloying her nostrils. It was gone just as quickly as it had come upon her though, leaving only a phantom ache nestled in the small of her back.

The music Arc played was soon forgotten though, brushed aside as the small unnatural construct announced her presence. Slowly she brought pink tongue across her bottom lip and with a casual correction she stated—“Duchess… Duchess Jophiel, your niece. I’ve not yet lost my small state.

Though she was not offended that he might have forgotten or purposely refrained from recognition of it. Yet, with his paws deep in the countryside of the city it seemed only polite that he’d remember to express her growing political might to any casual bystander. Unless, of course, he thought her power petty in comparison to the spiraling territory he now ruled without the watchful eye of her father.

Entirely possible.

Still, Uncle was absorbed in his song and she needed no permission to approach within the boundary of a kingdom she belonged to. In a way didn’t that make her—“Or Princess Jophiel, mayhaps here.

Though her research was paltry in comparison to the information she might have received from the mouth of Arc himself she’d done her far share of digging when appropriate and possible. She was somewhat aware, at least, of the political force she should of held on these grounds but ultimately she left the confirmation of such up to Arc himself, even as she approached with chilling golden gaze locked behind the artificial shade of her sunglasses.

Once he was near her, notably silent to her more beast like senses, she’d allow his touch and peer up toward him with curious lift of brow. She didn’t mind his grip upon her shoulders and as always, found his nearness a small comfort due to her base nature. She’d worshipped Father, obeyed without question or hesitance, and if this male was any representation of the one who had conditioned her then he was due a semblance of that same respect. That and, of course, he was family and it seemed strange to not feel secure around ones family.

I have grown.” In some ways, in confidence and responsibility, in aspirations and hungers. “ Though, there doesn’t seem to be enough time to really eat.” Not between Daul’s surprise visits and the creation of a piss-poor legislature. The crafting of a would-be empire is a much more difficult task when, upon the pedestal of power, you stand alone. She needed to consume something warmth and sentient but it was a side of herself Daul was not yet privy to. With that woman’s ability to waltz among her dens… the slaughter of human life for her enjoyment and feasting was on temporary hold. It was a subject she had been going back and forth on, whether to reveal all of herself to her betrothed but the idea of rejection was a bothersome nagging in her guts.

She idly wondered if Uncle had ever felt so… exposed before his own taken mate.

Yet, those were thoughts for another evening and she’d not waste Arc’s time trying to dissect her unlocked emotional capacity and the dangers of such. Instead she replied—“The trip was relaxing, very smooth.” Yet it was his next phrase and his nearly sad laughter that came after it that had Jophiel tilting her head curiously.

Father is consumed in his need to become the ultimate singularity. Walking upon this realm for anything would cause for energy I’m afraid he isn’t willing to commit. He lacks a physical form.” She spoke from experience, though in a soft tone that designated her understanding. She had seen Father but months ago and already it felt like centuries but she now understood his commitments, “I feel he has lost the emotional aptitude that is easily understood by beings like us. However, take heart that he is everywhere and nowhere. His single eye sees all.

Her last statement was a bit breathy, spoken like a true fervent fanatical, but she reeled back the emotion quickly and professionally. “His care for us has transcended this reality. Understanding will come once he has completed his domination of the realms beyond The First.

As for grandmother, that was a creature she had encountered more recently since her coming out—though usually she’d been snatched through the leylines against her will, a surprising feat to accomplish though she chopped it up to Grandmother being the more experienced user of the lines. “She may yet come. The evening has barely begun… ah… if it’s even evening here.

She couldn’t be entirely sure.

Grant, with Arc’s opening of the ceiling to reveal those skyward windows the answer would become clear.

For a moment she peered up at the ceiling though the forming of chairs and the table was enough to pull her attention back to the ground. She sat upon the pulled seating and reclined back, fingertips resting upon her now crossed knee, posture straight and perfect as Arc opened up the conversation with a statement she wasn’t entirely surprised to hear.

Somewhat,” She stated, glancing at the table before looking back to Arc, “I am aware of what Daul has told me, I’m aware that you and grandmother and the emperor existed around the same time in the Nexus.” Though she wasn’t sure if that was why Arc had hated them so, “The woman whose name I have no desire to acknowledge tortured my betrothed without preamble or real purpose and, I assume in this way… by having been married to the emperor Celesin blamed us for the damage she did before her disappearance.

She wasn’t sure if she had the story correct but she knew the shame the woman had brought to their family and knew that Celesin had looped in the bulk of their family with the riff-raft that had done the deed. Daul had stated that they were trusted on the principle that they believed all Shuinsai acted so brazenly and without control. “We’ve been stereotyped by the…. Ah… bad behavior bear, which has strained our relations.

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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Arcerion on Wed Apr 08, 2015 9:23 pm

Lucien to Nebuchadnezzar
Lucien was not his father, nor a mind reader. His senses were simple and only got a fleeting 'scent' of food if it could be considered that as images crossed his cousin's mind. He would never know what she had been thinking about unless she decided to act upon it with him. While the act would be odd at the very least an Exercion that didn't feed upon his base nature would soon be a dead Exercion.

Lucien nodded to her, it seemed like something had caused a sudden mental hiccup in her own processes as she made mention of the same compliment he'd been given earlier. "Yes well my mother is a Bale as you're aware." He waggled his fingers in a six digit display of dexterity. It seemed his own contained powers which leaked out had caused her to lose a moment of time. An interesting concept he would have to note for Father. She made mention of technically being a recording device and the brow of Lucien would quirk. He smiled his toothy sharp toothed smile that could of just as easily rend flesh as it did kiss a woman's hand and ask her to dance.

"Father is terribly paranoid, justifiably so. If you can keep your recorded information to yourself, I shall vouch for you." When she left he was within the library. His eyes glanced around between windows and books upon shelves. There was a door which creaked open and tried to invite him within its depths. This house clearly underestimated him. Giving it only the quickest of glance before he focused upon other things, the titles of books written upon their spines, the beautiful outside and he thought on it all. What books did those out here read? An observant person could learn much about another simply by observation of their possessions and nothing else. What did this Library tell him about his cousin?

Mostly that his cousin was coming through the door fully clothed. He took in the form of her and would chuckle at her jest. "I'm sure a King, of all beings can understand the need for a name to reflect their selves. From you though, Lucien or Cousin will work just fine." He was lead away from the library and through a shorter hallway then they'd originally come. He filed away questions for a later meeting. If these 'Kings' were in some way related to his own kin much research may have to be done. He had continued walking down the stairs not bothered until his cousin asked for assistance. He would not even question the request, taking her smaller five digit hand into his own six, and would escort her down the stairs of her tower house.

If she wished to talk with him, she would not be denied that. He even continued to be a gentleman and escorted her up the few steps upon the ramp of his transport. The inside of the star ship seemed to buzz with life as he came in. Receivers and reports yammering away in his head as orbital traffic was monitored heavily. The inside was well furnished with a living quarters as well as two separate sleeping quarters. A few haphazard robotic drones came out to greet him. One on a crooked rail which removed his blade, and another which seemed to be begging for attention at his feet knocked against his leg, before turning and doing the same to the guest. If it wasn't for the fact that it was metal and not covered in fur it may of been cute.

"It wants to know if it can get you a drink, food, ammo or...That last one doesn't translate well into common." He gave the thing he'd made a light nudge. "Drinks, and if you use my shield as the tray again I'm sending you to Nexxian to clean up their desert. One grain of sand at a time."

Speaking of his shield, there was a massive thing which was laying upon a work bench. The metal of it was durable but old. Older then anything else in this ship, even Lucien himself. Inspection of it would bring someone to two conclusions. The first and most obvious was that if it was a tower shield, it was not designed for someone of Lucien's size. More like someone eight or so inches taller. The second was that it seemed to of undergone some heavy modification recently. Switches and inputs were available to be pressed.

The entire interior buzzed with barely contained power.Mentally interfacing with the lift off procedures Lucien would take it through the auto-pilot on thought alone. The internal inertia was lessened so as to only feel as if they were moving at tens of miles an hour, instead of rapidly accelerating to reach escape velocity. The joys of having a luxury star ship.

Whatever she wanted there was a good chance that he had it. And drinks would be served as the Star ship began initiating its warp drive. They had time to speak as space-time would be displaced around the ship. His own drink a honeyed wine, well aged and delicious. It reminded him of things left for intimate company.

"I'll open up the windows when we're not warping through my uncles realm. While I'm sure you would like the view given your house." Oh my yes he had noticed those oddities. "I prefer not to have to make any unnecessary stops." He took a sip of his honeyed wine, sat down upon one of the luxurious seats. Crossing a leg over the one planted on the ground and outstretching an arm. "I have been instructed to answer any questions you may have to the best of my abilities. So ask away cousin."

--------------------------------------
Arcerion to Jophiel
The first reaction he got from her would of been placed aside for the moment. He still had to finish his tune. Once it was done he would nod to her own correction of the thing as well as her own after comments. "In days past our family ruled with me, your father and grandmother as its three heads. I have simply picked up the pieces and laid claim to what was left behind. As for the incorrect title. That little thing is a creation of my son's. He has yet to see the need for Nexxian, so certain things have not been installed into it. I do hope you get along." He tried to smile as best as he could.

When she mentioned her hunger he would nod to her and look skyward towards the city. He pondered for a moment, directly connecting with multiple interfaces built into his palace before nodding. "Unless my wife and daughter arrive unannounced we should have time before our other guest shows up. I don't believe they would be opposed to us sharing a small dinner. After all, they eat like we do. Very enthusiastically." If she wanted food she need only ask, and a live specimen could be brought before them. Arcerion was if anything a gracious host. Had a sworn enemy walked in and demanded parley he would not touch them. Well not until they left the palace at least. Most people were rather vague on what safe passage meant.

Whether they ate or not would not change his reaction to her having more knowledge of Thargor than he did. It made him jealous maybe even a little angry that Thargor would speak through his own blood and not him. Not someone who had spent nearly a lifetime earning the trust of the vacant Shuinsai. He removed those feelings from himself in a calm internal manner that only showed upon his face as a light reddish discoloration at his cheeks that went upwards towards his ears. Only the vaguest hints of the blush of frustration would be seen behind that mask he wore. When she gave him information as rare as it was about Thargor though it sparked a thought in his mind that he could allowed to blossom into his next words. "If he will not come forth from the First Realm, the throne may remain ever vacant. This would displease me. If you wish, once you are older and more tested. Maybe you could sit upon the throne, and three Shuinsai's shall once again rule on high." It was an offer she could deny, or one she could ponder. Arcerion truthfully thought of her as almost his own. She was trust worthy, and while young had made the right decisions in dealing with the Nexxian City as she had. In fact as much as the thought initially had displeased him, her opening up to Celesin so easily had paved a way for him to further peace talks. Fewer skirmishes between him and the others were happening every month. Soon they may come to see him as a partner in their enterprise. Maybe even give him access to the information of his creation he so desired.

He grinned behind his mask at the mention of Mother making an entrance. Wouldn't that be something worth seeing. The first time in ages since a throne besides his own had been filled. He nodded at this and believed that was all that needed to be said on the matter.

He listened to her explanation of the matter of her thoughts on it. She was not incorrect that they had been stereotyped by a bad seed. He had seen to it to make amends with Daul and even with the Emperor Mesiphidon in months past. While he had no desire to join Celesin he believed he could help them, and they in turn could help him. "We attempted to send that one a letter. No response. Do not misunderstand my intentions with that." It was all he had to say on the matter of his first daughter, the one who had killed his wife's heart. Though the body had lingered longer the heart had ceased to beat with the passion long before Arc snuffed out her life and split her soul in two, as a present for a daughter who had manipulated him. "I believe that is the truth of current affairs for their younglings, though the emperor has knowledge of just where my old hatred stems from. We, the Exercion people that is, fought a war for them. Many of my brothers and sisters died for them. Many of us killed them. I have more Dra'sin kills under my belt than even the Emperor would be willing to admit. I have many Dra'sin deaths I wish in my old age I could of prevented. But if the option was presented to me once more. I would do it all the same, if only to see this family. You, My mate, my children, my empire. I would do everything again." There was a hint of emotion beneath his cold and calculating mask. Was her uncle sad? That couldn't be it. He spoke once more in a somber tone. "The only regret I have Jophiel. Is that I tarnished a name I held dear to me with my first Daughter. The fact that, that thing and her namesake are brought to my mind every time she is brought up is my only regret"

He would only remove his mask if it was time to eat, he preferred to have it on for the moment. It gave him some comfort, as one of the few items of power Thargor had helped him craft. Whether or not they dined he would hold his words for a moment allowing her to ask any questions that she so wished. Once answered he would speak again unless of course any of her questions had shaken him to the core like that statement about Thargor had. "Though there is certainly one other reason why at least one of those beings so loathes me. Did you know Fenris used to be a retainer to myself and Kanatal? A shame her binding magics weakened as we left to conquer other places. I dare say he may of been an adoptive cousin to you by now." He chuckled at the thought. The old wolf was usually far from his mind. They did not get along, they could barely tolerate one another. Yet Arcerion respected the old hounds bestial nature, after all it reminded him if only vaguely of the hunts of years gone by.
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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Nebuchadnezzar on Tue Apr 28, 2015 1:00 am

“I’d heard, yes. Not that I have ever seen or felt her.” An odd bit to mention, but, with the hyper enhanced sensory talents the King’s had it certainly fit. They could learn an uncomfortable amount through contact.

Lucien wriggled his fingers; showing off the extra digit along with each having one more phalange than her own standard humanoid arrangement. “Your smile as well— did that come from your mother? Bale physiology must be quite interesting.” A pause. “And you needn’t worry about me sharing my information, Lucien; data has too much value and so too does my paternal family and my allegiance to it.” Maybe it came off a bit sugary, but, whether or not it was true and not expert plication didn’t matter. If Nebuchadnezzar expressed that something was in her best interest to keep to herself, she would do just that.

Only when they entered the ship did she release his arm; looking around the cabin with an eerie and blank serenity in her gaze. The same seen in paintings and images of the empress of Celesin who resided in Lu`rae. Lucien most likely would have known he handled her twin sister before ever arriving. The King in person mused; wondering the complex ties that bound the women between two empires made for any quiet friction for their respective emperors? It curled her lips into a faint smile that widened when the son of Arcerion’s little construct offered her a drink.

“Whatever he’s enjoying will do..” she’d purr; turning to give Lucien a look with a cocked brow that either communicated that she was impressed, or, thought it was cute in a condescending sort of way. Now, of course, all the curiosity had to be served and she adjusted her posture; leaning forward slightly with an elbow across her higher knee and the free hand soon receiving her requested drink.

Any questions? I’m enjoying myself already— what is this all about?” She held the wine glass to her lips and sipped with stark eyes trained on him over the rim of the glass. Before she paused and swallowed just before he could reply. “At least some introductory details. Enough to prepare me for the sensitivity of the matter?” As in, she understood that even if he’d had everything he’d certainly wouldn’t give it all up on the ride over.

Assuming Lucien answered her she’d cut her eyes to the shield more than a few times and assumed per its size that it was an heirloom. The young half Bale in her company was certainly much taller than she was. But not so much as she remembered Arcerion to be— or, rather how tall Esarhaddon remembered since Nebuchadnezzar had recently accessed her visual records. Assisting Konstantine with hive maintenance came with its perks.
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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Jophiel on Tue Jun 09, 2015 6:22 pm

Though she could have taken offense it was not uncommon for her to hear of some being who felt little need for Nexxian. In retrospect, Jophiel had begun to doubt the impact her pet-project could possibly perform among giants and elitists. Ideally, she’d meant to be become the center of the star, some nation built on neutral ideals and false promises of peace but said goal was far from being reached. In fact, she’d begun to doubt the entire plans probability. Still, it wasn’t a train of thought she wished for Arcerion to pick apart so she kept such things to herself, hidden among more basic thoughts and easier to accomplish schemes.

The idea of dinner was better than inwardly picking apart her fears anyhow.

She might have asked for said dinner if Arcerion’s face hadn’t become somewhat flushed at her expression of Thargor’s overall agenda. It didn’t make her hesitant, not in the manner it might have more human guests, but it did make her think twice about the offered meal. After all, she didn’t want to make him use any resources he didn’t need to for their small meeting and despite his mannerism being very close to her own she still didn’t know what he meant when he thought of what a proper dinner should entail. Besides, it was probably best to get down to business as opposed to wasting time. One didn’t mix business and pleasure in Nexxian and she wasn’t about to start doing so here.

As for the offering of the throne, with tilted head and slow nod she could graciously accept. “I am humble by the offering. I will attempt to become worthy of such a notion, though I may never accomplish it.

Father was a being of massive power and overall prestige, a permanent figure of god-like portions permanently scorched into her mentality. There was no doubt in her mind that she could completely take his place (she couldn’t), but she could mold it to fit her needs.

Such thoughts were dismissed once Arc began to speak, his clarification of an age old question enough to quiet her. It was information she’d always wanted to know. While there were still some holes in her overall understanding suddenly the bulk of it made more sense. Especially when he went on to explain about Fenris—whom was a suspicious individual to Jophiel, for different reasons—and his duties, or the ones he’d abandoned anyway.

She had no further questions and she wondered if he’d elaborate for her, she was sure he hadn’t summoned her there to talk about his past.

But she was patient either way.

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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Arcerion on Tue Jun 16, 2015 4:44 pm

Lucien to Nebuchadnezzar
The ship traveled as it needed to. The cousins could languish in the comfort of the interior all that they wished. It wouldn't take long for him to finish with the first half of his drink as he took everything in. Her reactions and her questions. He looked like he was thinking of a way to answer her for a moment before he set the glass aside. "Father enjoys his mysteries as much as anyone else. I know for a fact that it's a trap for at least two of my older siblings. Not that they matter. Useless wastes of genetic material comparatively, prior to him meeting with my ... mother." He had to stop himself before the very end of that sentence. There was some other word he may of used, but whether it was respectful or not would be hard to tell.

He anxiously took a sip of his honeyed wine and checked distances quickly in his head. All done in the space of a single blink. He grinned with those sharpened teeth. "Father wants to bring everyone up to speed on what has been happening, and his plans for the future. He says he needs people he can trust to work with him. That he wants to see who is loyal to the cause and who needs to be kept at a distance. " He nodded for a moment before thinking of anything else that his cousin needed to know. She was so far out in the boonies where could he even start.

It was hard not to notice her looking at the shield so he decided it best to speak about it. "An heirloom from my father. During the Exercion civil war he was a sword and shield fighter. It was made by the same people who made the Exercion's, or so father says. That would be the ancestors of Celesin." That was about all the information he had or was willing to give where that shield was concerned.

Introductory details though? That could get complicated. He decided to paint a picture in as broad strokes as he could. "While I was still a babe Father and Mother decided they would require more space. Bales and Exercion's are territorial creatures. Father learned this early on when Kanatal made a few half hearted attempts on myself and Emarra. He expanded to protect us and grow his influence. More territory meant we could grow to maturity. This realm we rule has few practicioners of what people of the Sanctum might call Magic. It does not come naturally here. So they found a different route through science to bend the laws to their will." He set his drink down and scrounged into the cushion of the couch and found a small cylinder, the size of an old watch battery. He tossed it to her, expecting her to catch it. "That is a latent spore-battery. A sort of bio energy is constantly generated by small creatures dead or alive. That bio energy in conjunction with the arcane methodology my Uncle mastered allows us to traverse the stars, create hardlight shields, power cities, and destroy them. Essentially, we can hack reality to suit our will." He grinned looking around the star ship and waved his hand around. "All of this, I designed and programmed. The guns our soldiers use, a pull of the trigger can activate a macro embedded in the hardware. Our elite troops are all genius programmers, capable of debugging and overclocking their own systems at a moments notice. Of course the bigger effects require more power. Then we use live spore batteries, or whole reactors like what power this ship. They are near infinite in supply, but not without, their own set of problems. You see Spindle Spores is also the name of a rampant disease. They infect the body, eat away at the brain, and destroy the host until they are nothing more than a vehicle to make more spores. As a safety precaution, if a ships core is ruptured it will enact a final safety precaution and implode upon itself taking the spores with them." He scrunched his hands together and made a small popping sound.

"As far as the politics are concerned, we are at a stand still with Celesin. Father hopes to broach peace with them, and share information and technology. He says they have the method to create more Exercion's stored away somewhere. He just wants more of his race, so we cannot be wiped out in a single swipe. Past that I cannot hope to gather his intentions for Celesin. At home though we are more or less unified, with only a small faction of rebels on the fringes. We are a collection of different races. Exercions and Bales numbering the least. Then there are the Dorian's, Thargors kind. The Zephyran's who share some genetic similarity with us oddly, which gives them gifts of a lower caliber to an Exercion's own. The Vicelings who are an odd bunch, mercenaries mostly in my experience who are just looking for the next thrill. The Starbodies who once held an eighth of the galaxy, winged creatures who seem to live for war and nothing else. Humans of course, and my personal favorites, the Sentient Machines."

He seemed like he could of talked for hours on that next subject but something in his mind alerted him and he finished his drink and closed his eyes. "We've arrived." And with that spoken the windows of the ship would open onto the city-planet of Y'ghatan, Kresh'alam Dor its shining beacon that could be seen even this far out. What was probably just as impressive as the planet, was the fact that surrounding it was a massive star fleet that went on as far as the eye could perceive. Ships that dwarfed his own exponentially moving in a slow and precise dance. Names upon them littered the screen as the on board computer tried to make sense of all the clutter there. Trying to catch names and show them all at once. Lucien waved it off to give his cousin a real look at part of the might of Dorian. Multiple space stations hung in orbit, and an uncountable amount of satellite's. The ship dipped and began the process of entering orbit and going to his personal dock near the imperial palace. She could see the beauty of Kresh'alam Dor for herself now. Taking in all that information at once may be shocking for her, but somehow Lucien doubted it.

Once they were docked he would be a gentleman and lead Nebuchadnezzar to the throne room. Once there his robot before, as it had with his cousin announce himself as "Heir to the Dorian Throne Lucien Thargor Vileur-Shuinsai, and cousin Nebuchadnezzar." Once the doors had closed he would peer at those gathered and sigh. "You promised me I would meet more of my family. I suppose two cousins will have to do for now, father." His grin was shark like, but not without respect for his superiors. He quickly moved over to where Jophiel was and extended his hand to shake her own. "Hopefully I'll be seeing more of you cousin. It is nice to meet someone who actually knew the uncle part of my name comes from." He looked from her to his father, and the color simply drained from his face as he saw the mask upon him. Every time he'd seen father with that mask, it usually meant something more for him. Usually bad news.


----------------
Arcerion and Everyone.
Arcerion watched as she did not want food, an oddity he assumed. He may send her out with some take out then. He had no desire to see one of his nieces starve herself to death. Her response to the throne being hers in due time was noted. She carried a lot of reverence for their detached family member, close enough to match his own. "You are free to strive for it. Once you come into your own we shall discuss this more." As he could sense his own blood when it was this near he would simply grin behind his mask. "Your cousins approach. You've my permission to berate my son for his lack of decorum concerning your entrance." His words were spoken in time for the doors to open and the small robot to announce them.

Arcerion stared at his niece and son, brows furrowing behind his mask at his son. He waited for them to come over to him before he would address Nebuchadnezzar first. "The years have been good to you my niece. If I may, this is your cousin Jophiel Shuinsai. The last child of the great Thargor who your father served faithfully with me." Introductions could be made and once Lucien finished with Jophiel, Arc would beckon him to him. Handing him a piece of paper and picture. "Find this woman, bring her on as a faithful retainer. By force if you please. I need to make sure all your tinkering hasn't worn out your weapon arm. If you do well enough I will talk with your mother about postponing whatever devious next task she has in mind for you." he dismissed his son with a wave of his hand and once more looked upon his niece's.

He waited for his son to leave and his Niece to find a seat at the table they'd made. Sitting down he folded his fingers into one another and let a silence hang in the air. Though he appreciated their company here, the lack of others was certainly disconcerting. People had either ignored a summons from him, which implied that he did not hold as much clout with the family as he wished. Or the more likely scenario was that a vast majority of them were dead. This was of course bothersome and would put a great deal of set backs into his plans. When he finally spoke his tone was businesslike but firm. The vocabulary of a highly educated noble mixed so well with the commanding presence of a warrior.

"Thank you both for joining me. As you're undoubtedly aware I have been trying to make peace with Celesin. Speaking with their empress and emperor at times, even going so far as to help arrange a joining of noble houses. I certainly hope that they honor our arrangements, but words are worthless, and they have a history that is impossible to ignore. My own council has called me a coward for desiring peace with my enemy. There are many reasons for what I have done, but cowardice is not one of them." Personally assuring his family, always a good sign but even with that mask hiding his face he was clearly hiding something. "You few who have answered my call is sign enough to worry. I am lacking in trustworthy comrades. That is where the both of you come in my nieces. Bring to me entities of power and worth. Young and old so long as they can be useful and need a place to call their own. As my brother did before me, I will once again allow others to enter into our clan if they prove worthy." He clenched a hand, cracking the knuckles on his gloved hand as he squeezed. Though his face was still hidden it was almost impossible not to hear the grin in his voice. The metaphorical flood gates would once more be open, and if he had his way the old terror that he and Thargor had brought onto the Nexxus would live once more. Though maybe now in a more refined manner. "We are all the scions of beings who " He looked to Jophiel while he spoke and then turned his gaze to Nebuchadnezzar as his sentence finished. "understand the brutal and cruel math of the universe." He paused for a moment before adjusting his view between them and went on.

"This race must die, so that the worlds may prosper, this star must die to protect the whole quadrant. I have stumbled upon something, in Thargors old writings, in the data core of my flagship. In every Dra'sin weapon me and nineteen other Exercions carried with us from our own personal hell. I have pieced together a grand puzzle." He stood now, and looked between them. "If you have any personal questions for me, now is the time to ask. If not, we will be taking this meeting elsewhere. I do certainly hope neither of you are claustrophobic."
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Re: At the seat of a Highlord

Post by Arcerion on Sat Jun 20, 2015 2:25 am

Log from 6/19 In Chat

17:32:58 Nebuchadnezzar the King looked at him; tilting her skull first when he mentioned it being a trap for two cousins. Her eyesbrows rose and she raised her glass as if to toast the event. ’Interesting to learn how gung-ho Arcerion is about taking out the trash. You so rarely see that. Secondly, you had a tone and a myriad of microexpressions to savor when you mentioned your mother. Is it not a healthy, jovial relationship, Lucien? Please stop me if I tread too far.’ Another sip of the wine. ’Curiosity killed the cat but luckily— I’m no feline. But I do fancy myself one of those trustworth people your father mentioned’ Although, again, that certainly depended on what she was to be shown. It had to be something important for him to charter her transportation to another star system and in another galaxy, no less. However, whether or not he chose to answer her Lucien had far more to say that certainly held more importance than her questions about his families’ inner workings. -

17:33:11 [Nebuchadnezzar] For once her pale blue-gray eyes went wide and she gave a tilt of her skull as if so say Oh? about the ancestry bit. ’Ancestors of the Dra’sin, you mean? So the….wait.’her eyes went glassy for a moment and then bled to a pearlescent, milky white. Several moments would pass before she closed them. ’The Lu’nae?’ she’d asked. Clearly she had been accessing something. In this case she’d opened the blockades and entered the memory stores of Empress Esarhaddon; her identical twin and a fellow King. Whatever the empress learned could, as always, be easily accessed by Nebuchadnezzar. Before she could continue she realized he was speaking again. Though she had been busy everything had still been heard and subconsciously acknowledged and filtered. One hand rose to easily catch the so-called “Spore battery”. Now, both iris and sclera bled to red as she turned it over in her palm and examined it on each possible spectrum. -

17:33:31 [Nebuchadnezzar] ’So long as you understand how bloodthirsty Mesiphidon always is you should be fine. I cannot speak on whether or not the Dra’sin would level your corner of space but should they make a demand and you leave it unanswered they may not hesitate.’ and, inwardly, she wondered if the visit had something to do with erecting a measure against such a thing. Nebu tossed the battery back as soon as Lucien announced their arrival— whether he caught it or not. Her leather jacket was shrugged back over her bare, pale shoulders and accented the screaming red dress and she bent at the waist to look out of the viewing panels on the wall; her weight upon her palm against the console. ’Veryimpressive….’ she’d say; watching the overcrowded planetscape loom before them. There was so much city they’d clearly expanded the populace into the stars some centuries ago. She’d have liked to drink it all in but they were docking and he had her hand this time— he learned quickly.-

17:33:43 [Nebuchadnezzar] Upon announcement she did indeed have to smirk and correct him with ’King…’, a title which he forgot. While it was an alternative term for her kind, Nebuchadnezzar also happened to hold the title once she inherited the lands and Black Tower from Mundus— even if she had no subjects our court. Now, she looked over those present and smiled, ever the charming diplomat same as Esarhaddon. Social scenes of the upper echelons, courts and more were their specialties, after all. ’Uncle Arcerion,...I am happy you saw fit to have me. And you must be the Duchess of the Nexxian territories...Jophiel Shuinsai? We’ve not met technically, but we are familiar through my sister. Delighted to finally make your acquaintance.’ she hadn’t been lying either— Nebu was an exact replica of the Empress and their only physical difference was hairstyle. She held out a hand for a chaste shake between women.

17:39:48 GM_OOC enters this room

17:48:58 GM_OOC exits from this room

18:13:41 [Jophiel] Test.

18:13:41 [Jophiel] Test.

18:14:05 [Arcerion] Seems to be working, did I somehow miss your post?

18:20:01 [Jophiel] I posted last, isn't it your turn?

18:20:10 [Jophiel] Like, I posted last on the forum.......

18:25:40 Arcerion Lucien: Responded with a nod to the question about his mother. However his further explanation, particularly about the two races he was descended from being territorial would give answer to that at least in some respect. Her question about his descent from the Lu'nae was answered with another nod of his head. My she was knowledgeable. As far as the knowledge about Celesin's emperor went he could but shrug. "I think that no one is infailable, Celesin and my own people included. I believe that Celesin has gone long without a proper war. I think they would happily engage in combat if we gave them reason to. Father is adamant about not giving them reason to. He tries not to engage in combat he does not know he can win for certain." That was all the answer she got. Once there his robot before, as it had with his cousin announce himself as "Heir to the Dorian Throne Lucien Thargor Vileur-Shuinsai, and cousin Nebuchadnezzar." Once the doors had closed he would peer at those gathered and-

18:25:43 Arcerion -sigh. "You promised me I would meet more of my family. I suppose two cousins will have to do for now, father." His grin was shark like, but not without respect for his superiors. He quickly moved over to where Jophiel was and extended his hand to shake her own. "Hopefully I'll be seeing more of you cousin. It is nice to meet someone who actually knew the uncle part of my name comes from." He looked from her to his father, and the color simply drained from his face as he saw the mask upon him. Every time he'd seen father with that mask, it usually meant something more for him. Usually bad news. (Keeping this short since once Lucien leaves I'm handing the reigns over to another player)

18:25:59 [Arcerion] Getting the Arc part now ))

18:30:19 Arcerion watched as she did not want food, an oddity he assumed. He may send her out with some take out then. He had no desire to see one of his nieces starve herself to death. Her response to the throne being hers in due time was noted. She carried a lot of reverence for their detached family member, close enough to match his own. "You are free to strive for it. Once you come into your own we shall discuss this more." As he could sense his own blood when it was this near he would simply grin behind his mask. "Your cousins approach. You've my permission to berate my son for his lack of decorum concerning your entrance." His words were spoken in time for the doors to open and the small robot to announce them. He was not pleased once again as the creation of his son's once more messed up on titles. They were only of slight importance when dealing with nobles, but you hung onto what you had. The boy would be asked to update the files accordingly, or else the deal would be off. Arcerion stared at his-

18:30:24 Arcerion -niece and son, brows furrowing behind his mask at his son. He waited for them to come over to him before he would address Nebuchadnezzar first. "The years have been good to you my niece. If I may, this is your cousin Jophiel Shuinsai. The last child of the great Thargor who your father served faithfully with me." Introductions could be made and once Lucien finished with Jophiel, Arc would beckon him to him. Handing him a piece of paper and picture. "Find this woman, bring her on as a faithful retainer. By force if you please. I need to make sure all your tinkering hasn't worn out your weapon arm. If you do well enough I will talk with your mother about postponing whatever devious next task she has in mind for you." he dismissed his son with a wave of his hand and once more looked upon his niece's.Once Lucien was sent off Arc looked to his nieces and smiled behind his mask. He waited for his son to leave and his Niece to find a seat at the table they'd made. Sitting down he folded his fingers-

18:31:04 Arcerion -into one another and let a silence hang in the air. Though he appreciated their company here, the lack of others was certainly disconcerting. People had either ignored a summons from him, which implied that he did not hold as much clout with the family as he wished. Or the more likely scenario was that a vast majority of them were dead. This was of course bothersome and would put a great deal of set backs into his plans. When he finally spoke his tone was businesslike but firm. The vocabulary of a highly educated noble mixed so well with the commanding presence of a warrior. "Thank you both for joining me. As you're undoubtedly aware I have been trying to make peace with Celesin. Speaking with their empress and emperor at times, even going so far as to help arrange a joining of noble houses. I certainly hope that they honor our arrangements, but words are worthless, and they have a history that is impossible to ignore. My own council has called me a coward for desiring peace with my enemy. There are-

18:31:37 Arcerion -many reasons for what I have done, but cowardice is not one of them." Personally assuring his family, always a good sign but even with that mask hiding his face he was clearly hiding something. "You few who have answered my call is sign enough to worry. I am lacking in trustworthy comrades. That is where the both of you come in my nieces. Bring to me entities of power and worth. Young and old so long as they can be useful and need a place to call their own. As my brother did before me, I will once again allow others to enter into our clan if they prove worthy." He clenched a hand, cracking the knuckles on his gloved hand as he squeezed. Though his face was still hidden it was almost impossible not to hear the grin in his voice. The metaphorical flood gates would once more be open, and if he had his way the old terror that he and Thargor had brought onto the Nexxus would live once more. Though maybe now in a more refined manner. "We are all the scions of beings who " He looked to-

18:31:53 Arcerion -Jophiel while he spoke and then turned his gaze to Nebuchadnezzar as his sentence finished. "understand the brutal and cruel math of the universe." He paused for a moment before adjusting his view between them and went on. "This race must die, so that the worlds may prosper, this star must die to protect the whole quadrant. I have stumbled upon something, in Thargors old writings, in the data core of my flagship. In every Dra'sin weapon me and nineteen other Exercions carried with us from our own personal hell. I have pieced together a grand puzzle." He stood now, and looked between them. "If you have any personal questions for me, now is the time to ask. If not, we will be taking this meeting elsewhere. I do certainly hope neither of you are claustrophobic."

19:00:01 [Jophiel] It was not her intention to cause concern for her health. For the greater bulk of the year she’d reduced her consumption of flesh and meat—of the variety that soothed the generality of her cravings--if only to give off some semblance of normality among the sheep that she herded. It was not an easy task, nor desired, but it seemed safest. With the delicate nature of her union with the Celesin princess she’d linked with it seemed more risk to eat as she pleased than proper. Eventually, soon perhaps, she’d cast off the shackles of this small lie she’d wrapped herself in and embrace once more the brutality of her true nature. Until then though she was on a diet, a painful control stretching diet. With tilted head she accepted Arc’s proposal and with slight smile even considered his suggestion of berating the boy that stalked the halls with a visitor behind him. She was suspiciously silent for a time, peering forward across the table, but once Lucien entered the room there was something… different about her

19:00:10 [Jophiel] mannerism. From beneath her the shadow she possessed stretched, warped and twisted as it consumed a great deal of the space behind her. Pitch black in nature and more tangible than it should have seemed it writhed and took on the shape of some maddening beast with twisted muzzle and slender tendrils. It was just a shadow however, some wicked version of the usual humanoid darkness that always followed the most basic of creatures, but it moved—still chained to her feet—as if it were it’s own creature while she linked her hands together and sat forward and proper. Always polite, forever cordial she whispered in husky accented tones—“Son of my Uncle, a precious cousin whose opinion I adore. Should I visit this space again, it would be proper that the soulless creation you’ve commissioned to utter my titles would state them correctly. I am a woman of authority, you see, a beast of the slaughter and blood on a very short leash, held under the oppressive might of my family’s core figure. I am The

19:00:28 [Jophiel] Last, I am a Direct, a living breathing symbol of Thargor’s productive bloodline and the sleeping start of this realms eventual destruction. Though polite my patience is not endless. Though currently satisfied, my caretaker does not hold complete control. There are… checks and balances in place that keep me fulfilled—you understand, don’t you?—and among them is this small thing. You see, while I am gracious enough to lack direct offense it keeps me… happy, when I am remembered for what I am.” Then a pause, as she stared at her gloved hands, before she spoke in Thargor’s tongue with gentle smile despite the eerie glow that ebbed over the shades that kept her eyes normally hidden. Never mind that each word seemed to ooze with the agony of her eternal suffering, of the restless need to slaughter indiscriminately and devour without prejudice. “I am the living daughter of Sai Daragor dal Shuin, Duchess of the licentious state of Nexxian and niece of your precious emperor Arcerion. ” Then in common

19:00:44 [Jophiel] tongue, with wide smile and display of shark like teeth she uttered in sing-song voice—“Don’t fuck that up again, precious cousin.” And then he was forgotten, the wind beyond her den. She rose from her seat to casually adjust her clothing so that this new visitor could be greeted with—“Ah?” For a moment she confused her with Esar, but soon came to understand that they merely looked the same… felt the same? It was hard to really decipher the newcomer, mostly because the song of the lines was alien to her here, but she still turned with quirk brow and extended hand to greet her. “I see.” Did she truly understand? Not entirely, and there was business to be discussed. Taking her seat once again she’d listen to Arc continue on with the discussion, nodding at the appropriate place while she idly wondered if Grandmother would make her appearance. As for personal questions, well there would be none from Jophiel, who was interested in the space but—“Is it a… small space?” There’s no

19:01:10 [Jophiel] note in her tone to give away her inner thoughts and her face is carefully blank, it just a question…

19:20:43 Nebuchadnezzar couldnt help herself— she smiled during the entire lashing Lucien had recieved; watching his face from the corners of her eyes and recording every microexpression, quickening of breath and spike in temperature. Had he really deserved to be corrected so harshly and, while she knew it certainly was no show for her sake considering the mannerisms of the Shuinai, should it have been done in front of her— did it matter? The answer to the latest internal query was easy: No. No, it didn’t matter. Nebuchadnezzar wore her faint smile all the way to her seat, lowered herself gracefully and crossed her legs before listening to her uncle...who was masked. Interesting. Now, listening carefully she once again heard something to do with peace with Celesin and, again, she was staving off her curiosity for later. What was there to gain about holding treaty between the empires and how long did Arcerion expect them to honor it? Well, not long if what she had -

19:20:49 [Nebuchadnezzar] accessed from Esarhaddon’s memory banks was anything to work with, however, they were only talks. Disjointed fragments of memory from a room called The Bellatorium. What had transpired in it so far had to do with the woman she sat less than two meters from, in fact. And, since they’d find out soon enough Nebuchadnezzar chose to keep the knowledge between herself. After all, it had yet to be decided whether or not the situation was dire, and if so— salvageable with benefits for her hive. Just as the thoughts had finished crossing her mind she was faced with eye contact from Arcerion and met it with a sweetening of her expression. He was right, after all. ’Claustrophobic? No. And my only question is, are we to be told prior to demonstration what it is we are to see or is it something we must confront uninformed? And as for seeking trustworthy additions I am more than sure I can oblige. And happily.’

19:42:52 Arcerion listened to Jophiel as she spoke to both her cousin's though what she said to Lucien certainly intrigued him and got a morbid chuckle from him. He did not disapprove of her tactics if that was what any of them were looking for. He had of course given her permission to do as they would. A bit of compettition between heirs wasn't all that bad. Made them lighter on their feet, and made them see beings in the shadows where there may be none. Once he had left he would address Jophiel. "I applaud you. You almost sounded like Kanatal for a moment there. The amount of times I've heard her threaten my children is without a doubt countless but for good reason. Should the both of us fall, they must be ready to pick up our mantles. Thus why I have sent them into ever increasing dangers. Kanatal on the other hand prefers to make the attack herself. I prefer subterfuge. Easier to control in my opinion." He chuckled at both of their responses as he stood and turned his back on the both of them, -

19:43:02 Arcerion -a risky manuver if this had been anyone else and moved towards the massive pipe organ at the back of the throne room. He spoke loud and clear for them to hear. "Yes and no. It could accomodate as many as it needs to. In this case, three." He pressed the keys in something that was actually harmonious, beautiful almost. From a man who usually was dischordant to hear such harmony would be a shock. The edges of the table space formed cracks and began to slowly descend. Arcerion without much thought moved back to where he had been seated. They now lowered at a quickened pace. Down, down deep below the ley-lines rapidly approaching something that anyone with magical or dimensional senses would feel as a blank space. Something which was a zero on their radar. "The fireworks I will show you still have a few hours before the dimensional collapse. The old cathedral's which held Tel-Shuinsai displaced in time. I require all of my power back, for what I am to show you down here." -

19:43:22 Arcerion -He sat, waited any questions, and grinned behind his mask still. The stone walls descended past layer and layer of rock, and finally moving towards stone that had been shaped and carefully runed with magical ward upon ward. "I respect Mesiphidon and what he has done. I do not fear him. I fear only one thing in this world, as I regret one thing." Speaking of course of that bit he'd confided in Jophiel about concerning the source of his daughter Ailshyia's name. "It took me an eternity theoretically to craft what lies below Kresh'alam Dor. I have dubbed it Thargor's Fist, for it closes and shall never open so long as my clan sits the thrones above." It would take them minutes to descend, miles upon miles until they would be deposited in a stone hall way. Once more warded and ornate, lit not with technology but simple torches that lit and wavered and snuffed after they had passed. "It has taken mastery of not only all my senses and skills, but the pre-ordained death of my brother

19:43:45 Arcerion - Elsydion to give me ... us .... we the power to craft what is. I have but one purpose in this multi-verse, in all of them. To protect and keep the wheel spinning. Any who stop us, will be dealt with to the harshest of degrees. I do not care if it is Mesiphidon himself who would try to end me, or one of you. Exercion's only bow when it benefits us. Where we go, there is Noque" That last word was pronounced as No Key. And as they proceeded down this hallway, the ceiling and walls seemed to expand outwards, almost becoming a horizon around them. A city could easily fit down here, but their only company now was each other, the sound of their foot steps and the looming darkness in all directions.

20:03:03 [Jophiel] Lucien’s departure and Arc’s praise were received with slight nod and sound of acknowledgement. If she felt pride in her actions she certainly didn’t display it. She was a woman of absolute authority, the struggle of dominance was one that expanded past violence and conditioning. Whether it was political or physical it was of upmost importance to retain her right to succeed and rule. Thargor would expect no less from her behavior and despite her ‘youth’ she studied her major of dictatorship well. As for trustworthy additions to introduce to the family Jophiel had little. It was an odd observation but she realized she didn’t have much in the way of outside companionship beyond the once competent Agency. It was something she’d have to reflect on later, when Arc wasn’t explaining his current plans for them and opening up the floor via organ music. From the depths of that space came forth a sense of emptiness, and for a moment she paused on the edge merely peering forward into the darkness. Fingertips then s

20:03:13 [Jophiel] stroked across the space before she moved them quickly—just two fingers now—in a spindling motion drawing forth blue essence from seemingly nothing as she collected a bulk of leyline energy to be stormed among the expanse of her mental landscape. A soft sound, like a curious hum, as the foreign taste of power infused her but she was quick to then follow after the pair into the depths of the world and it’s mysteries with eyes that continued to glow despite the atmospheric dark. Her silence was not for lack of questions but in an expression of her curiosity. She didn’t want to nag Arc with statements and inquiries when she could merely be brought to see what he was talking about. Was this in preparation for an attack upon their realm? She held no trust for the bulk of Celesin, sans her betrothed who had always seemed sincere in action, but she wondered if her partner was naïve or to wound up in loyalty to properly access an attack from them? It seemed natural, after all Jo too felt an unshakable connection to

20:03:20 [Jophiel] the family that had trained her. To disobey seemed like a painful and illogical ideal—Father would not have been happy for the thoughts either. This was what she’d pondered as she shuffled behind Arc, more apprehensive than excited.

20:22:42 Nebuchadnezzar , of course, had no intentions of doing any backstabbing and her eyes followed Arcerion to the organ. The melody was heard with more than ears and though she could not watch his hands as he played she did file the sequence away for later out of habit. ’I see value in both arenas of thought...’ would be all that she said in answer to his words. As they descended her attention, for once, was compromised. This was very familiar; passing through the membranes of reality until they reached it’s core. This was No-Space as her kind called it; the same “zero” where the Eschaton had retreated...interesting. For once Nebuchadnezzar was stunned to silence— it wasn’t the same here but this was still the place where her true consciousness was said to reside before branching out into some form of existence on every other layer of all realities that could sustain it. Her core hummed. Standing, her eyes were blood red and solid; taking in everything— even the stone-

20:23:05 [Nebuchadnezzar] and the fire which seemed normal but no doubt had to be perfect replicas, artifice and constructs not created by the building blocks with which all “normal” beings were familiar. As Arcerion spoke and she reached outward— not for an object but to push her multidimensional self through all of the existences and membranes; her skin turning black and hissing momentarily. ’Curious. Your intent also happens to be the very reason I was constructed, Uncle….’ she’d say; pulling her limb back and letting the skin hiss and return to its usual pale shade. To anyone who’d been watching Nebuchadnezzar had surely only stuck her arm out to watch it darken. At his last words she laughed— there was an edge of something to it. Sharp. Was it nerves, for once. ’Noque. No-key…within No Space.’ Whence the walls and ceiling bled away so did her eyes fade to pure black. How to tell them this was, in a manner of speaking— her origin, or rather, one facet of it? -

20:23:11 [Nebuchadnezzar] And whatever Arcerion had in store for them, she felt, would have a lot more to present specifically for her than he realized. Inwardly, she thought Access to the world between the worlds...for once there is real risk involved.

20:29:41 Arcerion was keen to observe how Jophiel grasped at Energy here. Ley Lines could be odd in this sector of space. With fewer and fewer natural magical talents born, it came upon the realm of technology to drive forth the lines. So while other spaces may of had feelings of absolute creative expression or other such feelings. The Ley Lines which criss-crossed all of Dorian through space-time and ended up intersecting here, to power gods only knew what had a more static sense to it. Though the creativity was more muted it was none-the-less prevalent. In fact every bit of technology until they were this far underground relied upon what gave those lines their flavor. From the starships to the light bulbs. As for Nebuchadnezzars own reaction to his purpose he would nod. "Ours for now is simply as a... You'll see." he was not so much pure intellect that he did not appreciate a good tease. The door at the end of the stone hallway was gigantic. Made of a synthetic material that looked to resemble the -

20:29:48 Arcerion -chains which Arcerion normally attached to himself. The ebony steel that had been forged in cold pyres of the outer darkness, and tempered in the life blood of enemies to countless to name. Yet he knew every name and soul etched into those walls. Flecks of ivory metal came and went, and though there was no picture to be spoken of, it had a surreal beauty to it as the white fought for purchase against the dark. Those he knew as well, family, friends, people who meant much to him at one point. They had fallen and so he had willingly placed their essence here at this gate. The gate itself was, dwarfing those here in size, scale and in some sense maybe even making them doubt their purpose. Something this large and imposing must have purpose, purpose grander than any political machinations. Arcerion turned to speak to his kin, removing his mask, and letting it fall into his pocket. "Eyes on me Jophiel, Nebuchadnezzar." He waited, patiently but that command in his voice had little in common with-

20:30:20 Arcerion -the uncle who was usually patient with the both of them. "If you get lost, remember that I will never put my mask back on." What the hell was that supposed to mean? Arcerion raised a hand, and the white and black steels upon the door rippled and began to move. Impossibly displacing the hundreds of thousands of tons of material above them as they rose, slowly, barely inches than a foot and then two, until finally the impossibly heavy gate had been raised a full ten foot in the air. There was doubtfully time to appreciate the raising of the structure. The moment a bit of air from the inner chamber could escape, a massive pressure could be felt bearing down upon his niece's. The feeling was of power unveiled, and affecting the ambient reality around it. Twisting and turning and tainting it with good or ill intent. Truthfully Nebuchadnezzar and Jophiel were most likely to be vaguely familiar with the feeling, granted on a much smaller scale. Nebu had recently been touched by his son's own-

20:31:10 Arcerion -Exercion Aura, a palpable sense of over writing emotion. While Jophiel had seen Arc actually unveil his own powers at least once in the past. Compared to the pressure that flooded out of this chamber, his son's own power may have been as an ant is, to the planet it lives upon. He picked family members well, or so he hoped. Anyone with a lacking mental fortitude may simply faint or hemorrhage in their skull at the sudden information overload. Because as they may be aware, emotions were power to his kind, and them making a mess of reality meant that the very realm was tinged with left over power, or in this case emotion. Surely they could of expected Hate, or Fear. Even some of the other classically sinful emotions such as pride and lust would not seem out of place, after all Arcerion did not get a reputation as a monster by planting flowers and playing nice. What may have thrown them off balance was when feelings like Courage, and Humility, Charity, and Love could be felt. In fact every emotion-

20:31:32 Arcerion -within the spectrum mingled and balanced, in a mass of perfect harmony. That didn't lessen the impact of that much concentrated power though, simply made it so that one emotion never influenced someone more. To think this was just the door, what the hell was in there at the heart of the planet? If they could perceive it, from their view point there in the door, they would see multiple glass platforms, hovering, and flipping, rotating around other platforms, while walls rotated counter-clockwise and along their own Y-axis and Z-Axis. Each of these platforms contained a being. It was a vast complex of moving parts that yet seemed to stay completely still every few moments as a new slightly different configuration was found. Every time the configuration changed it was immediately following a low bass heavy growl which reverberated in the pits of ones stomach. What was probably most disturbing of all that upon the platforms closest to them could be seen a single form. Seven feet tall, wearing a long-

20:31:54 Arcerion -coat with ebony chains hanging around him. Long black to white hair, and of the same build as the one who was leading them. Two Arcerion's? Hardly that would not really be impressive. Should they look left or right from their current position they would find that different but still tangentially similar versions of Arcerion stretched out into the horizon of this massive construct. To the immediate left and right the differences were subtle, a change in clothes, a change in the way he parted his hair, a change in hair style. To the left they seemed younger in some way, and to the right older. At least for the immediate needs. If they diverged forwards they would get different senses from each, different exercion aura's coming off of them. Hate and Pride, Fear and Greed, Lust and Embarrassment. Below them as they walked upon the see through glass squares were others that did not resemble Arcerion, but gave off a feeling of sameness. A thing which could have been that which lead them. The forms-

20:32:31 Arcerion -were varied to say the least with sometimes the only subtle difference being in how some were spatially oriented, or the speed at which they were capable of moving. Others above them were made of differing materials, living flame and water, things which could only be described as many mouths and a mass of living death. Staring too long upwards or down could cause headaches as some of these creatures literally had no right to exist in reality. Beings of sentient light and darkness, entire universes contained in the single span of the square they occupied with miniature planets orbiting them, and microcosms so small that the only way someone knew it was there was by the power of the aura that was given off. Dead center there was something moving. Straining with primal emotion that may call down to them. Come and see, come and see. "There are 4,608 Wardens of this jail cell, including myself. All of them Exercion, not all of them me. -

20:32:48 Arcerion -This is our burden. Our reason to seek peace. I could bring the entire might of this Enneract of Exercion might to bear against whatever thing I please. And I would win. But in unleashing that power, I would lose. Follow." 4,608 squares, and as many faces of Arc, across time and space. This was the ultimate undertaking, something that only could have been accomplished by Thargor's arcane knowledge, and his cooperation. He had created a prison which functioned on all dimensions he could feasibly access, a ninth dimensional prison for something he feared. Arcerion lead on, towards the center of this prison, to add one more to the family gathering.

21:07:32 [Jophiel] At the very end of the stairwell they were faced with a massive wall, its multiple chains each a different hum in her mind that clearly told her something other than metal had crafted the constructs. She flared her nostrils and stood a bit straighter, her casual demeanor a slow shift toward attentive and focused. This was not an ordinary space, so clearly different from The Workshops that inhabited the space beneath her manor. Even Nebu seemed to react in a way that Jophiel didn’t understand—she was familiar with Arc’s terms, familiar with the space, while Jo in her inexperience had seen nothing quite like this beyond Thargor’s initial tortures of study. It rumbled and shifted, displacing itself to reveal the cavern within and the flood of power and emotional fortitude that swept out from it was enough to make her face twist up in a grotesque mockery of a vivid snarl. Saliva slick teeth were revealed from the curling of her lips and it was clear that she was not entirely fond of the space. It’s a

21:07:56 [Jophiel] quick reaction though, initially outside of her realm of facial control, but with a huff and a slight expel of steam from her nostrils she was more ‘human’ than anything within the space, once again back within her realm of false normalcy. She quivered, a quick tremble that she intended for no one to notice, as lips parted and she breathed past the pressure of raw power, of expressive magnitude. Yet, furthermore, for a split moment she had forgotten to think. Though what laid beyond the threshold was a show of horrors and power, what sung and called out to her very being was an impressive immeasurable need to devour everything in that room. On some primal level of her being she was overstimulated, nearly swept away by sights and emotions that she couldn’t rightfully comprehend or process. Some of them she’d felt of course—fear hatred—but others she had no name for, others were enough to confuse and stir up a sense of restlessness in her that she hadn’t felt in centuries. Now, it felt like her

21:08:09 [Jophiel] very skin was breathing, rubbed raw by things she wasn’t supposed to feel all at once. Arc, who seemed more or less able to navigate the disaster area, was stared at blankly for a moment while drool spilled past her mouth in a manner that clearly expressed her want to just eat whatever was overwhelming her senses. She might have been ‘younger’ in ways than the both of them, who seemed far more educated on the subject of multi-verses than she’d been able to manage. Her crafted laid elsewhere, her degree of arts something not as… refined… How could she face the magnitude of what Arc had revealed if she could barely breath past…No… no no. From the depths of old conditioning crawled her will and freedom. It shook off the shackles of blind thoughtless actions and wrestled control back to the control-less. She snorted and shook herself like a wild beast, though thought perhaps that Arc—so wrapped up in his reveal—and Nebu might have been too busy to notice her momentary lapse of sanity. One step,

21:08:26 [Jophiel] then another, and soon she’d be walking with the pair, a small cloth used to wipe her mouth as she swallowed down needs and became numb to the wash of emotions the Exercion were known for. The Hunger still rolled around in her guts, a near physical agony, but she did not act upon it. Instead she focused her newfound attention on Arc and his explanation of wardens and unleashing them to plague reality, should Celesin ever find notion to attack. She closed her eyes for a moment, mostly to absorb the information, but when she reopened them the usual gold of her pupil had spread to devour the whites of her eyes. She had no doubt that unleashing such power would do nothing but wrought terror and cause the fall of all those who participated and yet… she felt such strong inappropriate excitement at the prospect, something that she found much more difficult than usual to hide in her heinous expression. There’s a spark to her gaze, something dark and heavy… but they were not about to stop to speak about the

21:08:36 [Jophiel] 4,000 plus beings that hovered around them. Arc was leading them deeper and she kept herself purposely silent---her voice, she didn’t trust it just yet not to give away her sadistic glee at the idea of total thoughtless devastation. She was, after all, a good girl.

21:25:49 Nebuchadnezzar did as asked and stared at the back of Arcerion’s head. “Eyes on me” he’d say; briefly puzzling the King who assumed she would find out the answer to that particular riddle in no time at all. As soon as the chamber gate opened the feedback was enormous and the King staggered only for a moment while the darkness from before crept up her arms. The emotional backwash had to be tempered by certain parts of her core and sub-neural net being turned off, for lack of a better term. And so, she was showered in raw power— several types of it. A flaring of void spiking through the aura of the other woman caught her attention. ’Now is a bad time for hunger...’ she almost whispered; standing close to Jophiel once she’d caught up with her as they entered the chamber and the Duchess would feel the woman’s warm hand at the small of her back caressing in a gentle, perhaps unsettling motion up her spine. As Arcerion spoke the hand would ease higher; threatening an almost erotic path to -

21:26:01 [Nebuchadnezzar] Jophiel’s nape and the King’s finger easing into her hair. It would be then that the woman would feel the rush of a specific metaphysical energy— just one of the many forms on the spectra that a King had access to and could filter, manipulate and change into any other. Whether calming or exciting the hand would leave the Duchess and cease it’s low level violation of her person before returning to the King’s side— where it seemed to smolder ever so slightly. The black skin now tickled under Nebuchadnezzar’s ears where it appeared to finally pause so she could gaze on the prison which manifested for her most basic form of sight in four dimensions; extending in every angle— forever. She was sure the dimensional structure extended several tiers higher, but, seeing beyond the fourth meant resuming functions that could compromise her delicate internal balance. ’Why do I feel that what lies beyond will be somehow familiar to me...’ she’d say; narrowing her currently obsidian

21:26:06 [Nebuchadnezzar] eyes a they passed the wardens for the looming center. Already he had shown them temporal anomalies so intimate toward the Kings. What else was in store?

22:04:13 Arcerion for only the briefest of moments, a flicker of a second, of a thought. The attentions of the multitude of Exercions Lords (and yes Ladies, though they were imperceptible from this vantage point) turned towards Jophiel and Nebuchadnezzar. Well maybe not Jophiel and Nebuchadnezzar as they were known to themselves, unless of course Nebu was the ONLY point of herself within the Omniverse. Gazing to the sides they may see their actions prior or to come. Things which resembled themselves, felt of themselves but were not themselves. This Prison was constructed on a nine-dimensional plane. Taking into account any and all possibilities. Thus the vast horizon upon this phase space. The only point which mattered was the center, and as they moved through, the door closed once more, enveloping them in a self-contained field of 9D space, impregnable to all but the most skilled of attacks. Though why anyone would want to release that at the center was beyond him. Words and possibilities were spoken, but there-

22:04:20 Arcerion -was one constant among everything here. Every Arcerion save for the one they walked with, wore a mask of Apathy. He bid them walk by his side, and they may notice something on his face. A fear, a longing, pain. Both past and present. He was not unaffected by all the powers. "We had originally built this place around a power source we found buried, a core of power. We found a body. A proto-Exercion. No limitations, none of the genetic modifications the Lu'nae had done to us. A truely perfect body." They were now coming closer to the containment field. It could be seen, the thing which they counteracted. It was both nothing and everything. A zero, contained within space. It was a whole as no Exercion, King or child of Thargor could ever be. It was the calm before the storm, but also the storm itself. Surrounding it along multiple vertices now were the oldest and youngest versions of Arc seen. Some carried shields, others guns, and weapons which had never even been thought of that-

22:05:09 Arcerion -bent in non-euclidean angles and produced flaming ice. Some were upside down, some inside out, and others were not even truely Exercion as he knew them. They were all permutations of Arc across all spectrums. Here stood the conquerer, there the beggar. Some of them were humans that ascended, others were of the purest Lu'nae blood. The only similarity they shared was their need to contain this thing. "Noque, he started the civil war. So many Lu'nae dead. So many realities expunged before they had the chance to grow. We brought his soul with us from the Lu'nae's spear, our old home. We didn't know. Now we have to devote nearly seventy five percent of our power to contain him." The knowledge that Arcerion operated only at a quarter of his full potential because of this prison would be truely staggering, especially if he ever planned to attack Mesiphidon again. The brutal mathematics he had brought up earlier meant that it was a losing battle. -

22:05:30 Arcerion _"If this prison is destroyed, if even one of me falls out of existence, the whole Enneract falls apart. First in our reality and then slowly but surely in all others. I do not seek peace with Celesin because I am a coward. I seek it because I fear what would happen if they attacked. I have a weapon at my disposal which I can not control. Release this and I would win, no matter the odds. The victory would be for naught. Noque's only purpose is anathema to my own. A return to absolute zero." At that moment they were within five feet of the containment field. The growls were animalistic but calculated. The infinite knowledge that may be contained there dreadful even to a being who had created this hellscape of self-containment. And as they were there a single immense clawed hand pressed against the edge of it's cell. The eye's of a hunter shown within, hungry and infinitly wise. It was all things as it was no things. -

22:05:46 Arcerion -"BROTHER! LET MY NIECE'S SEE THEIR UNCLE JUST ONCE. I DESERVE THAT! OR SHALL I REMAKE YOUR AURA FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME!" The voice came from nowhere and everywhere, reverberating both in sound and upon planck lengths of the quantum level. It promised such sights. It promised new experiences, both pleasureful and abhorent. Every single Arc in the area withdrew for a moment, grasping at their ears as the Forsaken thing spoke. But it's words, remake him again? Arc only counted once he had been remade, from love to hate, to kill his once brother. The fog of the cell cleared for a brief instant. Images overlaid upon images, a galaxy, a micro-organism, living ice and fire, the plague of undeath and undying blessings. Image after image swirled and finally coalesced to their view, of a naked androgyne. Hairless, perfect in symetry. It looked to Jophiel, dead eye's to hers. -

22:05:58 Arcerion -"Thargor's last child. Come child, I'll let you have a nibble of real power. Don't let your foolish uncle dangle the carrot." He turned to Nebuchadnezzar. He grinned, and shifted his skin tone to a mockery of the black she was known to cover herself in. "You don't frighten me King. Kill those beside you and I'll let you in on the joke that is the universe." It cackled before the fog of the containment field reasserted itself. Arcerion's in that moment had stuttered, fallen to a knee and rose back up with both nostrils bleeding. His look was dazed, and some of them around him shrieked in unknowing fear. Another shift ha doccured, some of them had their own aura's forcibly rewritten. The Enneract moved to adjust itself as neccesary to keep the emotional power in checks and balance. "Do you see now, why we must protect our clan?"

22:33:42 [Jophiel] Though she kept one foot in front of the other, it seemed like the bulk of her focus was dedicated to simply walking. Even Nebu’s words, which seemed like distant whispers, weren’t noticed right away. “Ngh…” She growled lowly, a deep primal sound, in response to being touched, but she did not escalate nor attempt to stop the other woman. The soothing pattern she painted across her back was enough to remind her of where she was and that a senseless rampage among such a delicate space wasn’t a wise idea—especially considering it belonged to Arc. Her mind knew this, but instinct—that inescapable feeling to act without thought—told her otherwise. It seemed delighted at the idea of total eradication, whether of the space she inhabited or the world itself if only for a taste of whatever she could manage to gobble up. Still, the hand moved higher as they moved, traveling up her spine in a manner that made one of her ears actually twitch with animal like curiosity. Then a sharp intake of breath as she

22:33:46 [Jophiel] fed, and when the king removed her hand she could think just a tad more reasonably. Though her eyes weren’t yet back to their usual state her hunger was at a more manageable level yet a part of her felt teased. Now she was interested, far too interested, in whatever Nebu had done… but staring was rude and Arc was keen to show them something. She took a deep breath and wordlessly mouthed ‘thank you’ before turning a more focused gaze to the cell that Arc had wanted them to see all along. Voices struck the space and Jo cringed just slightly when the figure made itself known, speaking with the wisdom of ageless lifetimes and throwing before her a temptation strong enough to nearly whip her into a frenzy. By the time he was gone she was rooted in place, a slight tremble in hands as she reached one up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Did she understand? She made a sound of, a mixture of need and understanding and by the time she spoke her accent was thick—“You rule atop a bomb.” She wasn’t sure if

22:34:13 [Jophiel] she had many place to talk, considering what lurked beneath Nexxian—and ruled it—but this seemed a bit much. Could they not move this place somewhere else? Or perhaps she thought in such terms because she was beginning to… fear it. This entire area unnerved her, it rattled her core and threatened to sweep away her constitution. She didn’t want to be here, and the idea that it was just an organ tune away… They had to protect this place due to a lack of power not only in the kingdom to contain it… but because the kingdom actually contained it. What would Thargor have thought? Have done? Certainly it wouldn’t have been allowed to exist on the same plane as they did, but in retrospect this space wasn’t exactly proper reality. No lines, no true grounding within the realm, none of this was right to her. Worst yet, she really really wanted a taste of that thing.

23:04:01 Nebuchadnezzar - If the others saw themselves in their reflections from beginning to end and many other versions perhaps they should consider themselves lucky— all Nebuchadnezzar saw was the true form of her entire borgism. The Eschaton. A gnarled being resembling shadow and smoke and its form breaking to reveal the Core. In every direction it was all that stared back at her; silent, composed completely of the Black and sitting on the possibility of power rather than the presence of it. Both a titan and a feather on the wind at the same time— a cradle and a consciousness for a singularity. ’Perfection is a strong word. They used it often when they constructed me.’ would be her only response to explaining the anomaly they were approaching. And now, they were finally seeing it and the King wore an unreadable expression. One might even say she looked amused, though, not lightly. She drank in every word her uncle spoke and considered that he may have truly had no

23:04:12 [Nebuchadnezzar] idea how much she as a King was suddenly very valuable to him. Nebuchadnezzar wanted to laugh— not because she intended any sort of subterfuge as she would assist him once she was sure everything was in it’s right place— but because she had seen something like this before. Hell, she’d come from it. ’Your dedication to containing this temporal anathema, this power is nothing short of inspiring...’ she’d say, seemingly ignoring it’s shouting at her and at Jophiel. ’Five hundred and seventy six sacrifices across the great oceans of the multiverse. Perhaps not their deaths but just as important.’ She turned away from the white and then blackened being; ignoring the shifts that seemed to function in exactly the same way her own three and four dimensional casing did. Jophiel spoke and said that Arcerion ruled atop a bomb. She’d finish the sentence. ’And it is ticking. Loudly. I can feel it’s desires….so to speak.’ And for a moment her own metaphorical

23:04:17 [Nebuchadnezzar] mask cracked just as she bent to one knee; her hands producing a silk kerchief to gently wipe the crimson stain away from her uncle’s nose. ’Should I begin my work immediately or is it truly coincidence that you should show me this? So similar to the being the Djinn speak of. So close to that which made me as well.’

23:22:13 Arcerion listened and felt everything, the shifting nature of space and time within this prison he had made. Words came and went and he did not doubt that it was providence that certain things had moved in place at this exact moment. Once his brother, once the THING was back in containment he turned, and let the door open on the far-side. His will cast forward to allow them to exit. Before moving though as if a will from farther in time had moved that gate he nodded to Jophiel. "Would that I could move it. If I knew a way to destroy it I would. This planet was the center of a major convergence aeons ago. This is the only place where the prison can feasibly exist on all planes. One day we will find a way." When his nose was wiped, or had he taken the kerchief? Time and space and probability were so warped here that he did all, and none of those things. The blood was gone, that was what mattered. "Til then I have shown you both the stakes for which I fight." -

23:22:20 Arcerion -Had Nebuchadnezzars words come to him later? It seemed as much his perceptions were warping as they were want to do within the prison. As a being who normally only existed in five-dimensions and dabbled in an extra two or three, it stood to reason that he was succeptible to random shifts in the higher planes. And this place was just full of them. "Your praise is food enough for some of us. Yes Noque will do that. He can be quite intimate." They walked, they got away. This was the only constant in their time line. Once the great cyclopean door had shut behind them and Thargor's Fist once again closed, he would lead them through the halls at a quickened pace. "Time, time is always lost in there. Was that minutes? It's been hours on the surface. We'll be late my darlings." There was a perk in his step of excitement. "The Djinn you say? Irony that. I sent my most level headed ambassador to their city. Even gave him a puppet body of mine to relay knowledge through not to-

23:22:39 Arcerion -long ago. This should prove interesting no doubt." The walk back was shorter, was that really so surprsing after space-time had twisted and warped inside the prison. He moved to the chair, hit a button when they were there, and then they would ascend. There was time enough for chatter as they moved, but he had sent the word, make ready the viewing platform. One final gift. Once at the top of the shaft, the skyline was clear, the lights of the city shut off, and outwards they could see a fraction of infitismal space. And as Arc counted down from five, when he reached Zero the sky exploded into Red upon Black, Green Upon Black and a deep purple upon black. The Cathedral's had all fallen. The veil that hid Dorian from everyone had been retracted. Now trade routes could open, and the border guard would be on high alert. This was truely the greatest time to live.
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