To Treat with an Elf

Postby Vanidor » Fri Nov 30, 2007 10:59 am

"Of course." And here the elf paused to reach into the pouch at his side. As he took it up, the other hand motioned Tuon to his side. A few words were spoken from the golden haired elf unto the other, Tuon seeming to sigh before taking the object (it being an innocuous looking comb of steel) and grasping it. He closed his eyes and whispered to himself, and to the comb. Vanidor turned towards Glenn and Rhaena once more.

"Tuon is preparing this comb which will allow yourself and one other access to the Enclave through the house on Merchant's Row. You will not need a guide in order to come here. Do not lose it, or allow it to fall into the wrong hands, for the sanctity of the Enclave must be maintained, you understand this?" And the male turned his hand outwards and opened it, palm facing upwards. Tuon grunted and placed the comb into Vanidor's open hand. The elf now turned, and then offered the item towards Glenn.

"Also. You may tell your Artificer that I forgive her for the use of Elemental magic in the manner that she did. I can... understand the need for haste, at times, especially for your kind. She did upset the balance, with these extra planar materials, but not as bad as Halanithra made it out to be, not once I was able to survey the interference myself." Here Vanidor cut his blue eyes towards the Magister, who had the forbearance to look slightly away at this.

"Now. Take the comb, and a skin of wela as well, and do what you must do, Sir Burnie." And there was a smile here, and a bit of ancient amusement as well.

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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Postby Glenn » Fri Nov 30, 2007 12:07 pm

He seemed to keep amassing these objects of some importance. It was strange for someone who had arrived in Myrken Wood with VERY little other than the clothes he had been currently wearing and one other, rather important, thing. It was strange for someone who truly had no possessions to call his own (over any long period of time) for YEARS.

No matter. He accepted it, the skin, and Vanidor's words. "My thanks for your hospitality. You will likely see me again very soon." And he would take Rhaena's hand in his own, already thinking of a question or two to whisper to her and then would be back off in the direction from which he came.

That could have gone far worse.
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Seeking Guidance from all Quarters

Postby Glenn » Mon Jan 28, 2008 8:24 am

Glenn Burnie, the youthful Surveyor of Myrken Wood, had been in the midst of the Elvish archives hungrily studying a tome when it had happened. His mind's rapport with the specially gifted Rhaena Olwak had been interrupted or worse. It was as if he had fallen underwater and was desperately trying to find the surface, to breathe. For minutes he had sat there, nearly paralyzed by the sensation, by the shock of it all, by the lack of what should have been.

And then it was over. He could feel her once more. She spoke. He listened. The memories of what had just occurred to her became his as well. The Dreamwaker had struck. He had terrorized the girl. He had put a block between the two of them. It was, perhaps, a warning shot. Glenn would treat it as an act of war, one that showed just how defenseless they were.

Knowledge and training. That was what they needed. That was what brought him out of those archives and in front of Vanidor Goldenhair once again. "Coron Vanidor." He had not seen much of the elf in his time here. No, he had not seen much of anyone or anything save for scrolls, for tomes and and records and for maps. And yes, for the occasional lunch of veal. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I require assistance both in searching the archives and of a more direct sort if at all possible." This was just to be one piece of the puzzle, but he had to explore every possibility, or at least every trustworthy possibility.

"Given recent events which I gather you are not unfamiliar with, there is a need to find ways to strengthen both my waking and unwaking mind. Our dreams are assaulted," and he, himself, was afflicted with a much more personal difficulty while awake. "I do not know if any of your people specialize in such matters of the mind, but at the least I am certain there is knowledge to be found in the archives. If nothing else, assistance in pointing me in the proper direction would be greatly appreciated." They had to get answers quickly. He had to become stronger quickly. There was no other choice, not considering how vulnerable they were, how vulnerable he was. This was war.
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Postby Vanidor » Sun Feb 03, 2008 8:14 am

A request that the elf had heard and listened to with some deep thought and a promise to look into the matter with his higher council. Not that there were many such folk to talk to about it, the number of elves within this Enclave numbering no more than two score. But there was a lot of experience there, amongst those who had lived for centuries on end.

It took some time for the elf to return to the Surveyor, for it took some time to ponder the question and dreg memories older than dust back to the front of one's mind. He would finally find the young man in the same place the question had been asked, there amidst the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls.

"Your question was a deeply probing sort, Master Burnie. I wish we could have come up with an answer quicker than this..." A wave of slender fingers here, a sort of fragility hiding deep reserves of inner strength. "There are mystical means that may assist you in keeping your mind locked and defended. An artificial... strengthening of the will, I would say. Your artificer friend may be of assistance in that matter." The elf stepped along the illuminated hall, a hand motioning towards a particular section of books and scrolls and tablets of stone. The shelving they sat upon was inscribed with glittering golden script.

"Here. Books of the various arts. In the sort that we practice, that takes the power of nature as the source of energies. How the Mage-Kings of Insaar warded their halls by taking from the elements. Working with the Aether. Halanithra and Falain, I will have them come and assist you with the translations, both of them are benders of the mystic weave, yes? One or both can assist you in training your mind as well, I am sure. It takes immense will to work such magic, and a strong will is a step towards securing the mind." Those slender fingers of his tapped the side of his head.

"Is there aught else, Master Burnie? You know that I shall help all that I can, and all that my resources will allow."

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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Postby Glenn » Thu Jan 05, 2012 4:50 am

How much changes in four years.

To an elf, could that be more than a blink of an eye, a small yawn, the stretching of one's neck? Yet to a human.. to a human living in Myrken Wood, it was a lifetime. Capture, death, rebirth, and again, and again. A rise to power. Failures and successes. And now mounting conflict. It brought Glenn Burnie back to to the enclave, to treat with Councilor Vanidor Goldenhair once again.

There was a missive in hand, and his patience, for once, was just a little begrudging, but all protocol was followed perfectly. More than that, whispers of this isolated paradise resonated with young Burnie in a way that they had not upon his last visit just a few months before. Then he was an anathema, a vacuum, a great nothing traipsing through the wood like a man without a shadow, or one that was but a shadow of whom he had once been. Now there was at least a spark of life, distant, almost unreachable, but there. Perhaps that spark is what ignited the impatience he had been lacking months before... or perhaps it was instead the missive.
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Postby Vanidor » Thu Jan 05, 2012 12:28 pm

"I would say, Master Burnie, that it is good to see thee restored to some... Some sort of thyself." The Elf Lord was cryptic with the statement as usual. Was it possible that He, or someone else in his little Enclave, had known? After a fashion, in any case? The Magic-Keepers in his home within a home were few and tight lipped. But they were more than adequate at delving into the mysteries of the mind (or so they said). Still. That really wasn't the issue that Glenn had come about, and Vanidor would wave the comment off with a splay of slender fingers.

In any case, Burnie had a statement at hand, and the elf could only smile those slender lips of his. "You know. I did tell thee some months back that the issue needed to be decided. I know that thou dost have some loyalty to Calomel, but the man is gone and has been missing. And thou hast been the most prominent member of the Government to be seen by the populace."

The elf paused in mid-statement however, as one of his retainers came up behind him and started to braid his long golden tresses. As it was, Vanidor was clad in a strange suit of armour. Ornate, even for his people, the thing was blue plates of some strange metal with golden fittings and piping. It would suit him, really. "I have already made it known that I, and my people, will back thee in this endeavor. Show me this list of thine, and I will respond as swiftly as is possible. When I return from this foray into the molested wood, two days at most?" Which, really, was quick for the Elf. Surely, the man who had once held Glenn's current position on more than one occasion could move quickly when needed... Usually he moved with the usual speed of his kin. Which was barely faster than a snail trudged along its chosen path.

"Is there aught else then? Perhaps thou wouldst wish to join us? I am sure that armour could be found to fit thee. We go to put down some of the animals tainted by the recent corruption. Perhaps seeing such an act of mercy will bring some ease to thine own mind?" Vanidor and warmaking looked completely out of place, did it not? Still. He said it with such a complete lack of ferocity that it made one wonder. Maybe he just liked dressing up... In any case. Vanidor would leave the next words, and the ball as they say, in Glenn Burnie's hands.

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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Postby Glenn » Thu Jan 05, 2012 3:35 pm

Glenn was quite sick of all the talk of his soul. The basic truth of the matter, and if he had a chance to speak to Lamai before she oh-so-conveniently got shunted back to her festering Thesshole, he would have loved to tell her just this... was that he didn't believe in souls in the first place, so all the talk of something wrong with HIS soul just made something else go wrong with him: It gave him a headache of annoyance. And now Vanidor was saying he was better... yes, well fine, whatever. The man was offering his support back when Glenn WASN'T better, so what did that say about any of them.

Still, decorum, politeness. "Simply put, you were correct, and I am going to bow to your suggestion and take up the mantle, despite my misgivings. We'll push it through quickly, and in order to do so, substitutions will be necessary to the Council. There's no finding Giscard, as he's long away for business," or something along those lines, or maybe some urchin just killed him for his poor treatment of anyone who was not of the upper crust, "but I have a long-standing citizen in mind, one who has a certain.. health issue, but also has it quite under control. In truth, I have been rather... human-leaning in my policies, and while his condition is and will be kept secret," though not to Vanidor spouting about Burnie's own soul, certainly. "I hope you see it a sign of my openness thatI choose him. Then there is the outright replacement for Duquesne. A noble experiment but ultimately failed. Syl's attention can never be taken away from home, and this will never be that. I have a talented man in mind. It is the arts, after all, a rather low salience position. You will encompass the wood, the fields and the lakes, formally in charge of agriculture again." That was an odd slight by Calomel in the first place: different times.

"Treadwell remains. That leaves a frustrating gap when it comes to defense, but the one man who I can think of that fits the role is due to some... fatal indiscretions in his past. He is quite capable, however, and I Will have him advise me, unofficially, until we can better fill the position."

Then, finally, a breath and a nod. "So I will speak with them, assemble yet another new Council for Myrken, A reconvening in two days or so, when all is settled. In this matter, you above all others, are my patron, Lord Vanidor." And then, with a bit of a wry smile. "And for that reason as much as any, it pains me I cannot accompany you now. One of these days, though, I will take you up on an offer, hopefully one that is for a happier task. For now, please accept my thanks."
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Postby Vanidor » Fri Jan 06, 2012 3:11 am

An attendant handed the elf a sword as another buckled on a wide belt that carried a... relatively plain leather scabbard. It looked off, considering the grandeur of the rest of his accouterments. Even the sword seemed to be simple steel of almost crude manufacture. Once the belt and scabbard were belted on, Vanidor would waive off his hovering companions, then look down at the steel in his hand.

A soft laugh to himself, a memory of something decades in the past. He murmured something down at the weapon, then those blue eyes of his would raise up to focus on Glenn. Soul or No Soul. Vanidor could not have cared, as long as someone was willing to DO. "We will carry thee in our minds as we cleanse the forest then. And I shall uphold thee as long as thou dost continue to do right by the people here, Glenn Burnie. Sometimes the ends do justify the means, yes?" He glanced at the blade once again, then sheathed it with a soft rasp of metal against leather.

"Two or three days, then. Gather these new notables of Myrken. Maggera and I will be there." Speaking of his constant companion. The dark-skinned elfess stepped out of an adjoining chamber just then. Glad as well in armour, though her plates were finely wrought from... wood? That couldn't be, could it? Yet there she was, and a strange smile she'd give Glenn as she entered, one hand reaching up to pet the half-grown Tressym that had decided to coil around her neck. She continued to stare as Vanidor responded. "Well. Maybe just me for this first meeting. Until then, Governor."

Saying this, the four elves that had attended to Vanidor would bow their heads slightly. Well. Except for Maggera. She just whispered to her winged cat.

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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