Dais, XIII: Offer

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Sat, 2009-07-04 12:50

Daith

Aether: 642

Dais

Offer

Daithin sighed as he came up on the large stone wash basin that jetted from the granite wall. Water poured into it from the teal copper water spout. It seemed the Priestess’s were well versed in allowing those surviving gladiators to wash off the blood of battle. Silently he thanked them for it. He rested his palms on the basin’s side as he looked into the refection of himself in the polished steel mirror that hung above. He did not like what he was seeing in the mirror.

It was a dislike that had nothing to do with his physical appearance and everything to do with his own idiocy. Daithin sighed. In the past three days he had managed to alienate the two people closest to him. He had done things like this before; it wasn’t something that was a shock to him. However this was the first time he had ever taken a blow at Aelyss’s and his friendship. Respectively this was the first time Aelyss had ever taken a blow to him in return.

Daithin stood there for a long while listening to the fall of the water, contemplating what he would do next. Sadly his mind was devoid of anything accept regrets, and a feeling of loss that dwarfed all other emotions. It was the hum in the back of his mind that made him cringe. He knew what that hum was. There were only a few things in this world that made his sense blare at him like that when he didn’t want them to one of them was, Dragon-Born.

He heard as the heavy claws hit the floor, and come around the corner. They stopped short. Daithin looked down at the basin watching as the water spiraled away. He could feel the Dragon-borns eyes on him. Daithin inhaled deep, and closed his eyes, hoping partly that when he opened them again the Dragon-born would be gone. No such luck. Daithin looked to his side. There was the silver behemoth, still as large and as imposing as he remembered him from when he was a child, though the Serith of his memories was nowhere near the girth that this one was.

His mind had gone over the situation a thousand times since he found out who the Silver Adrazean was. For more years then he could count Daithin had hated Serith for abandoning him, leaving him to die, not saving his mother. He had crafted Serith into a demon, something to be feared and hated, yet seeing Serith again had brought back all those childhood memories that he had somehow forgotten. Daithin still didn’t like the thought that he was alive but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself hate him, as intensely as he thought he had.

The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Serith made no move, only stood there solemnly, his cat like green eyes absent looking. Daithin sighed and looked away. Pushing off from the basin he turned moving of in a different direction. Eventually after he was out of this arena he would forget about Serith again. He was looking forward to that.

“Lord Daithin. I come at the behest of the High Priestess.” came Serith’s gravelly voice. The sound of ripping cloth followed shortly after. Daithin stopped still. He had been hoping he would get away without a conversation. Part of him wanted to melt the Dragon-born from the inside out, or at least part of him told him he wanted to. Even if he could though there would be nothing gained. Daithin was tired, both physical and emotionally. Daithin sighed.

“What does the High Priestess require of me?” Daithin did not turn around.

“She requires your presences to give you information.” Seriths voice held concern, this time Daithin heard him begin to shift toward him. Daithin spun around. Serith stopped again. However he was holding a long piece of red cloth, in his extended claws. It was ripped and frayed. Looking from the Cloth to Serith, he saw the red coverlet that hung from the puldron on his right shoulder was torn. Daithin stepped back looking at the dragon-born wearily.

“You are hurt.” Serith said gesturing to Daithins shoulder. Daithins eyes never left Serith but his hand went to find his shoulder. His palm came down on the damp stickiness. Daithin looked at his shoulder. It was covered in dark blood. In all that had happened he had somehow forgotten about it, the pain for some reason barely even registered to him. “Oh…”

Daithin returned to the wash basin and began washing his shoulder. He tensed as the dragon-born drew to his side. He was holding the cloth out for Daithin to take. Daithin glanced at the cloth, then at Seriths eyes. There was a particular pleading desperation in them. Gingerly Daithin slipped the cloth from Seriths open claw and began tying it around the still oozing puncture.

“When does she expect me?” Daithins voice was low and tired.

“I am to take you to her now.”

Daithin nodded.

Serith briskly turned and headed out of the room. Daithin sighed, and followed after. Daithin meandered behind the Dragon-born almost absently. His mind simply was not pay attention to anything more than his own thoughts. Luckily Serith seemed to have little to say as they moved through the corridors and up flights of stairs. Daithin was feeling particularly desperate and lonely. It had been years since he had thought of the time when he and Aelyss were not companions. Now that seemed to be the only thing he could think about. He had lived a lonely existence before that. He hesitated to return to it. He however did know the words he had spoken before where ones that cut deep, the kind that scarcely found resolutions.

The sound of muffled cheers filtered into Daithin as they began passing by sets of windows. Without Daithin even realizing it they had made their way to the top of the arena. They were on the highest lip, overlooking the vast crowds and white sand arena floor. However it wasn’t the sound of the crowds that drew Daithins attention, it was the sound of a raised baritone voice coming from the far end of the hall behind a large ebon wood door. Serith seemed to pick up on the voice as well. His movements hastened till he was practically running down the long hallway. Barreling past the two crimson suited guards, he slammed the door, sending it flying open. Daithin heard the large hinges of the door moan in protest, as the Door cratered into the wall.

Daithin came up behind the massive silver Dragon-born. Who stood ridged, Daithin could sense the intense hatred coursing through Serith. In front of them was the High Priestess, Lylora, looking as elegant and radiant as she had only a few hours ago at the commencement ceremony that began the Arena, she was seated on a large wood and cushioned chair. She seemed un-phased by Seriths sudden intrusion. However the man that stared blindly back at Daithin, in a seeming undirected rage, did not. He was a large dusky skinned Amorr nobleman, next to him stood a shifty looking young Amorr man, most likely the adjunct to the noble there was little remarkable about him other then the tight gold chain at the base of his neck. The Noble on the other hand was familiar to Daithin; he had been the announcer of the first match that Daithin and Aelyss had entered into.

“What is the meaning of this!” The Amorr man bellowed. Casting angry looks at Serith then Daithin.

“Izzaric, I believe we were in the middle of a conversation.” Lylora sighed, pressing her hand to her temples.

The Amorr man attention did not change. “How dare you intrude on a private meeting!” Then his eyes locked on to Daithin. “What right do you maggots think you have here in Bastose!” It seemed as if he was trying to place pieces together in his memory.

“Izzaric!” Lylora yelled. Daithin was almost taken aback at her temper. Her heated voice seemed to cause even the ill tempered Amorr to refocus. “They have more right here then you do. Now get to your point.”

“Choose your words and tone carefully when you address me Priestess. Do not forget I am of the Council of Sands.”

“How could I ever forget Izzaric, you use your prominence as though it where a golden key, allowing you power over those who you have no power over.”

“You will address me as Councilor, Priestess.”

“I will address you as anything I see fit Izzaric. It is time you stopped waxing platitudes and got to your point.”

“You priestess, will not direct me in my conversation.”

“Enough, voice your arguments now before I have you wrested from my quarters and tossed to the streets like a common beggar.”

“You would not dare.”

“This is my home, my Temple, my Arena, I will do as I see fit, just as I have done for three decades. Do not presume you have power over me, or any of my Acolytes. Now out with it.”

“You forget Priestess; the Council of the Sands are the ones who permitted your Temple and Arena to exist in the first place. As such it is my right to question and even command any within your Temple as I deem necessary. Even you ‘High Priestess’. I come at behest of the council to demand you remove any and all spell weavers from this Arena at once!” The Amorr man shifted his sacrosanct gaze to Daithin, and he saw unmistakable realization cross Izzaric’s face.

There was a sudden dryness in Daithin’s mouth.

“You… you are the Spell Weaver.” Izzaric spun on Lylora. “You have brought him here? Why?”

“That is none of your concern Councilor.”

“I believe it is, you sully the reputation of the Arena, by allowing ‘Weavers to participate in this event!” The Amorr cast a glance at Daithin that made his blood simultaneously freeze and boil. “The council will not allow this Priestess; Spell Weavers are an abomination to this arena, and all that it provides. They upset the grounds on which the competition is formed and should never be permitted entrance into it.”

“There is no such ruling, by the council, least of all from the Goddess herself. All who seek entry into the arena are given so provided they prove they can meet its challenges. It has existed as such since well before I became High Priestess of Huala and will continue for long after I place that mantle on the next generation.”

“Arrogance, ‘Weavers have never been promoted into the arena. The council has seen to it as such because of nature of their skills. They upset the balance of power within the arena, brute strength is no match for a ‘Weaver, and they are kept out because of ease in which they can triumph over battles, just as this pitiful example of a ‘Weaver showed today!”

“It is by no doing of the councils will or my own that Spell Weavers do not attend the Festival of the Trimark. Most Spell Weavers are simply too proud or civilized to bother with these blood sports. Councilor I suggest you do not confuse truths with your fiction.”

“Believe what you will Priestess. This ‘Weaver however is coming with me.” The Amorr man spun on Daithin. Daithin was too confused and puzzled by the man’s unabashed demeanor to even pay attention the man. Let alone the meaty hand clamped around his wrist. However the shot that wrung through Daithins body the moment he touched Daithins skin was not something he ignored, or missed It was unmistakable, a touch of taint Daithin knew more readily then the taste of own blood. His tattoos ignited in blue. The large Amorr man howled, ripping away his hand. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the room. The Amorr man backed away from Daithin cradling, his scorched hand.

“You maggot! You dare to attack a Councilor of the Sands!”

Daithin looked at him carefully, coldly. “You are lucky that’s all that happened to you, you filth of an Ithparin.”

The Amorr’s man eyes went wide. “Guards take this man to the jails, he will pay his insolence.”

The silence that followed the unacknowledged request was almost profound. The guards at the sides of the door only looked in from their posts a few meters away. They did not seem inclined to move from their positions.

“Guards I said Detai-”

“Councilor, I do suggest you refrain from making demands here.” Lylora looked bemused. “As I stated you have no power here. This Arena, the temple, the gladiators, guards, acolytes, healers, grounds men, beast handlers, they are all under my direct instruction. They will pay you no heed.”

“So you choose to go against will of a councilor! The Council will know of this Lylora, I will have your mantle, and it will give it to someone more ‘compliant’ to the will of the Council of Sands!”

“I doubt that Councilor.” Slowly Lylora rose from her seat; she seemed unperturbed by the man’s threats. “Councilor, you will find that a hard task to accomplish. More respectable men then you have tried in my time. None have seceded. None will ever secede. Despite what you might believe, my Order has given the life blood to this city, and while you may presume that I am part of you adoring entourage of followers I assure you, that is very much not the case. It is time you left Councilor Izzaric. Leave with the knowledge, that no mater your words, the ears of the council will always rest with me.”

The man huffed, grabbing his assistant by the shoulder and pushing him out in front of him, the assistants gold chain gave a delicate rattling sound and he was forced between the large Dragon-Born, and the stone faced Daithin. “You have made a grave enemy this Day Lylora. I will see you bound in chains groveling at my feet for morsels of rotting food before the week is out!”

Lylora stared at the retreating Councilor’s back. Returning his angry glances with it looks of apathy. “That ‘Weaver is mine Lylora, I want him delivered to me within the hour!”

“Unlikely Councilor, he is an honored guest, someone far beyond your reach.” Lylora said not taking her eyes from the retreating man. “Serith the door, please.” The large silver Dragon-born bowed deep to the High priestess, with one long reach he took the side of the door and slowly pushed it shut. The last thing furious Amorr saw was Daithins mercurial gold-silvered eyes boring into him.

Lylora sighed, returning to her seat.

“Priestess?” Serith said, coming along her side. His voice was grave with concern.

“All is fine my friend. The trivialities of that pompous Councilor are exhausting.”

“Who was that man, High Priestess?” Daithin asked, his position had not changed he continued to stare at the door as if he could see through it. As if he was still trying to burn a hole into the Amorr man’s back. Lylora looked at Daithin puzzled.

“A recently appointed Councilor of the Council of the Sands Bastose’s governing body. He has been a thorn in my side since well before I was ever appointed High Priestess. Why?”

“He has the touch of the Destroyers on him.”

The Priestess’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know this?”

“He hides it well, as though he’s been doing it for a life time, but I sensed it the moment he touched me. He has either been around those who dabble in the horrors of the Destroyers or a practitioner of it himself.”

“You sensed that from a mere touch?”

Daithin turned to Lylora. “I’m keenly aware of the taste the element of Destruction leaves behind.”

“The boy is right.” Came a velvety feminine voice from somewhere within the shadows of the room. “It seems some of Bastose’s Councilors are not as devoted to their Sand Spirit Djinn as they might appear.”

Daithin went still after hearing the voice. For the first time, he noticed a resonant force on the Aetheric. It was like Seriths, but it was no Dragon-Born, it was not a sense of raw power, but carefully controlled power. Then the resonant vanished, reappearing again. It flecked in and out of his sense yet it was hazy he was unable to feel its position. He heard a silky laugh filter across the room. As if the elusive voice knew he was trying to seek her out.

“I have had my suspicions but no proof to tell me they where truth.”

“Priestess, I hate to intrude but what is going on here?” Asked Daithin, his eyes darted around the room looking for the owner of the voice.

Lylora gave Daithin a solemn smile. “Greetings Daithin that was not how I wished to greet you into our private meetings. I trust you are well?”

Daithin ran his hand threw his hair, and then glanced at the High Priestess. He stopped trying to pay attention to the elusive flickers of the other presence in the room. He gave the priestess a grim smile, and then bowed to her. “I do as well as one can, High Priestess.”

Lylora nodded. “The pain from your wound?”

“It is better then it once was.” Daithin looked away. “I have been meaning to give you my thanks for allowing myself and my friends to stay within the walls of the Temple for as long as you have. It has been a welcome respite.”

“Pay no mind to it Daithin. I thank you for honoring my home, and I, with respect that seldom few seem to remember to give.”

Daithin gave another shallow incline. “Not to press anything you unready to divulge High Matron, but you asked for my presence?” Daithin said glancing at Serith.

“I did. I have asked you here to both give you information you may find useful and ask of you several questions I did not find answers to when we first met.”

Daithin grimaced slightly. “Of what service can I provide for you Priestess?”

“With all your time spent as a mercenary I did not think that you could wax such formalities.” Lylora smiled.

“My mentor was not one that allowed frivolities in the company of dignitaries and nobles.”

“You paid little heed to the position of the Councilor not long ago.”

“I was also taught to judge each person accordingly if necessary. The councilor was not held highly. It also took more time to remember all the formalities of Court then I first suspected.”

Lylora gave Daithin a curious smile. “You are a most interesting man.”

“I will take that as a compliment, High Priestess.”

Lylora nodded. “As far as services you can provide for me are concerned Daithin. It is more a question of what I can provide for you.”

Daithin looked at the Priestess confused.

“After our first encounter Daithin I set to a task of seeing how I could procure a way of removing that curse mark. I have managed to come across away.”

Daithin tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“She means child of two worlds that you are about to judged for all that you worth in this life.” Chimed the silky voice Daithin had heard before. This time though it had a discernable direction. From a far dark corner of the room, the shadows began to shift. They moved forward, like a great shroud was being pushed. Like a gauzy spider’s silk the darkness began to sheet away, revealing something Daithin had never believed he would see in such a place.

Threw the lattices of shadow came a figure of elegant ethereal splendor yet earthy beauty. A tall Ivory skinned woman wove herself into existence; she was taller than even Daithin, with long raven colored hair bound in golden pins. She was draped in a long blue cloak, her sculpted form covered in soft colored leathers and strong high, working boots. It was ultimately her face that drew Daithins gaze, and disbelief. Hears, were long brought to a point, with silver coverings at each tip. However it was her eyes that drew his eyes, and shock Daithin to the core. They were mercurial gold and steel blue. They where like his eyes. Ageless, yet with a depth you could get lost in if you stared to long. They were the eyes of an Evaya, for the women before him was an Evaya.

“One of the Evaya… here, so far from Eviinvast…” Daithin trailed his jaw going slack.

The Evaya women perused her lips and smiled. “Our kind has traveled much farther then you may believe, young one. We have eyes, among all of the western Lands of Andor, and far, far into the South, where even the most arrogant Ithparin dare not tread.”

“Who are… how? I don’t understand.”

“Many do not for most are blind. It does not surprise me.” The Evaya smiled. “I child am, Illeya of the Circle of the Bound.”

This ushered an awed response from the gravelly voiced Dragon-Born Serith. He dropped to one knee with a resounding crash as his weight shifted. Illeya smiled placing an ivory hand on the Silver Dragon-borns massive shoulder as she passed by him. The Dragon-Born nodded and slowly stood. Her gaze was transfixed on Daithin.

“The Priestess has brought a truly interesting tale about you young one.” The Evaya whispered as she glided into Daithins orbit. Daithin did not know what to do. He was both awed and stickered with fear. He watched as she reached out an elegant hand and with calloused figures ran them across his stubled jaw. Half of him expected her hand to turn into a dagger and kill him where he stood. Yet he couldn’t help but be enchanted by her presence. Daithin looked away from her mercurial eyes, instead focusing on the precise almost painted line tattoos that started from the bottom of her right eye, and ran down her cheek and neck, before disappearing behind her garments. She smiled at him, causing his eyes to once again get transfixed on hers. Daithin knew there was an enchantment being woven but he could not place it, it was like it was coming from his own blood. Illeya smiled.

“A very interesting tale indeed has been brought before me. A tale of a child, born to powers few can understand. Then to be ripped from his Blood Guardian, from his cherished Mother, then to be raised by strangers who kept him safe, perhaps even they grasped his potential. Yes, their love for you is still on you, and yours still with them.” Illeya closed her eyes tilting her head back.

“Black hands I see on you now, the darkness of the Emissary’s cohorts on your mind, your body. That black marked placed upon you and your soul like a brand of a feted farmer.” Her head tilted. “Peace again. Warmth of a love like that of a father, who did not question you’re absences or your sudden return.” A tear fell from the Evaya’s closed eyes. “Fire, again fire. Taking from you that peace that home. Then another, who took you from your empty sorrow and brought to with him on journeys you, had never thought. Adrift free, you have been able to forget about that mark upon you. Yet it has never forgotten you. It calls to its masters even now, but it is gagged by the love of your mentor, and the safety of your friends.” Slowly Illeya opened her eyes again, her gaze resting back on Daithin. He stood there in an almost stupor.

“Yes an interesting story you are weaved of.” She murmured, pulling her figure from his face. Daithin suddenly snapped to, pulling back from the Evaya women. “How did you?”

“A life is a simple thing to read for me. It is bound in every line, of the face, every breath of the body, and every moment of the waking world.”

“What was all that for? How does that help you?”

Illeya smiled. “A half-breed. A child of two worlds. You have both Evaya and Ithparin blood that flows through your veins. What a wretched cast you have been given for a life child. Out cast from one because you are an Eisyon, banished from the other because you are neither here nor there.

The Evaya women sighed. “Woe it is to where you must go. For I do not envy you.” She turned her gold-steel eyes, looking into Daithins silver gold. “Si’Erissile, is your mother. More complicated still. Your deeds wear about your mind like a burdened cloak that remains un-lifted.” One of her long delicate hands traced through his messed auburn hair. “Cursed and counter cursed, marked by the destroyers hidden by the steward of changes.”

“My child, I would think the Hand of the Goddess Auun were the barrier between you and all the world. The very fact you have lived to this age is a blessing, few in even a quarter of your position could boast such a claim. Yet I sense your worth. You have been judged worthy”

The Evaya stepped back from Daithin, looking him over, and then turned her gaze to Lylora. “I shell depart now Priestess. I will bring the news of this child to my Lord Vis’drazean. What you have requested as aid to this child of two worlds will be done.” She gave a compassioned smile to Daithin, and then leaned in kissing him gently on the forehead. Briefly he felt the Ether spike around him, and then settle. He felt a Aetheric presence were her lips had touched. Then that melded into the flows of his body.

Stepping back she gave him a faint subtitle smile. “Travel safely young Erissile, your journey will be long.” She bowed then turned to the still enamored Dragon-Born.

“And you Serith, brood of Adralos’zean the Binder, know that while the mark can never be removed, that your shame has been lifted. The Circle of the Bound acknowledges you and your place once more. The Kin of your Blood Bound has returned to you. Protect him.”

From beneath her cloak Illeya pulled something out. Gently she placed it on the desk in front of Lylora. It was a silver crest of some kind. “I give this to you Priestess; keep it safe for the boy till he is ready to depart. I will leave the particulars for you to explain.” With a bow she pulled up the vivid blue hood of her cloak and breezed past Daithin. Giving one last glance back at Daithin, she smiled. “I will see you again young Erissile.” With that she pulled the large ebon door open and left them. Daithin continued to watch the door listening to the muffled sound of her footsteps till they too disappeared.

Daithin was still bewildered as he spoke. “What was that? What did she do?”

“That, Lord Daithin was an attaché of the Circle of the Bound. She was undoubtedly a Ny’riam, or Truth Seeker, dispatched by one of the twenty four Bound Adrazean Dragon-Born Brood Archs. They are the ruling council of the Dragon-born Rookeries that chose to form ties with the Evaya and become guardians and keepers for the houses of the Evaya Nobleum. Lylora how did this come to pass?” Spoke Serith, mystified.

“I have many arrays of contacts my dear friend. I will save that particular story for another time thought. Daithin I must ask you something now.” Lylora asked turning her gaze to Daithin, his eyes where already locked on her.

“Just what was that? High Priestess what is going on?”

Lylora sighed. “That Daithin Erissile was the end result of a letter I dispatched not long after we talked about your past when you woke; I searched my reservoir of allies and constituents and know of someone who can provide you with help.”

“Just what did you ask them for on my behalf?”

“I sought out there knowledge of Curse Marks, to see if I could be given a process of removing it.”

“You… you know how to get this damnable brand off my head?”

“Sadly no, I do not. The knowledge of such things is beyond even me. It is a knowledge closely guarded because of its duel nature.”

“If she did not come to give you the knowledge then just what…”

“Illeya was dispatched here by the Circle of the Bound, to assess the situation, to see if you where indeed as worthy as I clamed you where in my liaison to them. It seems she approves of your need.”

“What does that mean?”

“That your next step from here Daithin, while it is entirely up to you. Should be to honor the Ny’riams request, and meet with her, where the Brood Archs reside. They will be the ones who remove that Curse Seal of Tathanor.”

Daithin said nothing, his eyes where steely. “You did all this for… why?”

“Because, I have seen into your mind. Felt, known, Seriths depth of concern for you. I have seen how powerful you are, and may very well become. Your future should not be marred by the insane acts of those that twist others to their own will in the name of the Destroyers.”

“Priestess, this is too much.”

“No Daithin, it was you deserve. However it is up to you whether or not you choose to go before the Circle of the Bound. The journey will be long.”

Daithin sighed, “Where is it I need to go?”

“Into Eviinvast.” Replied Serith, his look as grim.

Daithins eyes went wide. “Eviinvast… into the lands of Evaya, the people who would have me killed in a heartbeat because I’m an abomination to them, a Half Breed.”

“The journey will likely not be one without risk. Even so is that any different then what you deal with when walking into any Ithparin refuge because you are a Planer?”

“That’s different; I can hide the fact I’m a planer from others Ithparin, even pass off my eyes as an accident of an Enchantment gone wrong. I would never be able to hide the fact I am half Evaya from a Full-blood. Besides for just looking at me, they would sense it the moment I came in contact with them, just like the one here did.”

“Unfortunately I fear there is no other way.”

“Lord Daithin, you must do this. This is the only way…” Seriths green eyes were concerned.

“Stop calling me that.” Daithin said looking away.

“But lord-”

“High Priestess, I need some time. I need to think about this. This is a great deal to take in.”

Lylora nodded. “I would have it no other way Daithin.”

“Is there anything else you require of me Priestess?”

“No, you may go if you wish.”

Daithin bowed, and turned quickly making his way to the large ebon door.

“Lord…” Seriths gravelly voice was worried. He began to step toward Daithin.

“Serith, I must speak with you for a moment before you go.” Came Lylora’s calm voice.

Daithin did not turn back to look. He simply left. He walked calmly pass the guards even down the hall and back down the maze of halls that he assumed he had come up. All the while his heart was beating like it was ready to leap out of his chest. He had to find Aelyss.

The Archalon

Sat, 2009-07-04 16:39

Rayna

Corrupted

Aether: 935

Ok, Im not going to wind up the rant box this time, just give some comments and procede from there. (Note: this post may in fact be long, ill be picking at a lot of seperate entities and plotlines within the OP)

Ok lots of interactions to go over. Taking it from the top

Daith in the aftermath: as I picture this scene I hear my chemical romance and see a razor blade in the boys hand. Either learn to think before you speak or man up and deal with the fact you fucked up. All humor aside the process of stupid comment to being emo needs to stop before it becomes an established character trait that he is a regretful whiney bastard of the pathetic anime emo variety. (Think Shinji from Evangelion)

Serith and Daith: complicated and muddled by pretext and formalities, a well written interaction from a fallen protector to a distrustful charge. Excellent use of percieved anger over actual anger by showing the duality in Daithin's personality as Serith and he saw each other.

Lylora and Izzaric: Classic case of Pompus Beauracrat vs Expert politician. Here we get to finnaly see the politic running in the backroud that have helped in some way shape Lylora as a ruling body within Bastos. her knowledge of the political power game (and vast influence shown later in this same chapter) show the major influencing power she is not only in Bastos but in other parts of the political world.

Izzaric and Daith: Manipulative Bigot vs Self Righteous Hero, need I say more.

Illeya: so complex she deserves her own solitary entry. The introduction of this character gives us insight into a race not shown until now, the Evaya. Her mere presence after her introduction sets Serith's honor based attitude into a whole new level of suckup. through her we learn not only of daithins past in an alluded sense, but we learn of the home of the Evaya, Eviinvast, and one of the governing bodies of both Eviinvast and the impressively powerful Dragonborn. this characters presence is the lynchpin of the chapter, moving us into the next phase of the story arc and leaving us wondering whats in store on the road to eviinvast and beyond, and a mention of a steward of change leaves me wonding what kind of fun is comming.

All in all Daith I think this chapter is where you show off your talents for writing a story, leaving one chapter still open while seamlessly opening the door ahead of us a well.

and this ends this installment of The Archalon in Cliff Notes. :D

Edit: spelling and clarification for daithy

Made by Risea

Sat, 2009-07-04 14:57

Daith

Aether: 642

*Sits back taping his figures together manically.*

So it begins, what is all of you guys think?

The Archalon

Sat, 2009-07-04 15:29

Esso

Pancake Master

Aether: 3103

I agree with two exceptions, i dont see Daithin as emo in any way at all, i dont know where you got that from Rayna, and i dont think Serith is a suckup because he was a awed by the sneaky lady, as his kind are the holy guardians of the glow-eye people. So yeah, the rest is spot on.

Awesome chapter. I cant decide which ones i like better, action and blood or intricate plot twists and depiction of true emotions.

I have to say tho, that altho i feel that the pinnacle of emotions was supposed to be when the sneaky lady appeared and shit, the bit that made me shiver and grin was where Serith offered his own ripped garment with pleading eyes. That bit is my all time favourite so far in all of your story. Actually Seriths and Daithins relationships matter me the most in Dais.

Also i lol'd at "The silence that followed the unacknowledged request was almost profound." I lol'd very hard... xD

Sat, 2009-07-04 16:01

Manicai

Aether: 3243

I think it is great! Are we officially caught up to where you have written?

"All in all Daith I think this chapter is where you show off your talents for writing a story, leaving one chapter still open while seamlessly opening the door ahead of us a well."

I agree with this. I'm looking forward to future writings.

Sat, 2009-07-04 16:09

Rayna

Corrupted

Aether: 935

Esso wrote:

I agree with two exceptions, i dont see Daithin as emo in any way at all, i dont know where you got that from Rayna

This is the minimum second time now that Daithin has made some sort of agressive hurtful comment with no thought before hand and instantly ended up regretting whatever it was that came out of his mouth. Im not calling the character overwhelmingly emo, but I am seeing the "scream now, regret later" character trait in him.

As for serith

My comment about Serith is derived from the honor based culture you see in him that he comes from. The suckup wasn't warranted, merely a bit of humor to break up the analysis im going to be pumping out with each release from now on. However you do see how much that lifestlye effects him, even exiled as he is he still bows before the emissary of the circle, denoting her importance as a character with a lot of political pull in the events that unfolded behind her introduction.

Made by Risea

Sat, 2009-07-04 16:58

Esso

Pancake Master

Aether: 3103

Rayna wrote:

Makes him human in my eyes. It means alot if a writers imaginary character appears human.

Sat, 2009-07-04 17:10

Rayna

Corrupted

Aether: 935

Esso wrote:

Makes him human in my eyes. It means alot if a writers imaginary character appears human.

never said otherwise Esso, and I agree with your statement. It was just my personal opinion that Daith was acting a bit more emotionally burdened than is usual for the character. That in itself is a humanistic trait that brings the character alive. Im not looking down at the writing or mocking the character, just giving a personaly formed opinion of the results of the last few chapters on Daiths psyche :D

Made by Risea