Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

The Founding Courtyard, Nashaki
Afternoon, 21st of Cylus, Dark.
Cylus Festival
The Scrolls of Anar, Nashaki, #7 Tempering the Cold Heart of Winter.


treets lined with sandy and orange fabrics, proudly showing desert colors. Celebration of the finest craftsmanships on display, guarded of course. The one day the Makers tolerated others wearing bronze even, and the one day the tower-folk mixed with the commoners more openly outside of them. A celebration of winter, to turn aside the bitter freezing cold which claimed the lives of those unable to find heat.

Three huge fires were burning at the founding courtyard's center, with several smaller ones ringed outside. The large courtyard was full to bursting as each inside was given a juice drink, made from the crushed pods of a cactus fruit. People were in a celebratory mood. It was cold, but it wasn’t freezing with all this fire, and in all this body heat people were almost comfortable.

Why was it called the fantamaln, fan for the dancers who brought fans for show in defiance of the cold, tam for what they burned on the fires for free, warmth for those who sat within their reach, and aln for the prize, or chance games people played at the center. As well as the dancers walking on stage, there were stone turning games, involving game of skill with balancing stones; a strange game of blindfolded drawing; the famed blind singers of Kanmal plied their trade on the sick; Qi’ora craftsmen displayed their finest winter works to each other; fire eaters came from afar, as did knife throwers, and jugglers; merchants trying to haggle their wears on the outskirts; just as many were happy to sit, drink their cactus juice, and remain as close to the fires as possible, for as long as they could.

While everyone was dressed up well, the cactus drink they were given warmed the stomach, brewed in the great towers, it and the festival was the council’s way of maintaining order in a perilous time of hardship. A clever man, and rising leader among the council had realised, better they spend money on a festival than arresting the malcontentment this time of the arc could bring.

Dressed in his usual weather weary clothes, polished family crested shield on his back, dull iron sword and knife sheathed on his hip, the hooded form of Kaladis Anar stood. The Eidisi was celebrating Vhalar in the midst of this, and he wasn’t the only one, there was a small gathering giving thanks to the immortal of festivals, at this time of year most of all. They had lit their own fire, much to the annoyance of one of the guards overseeing the event, but he’d been too afraid of angering an immortal to interfere.

halar's gathering by the fire emphasied desert art, runic pendants, sandstone carvings, stone statues of animals, desert symbolism, all driven by Qi’ora perfection and decades if not almost two centuries of mastery. Not all was of the same quality obviously, but all showed attention to detail, with even the younger Qi’ora showing their childlike emergent talents. Kaladis had no such gift, his art was that of bone and metal, yes metal was his art. Removing a knife he’d forged days earlier and stabbing it in the ground, it was not the traditional art, but it was art to Kaladis, and in the end perhaps that’s what counted. One day his art would be carried by hundreds at their side, and told of by bards when they sung of battles to come.

Sharing in a rare drink of firewine, nothing like actual wine because there were no grapes to be found out here, desert fruit distilled instead, it had a spicy flavor to it which made his face tighten up. Several toasts were made to the immortal and a story was told by the fire. Kaladis didn’t care for stories, unless it was a day like today, listening with the rest of them and sharing toasts as they were given.

While tales of desert walkers, serpents and a hidden oasis went on into the night, fire danced across the clear black skies, the festivities and dancing carrying on defiant of the cold around them. Fan dancers made way for belly dancers, the sound of nearby shakers done to give them their rhythm to match. Kaladis remained near the crowd but sat alone, mostly avoided by the locals, except one or two celebrators of Vhalar who wished him well, more to stay in the spirit of their celebration, than to risk getting too close to the Eidisi stranger. While sharing the stories and toasts had made the nearby locals less wary of him, they were in no rush to become fast friends.

“Kaladis, merry as ever.” Ralari’s voice greeted him, and his hand placed itself on his shoulder. Turning his head, he could see his friend and mentor as usual had a mug of wine in his hands, exactly where he had found wine out here Kaladis didn’t want to ask. “It is not the ice festival, yet it is a welcome break.” Kaladis was recalling Viden, he had sat alone most of the time there too, but never missed one arc'ly festival.

hough their solitude would not last overly long, two elegantly dressed dancers had made their way over to extend their hands, who had sent them he couldn’t say. Kaladis knew the steps of a formal dance from childhood, beyond that, his actual practice was limited. In two groups either side of the fire, space was cleared, because the formal dance of the sands was about to begin.

Standing to take the hand firmly in his, his Viden custom would be alien to her, so he would take it slowly. Ralari was much more reluctant, Kaladis didn’t see why, he had better balance and more refinement than his student. About to lead her into a customary Viden Shyvar, or formal dance, the dancers had other ideas. Small lights were lit in between two lines, one line of partner’s one side, and one the other, both lines walked forward, then back, taking hands at the center where it was lit. She was much more skilled than he, and slowed to his pace, following but also assisting. Kaladis was careful so not to make a misstep, slowing himself to be out of time with those around him, moving at his own pace instead. Ralari fared better, becoming more familiar with his partner as they moved.

Taking his cue from the others to come closer together, Kaladis’s arms held her firmly, careful not to tread on her feet, her body moved around in his, to face him and then away. His own feet were not graceful, but they were careful here, his tried to find his time to the music building from behind the stage. Strings and wind instruments played soft melodies with a slow drumbeat, the partners weaving their way together around in small circles. Here he did stumble, but recovered with the smallest of giggles from his partner, his serious edge slipped slightly and winked. Short lived, it was not long before his demeanor returned, watchful of her, those around him, and any potential threats to their well being.

At the end of the music, he brought her hand to his lips, but did not offer a kiss, a formal gesture of parting that lacked the connection of other races, because she was unknown to him, and not an Eidisi either. His mood had improved, the respect given to him, the elegance that his life lacked, he found that in the music and the dance, a song he would happily sleep on now. Before he could do so, his partner lay her hand on his arm, “I am to bring you to speak with a friend.”

aladis spared a glance to Ralari, who nodded, showing he agreed they should investigate. Although there was a noticeable absence of his shield during the festivities, Kaladis never left the inn now without a sword, having found it a necessity when walking into the unknown.

The dancer led him gently by the hand through the crowds, people making way more than he expected for her graceful steps. Behind him it seemed Ralari had linked arms with his partner, and they were sharing banter while they walked, her laughter at his words probably for show, Kaladis decided it was still good to see him enjoying himself. His own partner smiled politely through her veil, and he nodded for her to continue their walk.

Coming to the back of the stage, the four came across a man disrobing himself of his entertainer’s clothes, swapping back into casual but clearly wealthy clothes. This hadn’t been what Kaladis was expecting to find here, he was pleasantly surprised to see no ambush awaited them all the same. Two larger, dark skinned humans were hanging around also, and they did not escape the Eidisi’s notice at how they shifted their posture his way when he approached.

Waiting for the other to speak, to show his hand first, Kaladis’s partner took his arm, while the two Eidisi remained still. Nothing was said while the man finished dressing himself, and no one was in any rush to break the silence. Silence was the absence of song or festivals, and until the music started up again, words were not needed or perhaps safe to be uttered aloud.

Undercover of melody, the unnamed man extended his hand. “Asfern Amaton Menmere, you are Kaladis Anar, and your companion Ralari Natonias of Viden. My humble greetings to our fine city.” Both the Eidisi had similar thoughts, were they spying on them, more than usual to gain their names? Apart from the altercation under a remote part of the city, they’d done their level best to remain apart from the crowds or notice. Today perhaps was an unwise exception, Kaladis dedication to Vhalar had brought it about, even if Ralari had not been unwelcome to the idea of attending the festival, had this been a mistake?

Sensing their unease, their host Asfern tried to assure them, “a man in my position has to know the happenings in his home. Fear not, you are not looked upon, any more than the Aukari trade caravan passing through this cycle.” Kaladis wasn’t sure the assurance of being spied upon equally did anything to help.

“I hope the dancers were to your liking.” Their host continued. Kaladis had enjoyed being part of the festival, to honor his beliefs to the immortals, now wondering if the price for that company had been higher than he had anticipated. For the first time he wondered if the dancer on his arm was more than a dancer, she caught his look and smiled, giving nothing away.

"Yes," Kaladis kept the reply short until he could better find his place in this latest twist.

sfern was momentarily taken aback but how curt Kaladis was with him. If Kaladis had a coin for every scheming interested stranger he’d met here… we’ll he’d have three coins, but that was three too many. His patience for games and surprises wore thinner by the passing break.

Getting a pouting look from the dancer on his arm, and recovering a measure of formality, “they were charming,” Kaladis added honestly, which lightened her expression somewhat.

“Amwen, Yanni,” Asfern clapped his hands twice and the dancers drew to his side. “I have called you here to discuss the matter of the researchers, but first a question, what is it you want in our city?" Asfern looked about them, “sit, sit, let us talk as friends.” he insisted.

Two large cushion chairs were brought out by the larger helpers waiting at the sides, one big cushion seat for each man, and then the dancers, who Kaladis was increasingly suspicious were not dancers at all. One dancer whispered something in Asfern’s ear, preceding a change in his tone to be more direct, and waste less time. Directness was something Kaladis could appreciate, even if it made Ralari less comfortable.

“Coin and status, the same as any man." Better to keep the cover story simple, Kaladis adjusted his weight in the seat, and it gave a tell away in his body language that he was uncomfortable at where the questioning was headed.

“You travelled all this way south for coin and title?” Asfern had some fine wine served over, Kaladis refused, and Ralari as always took an initially liberal serving.

“You have the best craftsmen here,” Kaladis offered, “and respected neutrality,” Ralari added. Kaladis wondering if revealing a motivation toward neutrality was a step too far. This subtle game they were playing now needed care and tact. “Who do you work for Asfern?” Kaladis asked directly, if someone could give him a straight answer on that question it’d be a miracle.

“The people,”Asfern proclaimed, “serving the council, the man who organized the event you now partake of.” The same dancer whispered again in Asfern’s ear, Kaladis heard nothing of their conversation with his hearing being as it was, in fact the music behind them was making understanding what Asfern was saying a strain to hear at all.

An associate or agent of the council, that information Kaladis did hear. Now he was on the edge of his seat, only trying his upmost to hide it, and remain reserved, it only partially came off that way to anyone with an eye for body language. The game had become more dangerous but also more rewarding, the dance from earlier never really had ended, not since he set foot in the city.

“Tell me, in your own words, what happened to our researchers at the digsite,” Asfern started his polite interrogation.

Kaladis had known this was coming, he had expected grilling from the Makers, not the council. Their ties and links must run deeper than he originally had thought. Ralari was about to answer, instead Kaladis interrupted him, keen to take the lead.

“Imprisoned by a Qi’ora sorceress, Laventia, we fought her and a second mage to free ourselves. The researchers died, and she escaped before we could find out more.” While Kaladis explained, Asfern drunk his wine, Kaladis had been vague, especially in regards to the missing ancient symbols disappearing off the wall, or how exactly he’d driven off the woman.

“Laventia is known to me, she deceived us all.” Asfern affirmed, sitting straighter, “it took skill to fight her off.” He swilled his glass in his hand, considering what was being said. Ralari interrupted him here, always keen to preserve their identity and masquerade of being simple travellers, “at odds of six verses two in our favor,” the Eidisi interjected, “we are sorry for the loss of life.” Ralari's angular features were framed by his wine glass, the fine warmth of an amber torch illuminating his calculating eyes.

“Fortunate you both survived,” Asfern poured another glass of wine but both Eidisi refused this time, the server giving the dancers their glasses instead. A dancer whispered again in Asfern’s ear and one of them got up to leave. Kaladis hoped the suspicion at them having any ability was limited, he still cursed Ralari for getting them involved in the first place, it was too exposed.

Music around them and dancing behind the group showed the festivities growing, fire acts were blowing their torches and jugging them beside dancers, whose acrobatics astounded any who watched. As time had worn on, the now performing trio on the stage were the act of the evening, people everywhere clambered to look at the three. Kaladis couldn’t help but notice that the forth who joined them, was the same dancer who had been sitting here not moments before.

“Impressive isn’t she.” Asfern said proudly. Kaladis could do nothing but nod, she had held back her skills when she had taken his hand. It took his willpower to reassert his own self interests, pulling his head away from the enchanting display. “Laventia, who was she really?” Deciding it time to gain a few of his own answers.

sfern was put on the backfoot, taking a very long time to answer that question. “My sister,” the remaining dancer next to them answered instead, shifting her posture, visibly tense. Asfern put his glass down, no longer feeling in the mood to drink it. “And her accomplice?” Kaladis pressed his questions, keeping a careful watch on the dancer near them.

“I would enjoy answering all your questions. My time is limited,” Asfern dodged the question, his face less jovial, and his tone blunter. “How did she escape?” Asfern pushed back his own query. Ralari started to answer him, but Kaladis interrupted quickly, this question could be a baited trap.

“One minute we are fighting for our lives, the next,” Kaladis clicked his fingers. They couldn’t mention rupture, or any passing knowledge of magic. Kaladis feared the wine might have loosened Ralari’s lips too much, as perhaps it was intended to. “Thank you, that is helpful.” Asfern’s large assistant nearby made an important note on a parchment.

“The man with her, would you say he was a skilled apprentice, or a regular mercenary?” Asfern leaned back in his chair, studying the pair of Eidisi, if he could read them he wasn’t giving much away.

“Blacksmith or craftsman?” Kaladis played dumb, shaking his head, he didn’t have the skill to truly feign ignorance, but he did have the skill to put obvious sentences together. “Mercenary, he moved fast.” Kaladis showed Asfern the cut to his shoulder, “barely fought him off.”

“This is useful”, Asfern rested his hands on his crossed knee, tapping them against the joint. However polite the questioning was, it was always possible they were only one wrong answer away from peril. “Just one final question, what happened to the research you were doing?”

Kaladis pulled out a rolled up sheet from his belt, and handed it over. “Here are the tracings we made,” It was snatched up by Asfern, studied, and hastily rolled up. “Very useful. You have done well, and now we must go.” Asfern bowed, the remaining dancer eyed the two of them with some venom, but said nothing. Kaladis nodded politely, and Ralari raised his wine glass. Only when the small entourage had departed, did Ralari lean in and ask. “Were they the real tracings you just gave them?” Kaladis rolled his eyes, “for free, do you really have to ask? How do we really know they were even from the council?” Kaladis stood up, and straightened down his clothes, Asfern wasn't the only one playing the angles. Ralari toasted his nearly empty glass, gave a grin, and finished up, “I suggest we call it a night.”

Fin for now.