Atrinark

I'll gather my horse and meet you at the trail head…

Those were the some of the last words Importance spoke for the length of their journey. His horse trotted slowly along the natural trail in the side of the snow covered mountain, falling just behind Rashiar and Thorious as they rode.

Importance wasn’t normally one for pleasantries, but this evening was different, he was angered and short-tempered… more so then usual, that is. Not to mention, there was plenty on his mind. Importance stared down at his hands, mind left to drift in the silence and frozen winds. It had been so long since he had wielded the arts; the arcane power of magic and fire. Before, it was his life, His goal, to further his knowledge. It was all he had known. He’d go to any lengths to further his cause, and his past very much held true to that.

Importance sat silently at his desk, his dark eyes staring idly down at the book that lay open. His mind wasn’t reading the words, his mind was farthest from his current location. It was focused upon the events that happened several days ago.

His mind flashed back when he stood in the ancient pyramid built out in the sands of Stygia. He stood there eyes fixed on Cyril. His body lay cold and motionless on the stone floors. Cyril had been put under the spell of the Yothga plant; his reign of madness was put to rest. He locked Cyril’s body far in the lowest levels of the pyramid sealing the doors with whatever magicks he could still conjure.

He had made so many mistakes in the past and those were coming back to him now; All at once it seemed. He had lost so much and for what, he asked himself. Sacrificed all that he had to protect those he cared for most and only seemed to hurt them more.

((night of Sep. 28th))

 We hurried to the aid of our young, who were being assaulted by Invicties. Eglophians first, then the Field of the Dead. Blacktyde led the way, Inoxia and I followed.
 Lilithia lay in a shallow stream on the border of the Haunted Forest. Having tended to her wounds, we regrouped on the hill, Inoxia scouting in search for Aurelius - the offender. The fool sprang out at us himself however. It did not take long to knock the wind out of him and send his mind into darkness.
 'Lord Blacktyde, what would like to do with this wretch?' - I asked, smirking.
 'Cut his head off...'
 'Wait, he might be of some use.'
 We tied him up and took his weapons. I brought the cur to consciousness.
 'Who are you?!'
 'Where is Kem.. Kemena?'
 I laughed. Kemena was the one kidnapped the day before. Why would that be his first question, though?

Focus.
*Giggles*
I recall how often Hroth says that to Terri. But it is true.... I should focus on these stitches. Here as I wait for my love to awaken. Sitting and trying to sew the neatest of stitches for a gown I shall wear on that day Relius wishes me to be his Queen. But my talents lie with cooking and baking, distilling and the mystical properties of herbs and roots as they both transform taste and cure or protect.

Ah, protection... I wove a wedding wreath of myrtle for Hroth, with the love of a sister in it. And all the many sweet-smelling flowers in Terri's chaplet were there to enhance the love of that day and protect her.

*The hem drops to her lap as she gazes at the swallows darting beyond the window, up betimes as she is. Falling into reverie*

They needed that protection ...though Aurelius had it all well in hand, as always.

     It was morning, the sun was just reaching above the seas of Stygia. The calm waves dancing in the reflection of the sun. The soft sands whirling about the rough cobblestone streets of Khemi, stinging the skin of any innocent who isn’t well covered. In the background, playing like melody to those who would listen, the sounds of the city ring as the day begins. The crying of street urchins, the soft footsteps of the people, the slithering and hissing of the snakes upon the ground. Like a well sought orchestra planned and perfected, yet filled with chaos and untimely manner. The order was similar to the thoughts that raced through Atrinark’s mind. Order and balance, yet chaos and unorganized.

     The night was setting, the moon replacing the sun. A brief sweep of air moved through the drafty and dimly lit room. The man sitting within the room was all but lost in his books, eyes ever gazing at the words written upon them. Beside the man sat the cold remains of a snake, cut and mutilated. Stygian culture could preach on how jewels and gold were meaningless treasures that only a fool harbors, that real wealth is found in knowledge and within knowledge there is power. Stygian’s believed that with knowledge there was no place for morality, that the goal for power was to get by any means. Yet within that, there were rules... Rules that restricted the people. A snake, a simple creature, yet believed to be the mark of the god Set. To kill one would result in death, and within that we find the paradox . What say you if the path to knowledge required you to kill, civilians, creatures... Snakes... What happens then?