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No title.
(2013-06-18 - 2013-06-22)
No description.
Mysterious Voice @emit The world of light fades with the coming of sleep. Generally this means dream, nightmare or memory. Pieces of all of these spun together to form landscapes to visit in the small hours of unconsciousness. This dream however.. it is not of a place he has been before. Or perhaps he has? It seems there is a distant recollection of the stained glass underfoot but it is tarnished and shrouded by silt and ocean water, partially obscuring the picture.

This column of darkness with it's floor as the stained glass and it's ceiling as rolling storm clouds is completely barren save for a single trailing staircase illuminated by shrouded flames. These sparks of light like embers or fireflies dance within their sheltered orbs of glass and look very much from a certain angle like the night sky.

Maira's voice can be sensed more than heard, as if calling from a great distance away. There is the feeling of her voice but the words are almost too distant to make out. They seem as vaguely familiar as the stained glass and taut with meaning.

"..such a far way... the road.."

There is a crack in the side of the world. A ragged slash somewhere above him, where the stairs join up to and run alongside it before continuing their ascent upwards into the stormclouds. A silvery illumination and the sound of the ocean filter faintly from that distant tear in the dreamscape.
Angantyr Vespar Sleep...a familar thing to Angantyr. A thing that comes and goes, he has not abandoned his humanity, he has clung to it...for good or ill he has become more human these days than previously under Garland's consul.

As he falls towards the stained glass...again? He notices that something obscures the sight from him...silt or water? Darkness? Has it claimed such a foothold here too? Has his actions taken him this far from the light? Up revealed...nothing but a illuminated staircase...down was more darkness.

Always the shadow of, huh? He wonders if this is something that will always be...or will he become the night eventually. However, too much introspection isn't what Ang focuses on right now. He moves towards the only place he can...

Then Maira's's painful to hear with everything recently...she is close to him, but...not in the way she wants. Will it be like this forever? Who knows...but he knows she hurts because of it.

"Maira?" He calls out...not this again...but it's even less audiable than last time...what is going on?

There was only one direction to go...he knows not retreat...only to advance.

So he climbs the stairway to the ocean.
Mysterious Voice Her voice continues up the spiral but the words are so distant.. just the intonation. The general lilt and feeling to her voice and the way it fell into the empty silence of the surroundings.

At the top of the spiral lay a dark shore with arcs of crystallized darkness forming a vague lattice. Beyond the lattice a starless expanse of pure and unblemished darkness.

There is a pressure here but not an oppressive one. Power crackles in the air but it mingles with a strange sort of peace that the ocean and the vague silvery orb picks out of the surroundings.

Here the ruins of buildings jut from the sand peppered by hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands of weapons.

The ancient blades are embedded in the silvery sand. Some of them are intricate while others are simple. Some of them proud and others humble.

All of them are dull and lifeless and broken. A voice having nothing to do with Maira, a nameless vaguely male voice announces frankly from a patch of darkness from which it protrudes. "Where do you think this path leads?"

There is a pause and the voice continues, resolving into the shape of a hooded figure who stands at the very base of a titanic anomaly of the landscape.

In the thickest patches of ruin, shrouded by gloom until the voice had spoken (or perspective and reality simply shifting to reveal it) A luminous clock stands in the midst of those ruins. Violet fire illuminates the place where numbers are, numbered from I to VII with the big metal hands pointing to 'I'

The hooded figure continues. "Where these paths have always led. Power and Destruction." the figure bows respectfully and inquires frankly and upfront. "Good evening, sir Vespar. Forgive the theatrics. They are somewhat inevitable in order to grab a moment of your time.. unobserved. Would you walk with me, perhaps only for a minute or two? I shant delay you long."

The figure gestures to the endless dark shore in a gentlemanly gesture.
Angantyr Vespar Angantyr walks...the voice is distant, but the feeling is there. He follows, because in the end it is what is in his heart. The beach...a dark one. He looks out at the darkness, the

"The Dark Relm.." Angantyr mutters, only being here but a brief time before...once, when he was younger, hot headed...and landed at the feet of Garland. It was but a short time...but the place left it's mark on him. But here...the ocean was always a place he loved, here...he... always felt most at home, more than anywhere. He walks, but then... buildings, destroyed, blades embeded into the ground everywhere. " this?" He asks, a sight of a long hard fought battle? What are these weapons, that jut from the earth as their final resting place?

Then a voice, he turns towards it, surprised by getting snuck up on...but..

Where does this path lead...

"Yeah." he agrees...these paths always lead to such places.

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage, sir." he muses, the clock at the center of the ruins catches his eye...

What is that..?

"Sure...let us walk. Maybe I will even get your name."
Mysterious Voice "A folly so ancient that even the questions have worn away. A desperate last struggle against the forces of light and darkness." The hooded figure chuckles, hands held behind their back loosely as they stroll with a scholarly pace along the silvery sand.

No matter how far they walk however, the perspective of the Clock seems completely detached from that of the rest of the scenery. It is always completely visible and always just far enough in the distance to set a background to the ruined buildings and the shattered blades.

The hooded figure whose hands are gloved is only a silohuette of a man, an hooded black shape and a cultured voice from within a drawn up and empty cowl. "As for myself, I am a seeker of many things and so go by that name. There is nothing more important than the labels we give ourselves, is there not? A man may call another man a monster, a wretch, a creature of darkness -- but that accused man is nothing save the names he calls himself. Have the sorcerers deigned to tell you anything of the path they have set you on by catching you in their nets? Have they told you that their path, a path of obscured riddles and feigned apathy and mistrust has run them around in circles while the forces of Chaos crystalline in all corners of the universe, preying on the imbalance they themselves have caused?"

The seeker chuckles softly. "I assume not, but I will not lecture you. If you wish to learn more of their folly, of their deceptions then I am more than happy to point you in the direction of them. I believe learning answers for yourself is more honest than simply telling someone what they must believe, how they much act-- or even, what they dearly need to hear."
Angantyr Vespar The clock...always there on the edge of their awareness...annoying. One of those things, maybe it was the representation of the thing that is there, around you, but just out of reach? Maybe.

"The Seeker huh? A name, if anything...though I find it more of a will have to do for now." He muses, and continues to walk, and listen. "The Sorcerers?" He asks..wondering just who he ment by that, but lets it go... Angantyr pauses to look at the destruction again, before turning back to the man. He isn't being's a quality that he is respecting...

"I don't often deal with such people...if they can not do what needs to be done I go without them. I don't play to the tune of those who can't see what is infront of them, and would risk everything to play at one upance." Angantyr shrugs, "But...if you're willing to point, I am willing to at least see for myself. I can not promise I will draw the same conclusions as you...but isn't that why you are simply pointing me, and not telling me?" Angantyr asks...

"But...who are the sorcerers you speak of?"
Mysterious Voice "But of course."

The seeker says in a very dry voice. It is not precisely easy to know what he sounds like because every time he talks the inflection and tone is different, as if he were taking on and discarding different voices with every step down the shore. "As to the sorcerers.." he gestures idly and a series of images appear. A wizened blue robed man with a pointed hat.

(In fact, two of them, one looking much more addled and whimsical than the other) and an ugly old woman in a cottage of tangled briar. "They are the players of a game those rules have been discarded. While they argue about the right path, the worlds slip further and further into Chaos. You know, inevitably.. where that leads."

The walk has taken them into the ruins and the hooded figure evaporates like smoke as they turn the corner. There is a feeling of pressure and a pulling together of worlds and the ruins are what remains of a home destroyed.

The ashes of a place betrayed and trodden under an Archadian boot. The ocean has flooded this place, making islands of dark water where buildings poke through the sand.

There are notices, pale and fluttering on the scattered ruins which are empty of life both friend and enemy. This small place of fractured memory flooded by dark waters is as contained by high walls and the ocean as a snowglobe. A relatively small and enclosed space in which different objects gleam with resonance and purpose.

Each gleaming flame placed atop a ruined building, on a windowsill or atop a crumbling wall is bright and shining. Some of fireflies. Others are bright and piercing flame, almost searingly bright.

The light they cast never seems to penetrate far into the sodden gloom, but where their light falls. The stone and the wood are sound. As if the homeland destroyed was perserved perfectly in a memory before it's fall within the influence of that light. The ruin only lay in the darkness outside their radience.

And there was a notice, a word, a symbol painted on each gleaming source of light. And these are the words they each announce silently to the fallen world.

Victory -- A lantern set on a crumbling door.
Dividing Line -- A globe held in the grip of a cracked statue.
The Last Key -- An orb that has halfway rolled into the dark waters.
Endless -- A lantern set on a half crumbled wall
Tower of Voices -- An open flame carefully banked within the ruins of a charred house.
Zero Point -- An orb stuck in a twisted part of a roof, embedded there like a fallen star.

A tattered notice at eye level on a broken wall reads only. "There is never time for everything."
Angantyr Vespar Hmm...

"Merlin huh.." He muses, and the woman...unfamilar, he had not ran into Mim. Still..

"Isn't that the beauty of free will? In the end, there is no truth, only what we think is right..?" He turns...

Huh. So this is where he has to go alone, or perhaps he was guided here. But...

Here...his heart sinks. He closes his eyes, and takes his helmet off...taking a knee near one of the burned and destroyed homes. He places his helmet down for a moment, lowering his head at the sight of his destroyed matter how far he deep he delved...this was home.

A place he so strongly wants to find again in his heart. The man, who holds himself like a mountain against fate, finds himself wiping his eyes...he still feels this way. He puts the helmet back on, standing up as he notices the six points of light.

There is never enough time...

He moves towards the Orb stuck in the roof first, towards the Zero point. It seems logical to start at Zero...
Mysterious Voice There is a feeling of unreality around each of the points of light.

They are not only heat up everything warmth can give. Life. Hope. There is a disruption, then a warm rush of sensation as the ruined space dissolves into another place on the endless dark shore.

There is a woman there on a flat rock overlooking the dark ocean. She sits straight and strong in the light armor of a warrior, brushing blue hair back behind one ear as she looks at the silvery orb out there near the horizon, fixed and unchanging.

Her arms are wrapped around her knees and she looks lost but unbroken. Bowed but not shattered. The woman slowly looks in his direction and smiled. It was a warm and welcoming smile and without reservation.

"I don't remember who I am or how long I've been here... but I am welcome for the company just the same." she gestures to the rock near her and goes back to watching the ocean. The aura of resolute longing surrounds her.
Angantyr Vespar Angantyr finds himself on the ocean again... oceans seem to be a thing in his heart. Or maybe in general?

He walks along the beach until he sees the woman, looking towards her with a nod..she isn't attacking him nor has the yellow eyes...then again, this was a dream was it not? Hm...

He shakes his head...this was still the dark relm, for his bravado, he knows what she says would happen, even to him, given enough time...his resistance was not immunity. Or was it even resistance? That was important.

"You sure sound as if you needed.." he says, understandingly. "This is not a place that we were ment to linger...despite connections to the darkness." he pauses, "All the same, I am Angantyr Vespar.." he says, looking out over the water as well.. "Do you remember what brought you here..? Or how long you've been this hell?"
Mysterious Voice "I have come... to appreciate it, actually." The woman says with a wry smile, her lips pursed as if looking at Angantyr Vespar. As if trying to look inside him for something. "It is a dark place, yes. But-- I.. I chose to be here. My friend. I--" she smiles sadly.

"I chose myself. I chose..this, so he would be safe. That-- he would have a chance. And now I'm waiting.." she turns her face away and her endless resolve seems to flicker for just a moment. "We're all waiting. All of us who come here are waiting for something. Wishing for something. I just--" she sighs. "I just wish I remembered those I've been waiting for." she looks at her hand, in which a cracked glass star is clutched in her hand, the three pieces lightly cutting into the flesh as if the pain would help her hold onto the memories.

"..We promised to stay together but.. they got.. lost somewhere." the flicker passes and she smiles towards him again. "But I have hope. Sometimes, that's really all that is left, when this place has taken everything else."
Angantyr Vespar "I admire your resolve...and your strength." Angantyr says, such praise does not come easily from his mouth...but many do not understand what is to be here...and even he only knows but the surface. He doesn't shrink under the stare, and instead, continues to watch the ocean for a moment.

"Hope..?" He asks, heh...hope. Powerful, yet fickle...fleeting yet everlasting. "...I see. I never much believed in hope..I focused on revenge and hatred...I drank from the cups of those who used darkness...only to be dragged from them by friendship and...hope."

He looks back towards her, "I still took revenge anyway...yet they didn't turn from me..." he looks back out...

"Friends are important...more than I could ever imagine. You have do I, they keep our hearts protected from the darkness that surround us..." he smiles a bit.

"Though, Lady, I suggest finding a better place to wait...though you can't beat the fact that there aren't many crowds.."

He pauses, "Save maybe the yellow eyed kind."
Mysterious Voice The woman laughs and her laughter becomes tinny and distorted as if hearing it through a seashell. She reaches out and attempts to put a hand on his arm. Her touch is the same warmth and life as the lanterns should she succeed.

"..Thank you." she says simply, nodding to him. She makes no promise to remember him but she appreciates his words just the same. That part of the dark ocean recedes, being shrouded again by gloom. It pops like a soap bubble leaving the ruined and charred remains as stark contrast to the measure of buzzing silence and peace to be found in the woman's presence.

There are four chimes from the luminous clock and the great metal hands now read 'IV' with that many of the violet fire extuinguished. There is a wave of pressure that enacts a cataclysm in reverse upon the surroundings. Charred stone and wood heal. Cornerstones rise and beams place themselves in their right places.

But it is only a partial restoration, one that leaves the surroundings still broken but the damage looks fresher and less total. Smoke rises from a few smouldering places. The lantern Angantyr had touched has gone dark and cold, it's light completely expended. The hooded figure is nearby, hands behind his back. The voice has elements of Riku's voice as he speaks.

"An image. Preserved in memory. A knight trapped in amber, forever hoping for a rescue that may never come. A casualty of a war fought by children over a prize they were never even told they were fighting for."

the hooded figure shakes their head and then evaporates again. "Such a waste."
Angantyr Vespar Angantyr allows this, typically he is...less inclined to let others touch him, but in this case he feels it is not something that is going to hurt him...and he feels that physical touch would be good for the woman. There is a moment, a feeling of warmth and light, despite the darkness that surrounds her, and he laughs a little too...he knows the value of a good smile and laugh in such surroundings. "I find that laughter keeps it at bay...maybe for just a bit longer." he shru-before the illusion pops like a soap bubble...he is back, in a world that he remembered in a destructive state...but a state that is reversing? The restoration is not...complete, but...what is this? Why is this...

He frowns, but his thinking is disrupted by the speach of the figure, the memories of Riku's voice snaps him back awake, focusing on him...there was a memory...

"Wait...she DOES exist..? Hey!" Angantyr frowns...nobody deserved that. Nobody...

Not even no-oh wait, we haven't gotten there yet. Nevermind.

Gone, again...the clock advanced...he could chose too more, maybe? So...what does he choose?

The ocean, once more calls to him, as he walks towards the orb halfway rolled into the dark water.

The Last key...

This scene contained 14 poses. The players who were present were: Mysterious Voice, Angantyr Vespar