After some last minute preparations, you finally leave the cabin and the burrow behind. The rusted sword, turned invisible by a spell, rests in your right palm. You've never been a craftsman, and there was no time to devote to making a scabbard or a sword belt, like you've seen in the movies. This will have to due. The blade feels comfortable in your hands. It could be much more than just comfortable. A canteen sloshes with water, as the hound trots next to you. You pull at the collar of your ill-fitting shirt, and the heavy sounds of your boots upon tightly packed dirt contrast heavily with the light movements of the fox as it darts ahead.
When you reach the scrips which so thoroughly paralyzed you before, you can sense their energy. Not nearly so powerful as the scrips lining the burrow's walls, but far more focused. There is a logic there. Those scrips provided light, fresh air, occasional rains, and almost certainly a shield against any sort of magical detection. That must certainly be a thing with all that you've seen magic do. This scrip? It has only one purpose. Paralyzing any would be intruders. Given that you hadn't been able to blink, breathe, or even feel your heartbeat while in its thrall, the defense worked extremely well.
You do not test it nor do you feel like being dragged roughly across the floor. That would do nothing good for your newly washed clothing or your self-respect. Using a length of rope, you tie yourself and the invisible sword to the hounds back, and say, "Go on, boy!"
"Ruff! Ruff!" His barks almost sound like laughter, but he gallops into the scrip tunnel all the same. As soon as you're surrounded by the glowing scrips, brighter than even before, everything goes dark. You jolt back to the land of the living on the other side, and your whole body's hurting now. You Breathe in deeply several times. Sluggishly, a semblance of life returns. Jesus fucking christ! A thousand times worse this go around. It stopped you from even thinking. Now, you have a few seconds worth of missing time. Any longer spent in the scrips influence, no doubt you'd be dead.
As you shakes off the aftereffects, you wonder at the difference. Trying to leave rather than entering? No sense there. You had a pair of spells cast over two separate objects. Now, that magic is gone. Maybe that fed into the reaction, maybe the fact that you are more potent enabled it? Perhaps, more power opens up new vulnerabilities? Wild speculation, but something to keep in mind.
Now, you have to spend important time redoing the matching illusions on your sword and cloak. Stupid magical security system. Yes, you read goddamned Harry Potter when you were a sickly dork. Yes, you made an invisibility cloak at the first opportunity. Who wouldn't! There had been a perfectly good cloak just hanging on the back of the cabin door. Takes quite a bit of work and upkeep to keep the spell active, but it's practical!
Setting the spells in place takes almost a full hour of difficult work. The Hound places his large muzzle on your knee, and you scratch behind his ear absently. The fox barks a number of times before disappearing out of sight, and for all the world it echoes through the tunnel like laughter. That sly little shit will get hers one day. You put a little more energy into giving the loyal and altogether superior hound head pats.
Once more prepared to venture forth, you and the hound exit the cave. Even the usually vocal hound is silent. His ears are laid flat against his head, and his tail is tucked between his legs.
Caution is called for.
The first thing you note as you emerge from the shallow little stream: Night time. Strangely no storm, no clouds. The first time you've glimpsed the darkened sky unmarred by a chaotic thunderstorm. The disk of silver-blue ice that serves as this place's moon glows brightly. One hundred and eight stars perch in the heavens all around the moon. Two of them glow more brightly than their fellows.
A magnificent sight, but necessity pulls you away. Standing out here like a moron, even the invisibility cloak wrapped around you is the height of foolishness. You dart out of the stream and into the nearby treeline. There were times you almost felt you could see through the fox's little illusions. Surely, others might be able to pierce your beginners craft, too.
You walk for ten full minutes. The world is cast in a silver pall. The woods are strangely quiet. Before there'd been owls hooting, and the sound of predators prowling. Now only silence. That makes you want to climb back into that burrow and never come back out, but you need sustenance. Can't hide there forever.
The fox reappears, her eyes wild. The hound yips, as if in pain.
Then DOOM washes over you.
Your gaze rises of its own accord, and there are two more stars in the heaven. You blink. No, not stars. Something far more sinister. You spy a pair of figures wreathed in glowing spheres of power. Too far away to see any great detail beyond the barest hint of humanoid shape. Red and black wars against white and gold. They clash, the air is alive with coruscating energy and contesting power. Not men, monsters! Gusts of wind blow you off your feet, and you smash hard against the trunk of a tree. Just manage to hold onto consciousness. Barely. More by the need to witness this battle than by your own native fortitude.
They must be ten miles away, but if they were any closer, you'd surely break apart.
They're moving too fast. You catch only glimpses. A chained beast of impenetrable darkness, a three headed cerebrus, translocates into view to counter a newly emergent white-gold phoenix. A clash. More wind. Much of the landscape is broken. The phoenix is wounded. He and his master flee away from the molten river. His opponent gives chase. You've seen fighter jets and rockets fly through the air. These two make such wonders of science and mankind's ingenuity look pedestrian.
When they are gone, you can finally Breathe in deep uncontrolled gulps of air. You're shaking, but you can't force yourself to move. No amount of fortitude or wounded pride allows you to stand. The sight of the monsters is a thorn in your mind. The feeling utter and complete helplessness before their distant presence unmans you. They were far more fearsome than those giant bears, not even close. You could've been squashed by an errant tendril of power passig too near you. Those two beings, you're hesitant to call them men, were WMDs.
Only the passage of time, the arrival of morning, allows you to stand on unsteady legs.
A night wasted in terror with the hound standing guard over your inert body.
Coward.
You trudge forward. Life has begun to return to the surrounding forest. Tremulous songs of birds test the air, squirrels climb atop the canopy. In the distance, you can see the ruinous damage wrought by those damned WMDs healing itself. Trees that were flung miles into the air, a mountain worth of dirt, all of it seems to move back in time. Happens with incredible precision and alacrity. Within five minutes of the sun burning in the heavens, there is no crater the size of Manhattan, no sign that an apocalyptic battle took place here.
They say time heals all wounds, and that seems to be particularly true in this place.
Not for you. Time allows you to move past the rank, animal terror, but perhaps, it is a wound that will never heal, an awareness that will not truly fade.
Necessity pushes you forward. You're out of rations, need food. Decided to risk these woods because you had to. That hasn't changed.
"Know where we ought to start looking?" Your voice is soft, weak, but it draws an excited bark from the hound. His tail starts wagging. He darts off, and you follow. You whisper aloud, "I'll take that as a 'yes'!"
The dog's enthusiasm is infectious, and you hurry after. Though the terrain is uneven, the paths narrow and winding, you keep up a blistering pace. Each Breathe spurs you on, and you're running faster than you ever managed at any track meet.
There's a tumultuous few minutes where a band of warriors, all masked, all garbed in the darkest of blacks passes by. Their presence picks at your fresh wound. Some of the weapons they bear feel overwhelmingly dangerous. Thanks to a warning from the fox, you were able to hide from them. A close thing.
Eventually he leads you towards a large plain at the edge of the forest. The wind blows through tall grass, and you silently applaud the hound's skill. He approached the field, and the large deer-like creatures from downwind.
Cloaked in invisibility, you study your prey. The fox and the hound remain crouched and silent amidst the tall grass. There's over a hundred of the white and black striped beasts in the distance munching on grass. A full third of their number bear antlers. Equal parts regal and dangerous, the antlers gleam like polished ivory in the sun. Two of the beasts, adolescent males by your reckoning, engage in a duel. They move as lightly as the wind, as fast as race cars, and when they collide, the sound of thunder resounds through the clearing.
That rules out the direct option.
The hound looks up at you questioningly. The fox ignores your presence, instead keeping a steady eye on the potential prey. You smile confidently. Have to inspire confidence in your teammates! You whisper, "Don't worry, I've got a plan!" You look at both of them, and offer a quicksilver grin, "But, it's going to take all three of us!" The hound nods his head enthusiastically, and eventually, the fox gives her consent. You continue, "Now, we just need to find some of those red berries..."
Hours later as the sun fades, you crouch atop a low hanging branch. You are not hidden from sight, you had to use every inch of your art to pull this off. The earth rumbles, and anxiety fills you. This is the moment of truth. If the disguised fox and the hound can chase even a few of the deer this way, then not-venison might be on the menu.
You hold your breath. Come on! The hound had been nearly the size of an SUV and the fox appeared just as ferocious when they set off. You would run mindlessly if they turned on you. Hopefully the striped herbivores do the same. You can't see the action. Couldn't risk being detected. So, here you wait.
A long minute passes, and then dinner runs headlong into the clearing. Now... it's on you. If your art does not pass cursory inspection, all is lost. It's the best you could do, and the casting of the spell cost you every inch of your meager power. You hold your breath, and pray that it was enough.
No hesitation on their part.
With a seemingly grassy glade in front of them, they accelerate wildly. Then it happens. The weaving of your illusion, settled atop a false floor of strategically placed leaves and branches, gives way. Four of these striped deer plummet ten feet down. The hound is an excavation crew all by his lonesome, and they fall atop stakes coated with the paste made from berries that all the animals of the forest avoid. You'd asked for the red berries, but the fox returned with black-purple berries.
The rest of the deer leap clear. They fallen animals scream pitiably for a few seconds. Then they fall silent. The black-purple paste, a powerful paralytic, serves its purpose. Long minutes pass, as some of the striped deer linger. But, the coming of night pushes them away. You remain out of sight on your branch until the fox and the hound appear in the clearing.
You leap down beaming. "Both of you were marvelous!" They had to be, or your plan would have come to naught. You are too weak, too slow to have played a part in their task. The hound, now returned to normal size, yips happily. The fox just gives you a satisfied look, as if you should have expected anything less than perfection from her! You glance around warily. "We need to get to work."
The hound feverishly digs a path down to your quarry. You follow the path, and with a few sure strokes of your rusted blade, you put the paralyzed and injured beasts out of their misery. Given the terror and pain in their wide eyes, it was no doubt a mercy. The fox deigns to help. Her dexterity in removing the poisoned portions of the stakes is invaluable in speeding up the process. When the three of you haul the first of your prizes out of the pit, you halt.
You are not alone.
There's a woman standing in the clearing. Hair as black as night, skin the color of cinnamon, she's a small and delicate thing. A large emerald hangs from a gilded chain upon her forehead above two large green eyes. Those eyes miss nothing, and they rove over you. She's perfect, not a flaw or blemish on her five-foot tall frame. Her garb is a meticulous gown that glows emerald green bordered by silver.
She seems entirely harmless. You're a fool if you believe that, not after what you've seen. Out here all alone without a sign of worry or hardship. A question dies on your lips, as you see the fox and the hound bowing before the small woman. You belatedly follow the lead of the wiser animals. You begin to kneel, like a peasant to royalty.
Then she speaks, and you are very nearly sent to oblivion by a single syllable. As if the sun switches on, as if a thermonuclear blast detonates within your being, the ocean of her presence engulfs you. Those monsters from before are scourged from your mind, they are nothing, less than nothing. What does that make you?! Your mind and body, the small flame at your core and the orbiting centers of your power are torn apart, dissected, analyzed, and put together in a torturous instant. There's no way you can hold onto consciousness. The howls of the hound reach deaf ears, as you fall forward.
Then the presence recedes.
You're still falling into darkness, but something irresistible holds you up.
You're on your knees. The hound's keeping the rest of you out of the dirt.
You blink.
The fox stands between you and the woman. You hear the fox speaking in a human tongue, though the words are lost to you.
She speaks for a minute. It's a musical sound, a song which eludes you. The monster among monsters casts a look at you. Your insides freeze, but you try to hide your terror. All you have is the last remnants of your tattered pride. Slowly, you regain your senses.
When the thing encased in a short woman's body motions, the fox subsides. The she-fox sends an exasperated look at the hound, but you only notice it peripherally. All of your attention is focused on the being before you. She snaps her fingers, and a white ball of flame hovers over an outstretched hand. The next thing you know everything is white. You hear in white. Scream in white. See in white.
Sometime later, the white fire fades from your senses.
You stare in bewilderment. The Presence is still before you. It's there, but held placidly under the surface. If a blazing sun can be said to be placid!
Automatically, you drop to your knee and bow your head low, not daring to look at Her. You remain silent in your submission. Nothing else comes to mind.
A moment of quiet, and then She speaks, "Ah, child it seems I treated you roughly." Some part of you knows the words aren't English, aren't anything you've ever heard before, but every other part doesn't care. "You have some commendable companions. Not often do I find someone in the company of two Planar Guides. I have known this guide for a very long time, and I have never known her to confront a greater force head-on, especially in her reduced state. I confess you have piqued my curiosity."
"Yes, ma'am." You respond, and you're proud how your voice does not shake. Too much.
"Tut, tut, ma'am simply won't do." Her voice is amused. "I am Lady Mara Shadestealer, Eldest Executor of the Exalted Consortium. I have many more names and sobriquets, but you may call me 'Exalted Lady'."
"Yes, Exalted Lady!" You reply at once.
"Do you have a name?" She asks.
"Exalted Lady, my name is Aden Eric Lyons." You answer quickly, but other words, words that may please Her, come to your mind, "My apologies for my crude manner. I am newly arrived to this place, as such the ways of this land are unknown to me."
"It's quite alright, child." She forgives your trespasses charitably. Then, there's a moment of transition. Instantly, you and She are elsewhere. A void surrounds you both, and though you do not dare gaze upon Her, you know She is as radiant as the sun. "Now, we shall have a proper private conversation. Not even the Enthroned One will hear what passes here, so speak freely. Tell me no lies, and you will return from here unharmed." What happens if your lie to Her is left unsaid. A moment of silence, which you endure as best you are able. She continues, "The unnamed Fox spoke of things. She said you only began cultivating the planes a month ago?"
"Yes, Exalted Lady."
"Already, you've mastered the first three steps of Alignment? Impressive." She doesn't sound impressed, She sounds bored. Her words turn into a whip. "Aden, look at me." You do not dare disobey. She could smite you, with less effort than it takes you to form a thought. You meet Her jade eyes. She smiles a perfect smile. "And you are a handsome lad. Normally, I would not be able to bear the sight of one so low as you. What a curiosity! I must know everything about you."
You do not toy with Her. You speak of being found as a newborn unharmed near an explosion. She listens impassably. Your time as a sickly child bouncing around the system. Getting the best grades because you were too weak and fragile to do anything else. The pronouncements of death hanging over your head. She asked for everything, so you relate everything. Growing strong and healthy when you matured. Becoming a sports star and everyone's friend in High School. Coach Sapp being granted your guardianship. So many details.
When you finally speak about the fateful attack at Anslow, She seems utterly unsurprised. She doesn't blink as you recount the entire affair. It's not until you speak of your first meal here, the fig, that She interrupts you. "Describe the tree."
"The trunk was as smooth as marble. The leaves were the shape of a heart. The fruit saved my life. I was lucky, Exalted Lady."
"'Lucky', yes, that's one way of putting it." She says after a moment.
Then, you continue. The rest of your tale unfolds quickly, and when you are done, you feel like a wrung out sponge. "And, that's my story up to the moment I met you, Exalted Lady. I hope it did not bore you."
"Oh no, quite to the contrary, it was quite enlightening!" She smiles. "In fact, I will hold your tale close to my heart! I would be displeased if you shared it with anyone else."
The thought of displeasing Her nearly reduces you to a pool of terror. "I won't, Exalted Lady! You have my word on that!"
"That is satisfactory! Clearly, you are wise beyond your years." She pauses, and a look of solemnity comes over Her features. "Clearly, you are Blessed By The Heavens. You are a seed which must be watered, and I think myself the proper gardener with the resources and the strength to see you grown into a soaring Adamine! You are new to this world, but you have already glimpsed a measure of its brutality and danger. I would not have you trampled underfoot, but neither would I take away your free will. A cultivator with a bound will is a cripple, and though the Exalted Consortium does business across Fulcrum, across the many universes and Planes of Creation, we do not deal in slaves. So I make you this offer: accompany me as a favored initiate of the Consortium under my protection, or continue to go your own way."
How do you answer!
[] Accept
[] Decline
[] Negotiate
-[] Write-in
