Ulthuan

Prince Kalossir of Saphery, Loremaster of Light at the White Tower, awoke. He had had another vision. Tlaq-Xor, his Slann master, had spoken to him. And the message was grave indeed. Daemons and Druchii had assembled a joint army of colossal porportions at the site of the Old Ones' northern stellar gateway. They were preparing for a ritual that would open an enormous gate to the Realm of Chaos, that would allow almost all of the Daemons through. No one had sensed them because a Druchii Sorceress had bonded with an Exalted Changer of Ways and cast an immensely strong illusion.The Slann could not detct it as they were too far south but Tlaq-Xor lived in the north of the Old World. He stood up and walked to the mirror. It was enchanted to allow the Loremasters to communicate with each other. Time to talk to Teclis...

Teclis had contacted the Phoenix King, and he had informed the rulers of the other races. War was coming. Kalossir was tasked with gathering a small asassination force and killing the Sorceress.He summoned five Swordmasters, gave them the message, and despatched them to the kingdoms in which the five he had selected lived.

And so it begins...

Post about your character getting the message and arriving at the White Tower. I'll take it from there.

_________________
"If you spend your whole time thinking about the universe, you tend to forget the less important bits of it. Like your pants."

"Dojo! What is Rule One?"
"Do not act incautiously when confronting little bald wrinkly smiling men!"

-Terry Pratchett

It was a cold night in a small western port town of the empire, Arken had found a quiet corner of one of the inns and settled in for the night with a tankard and his pipe. The bar was reasonably busy with townsfolk, and the noise was increasing as the men finished off their ale.
A few hours into the night the door to the inn burst open and a hooded figure in a brown cloak stepped through the door, he was slightly taller then a man and had an elegant, if not proud walk. He walked to the bartender as the men turned to regard the new comer. There were whispers and a few shouts to close the door, but the hooded figure ignore them, he spoke briefly with the bartender and the man pointed in Arken's direction. Arken was watching the proceeding behind his cloaks black woolen hood and with a pipe glowing in his mouth. The hooded figure walked over to him calmly and thrusted a parchment scroll infront of his face.

"You have been summoned Arken, by the high loremaster himself." said the figure.
Arken grunted and took the scroll, broke the wax seal and read the elven runes. He then handed the parchment back to the elf with a grunt.
"The boat leaves in an hour, with or without you mortal. You are only invited to this proceeding because of your 'previous involvement' with our race." said the figure harshly and turned and strode out of the inn.

I wonder what the pointy eared want from me this time... Arken thought to himself. It had been years since he set foot in Ulthuan and the last time wasn't pleasant.

As Arken finished off his tankard he thought about ulthuan again and his time he spent there, some memorable, most not worth remembering.
He picked up his weapons and pack and headed for the stables to collect his horse. The rain outside was bitter, but he eventually made his way to the docks where the ship had docked. The elves were about to cast off when they saw him arrive. He boarded the ship and an elf took his horse and coasted it aboard and down below decks. Arken found a quiet corner and sat down while unstoppering his flask of spirits... And waited for them to arrive in ulthuan...

_________________

Cynthia sat on the belly of her most recently caught Druchii, held his head with one hand and raised her Dagger with the other. His hands and feet bound and his mouth tied with cloth she had complete control over him. It had taken a fair while to track this scum down but she finally had the murderer. She stares at him listening happily to his muffed screams and sobs. They were alone in a dense forest somewhere in the southern region of Nagarythe and Cynthia would have it no other way.

"Should i give you a quick and merciful death?" Cynthia asks her captive,
"or should i do to you what your kind so love to do to others? hmm?"
"mmfff nnf mmmerf!"
"whats that? make it slow and painful so you can suffer like all your victims endured from you?"
"nnnnnnuurrrmf!"
"have it your way then, i think i shall start with the eyes, i don't like people looking at me"
"rrrrrunf!"

She plunges her Dagger into his left eye and it pops with a small shower of blood that splatters across Cynthia's face. Then she does the same to the other. For an hour she tortures the helpless Druchii until he dies from blood lose. If he still had his sight he would have seen a cold emotionless face staring back at him as it worked its way cutting and slicing his various other regions. Her work done she unties the body and leaves it for the forest to reclaim, no sense in wasting good rope.

Some hours later, kneeling by a pool of water Cynthia starts to wash the blood from her face and hands. Her leather armour would just have to stain as she did not have the soaps needed to wash all the red out. Her face wet with water it would be impossible to see the tears that ran down her face also. She does not sob or make any noise apart from the splash of water. But she listens as a creature approaches from behind. A twig snaps under the heavy foot of her watcher and Cynthia spins round sweeping her bow and a single arrow from her quiver in one fluid well practised move. Keeping her aim on the other's heart she draws the arrow back and simply waits for its next move,

"a message for you Cynthia from..."
"how did you find me?" she snaps back at the robed elf
"your brothers and sisters within the Shadow Warriors pointed me to this region, here"

He holds out a weathered scroll and Cynthia gestures to throw it to her which he does with great accuracy so it lands next to her. She then gestures for him to leave,
"so be it, my lady" he bows and leaves.

Cynthia picks up her letter and begins to read...

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

Aboard the elven ship, in a dank cabin provided by the elves, Arken was preparing his pack and honing his weapons, an old habit that he did while thinking....

He thought about Ulthuan and his old master, he thought about his grievious injures and haunted nightmares he had suffered while stranded there....

It would be several days until he reached the coast, the elven ships were the best in the world, then the elves would escort him to Saphery.

_________________

"Alithir!", his father's voice sounded across the practice hall, "we have a visitor". Alithir turned away from his sparring partner with a curt nod. His father, Prince Telithir was standing in the archway along with a tall, slender Elf clad in shimmering Ithilmar scales. At once, he knew it was an envoy from the White Tower. Only Sword Masters had such helms, tall and finely wrought with bright, blue plumage erupting from it to drape the shoulders. There was also the matter of the gleaming 6 foot sword hanging in a gilt scabbard at the strangers back. Again, the young Lord knew such an item was uniquely related with the mysterious warrior-sages from the wizards tower.

Alithir picked up his towel and mopped his brow before greeting his guest. He had been training and perspiring heavily. Even after many years of practice, the old Weapons Master could still give him a good fight - and come the morning he would have the bruises to prove such a notion. The Sword Master greeted Alithir with the usual courtesies and he replied in turn. Help was needed at the Tower. Apparently the Loremaster Kalossir had issued grave warnings and dire portents to the Phoenix King and it had been decided that more information was needed. A group was being assembled to pursue the visions of the Loremaster and his father had been asked for his assistance. Alithir would accompany the Sword Master back to the White Tower of Hoeth to offer his sword in his father's stead.

.......

Barely an hour later, Alithir found himself mounting his favourite grey destrier, Finir, and leading him through the castle gates. There had not been time to waste in setting off towards the Tower. Alithir had stopped only to break his fast and clean up after his sword-practice. From there he had donned the ancient set of Dragon Armour that had once been his grand fathers and made out towards the White Tower, his Sword Master companion leading the way.

Gathering what little supplies she had Cynthia started to make her way to Saphery. It would be a long trip on foot so when she tracked down a small number of scouts and stole away on one of their steeds. They didn't take kindly and gave chase but Cynthia knew the lands of Nagarythe better and managed to lose them in the dense forest. She didn't care about stealing from a brother elf in fact she had done so manyy times for food and medicine, such is the way when you live alone in the forest, you take what you can get.

She crosses the border of Caledor and immediatly remembers why she hates it here as she was greeted by a patrol of the famous Dragon Princes. They asked many annoying questions which she reponded only by showing them her letter. They let her pass but kept a close eye on her until she was out of sight.

As she rode on her stolen horse Cynthia thought about the contents of the letter. A calling to help deal with a Druchii and Deamon problem isn't what made her move but the fact that Kalossir had sent for her by name. Whoever he was and for whatever reason he felt the need for Cynthia's 'skills' even though her name is cursed by Nobility, especially since she killed a chancellor recently believing him to belong to the Cult of Excess which she had been wrong about. She didn't like people knowing about her when she knew nothing about them and in the end if she could finally kill a Druchii of importance then it would be a good day.

There was another Dragon Prince ahead, alone but he will probably still ask her the same questions and waste her time so she spurred her horse into a gallop to hopefully get past the elf without him being able to stop her for his invasive curiosity. As she approached she noticed he was of Nobility with the more majestic armor being a dead giveaway and that there was another but this one was of the legendary Swormasters of Hoeth who was leading the way it seemed. She fixes her eyes to the ground not wanting to make eye contact as she passes and pushes her long red hair out of her face as the wind that rushes past whips it around.

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

As the days rolled past, Arken hardly spoke or conversed with the elves. They brought him food once a day and preferred to leave him alone, which is what Arken liked anyway.

They regarded him with disdain and mistrust. Arken didn't expect more after the last encounter with the elves of ulthuan. It would be 5 long years since he left the white tower and ulthuan, ordered to never return again. Nor did he want to. But the letter he received seemed urgent enough and it was the least he could do in honor to his past mentor. On the 4th day they sailed into a harbor city of the kingdom of Yvresse.

The emissary of Hoeth was to escort him to Saphery and it would just be the two of them for the rest of the journey. Upon landing in Ulthuan Arken had adopted an even deeper scowl, his jaw hard pressed and a sour look. He made his way silently with the elf out of the city and towards Saphery.

By his estimations, he would be late for the summons...

_________________

_________________
"If you spend your whole time thinking about the universe, you tend to forget the less important bits of it. Like your pants."

"Dojo! What is Rule One?"
"Do not act incautiously when confronting little bald wrinkly smiling men!"

-Terry Pratchett

The journey to the inner sea had been quick and painless. There were relatively few other travelers on the road. Once, Alithir and Cyton, his Sword Master companion, had shared a camp with several merchants on their way to Lothern. The company of other Elves was welcome, for Cyton the Sword Master was a dour spirit. Alithir imagined he had seen one too many injustices in his work rooting out the pleasure cults. The only other Elf they had seen on their travels was a dark and mysterious she-elf. Clad in earthen leathers and with a bolt of grey hair, she had pressed her steed hard as soon as she had seen them. Both Alithir and Cyton remarked that she could have passed for one of their Evil Cousins, such was the ashen aura that surrounded her. However, neither of them had the time to spare in chasing down 'dark looking maidens' when summons came from the Tower.

Now at the port of Leithin on the shores of the Sea of Dusk, Alithir and Cyton were ready to make sail across the vast inland sea that was at the core of Ulthuan. Alithir was eagerly anticipating the voyage. He knew that they would pass the Isle of the Dead into the Sea of Dreams and on their way to Saphery. Such sights were not seen by all Elves and the vast magical vortex at the heart of Ulthuan's history and defences would be visible during the crossing.

The prince and his companion, a Swordmaster no doubt, paid little attention to her own passage and eager to get prying eyes off her she spurred her horse even faster. Lothern would be a good destination to catch a ship to cross the inner sea so she made the city of all cities her destination.

Stopping several times to 'acquire' some food from a local farm for her steed and herself, Cynthia made good progress to Lothern with little interruption if you don't count all the times she was stopped by local patrols. Why did they keep bothering her? She was not dressed in Druchii clothing and her posture was always a non threatening one but they insisted on delaying her for their pointless questions, if they should suspect she was a spy why not kill her on sight? its what she would do.

Lothern. Another showing of her letter to another annoying guard and Cynthia had to convince herself not to lay this guard to the ground with a swift kick. The gates finally opened and she gave her steed away to a local citizen, well not her steed but he didn't know that. The elf thanked her but quickly moved away as if she was sick. It had been a long time since she had been in any City and decided to take the backstreets to avoid even more curious eyes.

Covering her head with the hood of her tattered cloak Cynthia made her way to the docks but with no money she would have to sneak aboard as the letter she had been given did not include any travel fees. Shifting her bow on her back and feeling for the reasurring weight of her Daggers she moved on sticking to shadows through instinct alone and constantly looking over her shoulder. It was habit but this City or any City in fact made her even more paranoid then usual as there was just too many people and too many elevated positions in which one could fire down upon her.

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

_________________
"If you spend your whole time thinking about the universe, you tend to forget the less important bits of it. Like your pants."

"Dojo! What is Rule One?"
"Do not act incautiously when confronting little bald wrinkly smiling men!"

-Terry Pratchett

.... Arrows flew past Arken's head as they ran through the streets of the city, he'd been wounded in side of his ribs, an elven dagger cut through his leather armour. The rain and wind beat down upon them and tore at their faces. Arken and his mentor, S'crellion, had been pursued through the city for the past half an hour, they had been found by the cult of excess and had walked into a viscous trap... His mentor had been pierced through the stomach by a bolt arrow amd was loosing blood. They needed to get to a safe house and quickly. The cult was ruthless and efficient and now they knew that the agents of the white tower were onto them, they would stop at nothing to silence them, and prevent the cult from being exposed.
"We must get word to the loremasters about this Arken." S'crellion said as he labored for breath.
"Yes master S'crellion....."

Arken awoke and sat up to his tent flap being pulled back, it was the emissary. He was peerig into the tent.
"What spirits are you conjuring human? S'crellion is no more, do not speak of him."
Arken looked at him and layed back on his bed roll, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Another bad dream. It was still early morning. The wind blew and the sky was still black. As he slowed his breathing he drifted back to sleep.

_________________

As Cynthia made her way past a group of elves, who were all bidding for some items, a bag a coins fell to the ground in front of her feet. They made a metallic noise to indicate a good amount was hidden inside the leather purse. Quickly snatching up the bag she casaully walked away hoping that whoever dropped it wouldn't see her walk away with their money. But looking back over her shoulder she sees an elf, who was clearly a Swordmaster due to his Greatsword that he had sheathed on his back. He nodded at her as their eyes met and Cynthia quickly looked away and made her way round the corner and out of sight.

Opening up the purse and counting the contents she predicted that she would have enough for a ferry across the inner sea now and maybe even to buy some food. So firstly she makes her way to the docks of Lothern and purchases way across the sea on a ship called 'The Griffons Wing'. But it wouldn't set sail until morning so Cynthia counted up what money she had left and bought a meal for herself. It tasted fine but had too much flavours inside as if it had been cooked with a thousand herbs. She would have liked her own cooking but with no game to hunt in Lothern she had to make do with what she had and honestly it wasn't that bad.

She had enough for a bed at an inn, it seems whoever was helping her to get to her destination had thought of everything with this loan of coin. But she instead left the last few coins in the middle of a street for someone to find and slept the night on the streets in a back alley. In her mind she was safer here and the hard stone floor was not as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. Before falling asleep she hid one Dagger underneath her small rucksack, that she was using as a pillow, and the other she held tightly in her right hand and all through the night that grip did not loosen even when deep in sleep.

As always she silently cries in her sleep without even knowing it. In the morning her tears would have dried up and she would be on her way across the inner sea, maybe even past the isle of the dead. But now she selpt with tears on her cheeks and having dreams that she would not remember.

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

The inner sea was always tranquil and the journey across it had been swift and uneventful thus far. There had been a brief moment of panic when one of the deck hands has sighted a great marine wyrm - the boat had shaken as the Captain ordered men out of bunks and sailors grabbed their spears. Fortunately, it seemed the wyrm was more interested in chasing some other prey and it had disappeared beneath the waves in a flash of brilliant silver as quickly as it had surfaced.

Since that day, the crossing had passed more slowly. Now though, as the small ship neared the Isle of Dead things were changing. Slowly at first, they had glimpses of brightly coloured twinkles and sparkles as the very air around them seemed to shimmer and change. As they pressed onwards, the palpable aura of something other-worldy gathered around the boat as magical energy twisted around them. It was said that the magical vortex channeled by Caledor the first and his mages had warped the very fabric of time at the center of the Elven kingdom and Alithir knew they were drawing closer to that unearthly region. He had heard tales of ships thought lost for centuries, only to emerge from a region in magical flux believing that scant minutes had past. Truly this was a strange place.

Cyton, the Sword Master envoy who had accompanied him on the trip seemed more alive than Alithir had seen him in all their time on the road. He stood on the prow of the ship, eyes chasing the ethereal lights around them with the winds of magic billowing in his long flaxen hair. As for himself, Alithir had never possessed any innate magical abilities and their strange surroundings unnerved him. He prayed that the Captain knew these waters well enough to guide them through the mystical whirlpools and swirling mist that surrounded them...

Morning came and went and Cynthia was on board the Griffon's Wing. She sat alone at the back of the ship watching the city of Lothern drift further and further away. A part of her felt a longing to go back and explore or to give up on this mad quest, really what was she thinking coming all this way for someone she had never heard of and then it hit her, she had known this mage before but when? and how? For the rest of the journey she sat lost in her thoughts. A rare time of peace in her mind.

The captain of the Griffon's Wing kept his ship far away from the isle of the dead. Perhaps he wasn't experienced enough to navigate or more likely he was too afraid to go near such a place. A shame as Cynthia was looking forward to seeing the ghosts of Caledor and his Mages fighting Deamons as the stories she heard usually told.

Hating to be idle for too long Cynthia decided to do some training. First she ran the length of the ship several times then she did some target practice with her Bow against the captain's quarters wall. Then she started trying to strike the air around her faster with her Daggers. They whistled as she spun round and stabbed at imaginery opponents. She got some strange glances from fellow passengers but she didn't care, she needed this time to pass quickly as she was eager to meet with this Loremaster and demand some answers.

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

Arken and his escort were following a used game trail through the mountains when their horses started to fright. They anxiously fought to run, Arken amd the swordmaster were each tryig to calm their horses. High above them came shrieks and cries. Through a gap in the tree tops the two travelers could see to great shadows high in the sky. Almost merge as one.
Arken quickly retrieved several ropes from his pack and fastened the horses to a thick tree and staggered up the mountain with suprising speed and agility to get a better look. The swordmaster nimbly ran beside him jumping high to avoid rocks and dead tree limbs. They found a break in the trees and stopped to peer at the dreadful screams and the great shapes.

"Such a rare site to see." stated the swordmaster with a hint of awe in his words. "Very few get to see wild griffons in their natural habitat."

They stood there for a brief time, watching the two majestic creatures fight. Such a site to see the two great beasts duck and dive and then spiral out to get a better position against the other.
Their wingspan was huge, their beaks and claws tearing feathers and fur off of one another.
Soon they flew off out of site and the Arken amd the swordmaster collected their horses who had calmed slightly since the beasts had gone and continued on their way.

_________________

Cynthia arrived at the borders of Saphery. On the horizon to the northeast she saw the tall slender white tower that was her destination. Readjusting her quivers straps on her shoulder she started the rest of the way on foot but not using the roads. She would travel close by the road but hidden from prying eyes, it was just a habit from spending so much time in Nagarythe like not staying in one place for more than a day or not to gather in too many a number.

On her travel she thought about hunting some game for her meals but had already got some dried meat wrapped up in her small backpack as well as some fruit from the trees of Caledor, a farmers tree but a tree nonetheless.

Passing a small patch of flowers she stopped momentarily to examine them. She plucked one from its stem and attached it to her clothes at the chest. She didn't know why but she felt a longing to own this flower, a powerful white primrose.

She then continued on her travels to the White Tower of Hoeth and several hours later she looked down at her chest and saw a white primrose, immediatly she threw it down to the ground and left it to wilt not remembering where it came from.

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

The travelers were actually making good progress as they defended the mountain ranges of Yvresse and into the rolling plains of Saphery.

The swordmaster's mood grew increasingly bright as they drew closer towards their destination; the fabled and mysterious white tower of Hoeth. On the other hand, Arken was not looking forward to setting foot in the towers illustrious halls anytime in the near future.

It was late morning when they finally emerged from beneath the tall trees of the mountains and began their trek westward over the rolling hills and tall grasses of the Sapherian plains.
Arken had roughly guessed they would arrive the next day. Which wasn't what he had hoped.

He began to think why he even bothered to help these so called "allies" of the empire anyway. If it wasn't for his master S'crellion he wouldn't have come back.

_________________

Alithir knew he would never be able to describe his experiences to anyone else. Elves who had not seen the magical vortex that pulsated at the heart of their kingdom could not comprehend the nature of such a maelstrom that bound the winds of magic to the whim of the Asur. Even those that did see the Isle of the Dead often had wildly different perspectives as the enchantments about the place entwined with the essence of every Elf that passed it by.

Apparently the great Loremaster-Sage Kalossir had guided the ship's captain and had even moved his hands about the great oaken wheel that steered their vessel. The waters surrounding the Isle of the Dead were treacherous not only for the jagged spires of rock that lay hidden beneath the surface, but also because of the reality warping eddies of ethereal energy that flowed around the vortex, altering everything they touched. Alithir had been comforted to know that someone well-schooled in the mysic arts was helping them. On further reflection however, the thought was also troubling as it spoke something of the nature of his voyage. What was so important about his summons to the tower that one of the great Loremasters was troubled enough to ensure he reached his destination so quickly?

His questions looked soon to be answered. The great Sea of Dreams in the eastern half of the Inland Sea sprawled vast and empty before them. Even at this distance though, the White Tower loomed impressive and imposing over the horizon. The captain expected them to sight land before the day was out and make port before the morning. From the landing, it would be but a brief ride to the Tower...

The next morning Arken and his emassary arrived at the white tower. They dismounted in the courtyard and handed their tired horses to stablehands and the swordmaster led him into the main tower to meet the loremaster Kallossir...
Arken was dressed in his customary clothing, knee high dark leather boots, black hose with a belt around his waist. He wore his black cotton shirt under a toughened leather jerkin. He wore leather braceres around his wrists and a heavy black wool cloak that draped around his whole body. His sword was hung across his back with various daggers tucked away. He left his crossbow and other supplies with his horse.
His mood was sour and he looking to start this quest quickly and finish it so he can collect his pay and begone from this place.

_________________

As they had drawn nearer their destination, the trunk of the tower had swelled massively before them until it was many spans across. Of it's top though, there was still no sign. A thick and heavy layer of cloud shrouded the peak of the vast edifice. The ride from the port had been quick and easy as expected and as Alithir and Cyton passed through the gate at the root of the tower into the courtyard, a young stable hand motioned towards them and took their horses. Alithir was shepherded into a small guest room to await his meeting with the Loremaster-Prince Kalossir.

Cynthia was still an hours travel from the White Tower but still its size was amazing as it seemed to reach for the heavens and beyond. Of course she remembered it back in 'those' days but the sight would never grow old.

As she walked she took out a Dagger Vengeance, a Druchii curved and serrated blade she took from one of her kills, and begun cleaning her nails as she knew that the loremasters liked to be very clean and as she was she could probably be mistaken for one of those dirty humans.

Birds sang around her in the trees and she whistled with them unknowing that she was doing so. The winds of life were blowing strong today it seemed.

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

The emissary had ushered him into a small guest room in the side of the main hall. He was brought refreshments and food but instead sat by a window and took out his pipe. Not ten minutes later another swordmaster was escorting and elf into the room with Arken.
He seemed like he had been travelling for some time. Arken tried to establish who the elf was. He was tall, and proud. Like all elves, but this one seemed arrogant.

(roll any checks for me if you have to. Or tell me what to roll. Actually... I'll do a Mental 2: elven lore. Check to see if my character can establish some information on john's character)

_________________

As Cynthia walked closer and closer to the White Tower she had an urge to sing,
"I wish for this night-time to last for a lifetime, the darkness around me,
shores of a solar sea. Oh how I wish to go down with the sun"

But she was interrupted by a bat that flew right past her head. Strange to see a bat in the daytime but Cynthia didn't care about its logic only that it had interrputed her and almost hit her. She pulled an arrow and took aim with her bow. It flew towards a nearby tree and as it went to land on a branch her arrow pierced it and stuck it to the trunk of the tree. It squealed and Cynthia stoood there watching it die slowly.
"Disgusting diseased animal!" she curses as it went silent.

She left it pinned in place as she didn't want her arrow back, as she had seen enough bats in her life and didn't want to touch another if she could help it as they gave her the chills. A Vampires best friend they were and in her mind they should all be killed for serving the undead as in her mind all bats served the undead.

"now where was i? damn, i forget" she kicks a few rocks off towards the road in frustration.
"whatever, lets go" she never has realised that she talks to herself.

The tower is still a few minutes more walk but she slows her pace as she passes small outbuildings getting all sorts of looks from the locals. Surely they were used to stranger visiters then she?

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

Arken looked at the elf for a few moments, trying to determine the elf's identity. But to no avail. He turned back to looking out the window and drew on his pipe. He exhaled deeply and tred to get comfortable sitting on the window sill.
How long will this take... thought Arken.

_________________

Cynthia walked in through the mains doors of the White Tower. The entrance hall was massive and a spiral staircase in the centre seemed to go on for miles towards the heavens.

There was many Elves going about their duties be they Mages on errands or going to their next study or Swordmasters on patrol or guiding other visitors. Cynthia was offered a guide by one of the Swordmasters who looked more impressive then the others so must have been a Bladelord. She rejected it and made her way to the staircase but before she could start climbing she heard voices comming from a small room that she predicted to be a guest room or maybe storage. The voice did not seem Elven and Cynthia moved towards the source a hand ready to draw her Dagger if needed, for no other can set foot on Ulthuan's soil except in Lothern and she had followed this decree to the letter so far.

She pushes the door open and walks in seeing the Prince she had passed on the road first and then setting her eyes upon an unknown human. A human of all thought was here inside the Loremaster's Tower! The seat of all magical learning! She draws her Daggers and stares at this human taking notice of nothing else in the room but him. She stands there ready for any trick he may try and then demands,
"tell me your business here before i gut you, worm!"

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

Kalossir stopped his meditating and stood up. They had all gathered. He went to walk to the door, but decided against it. It would be better to make an entrance. He raised his staff and shouted, appearing in the room in a blaze of light, directly between Cynthia and Arken. "My friends," he said,"If you would follow me to my home, all your questions will be answered...

_________________
"If you spend your whole time thinking about the universe, you tend to forget the less important bits of it. Like your pants."

"Dojo! What is Rule One?"
"Do not act incautiously when confronting little bald wrinkly smiling men!"

-Terry Pratchett

Cynthia was startled by the sudden appearence and even raised her Daggers to strike but stopped when the light of magic died down and she saw it was a fellow Elf. He demanded them to follow him but Cynthia had learnt to trust no one and shouts at him, Daggers still drawn,
"whoever you are you cannot be blind to the human that stands before us! They are not permited entrance to our lands, by the King's decree i demand you stand aside or explain his presence first!"

Her mind started to darken with thoughts of murder and a strange urge came over her breifly to just launch herself past the Archmage and strike down the human that insults her with his every breath, but she stoock her head as if to shake away these thoughts and it worked. Still she had her Daggers out and wanted answers...now.

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"

"Calm yourself Cynthia," said Kalossir, "I am the one who has gathered you all here. The human is here because his skills will be useful, he was trained by S'crellion himself. Alithir is here because he is a great warrior recommended to me by my brother, and you are here because you have much experience dealing with Druchii. Now come. Any other questions you have I will answer at my mansion."

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"If you spend your whole time thinking about the universe, you tend to forget the less important bits of it. Like your pants."

"Dojo! What is Rule One?"
"Do not act incautiously when confronting little bald wrinkly smiling men!"

-Terry Pratchett

Cynthia looks around at all in the room but her gaze stops at the human again and this time staring right into his eyes as she speaks,
"Fine, but i don't like it..."

She sheathes her blades and pulls her hood over her face more, she hated people looking at her,
"...what are we waiting for?" she grows impatient now with the promise to spill Druchii blood. She may distrust humans but she hates Druchii and is willing to suffer its presence if she can kill some of her dark cousins.

_________________
War. War never changes
dum spiro, spero...
"Humans are strange creatures, in a world of such fascination and wonder they have managed to invent boredom"