Fantasy A Contract Made ((Reboot))

[Soviet Panda]

The magnificent white and red of the Great Tree of the First King spread high above Luther's head as he once more trundled down the road, this time towards the Order of the Undying Ones. He had always thought them, and all like them, backwards. Life had it's beginning, and it's end. To remove that end was to pretend as if there was no beginning. Yet they willingly sacrificed their best, the sacrifices even eagerly going to the executioners block, so that those that wish to be immortal can remain that.

But he was not here to debate them in their belief, he was here to ask the Council, and possibly the Blood Priest, for a favor. It wasn't exactly hard to find him. The man could be in one of numerous places, but at least he never left the city. And the Council was easier still to find, their massive building where they cast their votes visible even in the streets of the city.

As he entered the building, which was easy to do thanks to their willingness to allow the common folk to also decide their policies, he strode into the middle of the room. This was where those that wished to speak would be placed, so all knew who was saying what. Which was perfect for Luther. Most of the elderly Council members, having nothing better to do really, were already sitting in their seats and lazily talking to one another. Clearing his throat, Luther straightens his thoughts, and plans what he was going to say carefully. Again, he came here to ask for a favor, and he really didn't want to make it sound like a demand.
(( Reis ))
The empire of Azareht used to be so grand and full of wonder. White walls gleaming in the sunlight, buildings expertly built using the finest materials available and maintained. But now, it was but a shell of it's former self. The white walls were now stained with blood and soot. The houses that stood so expertly crafted now looked as if they would fall at a mere glance, only the will of it's inhabitants keeping it up. Such was the fate of most empires that were lucky enough to survive the plague. Though it looked to be that they might've been better of dying.

However, he must not say such things in front of the king. Though it wasn't the king he really wanted to speak with, but the kingdom's protectors. The Azarehtian Guard. They were the only reason this "kingdom" still stood. And the king, though still a king, could do very little else under the current circumstances than to listen to them. But once he got the opportunity to speak with the Order, who would he be speaking to? The three leaders flowed so easily with each other that any one could speak with him. However, they were still human, and they each had their differing opinions. He needed to craft a persuasive argument for each one, for he only needed one to agree with him.
(( Archemis ))
Luther was never a fan of the cold. And his fondness for it only dwindled as he got older. But the warriors that the Lancers of the Seraphim could provide were far to valuable to simply pass up because of the cold. So there he sat upon his cart, cloak wrapped around him and clutched shut with a feeble looking hand while he prompted Illumine to keep a small fire going in a small container, all the while muttering curses at the cold and every god he knew of associated with it. But his muttering soon stopped as he saw the frozen walls that surrounded the village that the Lancers called home.

He briefly unwrapped his cloak as he approached one of, if not the only, entrance to the village to show that he was not infected. Seeing no signs of the leaking pustules and bubos that marked an infected being (later would come the mutations) he was ushered in. From there he trundled his way to the headquarters of the order, once more muttering under his breath but this time about the lost heat that he had been saving under that cloak.

Reaching the entrance of the Order's headquarters, he pulls up short and takes a deep breath to announce himself. "I, Luther Pendragora, of the Ancient Order of Scryers, have come to speak with Great Leader Darlun Greysmun." His announcement said and done, Luther couldn't help but cough a couple times into his arm. He had not need to shout like that in a long time. But he wasn't getting that old, certainly not, it was the cold that had caused the coughing fit. Yes, the cold, yet another reason for him to not like it.
(( Entity.Eclypse ))

 

[Archemis]

Location: City of Azareht

Luther had only stepped inside the city for a few minutes when two boys approached him. They both looked young, maybe in their late teens. One of them was around 5'9, brunet, hair shaved on the sides, olive skin and big dark eyes. The other slightly on the shorter side but more muscular, also brunet, hair caught in a bun, tanned skin and round brown eyes. Both wore simple armour, with dark red details. Clearly - and proudly - showing their alignment to the assassins branch. Stopping in front of him, the taller boy spoke, his voice flat "Please, follow us". Without another word they turned, leading Luther deeper into the city.

They kept silent during their journey through the streets of Azareht and Luther could tell by the way the citizens reacted to the Azarehtian guards, how much power they had in the kingdom. All were being careful to move out of their way, the awe and admiration clear in their gaze, the guards had come a long way since the discarded orphans had been gathered for the first time. Arriving at the Triquarters, the sector where the guards lived, trained and their headquarters reside, the small group passed through a gate, guarded by two others who nod in acknowledgement in their direction, these sporting navy blue details in their armour for the knights branch.

Stepping inside the Triquarters' walls felt the same as entering a time portal. The tall white walls standing in their full splendour, clean streets adorned with the bright flowers from the bushes. Around them most of the people wore armours, displaying the different colours from their guard but others appear to only be citizens, most likely the family of the Guards. Not giving too long to take the scenery, the teenagers who flanked Luther now, kept walking to the Headquarters of the order.

................................................

Hushed inside one of the rooms, Luther saw himself face to face to the three commanders. All three of them sitting behind a long table that separated him from them. At the center was a man, in his late 50's, that Luther could only guess to be Malkyn. The commander of the knights branch with matching armour that looked well kept and used, sitting straight, shoulders square, hands crossed at the table and a square jaw, the big and ugly scar that run from the bridge of his nose to his right cheekbone, he had his piercing chocolate brown eyes fixed on the visitor. Malkyn's ash brown hair, buzzed cut and his well kept beard somehow completed the look that spell soldier. To his right was Ismey, somewhere in her late 40's, her long yellow robes pooling at the floor at her feet. Even sitting down she looked small, with a round face and thin lips, framed by her wild, curly, caramel hair. Her permanent rosy cheeks and curious grey eyes adding to her shy looks. On the other end was Ailaen, the commander of the assassins, with a calm and knowing smile playing in her lips, slightly crooked from the scar on the left corner of her upper lip. Her chin resting on her knuckles, luxurious dirty-blonde hair cascading on her shoulders. Her clever hazel eyes resting on Luther, drinking him in like she was able to see into his soul. There were no signs of their demons or companions.

Malkyn was the first to speak, his rough, commanding voice breaking the silence that reign in the room since Luther was hushed inside. "We were told that you're seeking an audience with us, Luther Pendragora. Tell us, what brings you to Azareht?" The others kept their silence, clearly having no trouble to deferring to the knight to lead the conversation, Ailaen now resting her back against the chair, a mischievous smile playing in her lips. Looking as if she was privy to some details the others had no clue about. Yet.

Soviet Panda

 

[Entity.Eclypse]

Upon nearing the great hall of the Lancers of Seraphim one would likely notice the grandeur doors, marked with their winged sigil and deep marks from blades that have clashed. Or maybe just markings to show the names, when they opened it would reveal the absolutely massive hall. Which was filled with warriors of all shapes and sized, weapons of most kind in their hands some clashed together and sparked meanwhile others rested in their sheathes. A jovial tone overall, despite the nightmare that was going on outside the walls they lived within. For now however they remained within the hall and were merry, this is when the doors opened and shut suddenly. The room inside was much warmer thanks to the great flame that rested in the center pit, which ran for a few meters before reaching the opposing end.

The room became silent as the older gent had requested a council with their leader. At the far end of the room a man stood to his feet, a large brown beard that seemed well kept made his way down, the fire-pit illuminating half his face. He definitely looked the part and no one dared to contest him as he swiftly approached, even those working at filling their drinks over by the large kegs ceased their actions to watch as he approached the older male. The very muscular man appeared to have a stoic expression behind his long brown beard, which stretched upwards to intermingle with his hair. Together they grew in length until being tied off by the males own handiwork to keep it from becoming annoying for himself. A few small scars danced around his face, almost like they'd been painted on, which would give significant information about his youth from that alone.

A hand came down upon the old mans shoulder, clasping it slightly. "Aye? Welcome to Zevair. 'Course i'm Darlun, you wanted to speak to me?" He asked before the name fully clicked in his mind and he turned snapping his fingers to the other warriors. "Show some hospitality would ye'? Get the man a drink Morquis!" He called to one of the men by the kegs, he was built as well. Though arguably much larger than Darlun himself was, a short mess of black hair topped his head, along with a patch to block the missing eye he had. That half of his face had been scorched and showed much darker colors to it, despite the hair having grown back. He had a grisly beard which seemed to hold the remnants of some ale froth in it. He reached up and rubbed his mouth before nodding and turning back to the keg with a mug.

Motioning Luther along Darlun would begin to show him towards the staircase, "Morquis and the other two will be joining us soon. For now let's head to the conference room, I assume this matter is private after all" He spoke and waved off a few of the other warriors as they continued on their way After manuvering down the long hallways, which occasionally whistled with the winter wind, you'd reach a smaller circular room. Twenty chairs were aligned about a roaring flame in the center, it was of course the central piece to any room in this land. After arriving he would show Luther to his seat and then take one himself. Marquis came with a platter of five drinks. Sitting one in front of Luther, and the other four over in front of different seats near Darlun, after such Marquis took his own seat and took a swig of the ale.

Darlun himself took a swig and nodded to Luther, "Drakestongue Ale. Said to warm ya better than any harlot, and even if you're not warm it'll make you tipsy" He spoke simply before the other two members entered the room. A woman clad in white robes entered the room, long locks of blonde hair outlined the woman's face and reached down to her lower back all the same. Brilliant green eyes like emerald came with the soft features of her face, she was a beauty if anyone were to see one. She too took her seat in line near Darlun, along with this an older fellow entered the room. His face had merely gray sprigs to call a beard, while his hair was long and curled madly. Covering countless deep scars that cut past his nose, his mouth, and numerous other locations from his visible skin alone. After they'd taken their seats each of them looked to Luther, Darlun spoke up. "Alright Pendragora, What is it you wished my company for?" He asked before taking another swig of his ale.
Soviet Panda

 

[Soviet Panda]

All of Luther's plans were quickly discarded as he saw the three leaders sitting side by side. He had planned to speak with one, two at most. But all three? Well, he shouldn't be to surprised, the world now-a-days didn't leave you much else to do besides fighting the infestation or planning on fighting it. Perhaps this meeting was a good excuse to get away from it all. Or perhaps they had heard about him and his importance and simply thought it rude to leave someone like him waiting.

"Word travels quickly even if I say nothing" the old man muttered as he takes a seat across from the three. "Illumine, would you be so kind," an outstretched arm coaxed the phoenix to leave his perch on Luther's shoulder to the back of a chair. Luther did not seem to be in a hurry to tell the three what he wanted, as he made sure to first make Illumine and then himself comfortable. Once satisfied, he clears his throat and continues.

"As much as I would like to say this is only for a pleasant visit, I'm afraid I cannot. In my travels I have explored many places in search of whatever knowledge it holds. And with the Plague, my search has shifted towards finding a cure. A cure I believe might be within my grasp. However, the road ahead is dangerous, and my days of youth are long behind me. What I need from you is simple. I need your best, your brightest, your prodigies, to assist and protect me while I search for this cure." Often times, being blunt was the best way to go about things.
(( Archemis ))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Luther stood as straight as he could as the large warrior approached him in an attempt to make his frail body look as large as possible. It wouldn't be right to say he was intimidated by the warrior, cautious would be a more appropriate word. However, when it was revealed that this was Darlun, and not to mention the massive hand now on his shoulder, Luther immediately resumed a more hunched stance in an attempt to catch as much heat as possible. Even with the raging fire in the center and the mass of bodies, he could swear that he still felt the biting cold.

After being escorted to the conference room and shown his seat, he scoots it more towards the fire. As for the drink, he accepted it but merely clasped it in his hands to help warm them up. He did not doubt it's potency, but he needed his mind clear. Well, perhaps a sip to wet his throat before he spoke.

"It's a simple request I ask of you. I need your champion." Let's see how well they'll bite this lure. Let them wonder why he needed their champion, let them converse. He was certain they could work it out. The people of the North had often been thought of as barbaric. And while that was partially true, they were not the savage brutes the Southerners thought they were.
(( Entity.Eclypse ))

 

[Archemis]

Location: City of Azareht

Ismey had a hard time keeping her eyes from following Illumine's movements, struck by their beauty. Her gaze only moving back to Luther when he spoke. His message was indeed enough to break her curiosity and amazement, eliciting different reactions from the table. Malkyn's eyes darted to his left, giving Ailaen a side glance, their eyes meeting when she turned her gaze to him. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, her smile growing sligthly before moving her gaze back to Luther. Malkyn having to fight not to shake his head in disbelief, decided to turn to the visitor as well. The relationship between the commanders of the knights and the assassins was, historically, not the best. Ailaen and Malkyn's seemed to follow the same model. "So this was what was so important. Tsch I shouldn't be surprised she knew about this. It's times like this I'm glad we're on the same side." Malkyn thought. Yes, no matter what their personal relationship looked like, he still admired her skills. The order had come to a golden era. They were never more loved or respect by the citizens, or in such good terms with the king. They same applied to the other kingdoms and orders. In no small part due to Ailaen's influence. If he was being honest (and he was most times), it was only because of her. Recently he overheard the young recruits commenting that with her there was only one ending: what she wished it to be. He scoffed at the time, but they weren't far from the truth. If he had to guess she already had a plan in that head of hers. "The question is: am I going to like it?"

"A c-cure you say?" Ismey stammered, her eyes going wide and leaning forward. "That's incredible! I-"
"You have to forgive us. This are indeed big news and I'm afraid you caught us by surprise. As such we need to converse, in private." Ailaen cut Ismey's shocked speech short. She didn't have a loud voice but she projected it in a way that spoke of confidence. Her smile had turned sweet, without reaching the eyes. There was a thud sound that echoed through the room although Luther couldn't determine where it had come from exactly, and the large wooden doors opened, the two guards from before entered the room again. "We understand this is a urgent matter. We'll thrive to give an answer as fast as possible. Meanwhile, you must be tired and hungry from your journey. Please enjoy our hospitality." gesturing with her hand to dismiss them, the two guards flanked Luther, waiting patiently and moving both of them out of the room again. There was silence until the door closed loudly behind the guards, Luther and Illumine.

....................................................

Ailaen's eyes were still on the closed door, her expression blank. "Important enough?" she turned to Malkyn, after all he was the one who gave her a hard time about needing the meeting. He sighed and rubbed his right temple. "Because you couldn't just inform us before?" his brows knitted in a frown, but he kept his voice in check, staring her in the eyes. Ailaen shrugged, it seemed that was all the answer he was going to get out of her.
"Are you two done?" Ismey's tone driped with sarcasm, this was a side of her most of the world ignored. "If what he's claiming it's true then we need to decide what we're doing next." she stated matter-of-fact. "Oh I have some ideas and the right person for the job too..." the crocked smile was back on Ailaen's lips when she spoke.

....................................................

After a couple hours the two guards came back to find Luther and once again guide him to the meeting room. This time there was another person in the there besides the 3 leaders. A young woman with short white hair and a massive scar on the left side of her face, her expression lacking any emotion, sporting the same colours of the guards that kept guiding Luther around. Behind her a black 3 headed dog, sitting straight. His size making her looking shorter by comparison. "Thank you" the assassin's commander nodded to her guards, before focusing on Luther once again. "We talked and we all agree we should give you our help. This is Helera" she gesture in the direction of the new woman. "She'll accompany you to represent the Azarehtian Guard. Now, if there's anything else you can tell us about your expedition we would deeply appreciated it."

Soviet Panda

 

[Soviet Panda]

Luther sat in silence and observed the three leaders. He picked up a slight smile coming from Ailean, almost imperceptible. Almost, but not quite. Luther had noticed it, after all. What was the smile for? Had she known of his visits to other Orders? Certainly a possibility. But the network she must have to know this much... Perhaps he should be more careful to who he talks to.

Sadly, he was not able to hear their conversation for very long. Not at all really, for he was escorted out before it had truly begun. Well, at least they had some fruits for him. Fruits were a delicacy now a days, as were vegetables, and anything with a taste to it really. But, just to be safe. "Illumine, could you kindly. Your eyes are much better than mine," he asked his phoenix. After a short pause and much head cocking on behalf of Illumine, Luther quickly, almost greedily, begins to stuff his face. In fact, the guards returned to see him with some sort of sweet meat or another hanging from his mouth before quickly disappearing as he prepares himself to be taken back.

He was somewhat surprised to see someone had joined their little party. And what more it was their champion. "Well, that was quick." Luther muttered softly to himself before once more clearing his throat. "I might not succeed, and we'll all die. Now quickly, pack your things, we head off to the Standing Stones!" Luther quickly jumped over the possibility of imminent death and waved his hands about to hurry his newest accomplice along. "Oh, and by any chance can I have a look at that canine of yours? I don't believe I've ever seen one this close before. Then again, I'm often heading quickly in the other direction. Did you know...." The voice of Luther slowly got quieter and quieter as he and the Champion of the Azarhetian Guard made their way out. He talking her ear off, and not caring whether she got a word in edge wise or not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Standing Stones were a mystery even before the Plague. Runic Stones that stood of their own accord, and refused to be brought down by any mortal means. Even if dug under, as one stone stood (or floated) testament to. This place was only fitting to begin a journey. And so, there sat Luther, atop his wagon, Illumine on his shoulder, reading one of his many books. Now all he had to do was wait. For how long was the real question.