Awaken

A forum for followers of Shadows, Thievery, the Night, and Nightmares.
praetorian
Posts: 46
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm
Guild: Rogues
Temple: Shadows

Awaken

Post by praetorian »

Only the elite can be attracted by the momentum of totalitarianism itself. The masses have to be won by propaganda.

Eight years hence, Praetorian had finally emerged from beneath the unassuming edifice of Shadows’ ancient past, a Shadows whose framework had succumbed to rust, usurped by a New God (banished though he may be, still inscribed in the history to be written) and a new set of beliefs. Twilight had not changed though its rulers had, Dominium now floating in Her Grace. "The air still reeks,” Praetorian thought as he boarded his vessel to Devardec.

Rendered listless by seasickness, Praetorian pulled a small notebook from his pocket. Borrowing a feather and inkwell from a nearby desk, he printed upon the top-center of a page: “Assets,” as the names of Norland began to rattle through his brain.
praetorian
Posts: 46
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm
Guild: Rogues
Temple: Shadows

Re: Awaken

Post by praetorian »

"What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not an end."

The blazing orange tint covered the horizon. In the not-too-distance, the Desert Rose’s vineyard swayed with the wind’s fragile rhythm. Entranced by the limitless green beyond, Praetorian thought of his perennial wish to lay claim over the worn soils, to one day be buried amongst them and become gifts to the earth. His meditations were brief as the clutter of non-diagetic noise unsettled him. Ten knuckles and then a face blotting out the great monarch of the sky. Praetorian blinked a few times, returning from the consuming trance, from listening.

The climbing man poured himself unto the rooftop just above Devardec Square. Sweated, fattened the man paused for a breath and asked the Elder Shadow for a glass of water. Praetorian left and returned with a glass of orange juice, a rare treat according to the stranger.

"I'm a right rude lout, forgot to introduce myself,” the man said. “I’m Liam. I run messages and wait tables at the Crow.”
“Hi Liam. Praetorian.” Liam peered at the lanky dark elf for a moment.
“You’re Praetorian? You ran The Crow for awhile didn’t you?”
“A long time ago, yes.”
“I just got a drink brought to me by Praetorian! It's like going to the bank and having your money handed over by Croft! That makes a good day better.” Liam laughed and slapped his knee.

Praetorian ran his hands through his pompadour. The shadows danced across the rooftops as the evening
began to descend across the city. Silk’s Gaze. Liam shuddered, and Praetorian smiled against the ocean of waning light. The two spoke for awhile about the city’s sights, how to move around the various landmarks of Devardec from the Rooftops. As the evening grew, Liam began to speak more of himself.

“Well it does a man no good to be a listener or a waiter when there's no one around to listen to or bring things to. I figured I'd try my luck in a place down here,” Liam said
“Don’t live as the echo. Thrive as the sound. Do you want to be a waiter? A listener?”
“It's not really done to have just one job at the Crow. I've always been ears. Not sure I have it in me to learn a new craft.”

Praetorian thought for a moment, schemes building and the future history moving and shifting right before his very eyes, yet-to-be-created memories molding and forming in accordance with the rhythms and patterns of his own composition. Had he finally found the conductor to set his tempo?

“I might have a few things for you. If you're interested,” Praetorian said.
“It's what I came south for, of course I am!”
“'Let's say I start you off on something small and easy? Have a good, warm coat?”

They spoke for a few more moments before Liam took his leave and headed North towards Frostfall, Praetorian stealing away into the Rogues’ Devardec Outpost. When he found some isolation, he took his notebook from his pocket, turning to a page titled “Assets.” He scribbled down 3 words:

“L. Spy. North.”

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