| abstract
| - Propriety was a Mastery 1 Dusk Cokaloi which allowed the Ra'Shari Diviner to remind one or more onlookers that everything was all right and that nothing was amiss.
- The Emperor of Fastheld is pacing slowly in front of the throne, watched over by his usual assortment of guards while the ravens flutter in the shadowed rafters. The herald standing near the doors regards the new arrivals, sizes them up, then shrugs and points in Zolor Zahir's direction. "I believe His Majesty was expecting you." Lucius Nepos falls quiet when the Emperor asks Vhramis the strange question. His eyes follow the raven again as he waits. Vhramis seems faintly surprised at the question as well, his reaction being to quickly lift a hand to drag his palm over his scalp. "..ah..yes. Just haven't taken a blade to it in a while, is all. I plan to again fairly soon, however. Probably. Most likely." He glances to Lucius and clears his throat. "..I think." "Indeed," Zolor replies, smiling faintly, and then he returns his focus to Lucius. "Go on, then, Nepos. I have this feeling you are only now getting to the meat of this epic adventure." At the mention of meat, one might notice, the bird perched on the back of the throne sinks its talons ever so gently into the purple velvet that serves as upholstery. Lucius Nepos has to once again jerk his head abruptly back to the Emperor and he nods. "Yes, your Highness. We sailed on after the repairs without any particular issue, until we arrived at Crown's Refuge. If your Highness would remember the last report on Crown's Refuge, it would be that it was a small township at the top of a strategic bluff. When we got there, an extensive harbour had been emplaced, but nobody was on it. So I took a portion of the expedition up the hill to the town." Pausing, he takes a deep breath. "It was no longer a town. Crown's Refuge is a city the size of Hawk's Aerie, bigger perhaps. Upwards of ten thousand must live there. The case when we arrived was in the middle of a siege. The original protectors of the Refuge, called the Blood Guard, had been forced out by a group of brigands headed by someone named He Who Is Not Named. Heading the Blood Guard is.. the former Justiciar, Soravyn Zahir. He told me to pass on the message that he has resigned his position, as an aside... but Soravyn, as the Archon, told me that He Who Is Not Named claimed to be an avatar of one Xil'varath. The only reason I remembered this name is because it is also who the Cult of the Drake claimed to worship when they were apprehended half a year ago by the Blades." "Some story," mutters Vhramis at that, looking over to Lucius and blinking as the man rattles all that off. He seems vaguely surprised, all in all. "..we did all that? Huh." With a scratch to his chin, he seems to suddenly remember where he is, and shuts up, regarding Zolor a bit sheepishly.
* we* would benefit from trading with *them*? Shadow Wraiths. Snake people. Little people on explodable flying machines." He steeples his fingers and settles back in the throne. The raven at his side shifts to the left and ruffles its feathers, fixing Vhramis with its beady-eyed gaze. "If you were a little taller, maybe...." Zolor shrugs it off, then looks back toward Lucius. "Anything further? Did you perchance find Hartnek Lomasa planting a flax crop? Orell Mikin on a horse, trampling little green Wildlings?" "Vhramis.. I don't ask you things for no reason." Laments Lucius. "Right then boys, time for some action eh? Figured you'd lend me a bit of a hand." The soldier smiles weakly but does not look back, instead focusing on the fireball. His shield arm stiffens. The ranger freezes as the fire begins to conjure up in the mage's hand. His eyes widen a bit, before he doubles his pace backwards, nearly falling over himself. "You see what happens when I leave my bow behind?" he calls to Lucius. "Throw that damn knife at him or something!"
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