Arcalan looked long and hard at the portrait of the girl.. she'd lost her own father so long ago.. with no way to know what had become of him...

She returned to the old man sitting in his chair. The room was shelter from the winds from the lake, and for that she was glad. That sneaky Jashen must be outside, prowling around. Well let him cool off out there she thought, afterall, she recalled he'd insulted her.. in someway.. vaguely. It was enough for her to know she felt displeased at him, so she decided not to call him in. Sappy stood behind her, arms limp by his side.

"Thank you kind sir" she began "you look like you may be able to help me, for I seek someone who must surely have passed from the memory of younger folks" she smiled warmly at him, the aged always treated their decrepit advance in age as something they could take pride in, so she saw buttering him up on this "achievement" of not being dead may work. "The man we seek was called Basaia, though I doubt now that he lives, for he was old and this land can be harsh. Did you ever hear of him?"

bump

"e speak of tha' codger Bas'ya, eh?" the white-haired spectre of a man spoke.


With that, he rose from his rocker and made his way over to the wood burning stove. Stoking the fires with a long, black poker, the cinder swirled out of the grill, caught within the smoke as it roiled outward, the fires emitting a brightish light for a moment. Carefully closing the hot grill, he resumed his position over by the chair. His glassy eyes, still somewhat reddened from the waters of Barfog, looked downward to the woman and her sapphire companion.


"Tha's a st'ury, a sad un' in'eed. 'Magine if ye will, a man... driven by tha' lust fer' pow'r. Imag'un a y'ung knight- a Duke know'tha'less, who gave up 'is life 'fer a larg'r sliv'r of pie th'un what's dealt to 'yer common, everyday man."


His gaze passed to the portrait once more, his thoughts astray.


"That is ol' Basaia, tha' man who has ta' live in remorse, 'un shame 'fer what he did ta' his family...the crimes he commit'd 'gainst his own famil'e. I am sh'ure not a day goes by tha' fallen knight does'nay regret what he did ta' his people."


"On'ce a powerful Duke, tha' knight was. Back'en the Isle of Glass was m'ar than a legend, literally hun'erds of wint'rs ago tha' knight rul'd with'a velvet glove o'er his people in Caer Gothwaite. His rule was'a even'anded one; lov'd by 'is people. Noble man'e was, I kin still recall his face an' his demeanor...though the mem'ry dissolves with ev'ry day I carry on. His wife, a fine Norseman slave she was, they bore a child', tha' Lord Ansil Winterborne. Tha' Duke of Gothwaite Bas'ya was...well, he hunger'd fer m'ar than what he could succumb with 'is own hands. He had Snowdonia un'ner his grasps through his son, tha Baron Ansil Winterborne; half Avalonian, half Norse. He had g'ud relations with the people of Barfog, back be'far the tusked Welsh had overran these hills 'round here. Bas'ya had secured relations with tha' outside w'urld with his progenity, but'e lusted aft'r ma'r."


The old man shifted slightly passing his gaze back down to Arcalan. He pressed his gloves hands together as he began to continue to speak.


"Well, ol' Bas'ya, well ov'r a hun'erd and f'arty years now, saw that there was m'ar to be gained outside of Avalon, but knowing tha Curse of tha' Island, he knew if he left, his youthful flesh'un immortal life would become that of'a mortal. Though tha' knight knew the cost of leavin' the island and knowin' he could never return on'ce he left...he took his most trust'd soldiers an' ma'e passage for Albion."


"Leavin' tha' Isle of Glass, Bas'ya took up residence in a nearby valley in tha' North Black Mountains, up with his son the Baron Winterborne nary far from here. There, he trained his grandaughter Anikka in tha way of arms, an' even tried to make her betray her own fath'r...but she did nay give in to Bas'ya's promise of pow'r or words".


"Na', you may be askin' yerself, whay would a Duke betray his son and live in obscurity, givin up Avalon, his wife an' his title...well, tha's a question best left ta' ask HIM yerself. But what I can tell'ya that I believe tha'it was all a ruse, tha' he was jealous of his son's power and single-handedly caused the downf'ull of the Fifth House, the House a' Winterborne. Hence, tha' ruins now tha' tusked Welsh Smugluk an' Mootang now take up residence. With this in mind, Bas'ya unwrestled his son's control over Snowdonia, an' Barfog was his next 'venture."


"Ta' make a long st'ary short, he did sum' scrupulous things ta' ensure his pow'r. He secured rela'shuns with dark pow'rs and even' did sum' horrible things ta' his own family. He kill'd his son, branded his granddaught'r Anikka a traitor an' even took his brother Lord Ulfwych's daugh't away from him, making tha' man believe her dead. An' evil man e'was....and maybe, just maybe he sits alone now, with'out his people, without any'un and exiled from the Isle of Glass repentin' fer his deeds."


The old man cleared his throat, his eyes glassy and watered. He removed his glove, revealing a charred and burned husk of a fist.


"This, missy, is the price Basia paid fer his deeds, that....is tha' price of the fall".


The old man's watery eyes once again focused towards the portrait.

"ou know him and his story well then, old one. Tell me, how is it you come to know all this and recite it to me with such passion? Was he kin to you? And this portrait here.. this must be a relative of his too, then?" she looked again at the portrait that hung upon the wall, and the trembling eyes of the old man.

*waves back to Apolexia*


OOC Lets keep this up top, shall we?

 

-----signature-----

/lecture cancelled bump...

bump

"Missy, tha' Basaia ye seek no long'r exists".


His eyes seem to penetrate Arcalan's mind, and for a mere moment, she perhaps thought he knew her intentions and the power she saught.


"I give ye this parting advise," he whispered in a low tone, "that from which tha' body ha'e no escape,nay choice but ta' listen to it's Tyrant, its Master, its Puppeteer; pullin' strings as if ta'e rend tha' body from its flesh and tha' flesh from its body."


" 'Wary ward your way along tha' path of night, for tha' night will consume all who try to tame it, in tha' end."


The old man returned the glove to his hand, sighing deeply from fatigue. "I grow old, please, if ye need'in a place ta' rest this eve, ye may take tha' hammock o'er there. I m'uss rest fer' tha night."

"ou were toying with me this morn," Emlae gasped breathlessly as she tried in desperation to block the swift slashes of Azaeli's sword. Crispian sat closeby in the courtyard, occasionally glancing up from his stack of parchment to see how the spar was going.


"I wanted my squire back," Azi grinned at Emlae and began a complex combination, catching the squire by suprise. "Keep your focus Emlae." From the corner of her eye, she saw Lexi come through the door and attempt curtsey at Crispian.


"Morning Crispian," she yawned, "Sorry about last night.." Azi didn't care to know what kind of mischief her sister was apologizing for this time. She twirled her blade and swung, clashing it with Emlae's as the squire parried with some effort.


"Are you?" Crispian raised an eyebrow. Azi knew he was on the edge constantly because of Lexi's behavior, and decided to stay out of the conversation. Lexi nodded quickly.


"es, sir, and I must go speak with someone. It's important." She looked at Azi. The spar continued, Emlae delivering a graceful blow with her archmace, catching Azi off guard as she tried to turn some of her attention to the conversation.


"ou are not allowed to leave the guild hall, Lexi," Crispian smirked, his eyes running over the page before him, giving him an air of importance.


"But, I have to go talk to.. a... a man...about..something important," she whined desperately. Crispian frowned and turned his gaze to Lexi.


"Who?" He demanded, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Panic rose in Lexi's eyes and she looked to Azi now. The spar was getting heated. Azaeli was obviously distracted, and Emlae was taking full advantage.


"Si-is," Lexi whined again, bouncing in place, "Can't I go? It's important.. You know, the man.." she gulped, "the lake?" Crispian stood up suddenly, grasping Lexi's arm.


"Who!" He demanded, "who is it? BASAIA?" Azi dropped her scimitar and Emlae's archmace clanged loud into her side. Lexi stood, pale and stunned. Utter silence filled the courtyard.


"How," Lexi whispered, then spun on her feet to look at Azi, her eyes fierce with anger, "OU!" she hissed, "How COULD you?! I trusted you!"


"Lexi, no.. I didn't.. I would never.." Azi choked out the words. How did Crispian find out about Basaia? Who else knew? Lexi yanked her arm from Crispian's grasp and darted down the street in tears. Azi turned to Emlae.


"Please go find her Emlae, and bring her back here." Emlae bowed and rushed off after Lexi. Azaeli looked at Crispian, trying hard to keep her calm. "How did you know?!" She shook her head angrily, "How could you just say his name like that? In public? Now she thinks I told you! Me, the only one she trusts! She'll never learn trust this way!" She glared at Crispian.


((more to come after work....))

Arcalan thanked the old man for his hospitality but declined to spend the night in his run down little cottage, no matter what it was like outside. He'd avoided her question and he could sense the presence of her Master just as he himself was touched by something...

Just like D'Vena this old man had been consumed.. she was sure she had just seen the dread Basaia face to face, and the worn old shell he was now was testament that the path of demonic power was a fools choice.

She made her way outside, leaving a few gold coins at the door, out of pity for the old wretch.


Outside the cold air made her decision to return to the tower seem a little rash. But she knew Jashen and she could camp here for a few hours until dawn, and then make their way to Snowdonia Station where a proper bed and a good meal would revive them both. Her Master had guided her to this old codger to let her learn all she needed to know. She could cow Lexi with the knowledge contained, that she was "banim shovavim" as the Caballah calls them. The term meant "mischievious offspring" half demon children who were motheed by succubi, and returned at their father's deathbed to claim their birthright and cheat legitimate heirs. It suited Lexi admirably. Lord Ulfwych would never be able to welcome a stranger as his own, wehn that stranger was raised by a demon who sought to kill him. Always that thought would gnaw at his mind.. no, Apolexia could never go home to him... ever. She was the daughter of Judan now, but this demonic influence was a problem indeed.


**********


Her Master sat in his domian of living silver and pale light, looking upon the chessboard world that played out before him. Apolexia was spoilt for his purpose, but the material was now at hand, a near mountian of Arcanium transported at great cost to his realm. Delay was not acceptable, but the instrument he had wished to use was unclean.. soiled by Basaia's touch. He would not intrude while that influence was still upon her, and it surely was. No, he would have to find another. The choice came easily to him... his servant must prepare the way.


*********


"JASHEN!" Arcalan called as she got a god way from the old cottage. "Jashen!" as she called out his name for him to show himself, the Master unfolded his plan to her mind. Arcalan gasped at his new intent. This would cause all her work at making the League trust her to come undone! They would hate her, hunt her, and she'd be lucky to survive until the Rebirth! For the first time ever a spark was kindled in the dark places of her heart, and she refused her command.

Trembling she sat down upon the rocks at the mouth of the valley and prayed for Jashen to come to her side. Sweat poured from her brow and she was pale and shaking with fear. The Master was wise and infinitely kind, but she couldn't go ahead with this surely.. she was just beginning to have .. well, friends.. almost.. she was doing well, she had made a place as Seneschal, and now the Master would rip it from her. Was there no other choice?! She cried out in her mind to him, please, let there be another way.. is there no other who can take the girl's place but him?

In the freezing night air Arcalan sat upon the hard bitterly cold rock and trembled, like one gripped by fever or a nightmare. Over and over she pleaded with the Master, and her quivering lips whispered "Jashen" over and over like some protective mantra.


**********


Never before had she shyed from his will. Never before had his servant refused him, knowing that he offered her immortality and power beyond measure, she still tried to deny him. His anger was limitless, for this pawn was the key to the Rebirth. Without her, this prison would hold him for centuries to come. He must disguise his wrath, make it the hurt feelings of a gentle and loving father.. he must errode her will and tear her heart, but he had already solved the problem of how to proceed. Another servant thirsted for his approval even more. Arcalan would suffer doubt and pain for her betrayal, eough to return her loyalty to him once more, and banish this foolish attachment to these mortals. He planted the seeds of remorse in the heart of her soul, and watered them with anguish and self-loathing. His other servant was given the first task his Master had given him since he last failed, and this pawn WAS expendable should he fail again. Nothing could halt the Rebirth. Nothing.