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The Wyvern Within A Garden of Peacoks

The Wyvern within A Garden of Peacocks – Wednesday night’s surprise next installment in the Elven Nations with Artificer Yavred was written up on the Officials by Legaci:

http://bit.ly/2db3lYM

Category: Towns
Topic: Ta’Illistim

Date: 09/22/2016 12:33 AM CDT
From: FORESTELF
Subj: The Wyvern within a Garden of Peacocks
It was the ninth Hour of Tonis, the month of Imaerasta and the day of Volnes when my eyes slowly shifted from the column of roses, found within the Ta’IllistimHanging Gardens, towards the Quartermaster Baynier – an elf of the Ta’Vaalor bloodline. He was advanced in years with piercing crystal blue eyes which could tame the wildest of raging sea’s. His balding only seemed highlighted by the unruly grey hair sticking up in a small tuft on the sides of his head yet still not one I would seek to engage within hand to hand combat with. The faded gold wyvern inked upon his arm appeared more like stretched canvas, timeworn and beaten, upon his tanned skin attired within garments just above homely. Still, a regal appearance silently radiated around him.

Quatermaster Baynier appeared to be surveying the garden as Artificer Yavred limped in, with his group following closely behind him. A young elven lad, known within the courts as Gasen, spoke within the elven tongue “I am sorry Uncle, I could not find them.” In the mist of the apology to Yarved an elven lady within the garden inquired about the statement and term uncle. Gasen says, now within the common tongue “This is my Uncle.” My eyes slowly began shifting between Gasen and Yavred because although I was no stranger to those within the high elven courts somehow this little fact seemed to have escaped my notice. A moment of pause surfaced before Gasen continued with “Artificer Yavred.”

Yavred nods at Gasen introduction and soon enough my attention turns to the details of the artificer. He was extremely old, far older than even Baynier it seemed based upon his blotchy skin. His almond-shaped blue-green eyes told unspoken tales that only those of the Ta’Illistim bloodline could have witnessed. As pleasantries and curtsies began to sprout as a rose from its seed many among the crowd expressed concern regarding the whereabouts of two missing servants. Servants having now gone missing for a day, at the time. Yavred raspily says, “They have not returned.” A mild sense of genuine concern is sensed within him and for a moment I allow myself to believe him.

Gasen, unlike they others mentioned, is extremely young. An elven lad with short, fine strawberry blonde hair worn in a neat, if childish, cut. A Page, Messenger of the Argent Mirror’s Household, with almond shaped – pale blue eyes which reflex the splendors of life combined with all of the joys known to those bathing within youth, before innocence striped by the reality of the world. “I hope nothing happened to them, I like them Uncle.” Gasen expresses as those gathered within the crowd press to form a search party.

Yavred raspily says to those gathered about the Handing Garden, “And yes perhaps we should create a search party.” It is only a moment later before he continues with “My nephew has been pushing me to search for them.” I keenly listen to every raspily spoken word uttered from Yavred. As the search parties begin to form my eyes turn towards Yavred’s small veniom airship strung on a narrow silver chain.

Several inquire the Page where the servants Osela – a young and vibrant blonde and Filorn – older with silver hair, would run to if fleeing from the artificer. Gasen says, “I never run from uncle….” as Yavred glances at Gasen, curious I suspected of the answer his nephew was to give. Baynier furrows his brow as Gasen continues with “Well, unless he wants me to eat broccoli.” while motioning within a fake gaging.

Yavred raspily says, “Apparently, she spilled ink on the carpet and came here to earn money to replace it.” Although I had not been present to confirm the event myself the statement would be swiftly confirmed by several within the crowd, those having had been witnesses to the service. Speculation, regarding the missing servants, continued until a large party had formed with even greater speculation of where to begin the search.

Another elven lady among the crowd, one appearing to have come of age, with blonde-framed sage green eyes and fair ivory skin mentions once more to another “Osela was around last night trying to mend a mistake she made.” Sibwen, I later heard another call her by as I slowly moved into a position which protected Gasen from harm – hand resting against the hilt of my katana while eyes surveying the surroundings. Once within such a position my attention returned to the classically delicate features and elongated ears with fine sharp points of the noblewoman.

Dwarves have their beards, halflings their feet hair, and gnomes their tarts but for those elven it is within the ears to which we hold our pride most. And, her very long, thick honeyed gold hair softly arranged in a braided lattice crown seemed to majestically highlight her ears ideally. Although it was not mentioned aloud I could sense a regal air within her and while within her company. Yavred raspily says, “The ink shop first perhaps, she may have gone there.” and the crowd quickly agrees before soon moving to head out.

Upon entering the Wax Eloquent, Correspondence the Wax Eloquent Polimynia Gael of Ta’Illistim was questioned in regards to the missing servants. As Polimynia looks at everyone with a puzzled look my own eyes slowly scroll the length of Polimynia’s necklet of cast-silver feathers, then shift towards her silver thumb signet. Polimynia smiles sweetly, “What did they look like?” Those gathered soon offer a brief description of the two missing servants before Polimynia shakes her head saying, “Sorry, I have not seen anyone like that.”

Sighs echo like the winds heard upon a dreary meadow or cursed moor before Yavred raspily says, “She does like tea….” with a brief pause before continuing with “Perhaps the tea house.” With no other leads, those gathered quickly agreed to travel to the location mentioned – to prevent further time already wasted to what appeared to be a lost cause. Yet, another suggestion which would be within vain.

Once reaching Galieca’s Teas and Coffees and being questioned Galieca responds, “I cannot say that I have, but so many come in here.”

Speaking to Galieca, Mersenne asks, “Anyone inquiring about work?”

Galieca says to Mersenne, “No, no one has asked…. What did these two do?”

Speaking quietly to Galieca, Heartfire says, “Nothing they did, simply what they dinnae do. They dinnae return.”

Galieca glances at Heartfire, carefully keeping her distance. “Oh dear, I hope you find them. We have had enough bad things happening in the past years.”

Baynier asks, “Is it possible he followed her to town?”

Galieca says, “I am sorry. I wish I could be more help.”

Yavred raspily says, “I have talked to the guards all over the city.” Several within the search party suggest checking the rug shop. “Yes yes the rug shop sounds good.” Yavred concludes with before the search party begins to move.

Gawiel’s Floor Coverings offered the best hope any searching for those lost could, through the form of a led. As had been practiced with the previous merchants a brief description of the two servants had been given. And after a small moment of recollection Gawiel says, “Hrm.. yes.. I seem to remember a girl coming in.” Then continues with “But she did not have enough coin.” When questioned about possible whereabouts or intentions Gawiel offers only “She did not say, but she looked sad.” Gasen pleads to Gawiel to remember all that can be and after a pause she responds with “Wait, I did hear her muttering.” My head cocks slightly in interest as she continues with “She was thinking about going to some bench. A bench by a bridge…. I think she likes to sit there.”

Baynier says, “Well that’s something.” All I can think of is Amaseloth Viaduct and Caeruil Arch, being the two bridges but we had searched those places. We had searched every rug and corner stone of the Shinning City, traveled Whistler Pass – Marsh and all with the result of nothing to show for it.

Most of the search party had taken leave for the evening when we finally found ourselves upon the roads of the Sylvarraend and resting near a small wooden bridge which spanned a cheerfully bubbling brook, the Foehn Var. A small bench is set beneath the bridge’s railing, providing a peaceful spot for a few minutes’ contemplation. Not only had we found the location in question, Filorn himself was upon the ground sleeping. Yavred raspily exclaims, “There you are!” but Filorn lets out a small moan, clearly not in his right mind.

Gasen exclaims, “Filorn!” and then follows with “Wake Up!” Filorn flutters his eyelashes in attempt to refresh his dark-rimmed lake blue eyes. Something about his bony and hollowed-faced put me within an instant state of unease. He being tall and spindly with long limbs only seem to contribute to this ominous feeling which had no just reason to stir within me. And yet, he did.

Filorn asks, “I… who?” Filorn blinks blearily as Yavred raspily questions his servant’s recent whereabouts. “Everyone is speaking… so quickly.” he manages to verbalize while in a state is disorientation. Discomfort and unrest yet again stirred within me but never openly was this concern outwardly expressed.

Yavred raspily asks, “What is wrong with you?” as Filorn suddenly stumbles for no apparent reason. Yavred peers quizzically at Filorn and Filorn then moves to sit and falls hard. Filorn glances around, eyes unfocused. He rubs at a darkening bruise on the side of his head as Yavred raspily asks, “Filorn where is Osela?” But, the question would go unanswered. At least for a little while longer.

Speaking to Filorn, Sibwen asks, “Are you alright?”

Speaking to Sibwen, Filorn says, “I am… not well.” while clasping his hands together, shaking slightly. Speaking to himself, Filorn says, “She was… she was there with me.” He seemed like a man which had been terrified to the point of memory lose. “And then they–oh, no. No, no, no.” Filorn shudders while continuing to speak to himself “It’s too late for us, but at least we’ll pass together. At least…” Gasen, Yavred along with all gathered soon began to sense the dread which had already stirred within me. It was expressed the man was beyond – not well – but to me it felt like an old advisory resurfacing it putrid face again. My intuition had not failed me as Yavred casted a ward which allowed him to sense a terriable, old and dark magic which now shrouded Filorn – demons. Filorn says, “Master, I–“

Yavred raspily asks, “What have you done?” as my eyes slightly narrow, awaiting the answer. The momentary flash of recognition in Filorn’s eyes fades, and he goes back to mumbling to himself. Without the crowds notice I slowly positioned myself between Filorn and Gasen. Speaking raspily to Filorn, Yavred asks, “Where have you been? Why have you been with demons?”

Filorn says, “I promised… I promised I wouldn’t tell, but they didn’t listen. Wouldn’t listen. They said… we’ll burn it out of you…” He sways back and forth for a period of time and then continues speaking with himself aloud “Impossible. So long ago. Can’t be… not around here.” His shrouded and cryptic words continue onward as some suggest returning him to the Shinning City. Yet, the servant would not be welcomed nor allowed to re-enter the City. Yarved dismissed Filorn from the service of his charge and would not be held responsible for bringing one tainted into the city let alone his manor. “I tried… to protect you…” Filorn says while sobbing into his hands. Gasen contiuned to plead with his uncle to help the former servant of the their house but the words felt upon reinforced walls.

To myself I think, “if he’s shrouded within demon magic I would take it upon myself to watch over him.” just as Sibwen says, “If nothing else, I’ll watch over him until he’s stable.” As the quartermaster and Sibwen props the dismissed servant’s weight between his arms along their shoulder a question asked long prior is finally answered.

Speaking to Sibwen, Filorn says, “The… broken… tower…”

“Rush not, ever, into battle for long is the War. Only by surviving it, shall one prevail for we are the Guardians of the East, Vanguard of Honor, Pride and Glory.”Lord Legaci

Nobleman and Citizen of “Ta’Vaalor


Date: 09/22/2016 09:06 AM CDT
From: SHEN1
Subj: Re: The Wyvern within a Garden of Peacocks
[Isil Dae’gonn, Convergence – ]
A flickering portal and multiple arches, constructed of enormous stone slabs balanced atop equally mammoth stones, form a loose ring around a modest sized clearing. Encased within the arches are heavy wooden doors, each carved with a celestial symbol. The ground has been swept of all debris, revealing a detailed map carved in the seamless stone flooring. Between two vine-choked arches sits a low stone bench with a rumpled blanket underneath, and a half-hollowed log protrudes from the nearly impenetrable old growth forest surrounding the area.

Aurach slowly moved across the floor on hands and knees, carefully analyzing each detail on the map. A long black finger tracing the well known pyramid and then slowly moved outwards. The hound asleep, sprawled on his side with one huge paw covering his eyes. Pausing a moment the ranger closed his eyes. The memories of the hound as a pup stumbling in tall grasses flicking across the moment, interrupted by the high-pitched yips echoing through the clearing as a small pack of curhound puppies chase after their mother, and disappear into a nearly imperceptible hole in the thick underbrush surrounding the area. The grizzled dusky curhound continues to snores quietly. Aurach slowly opens his eyes, his hand tracing the lengthy, evenly spaced pink scars, that mar the curhound’s belly, adding stark contrast to his thick, dusky fur. Aurach exhaled and continues his movement across the floor, pausing where the curhounds tail ends, at the carved grey tower marked in the stone.

Aurach glances at a grizzled dusky curhound.

Speaking softly to a grizzled dusky curhound, Aurach says, “I trust you find great amusement in such things..”

A grizzled dusky curhound snores quietly in his sleep.

Aurach indicates his black steel map case with a smile.

Aurach removes a crisp black-ribboned map from in his black steel map case.

A grizzled dusky curhound snores quietly in his sleep.

Speaking softly to a detailed map, Aurach says, “No.”

Aurach drops a crisp black-ribboned map.

Aurach removes a crisp red-ribboned map from in his black steel map case.

Aurach softly says, “No.”

Aurach drops a crisp red-ribboned map.

Aurach removes a crisp blue-ribboned map from in his black steel map case.

Aurach drops a crisp blue-ribboned map.

Aurach softly says, “Hmm , no.”

Aurach removes a crisp green-ribboned map from in his black steel map case.

Aurach drops a crisp green-ribboned map.

Aurach softly says, “Indeed, no.”

Aurach removes an aged ruinous map from in his black steel map case.

Aurach indicates his ruinous map with a smile.

Aurach softly says, “Well then.”

Aurach analyzes the ruinous map and compares it to the stone etched floor.

Aurach softly says, “This will do nicely..”

Aurach put an aged ruinous map in his black steel map case.

Aurach gently rubs the dusky curhound on the head and neck. The curhound breathes out a quick sigh.

The portal flickers and buzzes, fading at times, then brightening as if something is renewing the magic with great effort.

Aurach softly says, “Time for a hike.”

 

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