For those who still follow me I wanted to post a small blurb about things.
First, I thank you all who have rp’d with me in the past and have helped me along the way contributing to many different projects that I tried to do. It’s been impactful to me and helpful.
Second, I am turning my blog into an archive for some of the stories I made as I transition to ending my time in gw2. It’s been toxic for me in a mental health standpoint. That and I have been mentally checked out of gw2 for quite some time due to various reasons. It no longer draws my enjoyment as it once did. I realize that I have secluded myself off and not partook in community events and I acknowledge my own gun-shyness in that regard. I did try to re-surge into the scene but looking at it now I see that I put far too much energy into trying to get something to work and click that wasn’t there. This made for a bad toxic mindset that I would get irrationally angry at seeing things not work out or look at others and how they were doing things and be jealous. I see this as toxic for myself, and unfair for others as I would shut people off and ideas off in my own head. It’s one of those moments when you notice you are doing something wrong and want to correct it in yourself.
That being said, I am going to end all my characters (for a lack of a better word.) As of this post my characters are defunct, if i do return in the future to the game i don’t want this cloud over my head where I have a ton of baggage left behind. If I do, and not saying I plan to, return to the game I want it to be under a new view. One where it’s not tainted by what was.
It’s not easy to say that, and i have thought of it in the past but hesitated because ripping out my characters means breaking a lot of rp and backgrounds. If you want to work something out please do contact me privately and we can talk.
In closing I want to say that I hope that I at least brought some enjoyment with the people I collaborated with and had connections with. That was always my goal even if I may have missed it.
Y’all are great and I hope you all have a great 2020.
A soft ticking counted down the time until a great grandfather clock would chime the hour. The racing seconds were counted as Federico sat in his bed staring up at the ceiling. Today was the day of his fathers funeral, admittedly deep down he did not believe his father was gone but according to the family and a private investigator there was no sign of him. He would have kept the search on but a letter was found detailing his fathers health and his last words, which offered a grim outlook on what happened.
According to the letter his father went off for one last ride, going out despite being his growing sickness to quench his blades lust. Despite his feelings towards his father he understood and accepted that’s how his father would end. In that, he found he was similar to his father, more he thought the more it he would do the same, go out in a blaze of glory.
Finally the chime sounded and he rose from his pondering to begin dressing for the days activities. He had a full schedule to run, as ever, first he needed to spend time with his daughter and explain to her that her grandfather was not going to be around. Second he needed to finalize some details about his newly acquired boat which tried it’s hardest not to be. Last he had the funeral to attend and speak on. He wished he could just ignore it all and sweep his daughter up and take her out to explore the world but he had a tether to reality now and that came in form of responsibilities to the family.
-
Sitting in his office Donatello slowly scribbled notes into his tome. He had been working all night on a new spell to use in his teaching to help give practical experience for his students unearthing artifacts. It was to be a curse but one that was harmless to them. The young man finally succumbing to the urge to find something to eat he stood up and stretched out his lithe frame before plodding quietly through his home to the kitchen.
Once a light snack of fruits and veggies was acquired he sat down at his heavy wooden table to eat quietly. Thoughts of his work flooded his mind but a persistently irritating notion kept probing at the edges of his conscious. Something about the coming day and it’s significance. He attempted to purge the emotion as he ate forcing his train of thought into his work but it would be a losing battle.
The more he battled it he knew what was bothering him, it was his fathers funeral. Information he did not know how to process or handle. He was under no delusion that his father was some immortal human, he left such silly notions to his youngest brother. Yet still, the news had come rather suddenly and then the note was found which shed light onto the abruptness of the events transpired.
Still, a great weight fell on his shoulders as he thought of his father. His siblings and him endured a grueling upbringing as his father pushed them to be the best they could be. Be it physically or mentally, each one of his sons had to excel in some area or hell was to pay. That drive, despite being somewhat cruel, allowed Donatello to become a teacher and pursue his studies in necromancy.
He yawned softly as he stood up to clean his empty plate. Today was going to be long and a lot weighed down on his mind. Including the failed investigation into Kestrel. He would have to talk with his brothers about how to proceed with it. In the mean time he wanted to slip into his bed and hold his wife.
-
It was quiet in the Cavalli Townhouse, the servants haven’t woke just yet and dawn was only just showing as Antonio made his way to the gym built in the basement of the house.
He sat down on a stool to begin wrapping his knuckles and wrists in a quiet ritual. The normally happy-go-lucky man was clouded. He knew what day it was despite wishing it away. The thought of his father no longer being there shook him. He strove to be like his father and he pushed himself hard in his training. Yet the more he pushed to be in his fathers gaze the more grim indifference was shown in return.
He slumped as droplets fell on the wraps staining it dark. He allowed a moment for the grief to wash over him before a inner determination made him stand and move to a punching bag wherein he began his routine of boxing practice.
Eventually, his trainer would arrive and they would move onto sparring practice. This would change from boxing, to sword practice, to archery. Ending on a mock battle in a small kill room where he had to run through it eliminating all the targets. These sets of rooms being the only thing he and his father worked on together. It was designed for him to have real world experience and train to his maximum potential having mesmeric clones stand in for dummies.
Today, he did not hold back, for today was his last time to impress his father before he set him away. He left his temperate attitude and gave in to his anger, unleashing lashes of magic as he sped through the kill rooms. He was a Revenant, calling upon the heroes of the past and focusing it on his enemies. A source he feared to call upon but now readily steeped himself in as anger overwhelmed him.
Today, he would have made Gabriel proud.
-
Enara awoke to the cheerful chirps and chips of her pet bird she was keeping in her new apartment in the city. She let out a sigh in contentment as the warm sun shone down through her windows. Something about today in particular made her feel happy, though that was not uncommon for her as she loved the mornings.
She slipped from her bed to dress before attending to her morning ritual of having a cup of coffee and going through her mail. While she sifted through the letters from her editor a rather more official note came to light. Sitting her coffee aside she picked it up and flipped it over. It bore the mark and seal of a great house. For a moment a ping of panic spread over her thinking somehow she received a letter not intended for her. Yet, despite checking multiple times, it was addressed correctly to her.
There she sat for several minutes trying to understand what this could mean. Maybe it was a letter about her book, or maybe it was some hate letter from a noble house telling her she sucked. Or still yet, maybe it was a letter telling her to stop her work.
Eventually, curiosity would get the better of her and she would slowly open the letter, careful to keep the seal intact as much as possible. Inside was a stack of official stock paper. There were two letters, both written in different hands.
First read:
“Miss Enara Richmond,
House Cavalli wishes you to attend the funeral of Lord Gabriel Cavalli. Lord Gabriel has passed recently and has wished you to attend the private funeral alongside his close kin and comrades.
We understand that you are a busy author but he wished you to attend, and as such we have arranged a carriage to pick you up and take you to the funeral and then a visit to the family estate.
I hope this arrangement will work, however if you are busy we understand, thank you.“
The second letter:
“Miss Enara,
This letter is intended to be sent in the eventuality that I was unable to have this conversation in person. Indeed if you are reading this I have passed and my chance to meet you has slipped through my fingers.
In that meeting I would have informed you of a great many things that now I can only write down. I think ideally our conversation would have gone well, where we both got to know each other and that eventually I would inquire about your family wherein I would reveal that I was your father and that I have been looking for you. But the realist in me always told me the conversation would likely turn sour and before I could reveal we would part ways. Unfortunately fate has separated us from that conversation so I will never know how that would turn out.
So, this letter intends to amend that in my passing so that this knowledge isn’t lost forever. I am indeed your father, your mother and I shared a brief relationship while I was married. Realizing that I still loved my wife I had no choice but to confront her with this information. In doing your mother and I separated and I could not find you or her until recently. Though, I am sad to have learned your mothers passing as well.
I can only imagine what you feel now in finding and losing your father. This was not how I wished to tell you. I wanted to foster a good relationship and to allow you to do with the information as you will and still wish that. Best laid plans never survive contact as I have learned...”
She stopped reading as she wiped her face as tears streamed down. She couldn’t take reading more, as the letter went on. She couldn’t handle the information anymore as grief and pain flooded her. She threw herself into a ball on her couch clutching the letter in her hand.
-
A letter is sent out to @gulmontjonty and various key family members.
“Dear family,
We regrettably inform you of the passing of Lord Gabriel Cavalli. His passing was sudden but due to health complications. His funeral will be had at the Cavalli graveyard where he will be buried next to his wife and the rest of his kin.
Afterword a hearing of his will is to be had at the family estate and the succession of Federico Cavalli to head of the family.
An official letter arrives at the desk of @gulmontjonty
“Dear Lord Machiavelli.
I am contacting you regarding a recent Seraph Report that has been brought to light in regards to Lord Gabriel Cavalli. According to this report his chief butler has reported him missing. Officially he has been gone for some time now they think. Ever since the unfortunate happenings with Kralkatorrik he has been acting erratically according to his staff. As you know he placed his son Federico in charge and acting for him.
According to the staff that the investigators talked to Lord Gabriel revived a frequent visitor that would keep Gabriel up late at night. The staff themselves did not know who this person was, however, he or she seems to be connected to his disappearance as they are suspected to be the last person to see Lord Gabriel. Thus far no ransom note or any unofficial talk has come across my desk about his whereabouts.
Why this report is just surfacing now is a mystery to me but I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of his untimely death and the succession of his son to be head of the family. As you well know the family has been under a fair amount of strain lately due to the financial burdens of the constant combat we face with recent events. I believe finding some stability and naming Federico head of the family will help move us that direction.
We also have some troubling news in regards to the family estate. According to letters left to me on regard to the “security” force that is employed; their contract was negotiated under Gabriel. If we allow the information of his passing that security force may leave. While we pay them good money they were loyal to him as you well know in his younger years he commanded them. Having Federico assume head of the family may mean that they wish to pursue other venues leaving the family in a vulnerable situation. One that can be exploited by prying eyes.
I have other concerns that I want to bring forth to you in person at your earliest convince along with Lord Federico. It has come to my attention that the Lord has kept information from me regarding offspring.
Once again, another fell into his trap. Humanity was beautiful thing, he thought in his elation of the moment. He was free, forever broken from the story tellers grasp. He was his own person now, and in charge of a body that allowed him to feast, once again.
Yet, the body still rejected him. Memories plagued him of a past not of his own. Weak emotions tugged at his mortal body. Specifically towards a woman in particular. A sweet thing that shared a common interest in beebies. He hissed at the thought as he slowly wiped a stain off his chin. He needed to end the last sinew of connection tethering him. He hated to be caged and under the influence of others.
Slowly he walked to his clothes he neatly sat aside to pull them on. Only to pause before a mirror to look at his body. The vision before him making him smile as he admired the flesh. Long ago he possessed another before the story tellers chains wrapped around his neck and dragged him to a dark cage. Reaching up he traced a hand over the soft skin of his arm only to wince. Despite the body being in good condition he was growing to a point where the mortal flesh was not able to contain the pilot in control. With the world abounding with magic and his own insatiable tastes for it he grew beyond the confines of his body. Yet it still held some degree of usefulness for now.
He needed one last feast before he was able to fully step unto his own and he had a devil of a plan. He threw on his clothes as he put action unto thought. It was quite simple really, he knew of two Bellisario women who had some degree of interest in his body, specifically Marissa and Belle. The latter being more easy to manipulate. He recognized the emotion pulling him towards one of them that the previous helmsmen had for Marissa, something he would pry into for his own gain.
Stepping out of his victims house into the warm night air he set his foot towards the Bellisario estate, under one arm he a book with a certain fairy tale and a host forever trapped inside. With one stone he would take three birds before being set free and to evolve. The excitement of finally being free kept his step light and even he began to whistle. Under the full moon he walked casting a ominous shadow as he walked. In the distance behind him a mortified scream called out and after a few minutes rushing past him Seraph towards the scene of the crime.
“Good luck fellows...I think we will be seeing you again soon.” he coo’d after them.
He woke again, the same tired feeling of not enough sleep and the sudden weight of the world. He reached over to the bed beside him to feel it empty and cold.
He gave a moment to take a breath and steel himself once again. For he knew this story, all to well in the past months, or years. He stood up and found his clothes. It never changed, it was always where he left it no matter where he left them. Yet he moved onward drawn to a conclusion set well in advanced.
He was slated to wake up and find his love, but not the one he loved. There was another outside the story, that only he saw in the most clear of moments. She had a beautiful smile, and bright eyes. He remembered the faintest of touches and how she smelled when they briefly were close.
The events played out as they always did, he would go into his job. Learn of his missing wife, and later in the day hunt down a lead that would ultimately lead to his death. He did not know how many times this had replayed only a vague notion he had done this before. He was not all in control of his actions, like he was a puppet in a script. He was growing weary, the fabric of his mind unraveling around him, only combated by the ever intensifying need to see her face once more. He was losing himself, but as he did more he dreamed of her and more the story shoved him to his untimely end. \
The soft crackle of a fire echos through the quiet office of Gabriel. The light flickering across shelves of books and scant pieces of finery that Gabriel afforded into his office. The offices singular piece of ostentatious art was hung directly behind his desk. A painting of his children and his wife. Often he would stand before it to contemplate.
He now stood in front of the painting with his usual stern expression. His eyes roaming over each family member, from his wife who was holding the baby Antonio, to Federico who was trying his level best to ruin the picture, to Donatello standing slightly behind his wife. Despite his silence on the subject he was quite fond of his children in the painting. Each displaying their unique personality even at a young age. Despite Antonio being but a babe when it was put to canvas he already had a distinct person about him. With Federico and Donatello they were complete opposites, one the outgoing and vivacious to the shy and quiet dutiful Donatello.
He knew they balanced each other out in the end. When growing up fights often broke out between them and he would observe Antonio being the one to attempt to calm, whilst Federico often was the one instigating the conflict by picking on Donatello who would lash out escalating the situation due to being weathered down.
Turning Gabriel reached out to steady himself with the back of his large chair. He took a breath in before slipping around to sit himself down. Light from the fire finally revealing his face. It was paler than normal, and his usual rather ageless figure was drastically poorer. A soft grunt of annoyance was uttered as he attempted to adjust his seat closer to his desk which took more effort than he normally accustomed to. Despite his reduced state he still did not let it show unless in the most intimate of situations such as now. Pulling out a piece of fine stock he begins to write, the words coming slow and purposeful.
Dear Lord Machiavell
I write to you in hopes that you are healthy and that your work are ever blessed. I have not gotten time to talk with you as late as I have been throwing my attention on a new matter that has come to forefront. This matter has me away from the duties of my station as head of the family. A negligence that I regret but continue to do as it is of the matter of family security.
As such, my eldest son, Federico hence forth will be speaking on my behalf as well as informing me directly of family matters. Any letters from him will bare my seal and will carry the weight of my word regarding the inner workings of our family. While I understand you may have some reservations for me doing this let me assure you, Machiavelli, that in a short amount of time he will assume my role as he is the eldest heir to the family. Despite his wanderings and delving in different avenues in life he knows the importance of this station, maybe not now but he will rise to the occasion.
On that regard, Machiavelli, I am dying. My time is growing short and I have much to do. You are the first to know this outside of a handful of people which exclude my children. I fear that my health decline has been very swift and that I am unable to continue with my task at hand. Which I have kept in secret from the rest of the family on a whole as it involved family secrets that are a very sore subject.
To give you some context, dear Machiavelli, my late wife’s murder has been revealed to me and through some digging and prying of proper pressures I found that his hand was guided by another. He bares the name Kestrel and he resides in the city as a ghost. A financier of a cell of White Mantle that worked to subvert the city. While the White Mantle have been crushed as it seems this man continues to be a tick suckling on the weakness and corruption of the city. While I would involve the proper authorities in regard to this matter I cannot. This would lead to jeopardizing family history that spans far back in a time period that we as Cavalli’s want to forget and have in most cases.
For you see, Machiavelli, our family is one to place the families well being above all. Our history if revealed in naked truth would show a family of people grasping at every opportunity to advance our own interests. The old family saying comes to mind, ‘though star fall, though earth shake, the Cavalli’s will endure till the last.’ This sorted history has been locked away and scattered to the wind, and while we believe it to be hidden it is not. Our records hold the key to understanding our past and the secrets hidden within.
I believe that though the secrets are hidden they influence us in different ways. Our fierce independence bred from history of being willing to do whatever it takes to survive. I have strove to lead our family to better places, to use our influence and clout to better the people around us while keeping our interests safe. This is why I reveals these things to you, Machiavelli. Our history is a great mantle bore out of blood and tears but one that we can utilize for the greater good. When I am gone, so goes my knowledge of our past. I do not wish this to be and I want you to bare some of it and have the keys to aid Federico in learning it.
I believe with my passing and Federico’s rise to his station the family will be on a new path. I have tried in the past to guide him to the one I walk but that is blatantly not going to work. Instead of hindering it I will allow Federico and you to make the choices. I hope that both of you will work together as friends, and most of all as family. Which is why I give you this last bit of information, Machiavelli. In the family archives the book of my family has two entries that I need you to see for yourself in secret. In them will set you on a path to discover the knowledge that I posses. To have the secrets revealed you will have to work with Federico. While the secret won’t die with me it will be your choice to pursue and ultimately what you will do with it.
I request that all information that I have disclosed thus far will be kept until my passing. I have left a letter to Federico that will be sent once the end is near as I fear that he may try to run again hearing what I had to say. As you may have guessed he and I are not close, I fear that once my wife was murdered I was harsh on him. Pressing too hard to fill my shoes once I was gone, but now I realize that he is his own man.
I hope, Machiavelli, that this weight is not too much more to bare. I have in the past asked a great many things from you but this is my last request.
Sincerely
Lord Gabriel Cavalli
His writing took him deep into the night as he had to stop to cough from time to time. His breath came in hard as he concentrated but despite that he had a mission that he damn well would finish before he expired. Reading over his letter he lightly blew on the ink. The words jumbled on the paper as he watched, the words only for the receivers eyes. He then folded the paper before placing his wax seal on it. Once the wax seal was fully set he tucked the letter into his pocket. Leaning back into the chair he took a heavy breath before his eyes focused on the corner of his office.
“I am sorry, that took me longer than expected.”
The flame flickered again casting a dancing light over a wooden painted marionette. A few moments pass before the figure clicks to life, joints moving in awkward motions as it stood up. The otherwise inhuman figure moved to stand, nearly collapsing from time to time, to stand in front of the desk. A soft chuckle builds from the wooden throat. One that didn’t seem to come directly from the marionette but was distinctly caused by it.
“Your move, Gabriel.”
A magical board forms on Gabriel’s desk, complete with ivory game pieces arranged as chess pieces. They were already midgame as the night wore on. Gabriel was a even match to the trickster as he doggedly refused to give in.
If Machiavelli were to look into the book that Gabriel mentioned he would find the births and deaths of Gabriel’s family line. The entry for his wife would have the dates of her death. A new entry, however, was added, a daughter by the name of Enara. From this entry her mother was not Gabriel’s wife. No other family records would hold her aside from this book.
The missing Cavalli would be easily found given the digging, she resided in the Reach under the name Enara Sterling.
You're beyond seductive, you're downright magnetic!
You life live and approach seduction on a grand scale.
You have an inner self confidence and energy that most people lack
It's these talents that make you seem extraordinary - and you truly are!
In love, you crave a long term, harmonious relationship. You want a life partner and soul mate.
For you, closeness doesn't come quickly - it takes time for you to open up. You need to build trust first.
Overall, you are supportive, nurturing, and expressive. You want to be that rock for the person you're with.
However, you tend to be shy and protective of your personal space. You absolutely need to have your 'me' time too.
Best matches: ENFJ and ESFJ
The dogged march of time had swept on, yet for Desmond the time stood still. It took him a eye opening experience to see this. He was circling around in a holding pattern waiting for clearance that never came.
This revelation came when he returned home from a impromptu picnic in the Shaemoor Graveyard. Where he thought he’d be able to scare off a particularly rhythmically challenged noble woman. Throughout the transpiring events he wished to run and hide away. Past pains had taught a harsh lesson on being open with people. However she doggedly pressed on with a unrelenting energy that could only be matched by possibly a puppy. At the time he didn’t realize that he was making a friend as they spoke and battled back and forth, mind not in a adversarial way, but she rebuffed his attempts to scare her off. He would throw a wall and she’d come crashing through like one of those silly Asuran adverts for “CoOOo-aide,” wherein a Quaggan would burst through a wall and shout “Ooohhh yeahhhh.”
Further thought came later when he arrived home. He was off, conflicting emotions abounded as he stepped through the door. However, he was unable to settled them as not a few seconds later a knock at the door called him away. The neighbors had problems with their stove yet again and had heard from another neighbor that he was the one to come calling on. He had gained a reputation for being a handyman in his building. Willing to repair and work seemingly magic to the average person. Truthfully he didn’t mind as it gave him a task that was black and white to focus on.
When he was finished and the party requesting help had compensated him with a small meal which he took back to his apartment. As he entered he placed the plate of food to his left where a barely there kitchen was. Deeper in was his living room, and small ladder up to a open air loft where he had his bed and a few shelves with items. Currently, his two mechanical Quaggans sat playing chess. They would wave at him as he entered but resumed their eternal game. He tapped his finger on the counter of his kitchen as he stared on to his life.
“I am not happy. I am making it worse by holding onto the pain. How do I fix this?” he folded his arms as his mind began to work on the new problem that came to the forefront. He methodically worked through the variables as he watched the two before him.
A few minutes pass before he grew frustrated with the answers and he decided that he needed to rearrange his kitchen again. As he bustled about placing his utensils in more efficient drawers dictated by usage, name, and how close to his sink they’d be. It came to him, he let the past keep him from what he wanted to do. He stopped tinkering and creating. He let one pain halt all of his forward momentum and drive to innovate. The need arose again now that he realized this. He dropped what he did and hurried off to a chest of drawers in his living room. He quickly started to rummage for a specific object. A metal lined oak box, inside held the key to a old friend and haunt, his disused long forgotten tinkerers shop in Queensdale. He had left it locked up after he and Renita had split the drive that she provided for him had left with her. He needed to realize that the drive should always reside within himself. “Come on you two! we are going home!” he gently nudged the two Quaggans before hurrying up to grab a coat and head out.
The young man had found his passion again, all thanks to one very awkward encounter and a little bit of tragically bad dancing.
A big bold page spread is taken out in many local papers to announce a new extravagant night of music and performances.
“Come one, come all!
Join the Reach for a night of festivities and music!
Featuring a once in a life time experience with Luciano Quaggarotti in person!
Accompanying him the new upcoming ensemble Melody’s Chickadees!
This is one for the story books folks!
Each member has their own unique voice to accompany them and to mesmerize your heart.
From the soulful lady from Kessex, to the grandiose Norn woman, who some say studied under the very Luciano Quaggarotti himself! Going industrial we have the Charr female with her chest thumping, pulse pounding power ballads!
If softer is what you prefer than the new bloom Sylvari will astonish as she awoke destined to perform on the stage. Rounding out the group is the amazing Asuran DJ where her asymmetrically and anatomically correct beats will have your head bobbing and your feet moving.
Check the mirror, make sure you aren’t dreaming as this once in a lifetime event will have you addicted to the music of Don Quagglioni and accompanying Melody’s Chickadees!
This report is to document my encounter with the mesmeric entity known only as Trickster. The Collective has sealed away the entities in a very solid jail of magic and physical barriers. They believe that locking these entities away is the best for Tyria however I am torn and do not believe this the case.
Our knowledge of the mesmer entities are very limited as no proper study has been done on them until now.
I want to say that I am acting alone in doing this and understand the risks. I have nothing to lose if this attempt is fruitless. I have no family nor any loved ones. My life is dedicated to the Collective and researching.
Day One:
I reached out to contact the entity known as trickster. I had to take care to weave my way through the magical wards and barriers holding the entity. Thus far fruitless, I will try again over the coming days.
I will only report on days that have note or findings.
Day Five:
Today I have made a breakthrough. Past few days I bore a small hole through the wards that would not allow for escape but two-way communication. I was almost caught on many occasions in which I had to lie to the others for what I was doing. I do not like doing so but the desire for knowledge on these beings pushes me onward.
I have questions for them. how were they made? Did the Gods make them or were they before the Gods? Such answers I will find.
I must stop for now, the routine checking of the wards will be happening tonight. My window I placed will be closed, however, now that I know how to bore through, I will have an easier time establishing contact.
Day Twelve:
I did it! As I write this, I can hardly believe it. I established contact with them. It was brief as once again I was interrupted.
I even was allowed a glimpse of the being (I believe this entity may be shy.) What I saw was a marionette like in a child's play. Dressed in purple and green with makeup on its face and a grin affixed to its wooden face. The actual construction of the Marionette seems to be quite ancient as flecks of paint and nicks can be seen.
While the entity did not speak per say I was able to glean emotions as I probed it. At first, I received an intense sense of boredom. This turned to curiosity as I made my presence known to it. However, once I did the being would shut off all attempts for further probing quite hard, I don’t think it was malicious. I have a mission to go on, apparently, we found another entity and I am required to help capture this one.
Day Twenty:
I have made strides lately even going as far as having open dialogue with the being. I have gained understanding regarding its nature. It comes from a plain of existence like the mists, yet somehow set apart. A raw chaotic swirl of magic colliding and changing. While this is hard to believe I did not sense any falsehoods. It could be simply the mists and they occupy a section far away, far beyond anyone's comprehension which is a plausible idea.
Day Twenty-One:
He called out to me. He aches for something to do and he wishes to talk. I saw him in my dreams. Sitting behind a simple table. On which was a deck of cards which he eternally shuffled. He called for me to play with him, one a simple game of cards. This is my chance, I will go to him and play...
Agent report:
This report is to be filed with the report of Agent Sanders as a warning for who may repeat this costly mistake.
Agent Sanders has been under internal investigation due to a suspicion of weakening the wards surrounding the Entity: Trickster. He has been seen around the wards many times by the guards on duty. However due to his experience in maintaining the wards he was not stopped.
Over the period of 20 days the agent would subvert the containment of the Entity and establish contact, which in of itself put many of the Collective in danger. However, it appears the Entity did not escape but in the end Agent Sanders was pulled into the cell without his knowledge and ours.
We noted a powerful surge in the wards which prompted this investigation. We found that Agent Sanders had not only come into contact he was pulled into the Tricksters game. The game changes from person to person and those who enter are under the complete whim of the Trickster. We lost five men to this “game” when we captured the entity. However, with combined efforts we subdued the being before it was able to take any more of our agents out.
(Note: Our research into this game has found that people in the past who played his game have either been killed or rarely been given a boon. Despite being a boon, it also came with a curse. The favorite one the Trickster employs is asking if the winner would care to have love or have luck. If one chose the love, they would find their true destined one very quickly upon leaving the Tricksters game. However, this would prove ill as they would have a whirlwind romance before dying very soon after meeting the loved one. The exact timing is fairly indefinite however death always results from this choice.
If the person chose Luck than they would be given a bountiful amount of luck. Life would become easy for them and good event after good event will befall them. However, like a yo-yo the strings of life pull back. The person, while having a long life of good luck, will meet a gruesome death when luck is most needed. Invariably the person will find that fortunes turn for them in either the heat of battle or by happenstance. The exact moment is also akin to the other choice; indeterminate.)
Agent Sanders picked Luck as his choice and his story unfolded as the others in history did. He found a windfall of money that a long-lost relative gifted him when they died. He retired from the Collective to do his own research into whatever he found during his time with the trickster. He also began to live lavishly, spending his fortune in an ever-increasing frivolous manner.
His fortunes however would not hold out. His spending would not go unnoticed and one night his home was broken into when he was sleeping. Somehow Agent Sanders was able to awake before the blade sliced his throat, he fought back but his luck was gone. He was no match for the cut-throat.
We must learn from Agent Sander. Under no circumstance shall any agent attempt to contact any entity by themselves. We have lost too many people capturing and locking these beings away to have it come back on us now.
Wind rattled the against heavy pane windows snapping William from his sleep. He reached up to brush some sleep away from his face. Where am I? He thought to himself, adjusting his rumpled clothes.
He found himself sitting in a cushy chair surrounded by bookshelves illuminated by the dancing flame of a fire across from him. The heavy musty air is once again broken by the concerning shaking of nearby windows behind him. “Fear not, Mr. Bar. The weather will not reach us here.” A decidedly Kessex accented voice spoke from next to him. Sitting beside William was a man adorned in a old smoking jacket that at one time would have been quite fashionable. The man himself was middle aged with wavy brown hair. Lines around his eyes indicated time and experience. The man was squarely looking at William with intense deep green eyes.
Adjusting himself, William straightened in his chair. The man gave the air of a highborn as he lightly puffed on a pipe. A shiver worms it’s way down William’s spine as he starts to feel a gravity to his situation. He didn’t fall asleep here, in fact he didn’t even know where he woke in.
“Don’t worry, William, you are safe here. I have no intention of anything untoward you. I have simply summoned you here to talk with you.” The man spoke as if reading his mind. He pushed a ball down his throat before reaching up to adjust his collar. “Then what is it...that you want?”
With that the man placed his pipe aside before standing from the cushioned seat. He moved towards the fire with hands clasped behind his back. A moments pause gave way when the man shifted to look over at William. “My name is Teaque. I have a proposition for you, Mr. Bar. One that will give both of us what we want. I know that sounds rather ominous given that you awoken in a strange place and now talking with someone who you do not know. But I implore you to hear me out.” the mans voice even but carrying no ill will towards William, and something about the man gave a soothing quality.
“Well...if this is a kidnapping I will tell you I know a Seraph or three to come looking for me.” William bluffed as he tried to establish some form of defense for himself. This only illicit a dry chuckle from Teaque. Who fully turns to him and places his hands into his large jacket pockets. “Mr. Bar, I think you and I know you are bluffing.” Pulling from his coat was a small glass bottle and vial. He stepped forward to place them on a small table in front of William. The sight of it made William visibly uncomfortable as he reached up to his own clothes as if looking for something. “Where di..did you get that?” he croaks out as he studied the label. The bottle and vial would be medicine that if consumed in too large of quantities could lead to death. William’s hands clasped down on the chair’s armrests as he looked towards Teaque. “Oh six...does this mean...you...and I am...in the mists?”
Teaque moves to kneel down before the fire to stoke it and place another log onto it. “No, Mr. Bar. I am not Grenth, I am not here to shuffle you off the mortal coil. Nor am I here to stop you. I am not going to take that choice from you. However I do wish to offer an alternative. For you see, you aren’t far off, Mr. Bar. This isn’t the mists but you are not in the mortal world. You are in fact a place beyond that of the six. A realm governed by the strong minded. I being what you might call a baron of the land. I posses a unique ability, magic, to control stories and books.” he shifted to stand up and resume his spot aside of William. “I can tell by your worried glances that I am some crazy person. So...here.” he snapped his finger and they in a split second were transported to a large hall of books.
Lit from hidden light sources. The hall went on for what seemed ages until at the very end a light shone down on a particularly large book. Above it hung a large sword blade pointed down at the book. The rest of the shelves holding organized books of varying degrees of age. Some with painted fronts to flat leather bound journals. William slowly stood up looking at it all. “How did...you do that?”
“Just so as a general commands his men.” Teaque joins the man at his side, once again his hands in his jacket pocket. Despite the utter absurdness of the events, William was pulled to the books. Since he was a child he wished to write his own stories. He was an avid devourer of the written word. He moved towards one of the bookshelves seeing some first editions of books he recognized, others he did not know. “Where did...you get these? This must cost a fortune! And in such condition.” looked them over carefully to inspect if they were fake. “I enjoy the written word quite particularly. I have many more books if you wish to read them.” Teaque gestures to the many other shelves lining the hall. “You are my guest and as such I do not mind you reading.”
A small smile formed as he looked at all the books, but as if realization dropped he looked to Teaque. “You say this isn’t the mists but a...what realm somewhere else...but not in Tyria. Is this all an illusion meant to torment me from what…I did?” Teaque regarded the man a moment before motioning him to follow. “Come with me, Mr. Bar. I want to show you something. As seeing is believing as one might say.” With that Teaque walks towards the far end of the hall where a grand window was letting in light. William hesitated but after a moment was compelled to follow. He curiously studied Teaque as he joined him at his side. “Out there, Mr. Bar.” Teaque gestured to the window.
William turns his gaze to the window to look at what Teaque meant. It took him a while to fully understand what he saw. From their vantage point they were on a hillside looking down at what he at first thought to be land but more he looked the more the land shifted and contorted. Impossible angles formed. Reality twisted and churned on a whim to a maddening degree. Only the grounds around the grand library did not morph. William reached up to rub his eyes as he spoke. “This can’t be real I must be dreaming or...or am I dead…and you are some fiend meant to torment me beyond the grave?!”
With that Teaque waved his hand and a large curtain dropped over the window. “Do not call me a demon.” his voice rose giving it an edge. “Out there, you will find one. A mind torn apart from all rhyme or reason. No, No Mr. Bar, I am here to offer an alternative from your untimely end. I have power here and more books than that vaunted Durmond Priory. I offer you a chance to achieve greatness that your mortal kind have never seen before. I sympathize with you, a man that has slaved his life on a job in hopes to one day achieve a goal only for it to come crashing down. The harsh reality of a life spent slaving but only to be dumped despite loyalty given.” his voice calmed as he took a moment to look at William. “I want to offer you that ability to do what you dreamed of most. Giving your world books, stories, words to last a lifetime. Believe it or not Mr. Bar, I don’t want you to die. What I see in you is a great potential. A great writer with a unique perspective on life and now a greater one with my help.”
William paused a moment before looking at Teaque directly. “What do you mean? You speak of giving me all this but how? And what do you get?” William was quite unsure about everything he was seeing. However the mans earnestly about him living gave him pause. “Mr. Bar. I will be straight with you. In your mortal world I cannot exist outside my books for long. I cannot fully come into your world as your Six have forbid it. They locked me away long ago but, I am a resourceful person and found ways into it, even more so now that they have left you to your own devices.”
William frowns as he listened to Teaque. “By locking you away...does that mean you are dangerous or…” Teaque canted his head. “Lets say they had their own script they wanted to follow and didn’t want outside help. Which is fair play to them. I can understand not co-authoring your own book.”
“So why do you need me specifically?” William moved to find a seat again as he tried to understand the logic behind Teaque. “There are many in this realm that would take your body. Rip you out and drive you to madness while keeping your body for their own and going into the mortal world. I am not one to do that, instead I purpose a joint partnership. I lend my aid and give you the power and access of my library. You allow me to subside in the mortal world inside you. A vessel.”
William looks at Teaque giving him a perplexed turned worried look. “A vessel...a possession? You want to take my body from me? I don’t see how I would gain from this...what if you use my body for ill? What is your goals Mr. Teaque?”
Teaque looked onward towards the far end of the library. “This merge will mean I am in your body like a possession. However only as long as you are willing. I do not wish to take, destroy, harm, your body. As stated before I wish you to live a long happy life and fulfill your dream of making books. I find that a noble goal. I will allow you access to this library where you may read and learn. I will protect you in this realm as you would be my guest. In turn I ask that you help me. Lift a curse upon me and to exact revenge on a enemy that wronged me.” standing up Teaque bade William to stand and follow.
Reluctantly, William did so with half a step behind the man. He feared that Teaque would now take his body or kill him. This whole situation was strange like some fever dream. Eventually they arrived at the large book at far wall opposite the window. As they neared the soft sound of a heartbeat pulsed from the old leather bound tome. Teaque stopped several feet before reaching it but gestured for William to look. Above the book was a large jagged sword poised blade down at the tome. “Why is that blade here?” William asked as he reached out to touch the book. “Don’t touch it!” William drew back hearing the harsh warning. “Please,” added Teaque, “Despite my bluster and power and control I have a curse upon my heart a evil man has taken my most prized possession and held it ransom. I cannot access this one book. It is...who I am yet I am bound to never look into it again. I wish to lift this curse and once again be free from the shackles. Second, I wish to exact revenge on a select group of mortals who wronged me. Imprisoned me without any books. Tortured me by letting ages past without me having read a thing. This is all I wish for, all I will ever ask for. I offer this to you humbly. Please allow me the revenge to keep those who I hold dear safe and to free them.”
The earnesty of Teaque gave William pause. He looked at the man then the giant sword above his heart. “If we do, I want your promise not to use my hands to murder anyone in cold blood. I...I believe you Mr. Teaque. I don’t think I had felt a malicious intent this whole time. You afforded me as a guest and not a prisoner. You didn’t make me do this...so yes. I will let you merge or whatever else you call it. As long as you do not take innocent lives in my hand and that you allow me to retain control.”
Teaque looks at the man before nodding. “I agree.”
With that Teaque reached out to offer his hand to William in one last moment of binding agreement. William hesitated as once again a shiver runs down his spine. He was worried he was about to make a mistake but he reached out to shake Teaque’s hand.
He awoke, in his room of his Divnity apartment. He was sprawled out on his bed. In his hands a vial and bottle. He looked down at them before slowly standing up. He felt new, different. His mind clearer and colors sharper. Put those away a voice called. “Who said that?!” he stumbled around knocking work aside. We are one now, as such we need to be weary on how we treat this vessel. Be careful, please. I will be watching. William looked around before moving to a mirror to look in. The face that looked back was same as ever, haggard from lack of sleep and unhealthy drinking. Clothes disheveled and the smell of booze on them. He took a breath finding resolve to clean his act up.
👀 …someone my muse likes, but doesn’t trust. (whoevers xD)
Taking a moment to collect his thoughts after the question. “Brutally honestly I suppose my family. I like them but I am not sure I can trust them. Specifically my father. In theory family is nice and all but in practice. There is a lot there, lots of deeply packed repressed emotions that I am sure is the cause of many an issue in my life.”
He took a moment before saying. “Or all this is bull carp and the true one I don’t trust is me…that’s some deep stuff right there Alissa. So what’s this about a boy…thought I told you no boys…”
The Cavalcade of Characters @flashfire344 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
