The First Dark Congress

[dandan1350 479]

"Give him that blade, Ser Rosencrantz and see us crumble. Prophet, Father would never condemn the keepers to such a fate nor would he allow the passing of such a weapon into their hands. 

 

Tohand over an artifact we the clerics have had so many of our own killed to keep it safe is saying those died in vain to simply hand it back to them. Until Xan himself retracts decision of his Keepers on this realm they should be left be. They do not harm."

[Tsuyose 3285]

The iron doors to the meeting hall would cast open with the ominous creaks of Herun's heavy suit of armour emanating outward as the Prophet paced into the room -- bearing no blade nor hostility except the ebon steel wrapped around his visage the young appearance of his features would glance over to the gathered individuals, locking 'pon Hesh with a disappointed albeit fake frown, and he'd stand in silence, after having shut the door, he'd utter a low word toward the sole individual; "Disappointing." He'd utter, proceeding to take his mantle, and peering over the gathering in silence.

[Ventusyr 233]

"I doubt Xan will. Xan, thus far, has proven to enter this realm to enact His own will, as the Xionists claim all Aengudaemons do. Keepers are as unnatural as wraiths, and they threaten the balance of power we have gathered here today to establish. They threaten continuance of a war that only escalates with each passing Elven month.

 

"What Tahariae desires is Purity, that mortal bodies and the realm can exist whole and untainted. If we do not give up the blade, then the war continues, taint spreads, and many fall. If we give Darkness the blade, as the blade was given to us, then many unnecessary lives will be preserved, and the unnatural, impure constructs that are Keepers will be removed from this realm, and the war ends.

 

"The blade was not ours to keep, and Xan has spat in the face of Tahariae with the events of the Harvesters. The paladins of Xan and the clerics of Tahariae, Blessed Be His Name, have not and shall never be allies again. In order for this war to end, in order for many lives to be preserved, the blade must be given. 'For it is not out of Moral Good that you do these things, but out of Necessity,' so sayeth the Lord of Purity.

 

"To not give the blade is to see a world where the clerics are hunted and purged, Innocents harmed in the crossfire, and for what? The defense of an Order that does not seek allyship with us, beings that serve an Aengul who violated the natural cycle of the realm, and ideological difference.

 

"What I want is peace. What we all want is peace. Giving the blade is a necessary to bring this peace, preserve lives, and preserve the sanctity of this realm."

 

As Herun enters in and addresses Ashanaak, the priest would exhale softly before responding: "Disappointing indeed that it needed to come this far."

[dandan1350 479]

"I can assure you if this blade is handed over there shall not be peace. I will personally defend our Xan allies to the very bitter end if need be. For these newer generations may have forgotten by I have not forgotten the service Xan and his lances played within the Setherien war. Nor will I forgot the bonds I made with the three I fought side by. 

 

If we hand over the blade we lose one of our most necessary tools of this war of impurity and weaken ourselves, buckling under threats and terror in our direction. You would give the blade to slay our allies the Paladins and negotiate with terrorists who threaten our kin, force us from our holdings and kidnap our brothers and sisters.

 

I knew you wiser then this, and with more zeal. It seems both age and office work has dimmed that. The clerics have and always will be hunted for their work unless we were to truly abandon Father an renounce our ways. The innocents caught in these cross fires are not of our own fault, while regrettable we do not start these conflicts so openly around others. Nor would they end, the conflict of Keepers would drag on and lead to a full scale destruction of cities if the keepers were to release their full power."

[Heero 4092]

 

Trapped within a perpetual state of purgatory, a Keeper stripped of his wings jets through the gloom-ridden foliage draped in a heavy, ominous mist. Huffing, he turns about-face. The individual draped in torn garments, stained with faded blood and otherworldly substances.

His wrist snaps to his rear, unsheathing a crude cleaver built from a gnarled bone and a jagged stone tethered to its ivory base. The bloodied and scarred combatant stands his ground. Eyeing the feral abomination before him.

 

 

Ringing its rows of teeth the terror pounces forward. Its howl reverberating through the Eldritch woods and resonating off the twisted bark and cursed boulders. At a gallop the damned denizen whisks his arm forward in an attempt to bar the inbound claw. A sudden shudder runs down the fallen Keeper’s spine before the razors of the beast tear into his side. Yelping in pain, he drives his primitive tool into the side of the beast and pedals back only before being met with an ear-piercing shriek.

 

Both parties circling one another. A river of red running from the condemned paladin’s midsection and an eerie stream of green dripping from the beast as it lowers itself on all six of its limbs.

“FUCĶ ASHANAAK." he howls.

[ski_king3 0]

 

Beyond the entryway to the Congress, a faint sound might be heard by the keenest of ears. At first the dull sound of metal pressing against metal, as they drew nearer the individuals present would surely hear the sound of steel setting upon stone. Some might turn to face the door, awaiting the new arrivals, though some might ignore them as well.

 

It mattered not, for moments later, the wood elf and human would stride through, joining their allies, enemies and those in between.

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

Order and Guardianship, Leric and Garion, both entered the hall. Features wrought in stoicism, the pair scoured their new surroundings unwaveringly, take note of each face, familiar or not. At simple examination, it would be clear the curious pair had followed the mandate of the Congress; though they were fully armoured save their helms, no weapons rested at their sides.

Finally, the pair would look to one another, each nodding an unspoken approval of their surroundings, before finding the fabled Prophet of Xan present, both quickly finding his side. “Apologies for our tardiness.” Garion would utter, to all present, though he peers at his uncle. “Perhaps we can be appraised of the situation at present, by one fully informed.”

[Tsuyose 3285]

“My apologies for my lateness."

 

 

Herun began, shifting his gaze toward the gathered folk with furrowed brows, folding his vambraces over his torso the digits of his gauntlets curled in taut until his gaze locked ‘pon the infamous prophet of Tahariae and his gaze warps into one of displeasurement.

 

 

 

“How abysmal of you, and you’d dare dub thyself a child of He.”

 

 

 

Herun would then proceed to shift his gaze toward Nimdravur, the corporeal visage of Herun emanting a holy albeit transparent aura that’d cast a slim veil over his features, recognisable to naught but those afflicted with blight; the Prophet of Xan would then shift its gaze down to Garion and Leric with a frown donning his arid lips, eventually reverting back to the Herald of Embers.

[Ventusyr 233]

At Ivanus' words, the entire body of Ashanaak tenses. Once the cleric ceases speaking, the elf closes his eyes once more, taking in a steady inhale, before releasing it. "... It is not age or office work that has brought me to such a conclusion, but desperation, Ivanus," he mutters, so only his brethren can hear.

 

Slowly, the elf begins to shake his head, and the his gauntlets slowly clench. "No. What am I doing. You are right, Ivanus. Emotion has clouded my judgment, and personal pride allowed to leak through, drawn out by the Darkness' words..."

 

He lifts a hand towards Rosencrantz, turning his head to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "I am sorry, llir, for attempting to force such an action. I thank you for not listening to me, in an hour of mortal emotion."

 

The priest looks up, and surveys the room, filled with tainted beings and necromancers and a Harbinger. Slowly, his face begins to contort, morphing into subtle rage.

 

"No. Your words are seductive and promises great, and you had me caught in it. We shall not give the sword, for despite the violation of nature the constructs that Keepers of Xan are, each and every one of you either wield powers that violate nature, or serve them. You claim to uphold and seek the strength of Man, yet the vast majority of those who wield your powers have terrorized Man. Xan may have ulterior motives, but His servants slew Setherien, and his followers heal the Descendants just as my Brothers and Sisters do, and they have purged other threats that have entered our realm.

 

"No; the sword shall not be given. I listened to the poisonous words of the tainted, rather than the words of my Brothers and Sisters in Light. The Keepers, unfortunate as it is, are still necessary, and they will continue to defend this realm from the threats that come both from those of the Old Dark, but of other sources.

 

"I desire peace, but upholding Purity must indeed be my first and foremost desire, and I shall defend the blade with every last breath in my body, rather than let it fall into the hands of those who seek to slay the servants of Him my Lord once called Brother."

 

As Ashanaak finishes, he turns, taking several steps behind him, before turning, his chest visibly rising and falling and his face contorted in utter, obvious rage. After several moments, the priest seems to calm slightly, his breathing slowing and his expression relaxing. He then steps to Ivanus' side, and sets a hand on the scarred cleric's shoulder.

 

"Pride almost consumed me a second time," he mutters, so only Ivanus could hear. "Despite my personal differences with you, I thank you for directing me back towards our Father, and towards Purity, and towards sanity."

 

Ashanaak remains by Ivanus' side for a moment, his head bowed and breathing still slowing, before returning to his previous position. He crosses his arms, and peers around the room, a look of disgust still present on his face as he waits for the reaction.

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

 

 

 

A lithe, cinnamon skinned man took a deep breath.

 

"In we go, boys."

 

The doors burst open. Three men walked in. A mali'ker, painted with a golden tattoo upon his face. A mali'ame, short in stature built like a warrior. The lithe man in the center, scar running down his eye, red antler tattoo running up his arm, a druidic hawkheaded staff tight in his grip.

 

"Toren. Berr." he gestured to his left, then his right. His acolytes took his flank on either side.

 

Artimec looked about the room. Scowling. He did not bother hiding his clear disdain, gaze passing over zionist, necromancer, cultist and whatever other servants of darkness had conglomorated in the library room.

 

"My friend Leric told me of this gathering, I traveled with him here, in fact, at the behest of his son, the Prince of Laurelin. Leric, of course, is a Paladin. A keeper, in fact. He does not follow my gods, yet he has saved many lives in my city. Of my people. You can see where the problem lies."

 

He tapped his staff upon the ground a few times, looking about the room once more. He clicked his tongue.

 

"What a gathering. All manners of spooks, snarks, gnarls and narks. True terrors of the night. The essense of stories mothers tell to their children to scare them into behaving. But...you aren't the stuff of legend, are you? No..."

 

He dug into his satchel, a sizable leather bag hanging at his hip. From it he drew a dark, now rusted blade.

 

"I know we agreed on no weapons. But I mean no ill intent. Infact..." He tossed it into the center of the gathering. "A gift. This blade belonged to a lich. I never learned his name, didn't need to when I put my sword through his skull atop of the walls of Embermoore while my comrades slaughtered your cultists down below. Would have taken a trophy from his body, but it disintegrated. Pity.

 

The war of Embermoor brings about fond memories for me, for it displays the true hubris and folly of those who dally in dark arts, who act big and call themselves Xionists. It harkens back to a time when you beings of darkness meddled in the affairs of the common man, when you dared to rise up and try to conquer the lands of righteous descendants, only to be driven back to that wretched fortress you called a home. To be infiltrated, slaughtered.

 

In the end, Embermoor collapsed on itself, as will you. You will collapse when the weight of all nations and guilds who shall not tolerate beings such as you come baring down upon you. This happens whenever the spooks make a resurgance, yet, they never learn."

 

Artimec, old, hate-filled druid he was took a deep breath.

 

"I will get to the point. No servants of the Aspects, Tahariae or Xan should be negotiating with any beast of darkness. Whatever honeyed words they spew, they are deranged and must be PUT DOWN. I and my acolytes stand by the servants of Xan, as all servants of the Aspects should. Let the druids of the mother grove choose inaction if they will, if the Xanites will it, then I choose to drive the terrors of the night back into the shadows. AGAIN.

 

It has been done before. It will be done again. It is our duty as sons of the Horned Man and daughters of the Green Lady to eradicate those who would toy with life force and tamper with the dead. It is our duty to stand with Xan's holy servants in the face of darkness."

 

"Aspects guide us."

[dandan1350 479]

"In our darkest hour we must look to the light to guide us, brother Prophet." Lifted up a gauntlet to rest on his shoulder briefly before letting it slip and muttering back in return. "Head high, for I have returned and behind me an army marches. We no longer need to bend over to any who would have us desperate."

 

"Now, it has been decided the blade shall not be returned and I place the Keepers well being under my charge and announce to any who would see them hurt - They will face me."

[Leric 1097]

Leric remained in silence as his Prophet, Herun spoke. The Vindicator of Xan rolling his shoulders briefly to emit a pair of sharp metallic clinks, the counterparts of his armor rustling against each other. Hiswatchful gaze landed upon the Herald of Embers, to which he uttered some words only audible to his surrounding brethren. "Such a frail, malignant being. Veiling his true evil behind a pathetic excuse of a justification."  Shortly afterwards he panned his gaze towards Ashanaak as he spoke, lips remaining in a flat line before giving a simple, brief nod of his head to the Prophet of Tahariae after he spoke.

[ski_king3 0]

Garion watched the various speakers exchange words, folding his arms behind his back. His expression remains, stoicism akin to a finely carved statue, sharp and unwavering. He thoughtlessly drums his gauntleted fingers against the armour upon his other forearm the priest speaks, a dull noise when compared with the voices of the speaker.

As Daniel rounds out the series of exchanges, he nods his head in approval, showing the first true signs of life. “At times I judged you among the lowest, Daniel. I apologize, for never have I been so wrong.”

[Harri 4815]

Drauch silently listened to the conversation, rather interested in the blade that seemed to be the centre of popularity. 'Something to slay Keepers? How useful that would be. Perhaps next time-' he'd have begun to think, only to be interrupted by the entrance of the very Keeper in his mind. He stared at Leric in disgust for a while, his hands curling into tight fists, his structure creaking under the strain he were putting on himself.

 

It was strange.

The one person who had managed to put him down, time after time again was standing in the same room as him - but rather than rush at each other's throats and trade quips as was the usual fashion, Drauch was bound by the notions and rules of peace on fear of punishment - and it seemed that Leric were too.

 

However, as the discussions progressed, and new arrivals continued to flow in, the risen soldier seemed more and more agitated. Finally, he rose from his corner and made his way more towards the group, beginning to address those of the Light:

 

"You act as if you are any different from us."

The Darkstalker rasped, his dead and hollow voice eerie and unsettling as it poured from his helm.

 

"All of us here can not rely on our own strength to achieve what we want, so we look to Gods, books of forbidden spells - or whatever else have you - to borrow their power to achieve our goals. And I'm sure it's been said once already, but I shall say it again - for I fear the Light crowding your heads is blocking the sense from penetrating it: You are nothing without those like us. If we did not exist, you would not exist - your gods would see no reason to bestow their power unto you. It is nearly the same with us - if the Light did not exist, we would have nothing to consume with darkness.

The more light tries to fill a room, the easier it is for a shadow to creep in and expand. And the darker a room is, the easier it is for light to spread and take over." The dead Crusader carried on, taking a moment to pause after finishing.

 

"But then again, what would I know? I am but a slave." he continued, giving a quiet cackle.

"Can we get back to the actual discussions, and cease the unnecessary insulting of one another's alignment?"

[Sky 0]

 

 

 

Toren stands stoic behind his father, Artimec and beside whom he would consider a brother, Berr. A moment would pass before his lips part into a smirk and a hearted laugh emits, his sage eyes float around as his laughter gets a tad louder before ceasing. Clearing his throat, Toren would speak in a tone which aired a feeling of control over one’s self.

 

“Let us stop this ******* dumb tea party. You want peace? It will be achieved only after all that is unnatural is purged. The idle threats laced in long winded speeches disgust me, if you truly feel you are above those you claim to be then let us end this.”

 

Toren would soon after spit on the ground infront of him.

 

“We can easily take you on.”

 

 

 

[Ventusyr 233]

Ashanaak nods in agreement with Toren. "There is no discussion here, only your demands that we give up our allegiance to the gods we serve and worship," Ashanaak adds, his disfigured face still contorted in rage. "Do not play as if it is an equal congress, where you would be willing to concede to things. Our allegiance is to Purity, Order, and Balance. Not to fellowship with those who wield taint and threaten the Innocent and our Brothers and Sisters."

 

(( Sorry, phone, lack of pretty fonts this time ))