Difference between revisions of "Scrollreader/Silhouette"

Latest revision as of 01:23, 9 June 2010

It's a beautiful morning, and the Unconquered Sun has picked me to be his hidden hand, and free my people. I'm training with hundreds of others, for the greatest war the world has ever seen. We're going to fight The Creators. I don't know if we're going to win, but we're sure as hell going to make them see us as more than cattle.

It's a beautiful morning, but I can't see it, because I'm blind. The Ebon Dragon's shadow has hidden the sun from me, and all my fellows. Erembor's horn haunts my dreams. But I am an Iron Wolf, and though I am of the Sun, I do not need light to do his bidding. I creep through the shadows like one of the creatures who make their homes here, slaying and stalking, until, finally, I throw myself against the vast bulk of the Ebon Dragon himself. My blade chips and shatters, but I have made a hole in his defenses, and he flees, crushing me beneath his vast bulk. I am dying. But I can see the sun rising.

It's a beautiful morning, and I'm in the Solar Deliberative. I report on the uprising in the 3rd ward of Meru, and the removal of the Demon responsible. I leave, glad to be away from my fellow Solars. Do they think they can legislate a perfect world? My stong arm and skill are what keep their dreams alive. I find my wife Sonyai, and my best friend Khemal, and we board our Skyship to head home.

It's a beutiful morning, and I have blood on my hands. A Solar Exalt has betrayed us to the Fallen Ones, or died trying. I killed him, while Khemal hid us both from his traitorous allies, and Sonyai struck down his messengers before they could call for aid. in the courtyard, the last of our DragonBlooded asassins finish with the staff But where is the Infernal library? Where the demons were told he raised? The only thing we find is a book condemning the Deliberative for their harsh tactics and brutal killings. I burn it, and the taste of ahses follows me home.

It's a beautiful morning, and I watch Khemal and Sonyai spar. She shows him her new Flickering Moonsilver Approach, and he is caught unawares. He laughs, and makes her show it to him. He tells her of the Four Magical Materials Form, he and some of his allies are working on. It is good to see them laugh. Our missions grow less and less joyful, as time wears on. His hand lingers to long? She glances back too often? I will have words with my wife about her betrayal.

It's a beautiful morning, and the body of my lieutenant Morin Windheart hangs from the gibbits outside my window. Raitons screech and claw for the eyes. Next to me, his wife stirs fitfully and wakes. I brush my fingers through her hair and my essence through her mind, making her forget her troubles. She smiles at me again, so beautiful, so fragile. I go back to her amidst the orichalcum sheets and forget my troubles too, for awhile. She will do, for a season, perhaps, before I grow too bored with her.

It's a beautiful morning, and I sit by my Skyship. In three days it will be the Grand Calibration Party, with all my fellow Solar Exalted in attendance. Behind me the Dragon Blooded of my house stand ready, arrayed in blacks and blues of deepest night. They are warriors of shadow and silence, and they are mine. To my left stands my good friend Khemal, a Chosen of Saturn, and my advisor in matters of The End of All Things. To my right is my wife, Sonyai, a Waning Moon and an assassin nearly as good as I. Well, for a Lunar, anyhow. Together, the three of us have stood since the beginning of the Age. We did not know each other in that insifnificant mortal life before the Second breath, but each of us was Exalted on the day the Unconquered sun Sealed the Yozi's in their prison. I laugh, and send for a Mortal. When he arrives, I give the farmer my ring, with it's seal. I send him in my place, with my entire honor guard. Perhaps he will be feted as a prince, by my brethern. perhaps he will be killed for his presumption. I do not know. I do not care.

It's a beautiful morning. There were some clouds to disturb me, but I took the small god and crushed him between my fingers. The other gods quickly gave me the sunrise I wanted. They seemed unduly worried. He'll be back, in a century or two. Now, if I have to do this twice in a decade, I might have to destroy one of them permanantly. I've spent the night running with Khemal and Sonyai hunting Elk, and Gods, and Men, and Demons. We are unstoppable, the power of the Sun, and Moon, and Stars. My good right hand, Melin Windheart, a third generation DragonBlood of my house brings me petitions from the peasants. I instruct him as to how his men should silence these complaints. He encourages me to go to the feast. I remind him of his place. He will recover.

It's a beautiful morning, and I am alone. Behind me, my Manse burns, The House of Shadows will soon be gone, and who will remember it? The DragonBlooded have turned against us! Against /me/. They thought that they were stealthy. Fools. Do they not realize how far beneath me they are? Still, they are numerous, if foolish and clumsy. After I had slain a dozen, I fled, before they could bear me down with strength of numbers. I have become separated from my wife. I thought I saw her in the woods last night, as I ran, but I called to her, and the shape fled me. She would not dare such a thing. Still, i will find her. She must be somewhere.

"It's a beautiful morning" Khemal says, as he steps out of a shadow I was just hiding in, a moment ago. I smile. Now there shall be the two of us, to find my wife. And when we do, the three of us shall hunt as we have never hunted! Most of my brethren, too fat and slow and stupid have been slain. That leaves the entire Dragon Blooded Host for me, my wife, and my friend to slay. Khemal smiles also, as his blade slides between my ribs. I can feel my heart plunge recklessly in it's beatings, impaling itself on his graceful starmetal knife. He smiles at me, sadly. "To all things, my friend there is an ending. This is yours." I rage and mutter the dread syllables of the Rune of Singular Hate. He laughs as he shatters the spell with his bare hands. "Your power flees, my friend. You die. It is my honor to give you your death." He bows. As the sky fades to black, I make a vow on my soul and the seat of my Exaltation. I will return him the favor. I will have my revenge. I will ...

A blizzard of chakrams arcs over my head as I dive through the window, splintering the wooden slats into the alley below. I land on one knee in the alley sevel floors below. Right in front of the other Immaculate. His ponderous white jade hammer comes within inches of my face as I fling myself backwards out of the way. I stop long enough to throw a knife at him, watching it multiply in mid-air. They shatter against his armor, but one of them finds a seam, and he grunts slightly, a thin trickle of blood the only sign that's he's been hurt. I run deeper into the city, catching myself before I run into Grandmother Bright's district. Today is not the dat to deal with her. I have, however, lost my pursuers, so I re-trace my steps in shadow. Sure enough, I find the Earth aspect, out of plce in his shining White Plate Armor. I follow him. He hunts me for hours, and I learn what he likes to eat, that he fancies young boys, and that he's only 37. He has a wife and a child. He has freckles. And he's staying at the White Ship. I follw him home. I watch him take off his armor. I watch him pray to the Dragons for guidance. I watch him bathe, and call for a boy. I watch them both. And then, I kill this son of Pasiap, while he sleeps. The boy wakes. He is nine, or so. He takes one look at me, and recognizes me as a professional. I won't kill him unless I need to. He turns back toward the wall, waiting for me to leave. He is a professional as well. As I climb out the window to the roof, a chakram catches me in the knee and I nearly fall. I hurl a dagger back at the Air immaculate, who has been waiting for me. Then, I flee. He chases. I hide. So does he. I know the city better than he. He has more charms than I. We exchange a storm of blades and chakrams, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. He wounds me again. I wound him. His anima is roaring now, sweeping winds gusting about him. My anima is quiet, for I have no wish to bring any further notice to myself. All through the night we hunt each other. He is bleeding now, badly. I am barely walking. And still, as the moonlight fades way into starlight, and the dawn approaches, he hunt, and throw, nd dodge, and hide. I have never been more alive. I remember many other such night, living on the edge of the razor, because, after hundreds of years, it's the only way I feel alive. I remember playing 'games' that would be lethal, if me, or my wife, or Khalil made the slightest mistake. But we never did. I had remembered these things before now, of course, but somehow now, they were more real. And there was ... more this time. I remembered how my wife had fled. And how the Dragonblooded had hunted me. And how Khalil had turned against me.And I remember a trick I've used before, in another life. I step out from the shadows and wait. With my right hand my knife flies through the air, intercepting his chakram in midair, the two blades sparking before flying off into the Night. My left hand throws it's own blade, nultiplied by essence and shredding his legs to bloody stumps. As he gazes at me, blanky, he slides off of the roof with a dull thump. I spin, suddenly realizing that there's someone behind me. I see only a blur of crimson, but it's enough. I dodge and feint while ducking behind a pillar. "What do you want?" He could have killed me, if he'd wanted. I'd have never even known he was there. "I'm here to help" came the voice, indistinct and vague. I am a Chosen of Saturns, and your friend. Come with me, if you want to live." "reveal yourself" I commanded. "For your armor is not one of peace, nor friendship." He removed the casque and appeared before me, the concealing magics of the crimson robes he wore fading into view. He was young, appearing to be no more than a boy, though his possession of the incredible boy stood in mute evidence of his true age and potence. His hair was black as night, and hung down to his shoulders in graceful waves. "Child of the Sun" he says, his voice smooth as honey. "I know who you are. And I can help you. If you will let me." I consider for a moment, but I know I cannot reamin here. And I am weary. I follow him from the roof to a secret place he shows me in one of the upper towers of a long abandoned part of Chairoscuro. I keep my hand on my knife, as he tells me of his brethern, and of mine, and of the Cult of the Illuminated. I tell him nothing of my memories, but nod along with him. He's not lying, that I know, though he makes no promises. But, something about him ... bothers me. And spending the last year as an Anathema, as well as a sucessful assassin has only honed my instincts. There was something ... wrong. Something that must be done. I could feel it in my very soul. He turns, and looks out the window, his helm still in his hand, running his other hand through his hair. "It's a beautiful morning: he says. I smile, just like the last time. But this time, it's my dagger, plunging into his brain, through those beautiful, star filled eyes of his. He keels forward, spitting blood from his mouth as he spasms and jerks. I look into his good eye, as he vainly wills his limbs to move. "Your power fless, my friend.You die. it is my honor to give you your death" I mock him, mimicing his words to me, long ago. His eye widens. Now, too late, he remembers. I laugh. My soul rejoices as a great weight is lifted from it. By tonight, I will be gone, before others among the Sidereal or DragonBlooded come for me. But for now ... It /is/ a beautiful morning.

Scrollreader/SilhouetteStats