Zi’da 41, 717
The past few trials had honestly gone by in something of a blur. Their relative speed when compared to the general calm and quiet that surrounded his usual trial-to-trial life had been entirely different than what he expected. The Avriel’s thoughts drifted back to the Game, that grandiose agreement he had made with the Immortal of Fire to slay or deny his opponents any sort of victory, and to receive a reward of his own in return. He considered the likelihood that the fiery godling would keep to his promise, and whilst there was the chance that he would be betrayed, the Avriel almost doubted that that would be the case. After all, he had accomplished his goal, had he not? Did that not deserve reward when so many others might certainly have failed?
Crimson eyes gazed blankly beyond the confines of the stone room, out into the hallway where the occasional pitter-patter of footsteps would greet him as one of his many agents or lieutenants meandered around the place, attempting to get this work done or that work accomplished. They were busy men and women, and rightfully so, for running a group such as theirs took far greater effort than those who identity need not be hidden from the public eye, and whose goals coincided with the general populace. The Avriel did not bother a single one of them as they stepped throughout the cavern, allowing them instead to go about their work as he continued to recollect the events.
There had been his final encounter with Aeon, where he had finally slain someone that he had only met previously in dreams. That had been an altogether strange and arcane experience, and he sincerely worried that his dreams were no longer his own, and that they were being affected by the Immortals in some capacity. He made a mental note never to share his plans in a dream, though quickly discarded the thought when he recalled that dreams were not always lucid, nor was he liable to discover he was within a dream whatsoever, especially if the Immortals themselves were meddling in the affairs of his sleeping mind.
His thoughts flickered back to another particularly strange and archaic being, an entity beyond his more grounded comprehension, though he occasionally attempted to consider how it might function from a physiological standpoint. He was certainly no doctor, nor even entirely familiar with the medical practices, but he had carved up a fair number of corpses in his lifetime, and had grown to recognize what each of the organs was, and what they were meant to accomplish… with some minor exceptions on those internal musculatures that did not seem to possess much of a purpose beyond simple existence.
The spirit that had visited him. That being had seemed to be composed out of an ephemeral and unnatural material which took on a gaseous state. He had been unable to affect it by touch; though, in truth that did seem quite reasonable when one considered it, and so he was uncertain of the exact texture or makeup of its flesh… or if it even remotely possessed flesh, or the other accoutrements of life that accompanied the mortal beings and their animal compatriots.
He had honestly not intended to be gone for as long as he had been, and in truth, it had not occurred to him whilst he was away that he had foregone the quick meeting with the entity that he had assured it by dealing with business upon Scalvoris before abandoning the island nation. That said, he did not feel as though his time had been wasted, because he had managed to spread his infamy to a far off port, recruit what he could only assume would be a sizeable group of pirates, meet several other criminals and scum who might one trial flock to his banner, and happened to both eliminate an opponent, and identify the home of another.
Nevertheless, he was home now, in the company of his soldiers and his trusted companions… he had even had time to visit dear Vern and ruffle her feathers for the sake of missed opportunities. It seemed that Ears had taken particularly good care of her in his absence, and he thanked the mutant sincerely for his efforts.
Well, he thought, he was here, wasn’t he? Where was the spirit if their meeting was so urgent?
The past few trials had honestly gone by in something of a blur. Their relative speed when compared to the general calm and quiet that surrounded his usual trial-to-trial life had been entirely different than what he expected. The Avriel’s thoughts drifted back to the Game, that grandiose agreement he had made with the Immortal of Fire to slay or deny his opponents any sort of victory, and to receive a reward of his own in return. He considered the likelihood that the fiery godling would keep to his promise, and whilst there was the chance that he would be betrayed, the Avriel almost doubted that that would be the case. After all, he had accomplished his goal, had he not? Did that not deserve reward when so many others might certainly have failed?
Crimson eyes gazed blankly beyond the confines of the stone room, out into the hallway where the occasional pitter-patter of footsteps would greet him as one of his many agents or lieutenants meandered around the place, attempting to get this work done or that work accomplished. They were busy men and women, and rightfully so, for running a group such as theirs took far greater effort than those who identity need not be hidden from the public eye, and whose goals coincided with the general populace. The Avriel did not bother a single one of them as they stepped throughout the cavern, allowing them instead to go about their work as he continued to recollect the events.
There had been his final encounter with Aeon, where he had finally slain someone that he had only met previously in dreams. That had been an altogether strange and arcane experience, and he sincerely worried that his dreams were no longer his own, and that they were being affected by the Immortals in some capacity. He made a mental note never to share his plans in a dream, though quickly discarded the thought when he recalled that dreams were not always lucid, nor was he liable to discover he was within a dream whatsoever, especially if the Immortals themselves were meddling in the affairs of his sleeping mind.
His thoughts flickered back to another particularly strange and archaic being, an entity beyond his more grounded comprehension, though he occasionally attempted to consider how it might function from a physiological standpoint. He was certainly no doctor, nor even entirely familiar with the medical practices, but he had carved up a fair number of corpses in his lifetime, and had grown to recognize what each of the organs was, and what they were meant to accomplish… with some minor exceptions on those internal musculatures that did not seem to possess much of a purpose beyond simple existence.
The spirit that had visited him. That being had seemed to be composed out of an ephemeral and unnatural material which took on a gaseous state. He had been unable to affect it by touch; though, in truth that did seem quite reasonable when one considered it, and so he was uncertain of the exact texture or makeup of its flesh… or if it even remotely possessed flesh, or the other accoutrements of life that accompanied the mortal beings and their animal compatriots.
He had honestly not intended to be gone for as long as he had been, and in truth, it had not occurred to him whilst he was away that he had foregone the quick meeting with the entity that he had assured it by dealing with business upon Scalvoris before abandoning the island nation. That said, he did not feel as though his time had been wasted, because he had managed to spread his infamy to a far off port, recruit what he could only assume would be a sizeable group of pirates, meet several other criminals and scum who might one trial flock to his banner, and happened to both eliminate an opponent, and identify the home of another.
Nevertheless, he was home now, in the company of his soldiers and his trusted companions… he had even had time to visit dear Vern and ruffle her feathers for the sake of missed opportunities. It seemed that Ears had taken particularly good care of her in his absence, and he thanked the mutant sincerely for his efforts.
Well, he thought, he was here, wasn’t he? Where was the spirit if their meeting was so urgent?