The party was disolving, as people left, alone or in groups, and the sun (such as it was) was setting over the ocean. Ben stretched a bit, and looked around. A little ways down the beach, he saw Nightfall giving Blackthorne his gifts. She looked please, but slightly tired. Well, it had been an interesting party, and a good chance to meet people.
Now, however, it was time to move on to other things. Kiriath had mentioned meeting in the Light Knight's headquarters. Perhaps there he could find something to do. As the sun set, Ben turned and walked towards one of the torches set around the area. The sun slipped below the waves, and he was gone.
In a small room in the headquarters, Ben appeared. Small strands of smoke floated up from his clothes. "You know, I really dislike flames," he said, frowning. Then, dusting the small soot patches off his fancloak, he reached out, and walked through the doorway. Someone should be here by now.
Another Would-Be Warder
Ben stood in a large room, with a desk, and several chairs. In this room, as in all the others he had searched, no one was there. The entire place had a feeling of emptiness, the smallest noises echoing down the halls. This was very odd, where was everyone?
A few hours later, Ben stood alone in yet another room. There was no one to be found, where ever he looked. While he had found some... interesting things in some of the rooms, there was no clue where anyone might be. It was simply as if everyone had left, and hadn't bothered to come back. "This is very strange. Now where could they be?" he said, thinking. "I know I saw them leave the party..."
"Well... Perhaps Serafelle would know." With that, Ben turned, and stepped towards a nearby window, muttering about catching up on his sword practice. And then, he was gone.
Ben stood off to one side of the Warder practice grounds, looking up at the White Tower. "I wonder which room is her's... if she's even here"
Another Would-Be Warder
Ben looked towards the entrance to the White Tower. As usual, there were enough people walking around that it would take a while to navigate the crowd. Luckily, there were other ways to get someones attention.
He reached down and picked up a rock off the ground. "Let's see... Where was her window again?", he muttered, hefting the rock in his hand. After a sort while, he faced the White Tower, and threw the rock at one of the distant windows. Ben listened, and heard the slight tinkle of breaking glass. "Hmm... Perhaps I should have used a lighter rock."
He looked up, and saw a head sticking out of the window, looking down. He faced it, and waved his arms to direct their attention to him, then grinned when he saw them looking at him. She would be down soon. With a sigh, he settled down to sit beside a low wall, and wait.
A short while later, Ben saw Serafelle walking towards him out of the White Tower. He stood up before she reached where he was sitting, and offered a slight bow.
"I don't suppose you were planning on replacing that window for me, were you?" she said, shaking her head. Before Ben could respond, she continued. "Anyway, what did you want to see me about?"
"Well," he answered, "you see, after the party..." Ben continued, until he had finished telling Serafelle about what he had found, or more accurately, not found in the Light Knight's headquarters. "You wouldn't happen to know where anyone else was, would you?"
Another Would-Be Warder
Serafelle shook her head. "I don't know. I looked it up in the library, even. There are a few explanations as to why people may be absent." She held up a book, and Nemesis yowled beside her. "Oh, do be quiet, you silly cat.
'One. Post-Thanksgivicus Workicus Syndrome: A surfeit of work, IRL.' I'm not sure what that means. 'Two. Writicus Maximus: A surfeit of story-writing.' Sounds like Barid to me. 'Three. Dragonmounticus Absentiosis: The condition of being at Dragonmount.' What's Dragonmount? I don't suppose that matters. Anyway. 'Four. Writicus blockicus maximus: The condition of not being able to become creative enough to write.' That sounds awful! I hope that's not it! I'm not sure what some of these things mean. 'Five. Sammaelicus dampricus: The condition of being tired of the board in general, and its insults.' What does that mean? What do boards have to do with the Light Warriors? Oh well."
Nemesis miaowed. The Brown Sister handed Ben the book, and picked up her cat. " I don't know what happened to all of them lately. If I didn't know better, I'd say that they were having a party and not inviting us. I do hope that's not it."
Sister of the Brown Ajah
Well, its not Dragonmounticus Absentiosis. No one is there either. Maybe it is brainius deadius? Or girfriendius spendus cum timus? Well, Sammaelicus dampricus does not exist, since I am always ready to insult you lightfools!
Bleary eyes opened from their recent sleep. Too many Gargle Blasters? It must have been the case; he had been drinking heavily the last time he checked... a few days ago. The bleary mind worked, the Eccentric power slowly returning, and the rambler's imagination began to swirl before his eyes. He was late!
Weaving a gate with his Eccentricities ---being tired was the only thing that could stop the Eccentric power for long, next to having writer's block or a lack of imagination stimulation, and even that could be overcome--- he found himself face to face with a ...cat?
"Bloody creature," he muttered, stroking it and coaxing the recognized Nemesis to leave his line of vision undisturbed. He sighed and looked around. Serafelle and Ben were there.
"Ah," he said. "Ah," they said. Together, "I see you have made it." A head shake to clear his senses ---the Void and the Eccentric were nearly complete opposites, one emptied, the other a jumble of thoughts--- and he smiled, Eccentric power finally calming down.
"What have I missed?" Serafelle began mentioning the list of conditions, and Kiriath chuckled. "Nothing to fear from DragonMount; this place IS below the mountain itself, so no problem there. I think my absence has been due to slightly too many Gargle Blasters, and a bit of exhaustion due to a cold I am now recovering from, and even a strong case of Vietnamese Warring Paranoia*..."
Serafelle and Ben nodded, but both motioning for him to calm. Sera grinned, however. "You're back to normal, whatever you were before."
"I must be," thought Kiriath. "Now that we all are, and are, albeit slightly, here, where shall our conversation turn to next?"
*Vietnamese Warring Paranoia, a disorder caused by writing a rough draft for a 1000-word essay and being plagued between doing it and deciding to write here. Unfortunately, in all Essay Paranoia cases, nothing, usually, comes to pass. This case was no different. Thank you for your time.
Kiriath, Undercover Intrigleeman
I must be back to normal, else I could not ramble.
Suddenly everything in Shayol Ghul shifted back to normal and Nightfall was left standing with his mocisons and ...
With a wild surge, everything inside Shayol Ghul changed once more. The dry, arid winds that had blown across the sands now quickly chilled to frigid gusts that whipped across the now vast tundra and sheets of ice.
In that moment Nightfall, who had been sleeping fairly soundly, knew something was up. "Bloody fool. Thought he said he'd leave today..." With a sigh, Nightfall crawled out of his bed and quickly dressed in seal moccasins and heavy furs. Trudging out from his snow drifted chambers to a the one warm spot in wasteland of ice and wind, Nightfall swore and cursed as a polar bear shaped Trolloc eyed him and then nipped at his heels.
"The man has no sense of style or taste!" though Nightfall venomously, giving the polar Trolloc one of the Hound's Scooby Snacks.
There a lone fire burned with an armored figured sitting on a block of ice. The figure turned its helmeted head and from the slits, small embers burned hot as the fire near it.
"So...Nightfall you have returned home."The armored figure's orbs grew bright as if amused or at least in enjoyment as it shift to offer Nightfall as seat.
"No thank you Strawn and I'm not interested in turning back to your services." Nightfall's voice as dry as the winds around them and just as cold. Remaining standing, Nightfall leveled the figure a look that would unnerve most beings. To Strawn it was merely a look. "I've just been wondering why you are still here.
The pause between the two was considerable and Nightfall felt the chill of something run down his soul. He hoped it was ice.
"Well Nightfall, you are right. I did promise you I'd leave. Nothing here in Shayol Ghul to keep me, even though I'd love to do in those annoying Nightlights."
"They are my and the Great Mistress' concerns not yours, Strawn." Sternly he looked again at Strawn and emphasised his point by driving a dagger deep into the ice. "We'll handle them in our own fashion, not yours."
"Right now I wouldn't care if you, Blackthorne and/or Ariella threw them into a sea of brandy. My problem is I don't know how to go back to that nice little niche I've been carving out for myself."
"Yes well it's not something I want everyone to know about." Strawn replied defensively and then waved Nightfall to warmth as the winds rose high, tossing loose snow between them. " Listen I just need you to do something."
"If it's betraying the Great Mistress, find your own way home. Goodbye!"
Nightfall then shifted off from his feet and started to walk away just as he heard the squeak of a voice say.
"Wait you don't understand if I stay here I'll die and so will you!"
With a shuddering sigh, Nightfall turned his gaze back to the one known as Strawn who was still sitting there waiting for a reply.
"Okay suppose I can do something to help...what is it?"
"Get me a Rod of Dominion. All I need to open a portal to my new home. Do that and I'll even grant you a fiefdom." "A keg with an infinite supply of Two Rivers brandy and I'll consider it done."
Suddenly everything in Shayol Ghul shifted back to normal and Nightfall was left standing with his moccasins and furs. "Why me?"
Nightfall, Lord the Night, First Servant and man to keep this Rp alive.
Why you, what?" Sundara demanded from the doorway. "Are you the one responsible for that storm, Nightfall? It hasn't snowed at Shayol Ghul since the truce party!" And she wasn't exactly dressed for cold weather, either. At least it seemed to be back to normal now.
She looked curiously at Nightfall. He certainly seemed to be dressed for storms, in fur clothes and moccasins. And for some reason he looked worried. "What's the matter?" It couldn't be, could it? But - "Not - him?"
Sundara, Sister of the Dark
The meeting she had with Darkhound and Nightfall had gone well. They had soon learned the Great Mistress' ways again. With a contented sigh, Blackthorne had returned to her bed to rest a couple of hours in the early morning light.
A feeling awake her, an old feeling that she knew in her bones meant no good. Groggy, she stirred and sat up. She immediately wrapped a blanket around herself; the air was freezing. That only heightened her feeling of possible danger. Quickly, she got up, calling to the Hound dozing at her feet and sliped on her slippers and robe.
As she exited her chambers with Darkhound at her heels, she saw Sunny talking with Nightfall in the hallways. She was dressed in what she supposed Domani women wore to bed, while he was dressed to be exploring the Far North. There was no question to who was responsible. Darkhound muttered irritably at her feet, his eyes going down to small fire-flecks. She stood with hands on hips. "Nightfall, what is going on?"
Great Mistress of the Dark
'Who let the Strawn out of the closet?'
Samirhage, dressed in Dark Sister-style black, traversed the corridors of the Dark Palace, hidden beneath layers of stealthy weaves. Capture would be the one most prominent trouble in this place, and it certainly was not likely. Which left it, smiled the hermaphrodite, to its own ways... be they torture, or be they militarism.
A sudden chill went through its features; something had happened. The weaves upon the Stones board in the vacuole motioned him toward a certain room; the spymaster's rambling certainly had a mind of its own sometimes, and was downright handy.
Warily he came upon the room with the four, two that the spymaster had warned him about and two others, both of them within the Great Mistress's elite circle. No wonder his spymaster had drilled into their heads about Carramaena! If the Great Mistress had such power against her elite circle, what was the Spymistress of the Dark like?
Samirhage shivered, and it was not only the cold in the room. Neither saidin nor saidar was held; neither could be held with any safety, not in such a place as the Dark Palace. Even surveillance against the place was difficult when parties were not in effect.
The operative sat outside the room, opposite the door. Reporting his findings would be the first priority; after that, reporting any other findings. A tedious job in itself, but certainly a useful one. Imagine all the new torture devices in this place!
Samirhage, Sadistic Militarist
Played by Kiriath, Undercover Intrigleeman
Ben stood with Serafelle on the grounds outside of the White Tower. "Thank you for your help. Now, if I just knew where to find them.... I think I'll go searching back in the Dark palace. After all, that was where I saw them last." Ben grinned, slightly. "At least, someone should be there."
"Very well, Ben. Good luck on your searchings," Serafelle spoke in reply. With that, she turned, and headed back towards the Tower.
Ben watched her depart, then turned. The sun was shining brightly, so there should be no trouble. Ben stepped forward, and disappeared.
Ben appeared standing in front of the Dark Palace. Even if none of the Light Nights were here, someone should be, and perhaps they could help him. With that, he turned, and pulled open the heavy wooden door, and stepped inside. He'd find someone, somehow...
Another Would-Be Warder