A Summoning to the Fortress

For Stone Keep and its Citizens
praetorian
Posts: 46
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm
Guild: Rogues
Temple: Shadows

A Summoning to the Fortress

Post by praetorian »

"Anything living will strive to grow, spread, seize, become predominant - not from any morality or immorality but because it is living and because life simply is will to power."

Evening of 5 Awakenings, 503

Zanus’ melody dominated the accompaniment of a day’s refrain. The marketplace crept towards an emptiness, as Praetorian placed a small sack of gold into a merchant’s hand. The last of the honey drizzled peanuts were cold and their coating stuck to his boney fingers as he consumed them. In the distance, he could first hear the rabble before turning his gaze eastward, his elvish eyes finding the movement of forms traced by dusk’s embrace. Cabbage, beets, carrots all in various stages of rot heaved their way towards the grand carriage. Years of tobacco smoke not withstanding, Praetorian smelled their offense as he strolled down Vintage Lane. A voice bellowed from the carriage as it burrowed into edifice beyond the Grand Doors of the Keep.

"Praetorian, my Minister of Defense, would you mind joining me at the Fortress?"

Buttoning, and then unbuttoning his favorite burgundy velvet coat, the Dark Elf clung to the shadows, slipping past the mob and, more concerning, the Keep’s Guards as he made his way inside, noting who was on duty that evening. Now moving through the Keep in an open manner more befitting his title of Defense Minister, he greeted each guard by name with a smile as he moved towards the eastern tower, where Bikon waited, his Minister of Magic Tirius in tow. He greeted both men with a bow.

“Lovely! It's my Minister of Defense!” Lord Bikon was stout, but for Dwarf standards kept an impressive physique.
“Hail Lord Praetorian,” Tirius spoke his first words to Praetorian, rubbing his hands together through his gloves.
“Praetorian, this is my long-trusted friend Tirius. Tirius, it is not cold here, take off those gloves and let’s speak,” Lord Bikon said, followed by a loud chuckle paired with the bright, innocent smile of a man who’s none-the-wiser to a deep, internal sickness slowly eroding his innards, who dreams of fertility and love and immortality yet wanders into an abyss.
“I have heard good things about you,” Tirius said. “And I would rather leave my gloves on. Your housekeeping has gone… down hill.”

Praetorian gave a performative smile towards Tirius’ quip as he mentally took inventory of where each of his weapons were. The air felt heavy, nauseating like the entrance to Thal-a-lar. He remembered his mother, The Seer, describing these intense throes as laden with foreboding. To be called before the two high ranking officials of Stone Keep- in the midst of the disappearances and rumors- did not augur well for Praetorian and his position. Yet as quickly as they formed, the feelings washed away as a familiar, friendly presence stepped in the room. Brother Tybras, Guildmaster of the Monks emerged, greeting the three. Praetorian felt the air cool around him.

“Hail, Lord Bikon,” the Monk spoke. “Am I intruding on a private conversation?”
“Not at all, my boy. I’m just getting these two together. Praetorian, I believe Tirius wanted to speak with you a moment. He asked me to arrange a meeting.”
“Tis true. Though, perhaps we could speak in a more private place,” Tirius said as he moved towards the doors to the balcony.
“Bah! He is such an ill-mannered chap,” Lord Bikon said. Praetorian smiled, bowing to Tybras and Stone Keep’s sovereign before following Tirius out onto the balcony.

Return to “Stone Keep”