Gathering shadows

[N`Ylim Fath`ir]

Two figures stood quietly on a hillside overlooking the former estate of Captain Alexander Kanashia, once a remarkable edifice, now nothing more than a fire-blackened tumbledown ruin. So much pain visited on this place, and still more that had resided here before its destruction. The lingering daylight sparked harsh glints off the dull black plate armor of the two men, intermittent now that clouds occasionally obscured it from view. One of the two nearly-identical men, his only distinction from the other man being a short black beard spoke, a deep bass intonation with a faint musical lilt to the words.

"This is it, Hammer old friend. Our new home. N`Ylim did a great job negotiating the purchase of this place." The other figure nodded once in agreement. "The boss is happy about it, Ironhead, I know that much. Him and the Lady are going to like it here, I think." The second man, Hammer, had a voice no less basso profundo than his companion, but as with the first man, Ironhead, his speech is clear and pleasant enough. He raises one massive steel-jacketed arm and points towards a nearby rise. "Caravan's here.

Cresting the rise comes a large wagon drawn by a team of brawny black horses, a ruff of dark hair similar to that of their manes above their skillet-sized hooves. Perched in the wagon's front is a man with the folds of a dark brown robe drawn about him, reins loosely held in one hand. The hood is thrown back from his face; lined with age and the rich red-brown of well-tanned leather, dark eyes hold a lively sparkle beneath hawkish brows just touched with a dusting of grey among black. His hair is held back by a simple leather band that crosses his forehead and ties at the back, more black salted here and there with grey like the last of winter's snow melting before the sun. A tall staff of wood leans next to him, its surface painstakingly graven with swirling knotwork. He steers his team up to the two waiting men and reins them to a halt, lightly jumping down from the wagon with a spryness that belies his apparent age.

"Ironhead. Hammer. Good to see you boys again." He placed a hand on both of their shoulders, a gesture which they returned, like sons greeting a father. "This Alexander, must've hurt him to have to give up a place like this, even if it wasn't entirely his idea. Shame somebody burnt it down." He shook his head sadly. "Such waste. So, what else do you boys have to tell Us?"

"Not much that you don't all ready know, Sir. There's the Baie problem that N`Ylim told you of. The usual business of vampires, possibly some demon or demonspawn in the region. Several armies with possible malicious intent along the borders, occasional incursions by same. Nothing out of the ordinary." concluded Ironhead, as matter-of-factly as if he were reading off a grocery list. As they spoke, other wagons driven by both men and women, slender of build, dark of hair and with angular features similar enough to N`Ylim Fath`ir to be his kinsmen arrived, stopping nearby, loaded down with bundled supplies, tools, and more armored men nearly identical in appearance to Ironhead and Hammer, nearly 30 strong in number, with the other folk numbering perhaps 20 or so. "Excellent, you boys have done well, as usual. Now, this is what We need. There's to be a secure perimeter established fifty yards from the treeline, no one in, and no one out until demolition and construction are complete, no exceptions. Fifteen of your men will work on demolition and construction, fifteen on security, in one-hour shifts. The Arrangers will be assigned to distribution of supplies, mapping, and scouting the surrounding area. Plus a detatchment of three will see to the delivery of Captain Kanashia's payment." The man rubbed his chin with one rough-skinned hand in thought. "Yes, that should do for now. I will see to the consecration and cleansing of the grounds before the rest arrive.

The two hulking men bow slightly, respectfully, before departing to begin organizing the new arrivals, leaving the robed man to lean on his staff in the fading light, more clouds now over the face of the sun, darker, heavy with rain. "This is a good place.", he said to himself. "A good place to fix broken things, all kinds of broken things..." He trailed off and stood in silence, watching as a group of armored men began tearing down the final remnants of Alexander Kanashia's residence. The stones would be re-used, nothing wasted, nothing discarded. It was as it should be.

[N`Ylim Fath`ir]

Sunrise; fire struck from the curvature of the horizon bathing the clearing where Alexander Kanashia's estate once stood to illuminate... ...the impossible.

Great walls of interlocking granite slabs rose from the earth to stand well over thirty feet high. Ornate crenellations spaced evenly along their length provided cover for defenders stationed on the walkway that ran along its heights and joined with five evenly-spaced towers that rose another thirty feet above the wall itself. Sunlight glinted off the dull-grey armor of figures at each tower's summit, cradling crossbows that would look overly large in any other hands but theirs. Within the walls, the shape of a five-sided castle keep with towers at each corner was nearing completion. Hulking armored figures worked tirelessly, raising more slabs of stone with block and tackle, fitting them into place, raising more, and on it went. As the sun rose higher from morning into afternoon, so too did the great edifice at the center, the men working on it showing no signs of slowing though they'd obviously toiled through the previous day and the night that followed.

The architecture of the structure was not purely defensive in nature, it had obviously been designed to be both functional and pleasing to the eye. Sweeping arches supported the corner towers, the stone sparkling just a bit from the kiss of sunlight; terraced balconies reached out from each floor above the lowest one, the doors set behind them in the keep's walls open to admit the sun and the outside air. Figures garbed in flowing grey robes could be seen within, through both the doors to balconies and the multipaned windows that dotted the walls of the keep, moving here and there to discharge their own tasks. A single figure stood on the highest balcony of the keep, dark eyes cast out over the courtyard, noting the stable with its walls of baked clay and terra cotta shingled roof, the gatehouse set in the Southern stretch of the defensive wall with its guardhouses, thick iron portcullis and heavy oaken steel-banded gates beyond, then to the lands outside the wall, rolling hills and deep forest. The wind stirred in his long black-and-grey hair and the folds of his brown cloak; the sun highlighted the creases in his weathered face and the backs of his hands that rested on the balcony's stone rail. He smiled; it was good, this place. He felt more at ease now that he'd had time to properly consecrate and cleanse the land, the pain that seemingly had soaked into the ground here like dark blood from a fatal wound was now just a fading memory.

Another figure moved from inside to join him on the balcony, tall and slender but wiry, long ebon hair pulled back from his angular face, wearing a charcoal-grey shirt that split and laced at the throat and secured at the cuffs with thin buckled straps. A skirtlike garment of supple black leather overlaid at front, back, and side with overlapping plates of harder leather swayed around his booted feet as he approached the other man. "My Lord?", he began, "I trust that all meets with Your approval?" The other man turned from his contemplation of the forests. "N`Ylim, yes, We are pleased. Have arrangements been made to pay the good Captain Kanashia?" N`Ylim Fath`ir nodded once. "Yes, my Lord. The price he asked plus one additional fifth of the price as Your thanks for his generosity, as You requested." The other man thought for a moment. "This Alexander Kanashia is a good man." Not an opinon, but delievered as a statement of fact. "Be sure to let him know he is welcome here whenever he desires. And while you're about it, extend Our welcome to the boy, Phlynn, as well. I'd imagine he's anxious to be about his gardening."

N`Ylim sketched a deep bow to the man, respectfully. "It will be as you ask, my Lord. When will the others be arriving?" The man took up his staff from where it rested against the balcony's rail and walked inside with N`Ylim. "Within the next day. Construction of the Gate is almost complete, and with that finished we will no longer need to rely on the ley line nexus to the North for transportation of personnel or supplies." N`Ylim smiled a bit. "I'd imagine the people of Myrken Wood will be quite happy that we won't be a burden on them. That Governor Phuri looks as if he's enough trouble for them to keep fed without adding us to the equation." The other man stops walking and bursts into laughter, rich and booming, the sound filling the great empty halls with music, and life.

[LeTrelia]

The unnatural darkness had become troubling. Myrken Wood had gone sour, it seemed. Something has spoiled within it, the taint spreading ever outward, threatening to encompass them all.

A bitter wind whipped at the long train of a deep blue cloak, its color seeming almost bright against the darkness, framing a face which seemed carved from the purest porcelain. Thin strands of finely crafted silver wound through dark tresses which rivaled the ink-black sky. Slowly did she make her way toward the outer wall of the fortress, raising her voice to those who seemed tireless in their guarding of those who resided within.

Little was known of those within the Keep, silent they had been these many months. She knew. Soul had told her of them, and of the Master of the Keep. Warned her really, perhaps that term was more appropriate.

~"Don't go anywhere near that place, LeTrelia. He is a..shade...a demon. Do not trust him, he is a master of lies and deception. Look what he has done to my mother."

"Soul, I am sure that if he was this trerrible person that you describe, your mother would have left him years ago. You've told me yourself that she is a wonderful and intelligent woman. I can not...."

"Be still! You have no idea what you speak of."~

He had stopped just short of telling her not to speak of his mother. Still, if even half of it were true, perhaps he would know what to do. Maybe there was someone within those dark walls that could give her the answers she sought. Or, at the very least, would help her investigate.

"You, upon the wall!"

Her voice seemed so small as it echoed off the cold stone. One of the large helmeted men leaned over, appraising her for a moment. Not a word came from him, but he was listening, it seemed. His large head was canted, his march across the wall halted.

"I have come to see the advisor to the Master of this household. I will speak to N'ylim Fath'ir. or the one called Vaa'len Loken. The darkness has stayed too long. I have come seeking answers, guidance."

No response came from the guard, no movement, no words. Resting her small fists on her full hips she shouted upward once more.

"Tell them that LeTrelia Greaves has come to seek the wisdom of the Trickster Hunter."

That seemed to get his attention. He nodded once, causing a dull rattling sound of metal to echo from the great walls. The other guards continued their patrols without a pause.

And so she waited, in the never ending darkness, for the words of a madman.