Neverlin

The summons were sent out across Stygia.  All who were curious to the recent Darfari change in behavior were to visit Nebyet as soon as they could.  Those who wished to help protect Stygia and Set's people were to ride for the city walls as well.  Scholars, historians, soldiers, leaders, priests, anyone ... everyone was needed.

The Darfari had long been content to infest the Purple Lotus Swamp, encroaching further and further as the months turned into years.  Their cannibalistic behavior left blood stained across the dense foilage as the native animals and reptiles were consumed in the absence of human sacrifice.  But more recently, they have been attacking any who ride towards Nebyet as well as the city guards themselves.  Several guards have gone missing and a few visitors to the Golden City of Set have been wounded on their way in. 

Continued from: http://aoc.rp-haven.com/story/neverlin/war_family_reunion_part_i

"Seize her!"

It was the signal.

Voices in her head competed for Dawn’s attention as she wavered, steeped in the serious moral dilemma Neverlin placed her in.  It felt like a blanket smothered her thoughts, suffocating them before reaching the surface.  She turned to face the Invictan, as if seeing her would help Dawn reach a decision.  It only complicated the matter.  Kemena was slim, her ample bosom concealed under a modest homespun dress.  The embroidered neckline of her white gown revealed the Lady's graceful neck. Dawn thought Kemena stood as a statue of righteousness, an epitome of mankind. She sighed, while Wardawn was hardly a stranger to violence, Kemena's aura of sincerity contrasted sharply with Neverlin's clever sophistries

She swallowed hard, wishing she was back in Pollopont.

It was midday, yet still she felt chilly, unaccustomed to the gentle sun of the Northern lands. Or maybe these were the recent changes in her body, due to almost constant use of Xotli's powers. Going back wasn't easy. Her guise as a priestess made her forget, no wonder - humans forget easily. The body forgot, and although the pain was gone from the arms and back, the memory of it still lingered: training without a day's rest with that sword wasn't easy.

Continued from:

WAR: Neverlin's Terms.  http://aoc.rp-haven.com/story/neverlin/war_neverlin039_s_terms

and

WAR: Grave Digging: http://aoc.rp-haven.com/story/neverlin/war_grave_digging

 Neverlin seldom asked favors....

Wardawn reflected as she tethered *Beauty, her majestic warhorse to a palm.  As her strong hands carefully looped the reins around the trunk, she pondered why the strange tree leaned at an awkward angle so close to the ground.  She surmised the palm probably blew over during a dust storm while young, continuing to grow outward in an elegant arch thereafter.  Why did she choose this strange tree from among a crowd of perfectly normal appearing ones?  Perhaps she just fancied the oddities of life, oddities like her friend Neverlin.  Giving the rope a final tug and letting out a satisfied sigh, Dawn cleared her mind of the peculiar thoughts.
 

A searing breeze wafted through the outlaw camp whipping up the Necromancer’s ice blond hair.  Neverlin sat on the jagged lip of an old well dabbing perspiration from his forehead with a fine silk cloth.  Stealing a glance down the deep hole, he noted the slightest hint of bubbling on the surface of the water. 

“Well, what is the cause magician?” Satet-ka inquired in tone more contemptuous than curious.  Without answering, Neverlin withdrew his attention from the fetid water and examined the circular ridge of the well.  Tainted water had plagued the surrounding villages in Keshetta for a few weeks now.  Hundreds had perished and thousands sick with fever.  The High Priest summoned Neverlin ostensibly for assistance in solving the riddle of the poisoned water supply.  Nevertheless, Neverlin knew him well.

Satet-ka's wishes were seldom one dimensional.

November 25th,

(Continued from WAR: Neverlin's Terms.  http://aoc.rp-haven.com/story/neverlin/war_neverlin039_s_terms)

Neverlin paid no attention to the warm blood threatening to spill over the tops of his fashionable single-strap sandals.

 Instead, the Necromancer devoted his focus on the heavy leather tome he clutched in both hands.  Immersing himself in the monotonous text, he scrutinized every word, silently searching for a single name.  Torches lining the stone walls of the Mitran temple sputtered in protest as a gust of wind swept through the cold chamber.  The shift in light momentarily illuminated a corpse sprawled face down before him on the white marble steps.  Her visage was a mask of desperation; her stiff hands still clinging to Neverlin’s calf.  As the evening wore on, the dead Mitran Priestess’s brilliant azure robe slowly turned a shade of dark plum as a currant of blood seeped from the slash across her throat. 

((this is a sneak preview of sorts. Neverlin is the master of the pen and he will write up truly amazing accounts of all that happened. However I thought it would be nice to put this up so that people can read and see how great we are! j/k

 For those who don't want to spoil the surprise and read all in sequence, don't read what's below. What is below is the actual copy of our say's when we rp'ed Kemena meeting her mother. The background story is:

 As you remember, Neverlin conducted an experiment on Kemena (read his earlier post in rp haven), creating a connection into her mind. He presented himself as her mother, who she knew not was dead or alive. Neverlin further conducted a ritual on Mandisa, with Inoxia's and Terralia's help, and now Mandisa is able to summon the appearance of Kemena's mother.. that's the rough explanation.

 “…..The Daughter of the Old Serpent……”

Neverlin leaned heavily against the tall marble pillar as he mentally dissected this peculiar appellation.  His mind raced through the convoluted chronology of the prophecy, tracing and retracing the linkage of thousands of key events of the past, present and future.  This exact term appeared in two hundred and eighty three other passages, but its meaning remained elusive to Neverlin.  His finger unconsciously trailed down the small scar on his left cheek as he pondered the six words in the flickering torchlight.  Unexpectedly, his eyes went wide with comprehension as an epiphany struck him like lightning.  His heart nearly burst with excitement as the tricky line of prophecy seemed to unraveled and became clear.  The moment proved fleeting however.  Exhaling slowly, he shook his mane of long blond hair in renewed disappointment. 

No, too obvious he thought.