A Call of Faith (Private - Striker)

[Cein S'Alvia]

Season of Summer Era II
Era XIV Post Fractum
Month of Aperitus
Brightening 43

The city was still quiet during the early mornings of the brightening, the twin suns only beginning to creep over the horizon in the east. Here and there a few people could be seen opening up shops or starting the rebuilding of the city. For the most part it was quiet, the chill of the early morning still heavy in the air.

In the midst of the quiet two lone figures watched the area around them, the reconstruction and the destroyed buildings. They were near the docks and could see the giant masts soaring overhead with the calls of the many seabirds. One a tiny Fae in purple and black robes, his companion a middle-aged Human wearing robes of deep green. They were an odd pair, the Fae with his dark purple robes and matching hair, the elf with his white robes and even whiter hair.

Cein S'Alvia was the tiny purple Fae that hovered near the shoulder of the Human. The Prince Royal of Kel'rondar had been missing lately and it had been noted by his family that knew little of his life. It was for the best as they would fall ill if they knew of his ties with Ars Sanctorum, if they even knew the group existed as much the Empire did.

His opposite in green was the Master Mystic and Head of Ars Sanctorum, Shei'yen Neydremi. The man that had brought about the recent destruction of the city of Vortex. He was also the one that had contacted Cein for the trip to Paxia.

"So what shall it be first?" The tiny Prince asking the Human as he watched a small dog run past. Snorting to himself as he closed his eyes, he had already attained Clara and was waiting for the order from Shei to do whatever it was they had come to do.

[Shei'yein Neydremi]

They were an odd pair indeed. The guise of the human that the elf wore seemed to hang in mid-air, suspended by nothing. In truth, his form was carried by billowing wings of arcane energy; they stretched out behind him for meters, crackling and snapping to and fro, lapping up the ara circulating in the air. Like himself, they too were covered in wards and sigils at the moment, making detection difficult for the greatest magi, and impossible for everyone else. He peered out at the world below from sunken human eyes, hollowed and darkened, prematurely aged from a lifetime of study. His normally smooth, chiseled features were gone, replaced by the wind worn visage of a man. The green robes he wore hung loosely as his wings synchronized with his mind, obeying his every command, blanketing both Cein and himself in an aura of Liberation. The custom spell increased their latent abilities in every aspect – speed, strength, arcane awareness, thought – and also rendered a non-detection matrix over the two.

They had come to this place to find a magi – one of the nine he’d need to ascend to the status of archmage. The mages of the empire, after all, would not be readily willing to promote one such as himself, and though his illusions were great, a mage was far too vulnerable during promotion to risk his deceptions failing. Instead, he had travelled the realms, searching for strength, and making it his. It was that purpose that had brought him to this place here today.

His goal would soon be attained. The city of Narim lay in ruin; the city of Vortex, in chaos. The elf had gained power from each one. Entire armies had bent to his will. In truth, the fae’s presence that brightening was not needed for the immediate task. Instead, it was a test; a training exercise, of sorts. An academy could only teach so much. The elf needed those who followed him to be strong, able to react in any situation, and to react effectively. This brightening, he would aim to satiate both of these purposes – the growth of his own power, and that of his young protégé.

“We have our orders,” the elf replied brusquely. As far as the fairy knew, he was simply another member of Ars Sanctorum, sent by the Mastermind that was himself.

“Retrieve a master of any sphere, prioritizing thaumaturgy and elementalism. Take advantage of the lack of organization in this city while it's rebuilding, augmenting the chaos if necessary. Escape, and eliminate all pursuers.” Reciting the orders that they had received to the fae, the elf released several of his feathers into the astral, sending them through Astral Transcendence to seek out the sources of arcane strength in the city with master-level prowess or greater, and report back to him.

“When the arcane battle starts, it’s going to be noisy in the astral plane. We’re definitely going to get some attention. I’ll need a distraction from you to make sure that the powers that be don’t come down onto us immediately – that’s up to your own discretion.”

[Cein S'Alvia]

Listening to the aged human the fae prince looked up into the ever brightening sky to make sure it was clear. There were a few clouds left over from nights blanket, but not enough to hinder what he would do, not that they really could. The mist coming off the ports was also beginning to melt away with the heat of the rising suns.

"Understood." Was his only reply without looking towards the human. "I'll do what I can." Floating a bit higher into the air to get a look over the tops of what buildings there were around them. From this vantage he would be able to notice quicker if any patrols or the like was heading towards them.

Also taking the chance he began to build and create mana that he would need for casting his first spell. He would cast his flash spell that worked with the essence of air to ignite the area with an intense bright light brought upon the connecting of two electric bolts. He would augment the spell this time though, instead of casting one simple flare he would cast four simultaneous ones to ignite a larger area with harsher light.

All he need do was wait for a sign from the human that the operation was to begin.

[Striker]

Tufts of wispy clouds extended across the lucid skyline, painting the blue canvas with splotches of white. The two suns of Telath, poised at their zeniths, gazed gently upon the awakening city with beams of golden light. These brilliant rays, seemingly unexhausted from their solar sources, illuminated the foundations of a number of rooftop-less buildings and occasionally reflected off glass windows to glisten like a thousand diamond rings. It was a beautiful summer brightening by all accounts, and certainly not telltale of the horrendous events to come. The sound of seagulls soon pervaded the air, rising in pitch as the birds descended inches above the sea to the north, snatching fish whenever their thin and narrow beaks were in range.

It was peaceful.

From their vantage points, neither Shei’yein nor Cein would be challenged to transcend to the Astral Plane. Clara came expectedly easily amidst the tranquility of their undisturbed location, but whether or not this passivity would last, only the two members of the Ars Sanctorium knew for sure. Unfortunately, though, they would find little useful information yielding from the results of their spell. Much like if their spirits were detaching from their bodies and floating skywards, Astral Transcendence elevated them hundreds of feet into the air, providing a bird’s eye view of the surrounding landscape and the thousands of sentient creatures dotting the city below.

Mostly dwarves were awake at this time of the brightening, scurrying out of their makeshift homes and returning to the countless construction sites dispersed throughout the city. None of these exhibited a trace of magical power, for the battle-hardened Zerdargians seldom resorted to the arcane when their burly hands and backs were generally more than enough to hammer their opponents into the earth. Perhaps this is one of the reasons that Zerdargia fell to the whims of a powerful necromancer, but such an issue was subject to debate. There were many humans amidst the amalgamation of citizens as well, filing down the neatly cleared streets towards the sea where they refilled buckets of water or delivered their creations to various storefronts and stalls.

Strangely, to the west and outside of the city gates, a mountain of rubble emitted a peculiar aura of magical energy. Higher than the Paxian woodland’s tallest tree, something within the immense compilation of wreckage pulsated with the arcane, calling out to the astute mystic’s senses like a blaring horn. It was no further than half a mile to the site, but it would involve departing from the city through its currently wall-less perimeter to arrive there.

But that was not all that would rivet the mystic’s awareness. To the north and housed within one of the many great ships docked in the Paxian Harbor, there was another significant concentration of magical energy. A number of workers were crossing back and forth from the dock to the ship, transferring loads of supplies and occasionally wiping their sweaty brows. The area was heavily guarded, though, and more so than the other dozen schooners and vessels unloading in the vicinity. For whatever reason, however, was yet to be uncovered. Nevertheless, should either mage choose to embark towards the area, they would need to travel northward through the city and towards the docks.

[Shei'yein Neydremi]

The elf hovered above the city, taking in all the information that had been brought back to him through his transcendence. Interesting. Two points of ingress were available; he’d been unable to derive too much information from either one, and so, the selection was simply up to chance – no more, no less. The elf paused, taking a long drag on his cigarette and exhaling into the sky above. Extending a slender finger, he tapped the end of the long stick of rolled tobacco. The ashes fell, swept up by the winds to the north.

“Brace yourself,” the elf uttered, giving the fae but a few moments before they were both dematerialized, plunging into the astral. The decision had been made, and for the elf, riding the astral was as instinctive a method of transportation as putting one foot in front of the other. The only difference, of course, was the rather large difference between the amount of time it took to undertake either one. Warping through the astral plane, the elf dragged Cein along with him, materializing within sight of the ships, his wings arcanically scrubbing clean the spell’s signature release of arcalyzed mana.

Now that they were within the operation area, he switched to mental speech, facilitated by the ring that the young fae possessed. They remained cloaked in non-detection, a spell that the elf had reinforced and upkept in strength.

“There’s too many people here. We could kill them all, but that would be unwieldy and inefficient. You’lll need to thin out some of these fellows – the guards, the labour, the hired hands. Go to a large ship nearby not yet unloaded – something within sight or sound – and sink it, discretely and slowly. Make it look natural.”

The elf spoke directly into the fae’s mind, divining the idea behind each word. The subsequent rush to unload the ship before it sank – or at least, figure out what was causing the flooding, and stop it – would provide both a distraction and thin out the crowd, allowing the elf to sense the presence within. In fights between mages, mysticism was king. Yet, to prepare a proper response, one needed knowledge of the enemy. He’d expand his awareness as the fae went to perform his task, and analyze the information that flooded his mind.