Background noise

[Jack Rothwell]

OOC This takes place near the end of the 'Goriel and beyond, part 3' thread./OOC

In an underground chamber somewhere out in the wilderness, a spell was being cast. Light filled the huge room, picking out the contours of pillars and statues, glyphs and strange artifacts on stands. The source of the illumination stood on the flat surface of the western wall of the chamber, an oval mirror, encased in an intricate framework patterned with archs of metal like jabbing fingers. The glass of it stood some eight feet high, glowing with moonlight, sillouetted against it stood a man in a black robe. His arms were extended, as though he sought to grasp something within the mirror and pull it through the frame.

He grunted and stepped backwards, throwing his arms away from the frame in an elaborate gesture, the mirror flashed brilliantly for a moment. Lighting up the chamber as bright as day. The semi-light returned with the glow of blinking after-images, accompanied by the sound of a single footstep.

"Fucilious."

The man who'd been addressed looked at the figure and gave a silent sigh of relief, things had gotten dicey in Goriel, very dicey indeed. He'd half-expected the man to not make it to the sanctuary at all.

"...and so the prodigal son comes home for the first time." Fucilious replied, his high, caressing voice sounding stranger in the acoustics of the room. The mage looked at the new arrival in silence for a moment, taking in the half-elf ears, plainly visible through a smoke-charred mess of blonde hair the younger man had clearly grown to hide the thing which marked him as different. It was weakness, but weakness could motivate a man to become strong. The half-elf, Eli, let his eyes roam the room, clearly impressed but trying to mask it. Fucilious withheld the tic of a smile.

"About your man..."

"As I said, Gabriel will be fine."

"I heard his screams."

"He's resilient. And good at pulling himself together." Fucilious said, his tone stating an end to the subject. He turned and walked towards the centre of the chamber, going slowly, the gait of a man for whom old age had not arrived but was waiting patiently around the corner, as he moved he drew a hand from his robe and snapped his fingers. A globe of light sparked into existence and began flying a lazy orbit between the two men as they descended a short set of steps, approaching a long dining table lined with empty chairs.

"Where are we?" Eli asked.

"One of the last places of refuge for people who do the things we do." Fucilious replied, easing himself into the seat at the top of the table. The half-elf followed suit, out of politeness more than anything else. Underneath, his emotions were still near a boil.

"Refuge..." Eli repeated. "I've left my companions, my old lover, my friend and my home, but yes... I have refuge."

"You're angry."

"I'm angry." Eli's eyes met the other man's for the first time since he'd arrived.

"Contend with it. There are bigger issues at stake, half-elf. Goals which you can direct your anger into attaining."

"Stop calling me 'half-elf', call me by my name."

"Half-elf! Half-elf!" Fucilious repeated, chuckling as Eli stood up angrily. "You brand yourself with that title. It was the thing that kept you in a piss-hole of a town for all of your life, it's the reason you hide what you are, and it's the reason why you have such hatred for the world outside your little bubble of existance. Hate for the elves for being child-killers, hate for the humans for being mistrustful and becoming angry mobs. You want to change it, but your hate won't let you think straight, so you bite your tounge, work yourself up to the occasional battle or harsh word, but you'll never accomplish anything that way and you know it."

Eli looked at his feet and said nothing.

"You're here because you want to see your ambitions realized and I can make them happen."

"Why would you help me?" Eli asked, his voice little more than a murmur.

"Because I was you." The older man reached a hand up and pulled back the hood of his robe.

Eli saw, and understood. It all fell into place for the younger man; Fucilious' empathy to his situation, the gifts, the guidance...

"You're a half-elf."

Fucilious nodded.

"Why didn't you..." Eli stopped the question before he finished it. Why the Ralkin leader hadn't told was obvious; it was the same reason the younger man had been secretive about his own identity when he'd found himself moving through one town or another, caution. He settled instead on another question.

"Where did you come from?"

Fucilious smiled, matched up with his ghostly pale skin and marble dome of a bald head the sudden expression change was particularly disconcerting. It was like watching a statue come to life.

"I think you already know the answer to that one."

Eli threw his head back and laughed, the sound was long, weary and tinged with pain. The half-elf slumped his elbows on the table and cradled his head. There had been too many changes in one day, too much information to process in such a short period of time. When he looked up, he was taken aback to see the older man standing at his shoulder, pointing to a doorway.

"You're exhausted. There's an empty bedchamber through there, go and rest."

He didn't bother to argue. Eli trudged away from his benefactor with a lead body and a mind full of fog. Maybe, he thought, things would look better in the morning.

[Jack Rothwell]

OOC Taking place near the start of Goriel and beyond, part 4./OOC


"I scared you... I see that. I could have left those men alone, I could have left them to the 'justice' system of the port, but I didn't, I burned them alive. And you've barely said two words to me since. Have I...? ...they were bad people Desiree. They'd probably bribed the authorities to look the other way... and I put a stop to them. And it wasn't wrong. Can you see that?"

The airship banked steeply, Eli leaned and grabbed the rails even as he struggled to contain his anger. There was a whispering noise on the wind, faint growls coming from somewhere beneath the decks.

"It wasn't wrong to stop them, Eli. But... they were already stopped. You didn't stop them. You... killed them."

The woman turned from him.

"One of them wanted to rape me. Their leader forbade it. She protected me. And you burned her alive." She's crying now, splitting his heart open but too blurry-eyed to see it. "She was a slaver, and maybe she would have been executed, but... she was kind to me. She didn't deserve to die like that... Yes, you scared me. But you also... you killed someone who helped me. You killed her alongside the man who wanted to rape me, as if they were the same. And you didn't... care. That isn't Justice, Eli. That's murder."

"It WAS justice!" He roared, flinging himself across the gap, grabbing the woman by the shoulders and shaking her in sudden, blind fury. She screamed, and tried to fend him off, slapping at him, crying, his hands slid up until they gripped her throat. "IT WAS JUSTICE! IT WAS JUSTICE! IT WAS JUSTICE!"

The half-elf's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright. He clamped in a firm hand below dancing, wild eyes to contain the scream erupting from his throat.

He stayed that way for several minutes, unable to stop shaking, unable to stop the little gasps which came from his mouth like aftershocks. As he sat in a ball the events of the day gone past lined up in a neat row and presented themselves to him in glowing, horrific detail.

"The fire..." He whispered. "... by the Gods, the fire..."

The burning of an inn full of innocent people simply to try and provide a distraction to the Peregin's who chased him. The bright colors of flames and Drusia's cry of 'monster!' How many had been inside? Ten? Fifteen? More?

'This will drown you if you let it.' The colder part of his mind intoned. 'Justify it. You have a justification. Say it!'

"I did what I had to do." He muttered. "Every hand was against me. Against my people, even someone like her... she was just a zookeeper, nothing more."

But Desiree... Eli was no expert on dreams but the truth of it was obvious, she was under his skin. He'd let her go too easily, he'd let his anger overule his judgement with her and now he missed her. Badly.

He glanced around the empty room, plain but comfortable, clearly the accommodation of a man who spent far more time at his job than enjoying the comforts of home. Even so, the walls were a tasteful, but weather beaten marble color, besides the bed the only concession to furniture was a chair, a vanity table and a wardrobe. But, the most important thing about the room at that moment was that the door was closed and no-one else was in it.

Eli slumped back onto the tangle of his bed sheets and whispered four barely audible words.

"I want her back."

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

Once dressed and heading towards the chamber he'd arrived at the night before. The half-elf became aware of a conversation taking place at his destination. Even through his disbelief and denial he recognized the voice of the man talking to his benefactor. He walked through an archway and saw him with surprise on his face.

"Eli." Gabriel looked up from his breakfast and addressed the man with a touch more warmth than his usual flat delivery. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Maybe I did." Eli replied. "How you did escape the Peregins?"

"I didn't. I was disemboweled and left for dead."

"............."

"He's confused, Fucilious."

"He's young... young for a half-elf. Show him."

Gabriel picked up a steak knife, held up his hand and skewered the limb without a wince or hesitation. Blood rang down the man's wrist, droplets decorating the toasted bread as Eli gaped unreservedly. Satisfied that his audience was suitably impressed, the mercenary pulled the blade out and eyed the half-elf through the hole it had made. The wound closed a moment later.

"I'll be damned." The half-elf said breathlessly.

"We all may be." The Ralkin leader interjected. "But theatrical tricks are not the order of business this morning. I have something to show you, young one. A wonder." The older half-elf pushed to feet and beckoned for the younger man to follow. Wordlessly, Eli did as he was bid.

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

The silence as they walked down the lengthy corridor was something that begged to be broken, and Eli had a thousand unanswered questions to break it with.

"So, you said last night you were from my hometown."

"Snamish, yes."

"I don't remember ever hearing about an... someone called Fucilious living there."

"An errant called Fucilious?" The older man replied, saying the word the younger had nearly let slip. "Errancy is, and always will be, a point of view. I've mastered the practices utilized by our elven predecessors some thousands of years ago... does that make me an errant?"

"Well... I."

"What an odd implication from a man himself accused of being an abomination." Fucilious tittered, and continued before Eli could reply. "... and, to answer your question, the name is a title, one from a long-dead dialect meaning 'Ceremony Leader'. When you're in the business of waging war on dangerous people, it is better for them to not know who you really are, you understand?"

He did, and nodded.

"I didn't stumble across such practices in that caged tedium that passes for a half-elf sanctuary. Where would I have practiced it? No, my story is not so different from yours half-elf, I was born, I grew up, I grew restless and I left."

There was more that Eli wanted to know, but the end of the corridor was approaching, and beyond it was a palpable feeling of power radiating from the chamber it led to. The younger man was only dimly aware at the moment that his mouth had gone dry and, for the first time since his arrival, was focused on something beyond his own guilt and fears for the future.

[Jack Rothwell]

"What is it?"

Fucilious had not lied. Under the low dome, in the center of the circular chamber stood something the younger half-elf had never seen the like of. It was an altar of sorts, possessed of some design which was alien to his eyes. It was around six feet tall, it's body twisted, patterned like a black tree whose roots were gathered around it's base in an untidy pile that seemed organic rather than by deliberate design. It's top was a plethora of branch-like growths framing a basin of dark red liquid illuminated by some inner source of light.

One part of the altar, however, Eli recognized very well. It was the orb that he and Gabriel had stolen from the museum in Goriel only two night before. It's placement was in the middle of the pool, held in place by some unseen attachment and giving it a context he hadn't seen during the theft... not surprising, considering the stress he'd been under at the time.

"The pattern... the circular symbol at it's top... it looks like..."

"An eye." Fucilious finished. "Yes, that would be an accurate term to describe it."

For a moment Eli said nothing, he merely stood in awe of the power that was radiating from the artifact, only dimly grasping the fact that he'd helped to put the thing together.

"What does it do?" He asked, in a voice which seemed to be coming from a long distance away.

"At the moment? Nothing." Fucilious replied, regret in his tone. "It is, as yet, unfinished. Do you see the iris?"

Eli craned over the basin and squinted. There it was, a thin hole in the center of the orb, indicating a missing component.

"But once it is... do you remember the feeling you had when you exerted control over the creatures you summoned?""

Eli nodded cautiously.

"What if you could do that to a person instead?"

"Control them?"

"Better than that. Direct their pattern of thought... whisper something in their ear and watch it become the core of their beliefs without them even realizing they're being manipulated. We have tried... more direct methods of control in the past, armies... hired hands... but it was the most recent failure that showed me the error of my methods. With this device, seizing control of a city would be as simple as weaving the spell into the right people."

"A subconscious revolution?"

"Poetic, true, and only hinting at the possibilities." Fucilious smiled.

Eli stepped backwards, shaking his head, trying to wrap his mind around the enormity of the concept, trying to imagine what he could do with power like that at his fingertips. A thousand scenario's clamored for his attention; humans officials declaring an 'extermination order' on elvenkind, cities going to war, personal wealth bequeathed onto him by nobles who would bow and call him master, riding home to Snamish with a thousand men ready to protect his people to the death.

"It's beautiful." He said, whispering. "What do we need to finish it?"

"I'm glad you asked. Come back to the main chamber, I have a task for you and Gabriel."

[Jack Rothwell]

"Port Lorrel?" Gabriel asked, his eyebrows raising in confusion. "I'm a wanted man there, returning would attract the wrong sort of attention."

"Attracting the wrong sort of attention is the reason I need you to go." Fucilious replied curtly (Aleron Harland, Eli thought. His benefactor had confided the name on their walk back to the main chamber). "I've just been contacted by our business partner there. We may have the location of the component to finish the artifact."

"What and where?" The mercenary's manner put Eli in mind of a militiaman recieving his orders. He didn't doubt that at some point Gabriel had been part of an organized military force, sometime, he presumed, before he'd begun working for the pimps and thugs of the port.

"The gallows. There is a man there, recently arrested, by the name Samuel Riekstien, he led a large group of bandits on the northern flatlands, but was defeated by a co-ordinated effort of the local militia then brought back to the Port."

"I remember hearing his name before." Gabriel supplied. "He got his start in Lorrel by turning pirate and running off with a merchant ship. The bounty on his head was substantial."

Aleron nodded.

"Who is this business partner?" Eli asked, not wanting to be left in the dark on the matter.

"Lucas Logan. He has the run of much of the cattle and grain trade and owns several businesses within the city."

"And has a lot of unscrupulous contacts, I gather."

"Correct. One such man, a recently released prisoner, reported to Logan that the captured bandit chief was in posession of an unusual object, one he used as a shiv when another prisoner took a dislike to him."

Eli pictured the thing being described. A short, needle-like blade, about the same size and shape as the hole in the orb.

"The shiv was carved from a shard of ebony and engraved with dozens of tiny runes that ran it's length in columns. The description is an exact match."

Gabriel put two and two together.

"You need me to get arrested."

"...and find the component and escape."

"Why not try bribery?" Eli asked.

"Because the militia own the gallows and Logan does not own them." The older man replied. "The officers who run that place are powerful men with their own agenda's. Getting out should be well within your capabilities, Captain. I trust you can get it done?"

Gabriel looked momentarily affronted, then his face hardened. "I can."

"Excellent. Now Eli..."

The younger man listened.

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

"As you can see, our numbers are dimished."

'That's an understatement.' Eli thought sardonically. With Gabriel gone to prepare for his trip to the port, the room was empty save for the two men. The only other being Eli had met who was connected to The Ralkin was Valja, a virtually mindless monstrosity, a warped resurrection of one of the group's former members, hardly suited for the plan Aleron proposed. Between himself, the older man and Gabriel they were hardly an army.

"Are you thinking about Tim?" He said out loud, with more casualness then he felt.

"I saw you teaching him some of the craft. He showed promise, and his affliation with the clergy would present an ideal method for infiltration into otherwise inaccessable social circles."

"He was as disgusted by some of the places we travelled through as I was." Eli admitted, nodding his agreement.

"Then recruit him, if you can. If he agrees, do I need to tell you not to reveal any details of our plan to him before he arrives?"

"No. But, if he refuses..."

Aleron remained silent.

"He's a friend, he was willing to help me against the elves. If not an ally, he would not be a threat."

"...very well. But if that is shown to be bad judgement on your part, you will bear the consequences."

"It's not." Eli said firmly.

"Then I suggest you make contact with your friend as unobtrusively as possible. If you run into the peregin's again be mindful that Gabriel won't be around to save you."

"Half-elves know about caution." Eli retorted. "We both understand that."

"Then consider making some effort to be harder to recognize."

..........

And so, several minutes later.

Eli sat, back in 'his' room, in front of the mirror with a razor and a pot of dye in front of him. He stared at his reflection with a thoughtful expression, pressing his palm to the glass and holding a handful of his hair with the other.

"Got to be done." He murmured.

Yes. He'd already abandoned everything else, what was this? He began cutting.

The dye job was quick but effective, some ten minutes later the half-elf was trimming the last strands off a black mane cropped an inch from his skull.

He threw off his guard armour (a hold-over from snamish) and began rifling through the clothes in the wardrobe. The suit was a waste in any event, even if it wouldn't have made him more recognizable. he reasoned if his barrier couldn't hold against a peregin blade, a thin plate of iron wouldn't stop it. It certainly hadn't protected Gabriel, and the captain preferred heavy apparel that would turn a greatsword.

The stuff was simple, canvas and hide based, a leather duster changing his outline significantly for anyone who'd know him. The whole result was a very different looking man from the one who'd arrived the night before.

'That's the first part over...'

He left the weapon he'd taken from his hometown on the bed. Anything that could help give his identity away upon his return to Goriel was something he coud not take with him. After returning to Aleron and getting directions, the half-elf found himself in a haphazard storage area where miscellaneous objects were scattered. Given the nature of the Ralkin's practices, it was unsurprising that there was little in the way of standard melee weaponry readily available. The half-elf looked over tables and dusty racks, searching for something he could use.

He eventually settled on a long stilletto knife with a blade the length of his forearm. It was easily stowed inside the long coat where it would not attract attention, with luck, it wouldn't need to be used at all.

[Jack Rothwell]

Eli returned to the entrance hall in time to see Gabriel making his last prepartions to depart. The half-elf stopped and stared at the sight of Aleron creating a portal in the mirror-like artifact he'd arrived through the night before.

"What is that thing anyway?"

"An old elven transport device, so the old bastard tells me." Gabriel murmured, making the last adjustments to the clothing he wore. "A smooth ride from, but an aggrivation to get back to."

"How so?"

"The mirror is linked to a number of glyphs set-up around the country. Some of them were put there recently by hired-hands, others are remnants from the actions of the previous group."

"How many did Aleron lose? He wasn't forthcoming on the subject."

"Five. The whole group. So take it as read that coming back from Goriel empty handed would be detrimental to our mission."

"I get that."

"So don't fuck up."

"I get it!"

"Good. Now, for the glyphs, the nature of the magic means it is consumed upon use and requires re-drawning to be used again."

"So that's why I was left holding the bag for so long when those elves were looking for me?"

"Quit your whining. You escaped, and far beyond the reach of those pointy-eared bitches." His face darkened. "One of which will soon find herself squealing on the end of my sword."

"As you say, Gabriel, as you say."

The mercenary turned angrily and made his way to the mirror, which now glowed in a cloud of magical energy. Before he stepped through, he stole one last look back over his shoulder at the younger half-elf.

"Hunt well." He said, and left.

Eli watched the spell draw to a close with a touch of envy at Aleron's magical talents and a grudging respect for Gabriel's resilience. The mercenary may have been an ass, and a sociopathic ass at that, but his unflinching commitment even in the face of dismemberment was something to be admired.

Aleron dropped his hands, signalling the connection was broken.

"So what now?" The younger man asked him.

"You commence your studies in earnest." Came his immediate reply.

.........

The central part of the entrance hall had been cleared by sweeps of Aleron's hands. Things were lifted, stacked and redeposited before Eli's incredulous eyes. What was left was a wide, hexagonal dip some fourty feet across framed by the steps which ran it's length.

"Summoning." Aleron began. "Is a small part of a broader, more primal type of magic than the things you and I learned back home. The creatures you drew to you, the galdy, the silka, are footnotes. There are bigger monsters to be drawn, and more ways to ultilize that primal force. Now, I want you think about the encounter you had with the elves back in Goriel."

Eli did, sparing a surprised thought that Aleron had the cadence of a good teacher. The choice and rhythm of the words made it easy for him to focus on the task at hand.

"Tell what happened in detail."

"Two of them gated inside the room, one cast a dispel of some kind and erased two of the galdy I summoned, the other cut the amulet off my neck, I threw a fire spell, which they blocked, then they cut down my last galdy."

"So, in seconds, you were alone, wounded and missing an object which boosted your power." A statement, not a question. "A terrible start, wouldn't you agree?"

"I then stalled them with conversation, set fire to the room, seized the amulet and jumped out the window after I heard Gabriel was waiting."

"And if he hadn't been there?"

Eli shook his head, no use in denying it. "I would have been killed."

"How long did it take you to set up the symbols for the galdy?"

"I'm not sure, around thirty minutes is my best guess."

Aleron nodded and, without further conversation, snapped his arm at the floor of the chamber. There was flash, accompanied by a faint whiff of tin, and a symbol glowed into existance. Aleron dipped his pointing arm and thrust it upwards, the symbol crumbled and a galdy leaped upwards into the room. Eli stared.

"The link can be used to project as well as pull." Aleron said. "The key, in this case, is a matter of memorizing the symbol in detail, picturing it in your head, and projecting that image towards a viable surface to display it." He older man made a sweeping gesture, the galdy crumbled into dust. "We'll begin with the silka, it's the easier to remember of the ones you learned."

........

"Again."

Eli wiped the sweat beading on his brow and did as he'd been instructed. It had been several hours and the 'Ceremony Leader' showed no sign of relenting. He put his hands out and tried again.

The symbol, the push.

The half-elf channelled, and aimed. He released the spell and watched as it formed, wavered, then vanished from view. Aleron sighed and shook his head.

"There's something in there stopping you from succeeding." He said, tapping his forehead. "Some block that stops you from commiting to the action."

"It's the reaching out." Eli admitted. "Like putting my hand into a bowl of black water. It's sudden, and shocking."

"Do you think the elves who hunt you will show the same hesitation you show that spell?"

Eli took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"No."

"Then commit to it! Accept the cold, grasp and draw!"

Eli did. When he pictured the insignia this time, he pushed, hard. He felt the tearing sensation, of something silken being torn apart. The symbol flared up where his hands pointed. He grunted, reversed the direction, put the creature's image in his mind, and pulled.

The silka broke through as he'd seen it do some dozen times before. The same hopping jump, the same faintly bewildered expression on it's tiny face. Aleron crossed his arms and smiled.

"Success."

Eli looked down at the rodent at his feet, feeling its heartbeat like a miniature drum, feeling its flurrying thoughts of low panic and curiousity. He broke the link, and felt it all drain away, euphoria marking its passing.

"Let's move on to the galdy." He said, a slow grin creeping across his lips.

[Drannin]

(OOC:Re-introducing some old fiends)

"Sector report 5A: no sighting."

"Intel summation: target not sighted."

The information continued to scroll by on display screens. It was varied, the the theme was the same: no sign of their prey.

"We've lost them," sighed Kurou. "No idea where they may have gone-"

"Not yet," Haniko Goto snapped. "I have probes out all over. They WILL be found; it's just a matter of time."

"Well, I'm running out of patience,"

Growled Bauti. "We've been looking for them for Gods know how long-"

"Enough," snapped Goto, and Bauti was immediately silenced. She didn't like the influence this human had over her, but when dealing with power of her magnitude, and her resources (and total madness) one learned to bend one's sensibilities.

"Possible sighting. Location: Northern Confederacy, City-state of Goriel," one screen suddenly displayed. "ALERT: anomalous magical signs detected."

Goto's eyes narrowed. "There. We investigate there, and we'll find them."

Kurou didn't even ask if she was certain. Of course she was. "And if those strange... people are present?"

"Then we take a look at their business as well, but while keeping our eyes on the prize."

[Jack Rothwell]

OOC Takes place during 'Goriel and Beyond, part 4'./OOC

"Control. That's at the center of everything we do."

The galdy turned in a fast circle, assessing it's surroundings with a predator's no-nonsense quickness.

"You know by now that the process of drawing creates a link between summoner and creature, a link which goes both ways."

The big cat stopped it's search for potential prey and instead sat, then turned to the speaker's direction, appearing to listen to the words intently.

"How do you feel right now?"

"Angry. Powerful. Elated." Eli replied, staring at the beast he'd drawn. It glanced back over it's shoulder at him, opening it's mouth in a hiss that was curiously gentle.

"The beast feels the same." Aleron continued. "It contends with your will and tries to do the things it was born to do. Track, fight, kill... Keep a firm grip on the reins, never forget who you are, never forget what this is..."

Aleron knelt in front of the galdy, which turned back and snarled at him. Eli winced and redoubled his mental grip on the creature, telling her to relax, telling her not to bite the face off the man who was training him. The older man fearlessly reached and cupped the predator's face, his voice was steady as he continued.

"This is a tool. A beautiful, vicious tool. One you should keep near at hand at all times."

"I will."

"Good. Now dismiss it. You have a journey to make."

The younger half-elf did as he'd been instructed, the emotional side-effects intensified for a moment then ceased, leaving just the elation behind.

"You are to go back to Goriel. Your objective is to come back with a new recruit."

"Brother Tim. Yes."

"That would be preferable, seeing as he knows more about summoning magic than anyone else in the country."

"No need for sarcasm, Aleron."

"I'm simply stating what is. If you find anything that could help our cause on your journey, or any potential new recruits, bring them back with you. We need all the assistance we can get."

"I understand. I mean, I will."

"Good. Now gather what you need and prepare to depart."

..........

The day was drawing to a close, it wasn't something that the half-elf had seen with his own eyes, the chamber they were in was too far underground for that, it was just a feeling, a note passed to him from his body clock.

Before him, the mirror smoked and swirled with the magic the Ralkin leader poured into it. Eli took a deep breath and checked his gear for the third time in the past five minutes. He'd forgone the book that Aleron had lent to him, reasoning that he wouldn't have time for further study given the task at hand, instead he had a pair of folded up pieces of paper in his pocket; one with a diagram for the glyph he'd have to draw to return to the Ralkin sanctuary, the other a map of the sewage system the current glyph would deposit him in.

According to the map (obtained from Gods knew where) he'd arrive some ten blocks from the compound his former companions were staying at. If he moved quickly, and could find Tim on his own, the mission might take less than a hour to accomplish. If complications arose... at least it would be a short run to safety if he placed the glyph as close to his destination as possible.

He returned his focus to the mirror.

"Are you ready?"

Eli nodded.

"Take care. If all else fails, retreat, another casualty is something we cannot afford."

Eli nodded again, drew himself up and stepped back through the portal.

OOC Eli will return to the Goriel thread after night has fallen there./OOC

[Jack Rothwell]

OOC Earlier.../OOC

In an alleyway in a dark corner of Port Lorrel a trapdoor sprang open, Gabriel emerged a moment later. He stepped into the sunshine, casting his eyes around to get his bearings.

It was the financial district. Someone must have been paid off to put a glyph so close to the centre of town. Gabriel suspected the man who'd drawn it was an employee or at least at the behest of Logan. Powerful magic at his disposal or not, Aleron needed contacts outside of his small circle. As Gabriel made to way through the wide streets and imposing looking buildings he picked out the one belonging to their business partner. He recognized it well enough, five floors high and humourless, Logan enterprizes, beware all who enter there.

Whether an extremely wealthy merchant was also a trustworthy one was a foregone conclusion. But results were results, and if the half-elf wanted to cut ties or start a hostile takeover (Gabriel thought the second option more likely, especially considering the artifact they were trying to complete) then he'd be only too happy to help the process along. Either way, the ex-militia captain made a mental note to pay Logan a visit after his business here was done. On that subject, he'd spotted his own image glaring back at him from several wanted posters already.

"Just need to find a law enforcer." He murmured.

[Graybeard]

"Damn. I've lost them again," Goto growled. Her surveillance system was reporting a loss of whatever signal had triggered it. "Most likely they split up, so their individual signals aren't strong enough to be sensed."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Arsoro Kurou said, a comforting tone in his voice. (Not that he was the least bit interested in comforting this woman; quite the contrary, in fact. Given a momentary breach in her demeanor of icy superiority, he was determined to rub it in, to get back to more nearly an even footing in this alliance. As for the elf, well, screw her, to put it bluntly.) "You did everything you could. Besides, Goriel is so far off the beaten path that having tracked them there, we don't need for them to be so close together that your system can follow them." (It went without saying that that statement really amounted to a veiled criticism of that system. Any Tsuirakuan would know that.) "That remoteness does create its own difficulties, though. Getting close enough to them that we can take our next steps might be ... difficult." He fought back an incipient flush, aware that he'd just abandoned the advantage of posture he'd been unexpectedly granted.

Bauti was aware of it too, and pounced before Kurou could recover. "As it happens, I may have certain resources that can be applied to that part of the problem," she purred, in a voice that would have been appealingly kitten-like ... if the kitten hadn't had six-inch claws backed by the personality of a particularly nasty elven ranger.

[Jack Rothwell]

It was some hours later. A group of men made their way across the waterfront district of Port Lorrel, headed towards the foreboding complex of stone buildings that were the gallows of the city.

The men were militia for the most part, all except one, a man who was an ex-member of the people who flanked him. His chains rattled as he was frog-marched unceremoniously towards the entrance of the compound.

Gabriel was smiling inwardly; getting arrested had been just about the easiest job he'd ever had to do. He'd half-considered simply taking one of the wanted posters off the walls and tapping a guard on the shoulder with it unfurled next to his face, but decided it too brazen a course of action. In the end, he'd let himself be seen by a large enough group of officers, and surrended. They'd been fearful of him, not enough to prevent them delivering a few glancing blows to assert their authority, but they'd drawn back from him quickly, as though touching him was poisonous. Gabriel guessed that word of what he'd done to Alec and his employee's the last time he'd been in town had gotten around. Even now, he could feel their clammy fingers fidgeting on his arms, clearly desperate to be somewhere else.

He knew the gallows well. As a militiaman, he'd marched his fair share of criminals to the building, conducted interrogations there of an unsettling manner, even been on the wrong side of bars on one occasion when word of his underhanded dealings had gotten out. He'd walked free the first time. He'd been a valuable enough asset to the right parties to escape a sentence, but it had cost him his position as Captain and permanently tainted his reputation, even among bastards such as these.

"It's good to be home." He murmured.

"Quiet scum!" Another strike, Gabriel wanted to laugh. The young officer who'd reprimanded him spoke with a quaver and punched with a weak wrist. They were soft, all of them. The job was going to be a cakewalk.

Several minutes later he'd been taken into the custody of the warden's who ran the prison. He found himself facing an iron gate that led into the sandy pit that was the central area of the complex. A fat man stood by him, jaggling keys in his pudgy hands.

"Captain Gabriel Averis." He said flatly. "I never expected to see you again."

"Many people have thought the same." He knew the man who spoke to him. Victor Ralamir, sufferer of a long, mediocore career and a penchant for anything fried.

"I just have one question." He replied, his voice lowering, speaking confidentially, but venomously. "When exactly did you turn into a mad-fucking-dog and start hanging people from chandeliers?"

Gabriel turned at that, and stared the man directly in the eye. His lip twitched, but Victor held the gaze streadily.

"I was framed." He said, smiling.