Shu's Quest

[Script]

Derwood

The Fargo guy was off to a rousing start in his plan to cause as much random distraction as he could. Derwood couldn't help but feel that he had taught him well, despite the whole never teaching gim anything or really even talking to him that much. Now though, the student shouldn't surpass the master so easily!

Derwood stomped off to the nearest stall, took whatever passed itself off as merchandise, and paid only half the price the merchant man was asking.

"Hey you trying to cheat me?" the merchant that Derwood suddenly realized was very big and scary yelled.

"No, no sir! Why would I cheat someone so upstanding as yourself when I myself am a man of the utmost respected for upstanding people like ourselves and such!" Derwood said with a smile.

"Just gimme the rest of the money!"

"Right away sir!" Derwood pulled out his few other coins and placed them with the others, while dragging away a few of those already placed coins.

"I saw that!"

"Saw what sir?"

"Don't you lie to me boy!" the merchant rounded his stall and Derwood realized how much larger the man was. "Gimme full payment or I'll wring yer little neck!"

Derwood screamed before replying. "I gave you it all, jeez, stop trying to rip me off!" Derwood used his amazing reflexes and years of extreme mountain training to go limp and surprise the shopkeep. Unprepared for the movement, the man's grip loosened just enough for Derwood to snap off. "Fine, overcharging jerk! I give you the right amount, twice and you want more! You greedy, greedy, untrustworthy man!" Derwood slipped the last of his useful coins out before speeding away.

"Idiot."

[SuperFush]

Yuki bit her bottom lip as she considered Dom's words. If he was telling the truth, she had to go with him, as it'd likely be her only shot at finding and helping Stark. If he was lying, though...she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then, when she opened them again, her mind had been set.

"Okay. I'll go with you. But if you're lying to me, I swear by my father's name you'll regret it!"

Her mind made up and her emotions under control once more, the temperature of the area began to return to a more natural level. She motioned to the boy who was still standing there, for whatever reason.

"Lead on, Mr. Anton."

[Android]

Andy jumped slightly when Whistler made his usual entrance. They had worked together quite a while, but he still wasn't completely accustomed to Whistler sneaking up on him. He smiled when he heard him, the smile sagging slightly once Whistler asked him what he was doing with the guy from IA.

"Bit of a long story, I guess. I was with Drin in a tavern after finishing up my work for the day, and he was talking with this guy named Stark. I didn't say much, you know. But the two of them, they started talking real intense about the organization, and this mutual friend named Eltiar, codenamed Eisig. Eventually the Stark guy flips his shit and hits me, then gets dragged out by paladins. Just as Drin finishes helping me up, this small guy runs right up and asks Tinker to help him find Eisig, saying he's the leader of his cell. For some reason, Drin agrees and asks me to go along with him to find this guy. After losing the kid for a bit, I find him and another kid talking with the guy from IA. When I get over there, the new kid freaks out and tells the one from earlier to run, and makes a fire tube or something to fly away. The other kid took his lead and made a shower of dirt to cover his escape. The guy from IA mentions how their whole cell was traitorous, and I say a few words and get out before I mess with this guy too much."

Andy shook his head. "Big things are happening, my friend, I just wish I knew what. But, what have you been up to? I haven't seen you for a couple days now!"

~~

Darrian was relieved once the air became warm, but watched as the two of them started to leave. It had been an interesting enough way to spend an evening so far, but things were getting too weird, and the sunset confirmed that he'd be wanted back by the caravan soon. He wished them luck, though not out loud, afraid of attracting the crazy girl's attention. He ran out of the alley and towards where he knew the caravan was. A stomach rumble reminded him that he had missed dinner, and he wondered what he could pull out of their wares. Maybe the boss had some leftover stew from his usual dinner. A grin appeared on his face at the thought. He'd just have to be lucky.

But as he pulled up next to where the caravan had been parked, he froze with fright. Paladins were loading the cart onto some horses and putting all the wares into it. He ran up the nearest one and started yelling at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The paladin's voice showed the agitation hidden by his helmet. "Listen, kid. This owner of this shop has been accused of stealing from others and as such, his stuff is being confiscated and he's being executed. Get away from here before I decide to throw you in with him."

The paladin turned away, the heavy sack on his side saying "Donations" jingling as he did so. Darrian collapsed to his knees and watched as they finished their work and hauled the caravan away. What has he to do now?

Edited October 4, 2010 by Android

[Purg]

"Not Mr. Anton. Dom, preferably. I'm not nearly old enough to be known by my surname, at least, I don't think I am." He sighed. "We had best be going. Please, for the sakes of whatever gods there may be, don't lose sight of me. I've already lost enough people in this blasted city - at least you stand out enough," he remarked, glancing at her hair for a moment, "although that's worked against me thus far - how a man his size with an eye patch can completely vanish is beyond me." With a grimace, he pushed himself through the ocean of people - a rough tide to fight against at first, but his cloak had proven it's use very well thus far, even though it only bought him a small bubble of a few inches on any side. He pulled himself up on the side of a standing cart, stepping lightly on the rim of the wagon wheel. There, in the distance... That combination of noise and that size. It had to be Fargo. And there... Harris was causing a scene as well.

"This way!" he called out to the girl, leaping down and making his way to scene. On the way, he felt a sudden sense of relief as a familiar profile, one better met, came to his eyes.

"You've been away too long," Dom said tersely as he approached Stark. "It's good to see you made you way away from those knights, though. There's someone following me who seems to know you, though." He turned around, looking for the blue-haired girl. "... Ah. There she is," he said, pointing calmly.

[SuperFush]

"Staaaaaark!"

Yuki barrelled forever at full speed and wrapped her arms around Stark's waist. She pushed her face against her stomach, hiccuping and sobbing. Tears were freely streaming down her face, or would be if they weren't instead getting Stark's shirt wet. She tried a few times to regain her conposure, but it was mostly useless and for a few minutes, she remained a hiccuping mess.

"Y-you...I was so scared! In the bar, you were there...I-I was there, and I was happy to see you but then, then, you s-started f-fighting...I w-was afraid you'd get hurt...uwaah..."

She clung to him tightly, crying. But he was okay, so it was all starting to get better again.

[mr_e_s]

Stark

Oh Lightkratos, those two... He said be noticeable, not attract the attention of every member of the city guard this side of...that hanging grounds group Stark had caused. A little hypocritical, maybe, but the fact remained they were drawing the wrong kinds of attention, and they were-Oh hey it was Dom, sporting the same cloaked look as Stark. Maybe this wasn't such a dumb plan after all. Dom said he'd been away too long, like he had some choice in it. "Hey, you try slipping away from a large group of people very intent on your death while also telling certain people to meet you in x spot without being noticed by the guys who want you dead. It ain't easy, I-what? Who is i-Oof!"

Stark hadn't quite been knocked over, but he had to take a bracing step back. The little girl who used to tackle him with hugs had grown up a lot since last he saw her. Eltair's little girl, Yuki. What was she doing here? ...His shirt was getting kind of wet. "Yuki...Yuki!" Stark was pretty conscious of the scene that was being made and he didn't care to have his head removed, no matter how nice of a moment it was. "What are you doing out here?"

She managed to say that she had seen him fighting at the bar (what was she doing at the bar?), and that she had seen him fighting, between sobs. That was.... If he'd known she'd been there he would have never... Things couldn't be undone though. Had to move on... Really had to move on, in his case.

Stark still had an arm around Yuki while she was regaining her composure, but it was Dom he was addressing. "Do you know where the others are? Because I think it's about time we got out of here, with or without them, before we lose Fargo again or something."

[Purg]

"Some of them. You, Fargo, and Harris are all here, as well as myself and... Yuki, I suppose? Jeph and Lyle are looking for you, and should be heading to the cart soon enough. Rutem and Blaine have been gone since before we left to find you - since we moved the cart, actually. I've not seen them as I made my way through the city. They may have just decided this was where they would stop - I've no idea, though. Assuming the cart hasn't been taken away, we should be able to use it to sneak out, although I'm not sure who can guide it without being caught by the knights. It's not far from here, actually - finding you and the others was the hard part." He began pushing his way through the crowd again - if Stark and Yuki were as close as it looked, they would likely have things to discuss. While that went on, he'd just have to keep an eye out for the others. Speaking of them, he had better gather Fargo and Harris before leaving.

"Fargo!" he called out to the younger man, "Harris!" to the older. "It's time to be gone!" His voice carried well over the crowd, but hopefully no one but the names owners' would pay the calls a moment's notice. He didn't stay behind to see if they noticed him - they were smart enough, he assumed, to find their ways back to the cart. The longer they wandered, the more likely they would encounter the paladins hunting after them. They would have to be fast.

Ah, there it was, just as ramshackle and awful as ever. When everyone left, it had been ransacked by the nearby traders - Dom wished them luck selling the horrible junk they took, knowing that the cart would travel better without the trash inside. "Are we ready? I don't see Jeph or Lyle..." he said, setting on the seat of the cart. He wouldn't miss the latter, as he had only been trouble thus far - but Jeph had become about as good a friend as Stark was. It would be a shame to leave him behind.

[rn7]

"Alright! Leaving, yahoo!" Fargo leapt up onto the wagon. He cupped his hands over his mouth, and yelled as loud as he could, "Goodbye, Corthrone! I'll miss you! You're the second best town after Oak.... Oak.... that one city, yup!"

Unfortunately for him, his voice was downwind, and so no one in Corthone was able to hear his farewell sendoff. None the wiser though, Fargo went to work on the wagon. He detached the wagon cover from its binds, lifted up a wooden column, and attached the cover to the column. He stuck the pole into the center of the wagon, and then got a ball of twine and started wrapping it all around. What started out a mess turned out quite orderly and professional, as if this were a long practiced art.

"Oh man, I haven't done this in a while! I hope I don't overdo it!" Fargo stood back and stared at his strange windsail contraption. Then suddenly, with a clap, Fargo quickly attached his two wooden bucklers, stood at the back end of the wagon, and then started wriggling his fingers. Small coils of green wind wrapped round his fingernails, then slowly made their way down his finger, then hand, wrist, and arm. When they had reached his shoulders, Fargo began moving his arms. He swished them up and down, slowly at first, like a calm, rolling wave on an afternoon. Then faster, faster, faster. The waving became more irregular and more frantic, but the observant person would notice Fargo was trying to coordinate his motions with the surrounding air.

It all burst at once into a streaming column of air, flashing past Fargo and touching the sails. The sails flapped back and forth in harmony with Fargo's motions, flapping inwardly then outwardly in a regular pattern, as if the sails themselves were striding on air.

"Woohoo! I did it!" Fargo cheered happily. He hadn't lost it after all. All that was left was to take out the brake stop on the wheel. Fargo hoped he hadn't overdone it. It would be a shame if the wagon just blasted off into the horizon. It was the type of thing that would make you quit wagon chasing.

[Android]

Darrian walked aimlessly through the crowd of tents in Corthone. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, just something to end the indecision he faced. He would have to find a way back to Carthica somehow, with someone who'd pity him enough to let them hop on their caravan. Maybe he could offer his services as a caravan workboy? All he knew he had to find someway back to his home; he wouldn't last long with the measly 10 ducats he had to his name. He looked around for any possibilities. There was that blue haired girl crying and hugging the guy they had seen being pulled away earlier. So he had gotten away. Good for him. Darrian didn't want to interrupt their moment just to bum a ride.

Then something caught his eye. A figure on a sort of makeshift sailboat, swaying along with the motions of the wind. Could it be? Darrian ran closer. It was! It was Fargo, a caravan workboy he had gone drinking with the last time he was in Corthone. He was a fascinating guy, a bit off his rocker like the girl from earlier, but in a funny sort of way. He had a way of making sure you never knew quite what he would do next. Like now. Darrian had no idea what the hell Fargo was trying to do, but it sure beat walking around wallowing in his bad situation. He ran towards the sailboat/cart combination.

"Fargo, you crazy bastard! What are you doing back in the moving market?"

[rn7]

"Huh, what?" Fargo was momentarily distracted by the sudden guy saying hello to him. So surprised, in fact, that he fell off the wagon, onto the brake stop, thus sending the wagon and whoever was in it flying off into the horizon. Again, since they were downwind, their cries and pleas were consumed by the moving air.

"Well, gee, guy, I'm sorry, but I can't quite remember who you are! I guess you know me though, haha!" Fargo slung his arm over the complete stranger's shoulders. "I'm on a business trip kinda, but to tell you the truth..."

Fargo crouched over and whispered ominously to his new old friend. "...I only came here for new shoes and skin medicine, you know, for the wind cuts."

With that over with, Fargo stood tall and puffed his chest out.

"How about you, Mr. Guy-I-should-know-but-don't-really-remember-your-name-or-who-you-are?" Fargo said, all in one breath.

[Android]

Darrian laughed. "You haven't changed much.I shouldn't be surprised you don't remember me; we had a couple drinks together a couple months ago. To be honest, I'm just glad to see a familiar face. Just found out the person I was traveling with got arrested, now I'm trying to find a way out."

He squinted towards the horizon and watched the cart sail away. Now, that was odd. What would make it do that? He didn't remember anything about Fargo being magical.

He patted Fargo on the back. "Well, how about you? What was all that business with the wind dancing and the cart?"

[rn7]

"Man, don't you remember? It's the mega-ultra-super-fantastic wind transport system! Back in the day Capcillion Cargo Incorporated used it all the time for speedy deliveries! Of course, none of the Capcillions really used it, only me and the work boys." Fargo twirled a coil of wind around his wrist to emphasize the point. "Of course, because of that huge debt thing, I haven't been able to use it that much. I guess I kind of overjuiced it, haha! Any way, I don't think any one important was on there, aside from Stark, Jeph, Lyle Dom, that blue haired lass, Mr. Honest-Trader-Guy, Rutem, Blaine, that really darkness guy who is really evil and I don't know why he came along for the ride but his name is definitely not Jack or Masuar, or anyone else of note. Yup. Of course, now that I think about it, they kinda left without me! That kinda sucks."

Fargo set a hand over his eyes and squinted. The wagon was definitely beyond visual range now. Not only that, but the sun was now in Fargo's eyes.

"Well, I dunno about you, but I need to head to Highrise! Do you know a quick way there? I kinda lost my ride."

[Purg]

Dom shook his head from the front of the cart. He had sat calmly while Fargo tied a sail where there had been a cover. From what he could see, though, it would probably be worth the loss of cover he had been planning to give his friends - if the boy was planning on harnessing it with his wind magic, then the boost in speed would likely be more than enough to escape. As if to demonstrate it, the mage began filling the cloth with wind - it swung dangerously, the only thing keeping the group from rocketing off the brake. Once Fargo had been distracted, and fallen on said brake, Dom braced himself... and relaxed when it became apparent that the uneven push left the sail spinning around in a circle, leaving the cart rolling for a few yards, instead off flying off into the horizon, as he was worried it would. Another cart, far ahead of them, turned onto a path directly in front of them - had they been flying towards them, out of control, there would have been a nasty collision, and their escape would have been impossible.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Fargo," Dom said tersely, checking to make sure the others on the cart were still alright. "Your ride hasn't gone more than a short walk. If your friend is looking for a way out of this city, I suggest he climb on the cart as well." He recognized the boy with the mage, of course - the one who had been with Yuki, when they first met. "Well? Come along, we have to leave, now." And without a horse to guide the cart, Fargo would likely be the only way to do that.

[Dark Sage]

Within Keeparch

It had been days.

It had been days since his last job. Working for humans for their trash coins was humiliating for him, but such was necessary when you couldn't go home again and didn't know much about other human jobs.

Kiratsa heard his stomach growl and tried to ignore the hunger coming over him. He felt his coin pouch. It was very, very light. Certainly not enough for a meal.

His other options included scouring the leftovers of the humans that were tossed out in the streets or begging for coin. Neither he would do. He would not beg the humans, lose all his pride as a lizardman. If there was one thing he was proud of, it was the fact he was not human.

Eating humans wasn't possible either. For one thing, he'd be lynched, but also, humans were disgusting to eat. Lizardmen ate nearly everything really. They wouldn't hunt elves for example, but if they were very hungry and not much else was available, it was acceptable on the menu. Even when one of their own died, their bodies were still used for other things. Scales for armor, tools, anything.

Point was, everyone knew human meat was disgusting.

Most passing the lizardman avoided him. Kiratsa held his head high, grateful the humans found him something to keep away from. He felt the same way about them too.

"Library on top. Near the center of city. Maybe I get job guarding?" he questioned to himself, practicing the common tongue. He was still unfamiliar with it, not bothering to use it well before. Here, in a well educated city like this, it was best to show you were fluent in the common tongue. People would avoid you otherwise.

He scampered off towards the gates of the city, resolving to wait until tomorrow to find such a job.

In the meantime, he'd have to go to bed hungry again.

[rn7]

"Okay, if you say so Mr. Dom. But I'm a little tired." Fargo hopped up into the cart, and tore down a piece of the sail. He curled up into a ball, yawned, and then wrapped himself up in the makeshift blanket. "Wake me up when we get there, okay?"

A few moments later, Fargo was the newest resident of dreamland, the slow thumping of the wagon on pebbled streets lulling him into deep sleep. Soon he would be in Highrise or Keeparch. Neither were really friendly to outsiders, but since they hated each other more, they tolerated the occasional visitor or trader. In fact, with the rising tensions between the two, they might even be actively recruiting.

Which one would he join, he dreamed. Keeparch was a pretty nice place. Full of religious intellectuals and devoted spiritualists. Almost zealous at times. In fact, that was the main reason why the conflict was even existent in the first place. The most holy decree of the Keeparchists was that nothing ever would be higher than the Holy Arch. A towering pearly stone structure that stretched into the skies over the center of the city. Its primary use in ancient times was to tell time, much like a sundial. Now it was mostly symbolic. People had much more reliable means of time measure, so the towering arch was now a sacred testament to the citizen's religion.

Enter Highrise. It was formed after Keeparch and was composed partly of Keeparch splinters and smug outsiders. They wanted to create their own city with their own rules, and so they climbed the nearest cliff and settled on a flat mesa. Being smug as they were, they adorned the place with gaudy statues and fountains and other mostly useless but heavy decorations. Unfortunately for them, the mesa they settled on was not only one of the most structurally questionable of the rock structures in the area, but also was directly on a fault line. One minor earthquake knocked over a teacup in the mayor's mansion and it caused a chain reaction which eventually ended up in a majority of the city collapsing under the weight.

It was in that manner that Highrise was formed. It was completely vertical after this, the horizontal area of which homes lay was never bigger than two houses wide. The hardy yet smug Highrisians rebuilt the city around this new landscape, attaching ladders and roped elevators every which way. The mayor's mansion remained at top of it all, its height still dwarfed by the gigantic Holy Arch.

Until just recently. For the mayor of Highrise decided that his mansion did need renovations after all. He added a dome to the dome structure on his mansion, then added pillars and an observation deck. And then when that wasn't enough, he added a suspended swing ride and a railing for cart rides. Still, that wasn't enough. On the very top of it all was a highly exaggerated statue of an extremely cut and muscular mayor, raising both arms into the air, with fingers extended.

When it was finally done and measured, the new mansion stood an entire 33.4 millimeters over the Holy Arch.

Things were never really the same after that day.

[Android]

Darrian watched as Fargo made himself a makeshift bed and started napping. He shrugged. "Well, he hasn't changed a bit. Thanks for letting me come along!"

Darrian hopped on the cart and sat on the edge, getting a better look at the guy. He was the one who had showed up earlier when he slipped away from the crazy chick, apparently just to show him to the guy who's arms she was crying in right now. He had just been a convenient distraction earlier, but now that he got a closer look at him, he was a bit of an intimidating man. Knives on a belt, sword on his side, and a.... whip on his back? That probably meant that the guy had developed his own way of fighting, perhaps. He must be a mercenary! Darrain began to grow nervous. He had never talked to a mercenary before. He was staring at the guys weapons, was that rude? An insult? Oh Lightkratos, the guy was starting to look at him funny, he better say something quick before things got worse.

He laid back on the floor of the cart. "So, what are you folks heading to Highrise for? Business? Pleasure?"

[Purg]

"If it were Highrise we were heading to, pleasure would certainly be on my mind," Dom said simply, still observing the nervous boy. "However, we have a bit of trouble with the holy order of knights right now, so Keeparch appears to be our destination. I hope that doesn't throw a wrench in any of your plans, but you don't seem to be very picky where you end up. I'm uncertain if you caught my name earlier - call me Dom." He didn't see much sense in lying to their newest companion, nor in treating him like he didn't belong. The group thus far had an eclectic mix, to say the least, although most of them seemed to be martially talented, but he wouldn't turn down someone just because he asked for help in the thirteenth hour. If he decided later that they were worth turning into the knights, it would be his funeral, after all.

With Fargo asleep, they would have to find another way out - luckily, a caravan near them, drawn by a trio of powerful oxen, was just leaving for Keeparch. With equal parts intimidation and bribery, Dom convinced the woman in charge to attach the group's cart to the back of hers. She wasn't a particularly attractive woman, and she looked at him as if she vaguely understood that him and the others were less-than-civilians at the moment, but he dearly hoped that she wouldn't be troubled by their status. Right before the carts set off towards the city, Jeph appeared in the crowd, taking a seat on the wagon without much more than a mutter about Lyle. Dom didn't catch what was said, but didn't really care - the man had been nothing more than trouble, and if he wanted to stay in the city, it was his decision. He looked over the group as it was right now - Stark, Yuki (who was careful to always stay close to him), Jeph, Harris (muttering something about the idiotic merchants and loss of profit, two things that Dom didn't really care about), Fargo (murmuring in his sleep about the chair he had laying next to him), and the newest member, the boy who seemed to know Fargo. He hadn't caught his name when he introduced himself - too busy trying to get them all out of harm's way, he figured it was understandable - but he looked optimistic, a viewpoint that either wouldn't survive long in the group, judging from Kyle, or could be a breath of fresh air.

The trek took several days, mostly spent in silence. The group, as bonded as they were, were silent most of the way, not wanting to discuss the events of the city in front of the other caravan - and he couldn't speak for the others, but he was busy most of the time weighing his options from here. The young man had reminded him how close Highrise was from Keeparch. It would be feasible, then, to go back, to visit his family, whether the others came along or not. Even if there were tensions between the cities, he doubted that he would have any trouble entering either - he'd simply have to conceal his surname in Keeparch, and reveal it in Highrise. So long as his companions chose not to reveal it in the prior, he would be fine. If a war between the cities began, though... He wasn't sure he'd be able to continue this little adventure to find something better, if he answered the call to arms, as his brothers certainly would.

In the midst of thinking about his family, he felt a light object roll against his leg. At first, he thought it was perhaps dice from a game the others could've been playing - but investigating it, he found instead the cube that Lyle had held, likely stolen from Stark. He paid it no mind, giving it to the one-eyed swordsman with the suggestion that he had dropped it - he couldn't know the events that had brought it back to the group, but, frankly, he didn't know enough to care.

Finally, the heavy gates loomed before the group, armed guards investigating them before opening the path to them. After paying off the mistress of the caravan they had come with, Dom disembarked, fully intending to leave the cart with her - it's not like it could be used for much for the group, not if they had nothing to drive it. The city was silent to the outsiders, residents looking at them with a sense of foreboding rather than the curiosity that other cities would have. Dom simply shrugged, finding his way to an inn not far from where they had arrived. Comfort was the second to last thing on the owner's mind, being a normal resident of Keeparch - but asking his customers' reasons for being there was behind even that, so Dom felt no issue with paying the small fee for a room at the corner of the building. He wondered if the others would follow him, but decided that if they didn't, then he would either seek them out later, or just accept that they weren't set to travel together for much longer.

Right now, he wanted to rest, away from them, away from his crimes, away from his home, and the thin mattress on the floor provided him that opportunity. With a sigh, he took it gladly, the world fading to darkness as he closed his eyes.

[CATS]

The library of Keeparch rose up higher than anything else in the city save only the Holy Arch itself. It was not nearly as revered as said Arch, but it did possess some degree of significance among the Keeparchists, holding the vast works of their intellectualism and many records of their culture. The building was shaped as a vast cone pointing towards the sky, with the bookshelves and materials of the library all pressed up against its colossal walls; access to them was given by an excessively intricate pattern of narrow ledges and steep staircases, winding back and forth across the walls, ascending all the way up to the structure's sky-scraping ceiling. The vast amount of information was organized into many different Tiers, with the lower Tiers being closer to the floor, and the bookshelves of the highest ones scraping the ceiling. The more valuable, heavy, and ancient a given tome was, the higher its Tier; the highest Tier was the Holy Tier, a tiny ring of ledges resting in a small rotunda at the absolute tip of the cone, containing books which detailed the history of the Holy Arch itself, Keeparch's most sacred lore.

This arrangement carried several beneficial aspects, from the Keeparchists' perspective. Firstly, figuring out which staircases to ascend and where to start the ascent to one's desired section of books was quite the puzzle in and of itself, becoming ever more difficult as one sought to reach the more valuable books on the higher Tiers. One would have to work out the proper path on the ground before beginning the ascent, and one mistake in the planning often meant running into a dead end, going all the way back down, and starting over. This reinforced the Keeparchists' belief that knowledge should only be attained by those with the intelligence and patience to wield it properly, as both attributes were required to find anything useful in the great library. Secondly, while those who lived in Keeparch their whole lives eventually grew familiar with the library and learned to navigate it easily, it was very difficult for outsiders to get to anything in the library. Last and possibly most important, the lore of the Holy Arch, the sacred books containing information like its exact measurements in every possible dimension, the revered names of the men who had originally built it, the amount of time spent building it right down to the last tenth of a second when it was actually completed, and so on, was well-protected by the puzzle of the Tiers.

The arrangement also left a great, wide-open space in the middle of the library, where Keeparchists gathered to practice some of the rituals of their religion, with their accumulated knowledge and achievements rising up towards the sky on every side of them. One such ritual was going on currently, but the man standing in the Ancient Magical Traditions Tier, roughly 78% of the way up the walls of the great library, paid no heed to the chants and ceremonial dances occurring far below him. Raymond of Skyview wasn't at all interested in the religion of Keeparch, only the wealth of information contained within its.......well, he wasn't sure what to call it, it was one part library, one part monument, one part temple. He was only interested in the first of those functions, so he settled on thinking of it as a library.

Raymond had traveled quite some ways to get here. He still hadn't decided what was worse, the monster attacks in the goblin-infested countryside along the way, or the horrible company of a troup of crass mercenaries whom he'd been forced to join in order to stay alive in said countryside. At night the mercenaries would light great fires and sing and dance and drink until they passed out, usually leaving the fires burning into the next day; clouds of smoke rose up and blotted out the stars at night, and it was impossible to get any thinking or studying done while surrounded by their merrymaking. Not fun at all. During the day Raymond was forced to march long and hard to keep up with the hardy mercenaries, while constantly watching the bushes for any sign of movement, as there was no telling when or where goblins might attack. He'd been exposed to terrible treatment in Alabaste, had been looking forward to getting a roof over his head when they reached Oakheim only to be sorely disappointed by the town's non-existence, and had found Corthrone's ceaseless din and commotion to be nothing short of repulsive.

After finally arriving here in Keeparch, he'd had to spend a whole day mapping out the staircases and ledges of the great library, sorting out the exact path he would need to take in order to reach his desired book in one of the higher Tiers. He'd miscalculated and been forced to come back down after getting most of the way there, which was annoying, to put it mildly. The hostile glares from the Keeparchists, which only grew more intense after he failed the test of the library, hadn't helped either. Today, though, today. He had finally done it--he had reached the book he'd spent a couple weeks and no end of his own patience journeying to find. Raymond stood on his tip-toes and stretched towards a huge volume near the top of the bookcase he was facing. He placed his fingertips onto the spine of the book, then managed to get a small hold on it, and finally began to pull it slowly from the shelf.

This was it. This was it! Unable to restrain himself any longer, Raymond hastily yanked the book the rest of the way from the shelf, which turned out to be a terrible idea due to how heavy it was. Unable to support the sudden change in pressure, his fingers released the book and sent it tumbling through the air, over the railing of the narrow ledge; realizing his error, Raymond extended a hand and focused on the air just below the book. A small, thin square of shimmering energy appeared just under the book as it fell; it came to rest on the small barrier as if it were a solid table. The scholar exhaled in relief as he reached over the railing and took the book off of the magical barrier, releasing it afterwards. He then plopped down right where he was and dove into The "Great Wall" of the Magical Arts: The Most Ancient and Highly Respectable Tradition of the Barrier-Summoning Mages of Olde.

[Purg]

The great arch, the library, the city, the people - nothing within Keeparch had changed in the many years he had been gone. It had been long since he had returned, long since he had written letters or brought gifts or even reminded his family that he was alive, that he had left them. Twelve years... He wondered if they even remembered him, if they hadn't moved on, found someone else to support their needs, their dreams. He had never been a strong father, a strong husband - merely a compulsory figure, one who existed rather than did. He had always regretted his decisions, but, rather than try to face them, to fix what wrongs he had created, he had ran away. His greatest shame, but he had tried to justify it - "If they survive so well with my minimal involvement, then they would be fine without me." Wrapped up in his research, like his father before him - a fate that he supposed the men in his family were doomed to follow. He hoped deeply that his own sons weren't going to fall victim to it, that his abandonment would dissuade them from his path. He would rather them become the mindless servants of the arch than mad scientists like he was.

He sat at the bottom of the library, at one of the few unoccupied tables, his work spread out over the entirety. Even while he thought of how much he hated his life's goal, he couldn't stop his hands from working, performing measurements and putting assemblies together without really paying attention. Every now and then, one of the worshipers would glance over, making sure his work wasn't profaning the holy site, before returning to the complex rites beneath the tiers. None of the religious rituals drew his attention away - they hadn't when he had lived here, his return was unlikely to inspire any more understanding.

One robed man, however, flinched back at the sight of Drin. It took him a moment to realize it - but each time, he looked over, and instantly away, as though... As though he knew him. When the man looked over again, the tinker gestured over to him, instead leaving his table when it became apparent that the figure wouldn't leave his station. Within a few feet from the cloaked man, though, the elder stopped, almost unwilling to believe what he saw. "... Sidney." It had been so long since he had last seen him, but it was unmistakable. He turned to look for another familiar face in the circle that was now only a few yards away, looking away when he found it. "And Edgar, too. ... I had hoped I wouldn't see you two while I was here. But I suppose this means you haven't forgotten me."

"We tried," the man said, turning away from Drin. "Or at least, mom and I did. Ed... just didn't seem to get it, I guess. That you left because you didn't care. You still don't care, I take it."

"I... I care, Sid. About you, and Ed, and Louisa. It's... for the best, though, that I left. It's for the best that I don't stay here long, either." He reached to his belt, pulling out a small leather wallet, filled with Ducats. "Take this to your mother. Tell her you helped find a heretic or a spy of Highrise, or something. You boys have always been smart, you'll think of an explanation. Just don't tell her that you saw me here. She doesn't need to be reminded... Neither did you." He looked back to his table, his devices and tools strewn about the surface, without organization or purpose.

"... I'm going to leave again," he said quietly. "I can't afford to linger here much longer. Business, not painful memories, brought me here." He smiled, pushing away the melancholy of this meeting for just a moment. "If... If something occurs within the city, then I suggest that you and Edgar stay out of it. Something big is coming... A gathering storm, I suppose. Just stay at home, ignore whatever it is. I promise... It's for the best." The last four words had a certain weight to them - a reminder that, just because of the business he had found himself in, it was the only justification he could give without endangering his family even more. Sensing nothing more to hear from his father, Sid left to return to the ritual with his younger brother, the wallet deposited safely within his robes.

And while he was already trying to push away memories, Drin's hands worked as quickly as always, the table rapidly clear of his presence, the library soon afterwards.

[SuperFush]

For nearly the entire length of the trip, Yuki was firmly by Stark's side. They spoke of old memories and dreams and hopes, and for a while, perhaps, Stark forgot his troubles. Instead, he listened to Yuki speak of how her life had been, in the years since they had last seen each other. How she had, after much arguing and coercing, finally forced her father to teach her to use the same magic that he wielded so mightily. As she spoke, she held up her hand and concentrated, creating a small crystal of ice which floated just above her palm. She let the crystal disappear, and beamed with pride at the accomplishment - small though it may seem, magic is not easy to learn, and she had worked hard for the ability she now possessed. She spoke, too, of the loneliness that often plagued her - her father was often away on business, business that he never shared with her. Recently, he seemed to be gone more often, and always seemed worried when he returned, though he never showed any less love or care for his daughter. The two spent nearly every waking moment together when it was possible. Much of it was in training, yes, but they also took meals together, and rested together, and simply walked along the wide boulevards of Carthica together. She finished her tale with a clear look at Stark's eyes and a simple question.

"Do you know where my father is now?"

~~

"The more things change, the more things stay the same. I suppose neither of us could really leave our pasts behind in the end, hm, old friend?" Eltiar opened his eyes and looked at Drin, leaning against the library's wall with his arms crossed. He straightened and walked closer to his old friend, his long blue coat swishing across the ground.

"Have you seen your wife as well, Drin?"

[Purg]

He had been expecting a conversation like this, ever since he had spoken to Stark. Somehow, he had known it would be like this - maybe he hadn't predicted it happening here of all places, but, this was how it would be. "... I don't think she'd appreciate being called that, anymore. I don't think she'd appreciate seeing me, either. I... haven't been the best husband." He resisted the urge to look back at his sons as they practiced their arts. "Nor have I been the most attentive father. I aspired, but..." He laughed. "I don't think I could balance my life quite so well as you did, Eltiar."

There was an uncomfortable pause, before he spoke again. "... If... If I was a man of my bond, I would kill you where you stand, old friend. It wouldn't be easy, in any sense of the word... but there are men among us who would do it, without asking questions. I... am not one of those men. Even in the best of times, when the work was simple, when I had no qualms about what we were doing, there were always questions. I could never, in good faith, follow the orders given to me, without investigating why it had to be so. Perhaps that was why a man several years my younger was offered a position above all the others - I was even more surprised to hear you turn it down."

"That conversation... belongs in the past, though. We've both made our decisions - our funerals are set to be on a battlefield, at the hands of our comrades. The other members of your cell are after you, as well - whether they aim to protect or slay, I don't know, only that you're the target of many eyes. If word spreads that I've left without a report, then they'll come after me as well, but... I knew what troubles associated themselves with this decision when I made it."

"... I met Stark, in Corthrone. He's looking for you as well, you know. I don't know where he is now, but... I wouldn't stay in any one place, for too long. If he finds you... it can only mean that the others are just behind him."

[CATS]

A hooded man moved through the streets of Keeparch. He was an outsider, but his treatment differed considerably from that which outsiders usually received. The people of Keeparch did not look at him with disdain and an attitude of superiority. Instead, they tried to avoid looking at him at all, and when they did so, it was with fear in their eyes. The hooded man seemed to repel the town's citizens as he moved through it, causing them to skitter away from him wherever he went. The people remembered this man, remembered the color of his cloak, remembered his height, remembered the way that he walked. Several times in the past, this man had entered Keeparch seeking a certain person who had taken refuge within it; when the citizens had refused to help him find the person, he had thrown his arms into the air and sent an earthen pillar rocketing up alongside the Holy Arch, causing it to stop rising just short of the top of the Arch. He had threatened to send it shooting off into the sky far above the Arch if he did not get what he wanted, destroying any chance of the Holy Arch ever being the tallest thing in the vicinity of Keeparch. After that, they had helped him.

Now the man was once again in pursuit of a certain individual. He had tracked his prey here to Keeparch, and once more asked the citizens to give him the individual he sought. He moved between shops and homes, speaking with the people, asking about a certain ice mage, informing them that this ice mage was not to leave the city without his knowledge. Sentinels on the edges of town were informed, certain members of the population began to search within the town itself. No one would take action against the ice mage on their own, but they didn't need to. They would simply provide information; see to it that the ice mage did not leave or move through the city without Mior's knowledge. The wheels were set into motion: Eltiar would not escape.

Eltiar wasn't the only individual who would die here, either. Mior had already located one of his less important targets. This particular target's motions were easy to track, as he tended to make a stir anywhere that he went, and didn't seem to know the meaning of subtlety. Mior found him near the city's great library, saying something about how Eisig would never go to this stupid city. The young man turned around and noticed Mior approaching him.

"Oh, hey there John! What are you doing here?" Klints said.

Mior waved a hand, causing a torrent of flames to rise around Klints and consume him. The blaze burned blinding white with heat, then faded away as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a pile of charred bones behind. The process of Klints's death was over in a matter of seconds. Mior stared at the bones for a few moments, then began to shout, his voice carrying through much of the city.

"Eltiar! I know you are here; in fact, I have just eliminated one of your subordinates. I will say this plainly. Do not delay the inevitable any further. Do not allow any more people to die because of you. Show yourself!" he boomed.

---

Raymond sat far above the library floor, a spread of food and drink laid out before him and the tome in his lap. He had brought a large sack of supplies with him, as he still needed to eat, yet taking the book all the way down to the ground with him would be quite a task. The book was everything he'd thought it would be--accounts of the lives of the ancient masters themselves, advice that they had given, their teachings, their techniques, their favorite foods. It was fabulous. As he read through it all, Raymond recalled some of the tradition's most basic ideas. There were four great tomes on the subject of barrier magic, each one written on a particular facet of the art, each written by one of the art's four greatest masters, the fabled Grandmasters of old. Each Grandmaster had achieved the pinnacle of skill in a certain area of the art, and subsequently written the text on that area.

The aspects of barrier-summoning were as follows: Strength, Size, and Shape. Strength pertained to the power of the summoned barrier, its ability to withstand blows and absorb force. The barriers that Raymond summoned could take sword strikes with relative ease, but a mounted knight charging on a warhorse would cause them to shatter. It was said that the Grandmaster of Strength, on the other hand, had been able hold an entire army of charging knights at bay, as Raymond had read in his current tome (which was also the tome specializing in Strength).

Size pertained to the area that a barrier could cover; it was directly related to Strength, as the larger and wider a barrier was, the weaker it would be. Barrier-mages were often judged on how large they could make their barriers without sacrificing any of their Strength. Raymond himself was only an intermediate at best, being able to cover an area about the size of a doorway. Any more than that, and his barrier would begin to get weaker, eventually becoming useless if he made it large enough.

Shape related to the forms which a barrier could take. Raymond himself could only produce two-dimensional squares or circles, thin slices of energy. Shape was his weakest area by far--some barrier-mages could not produce particularly large or strong barriers, but could twist them into intricate three-dimensional shapes to serve specialized purposes. Raymond's philosophy was that the ability to make a corkscrew barrier was fairly worthless if it still couldn't stop a sword, so he had chosen not to focus on Shape.

The subject of the fourth tome was unknown. It was meant to be read after the first three, and was said to tie them all together in a way that would complete one's abilities as a barrier-mage, at which point one would become a full-blown master of the art. To Raymond's knowledge, it had been centuries since anyone had successfully read all four. The tomes were intentionally placed in such a way as to make the acquisition of all four a very difficult task. The tomes were spread out across the continent, and all required the passage of some sort of trial or test, with this particular tome's trial obviously being the puzzle of the Tiers.

As he read, Raymond heard a voice sound throughout the library, something about people dying. He tuned it out. He had a tome to read, and not any tome, one of the four. The first of the four. In these dark times, the art he studied had been all but forgotten. Raymond intended to change that by finding all four tomes.

[mr_e_s]

Stark

Stark had kind of let the world fade for a while there. He'd been holding up so much stress, so much tension, trying to take care of himself and the people who had inexplicable chosen to follow him. It had been too much. He'd tried to be a leader, but it clearly wasn't for him. Dom had been doing a passable job of it, since Stark had abandoned any kind of planning in favour of spending time with Yuki. He wasn't sure what would happen now that they were in Keeparch, though. Dom had a goal and he got the group there, talking with that merchant group and the old lady to get them there. But would he be able to take charge now? He couldn't do a much worse job then Stark had done in Corthrone, so concerned with letting everybody make their own choices, he almost got them all killed when he finally snapped...

The trip to Keeparch had been nice, though. Yuki could do basic magic now. Stark remembered Eltiar telling him that he was almost certain that she had the gift. That she was special. Stark kind of tossed it away at the time as talk from a loving father. Not that Yuki wasn't special, Stark just didn't think she was ever going to be a great ice mage. Not that little crybaby. There she was though, ball of ice in hand. Maybe she'd be as strong as Eltiar one day. The moment that really knocked him back into reality was when she'd asked him if he knew where her father was. Stark didn't have much of an answer, but his gut told him he was on the right path with this one. All he'd been able to tell her though was that if everything worked out, they'd be meeting up with him i Keeparch.

It was too bad in Keeparch, there was no sign of his old friend. It was funny, he had a habit of showing up when Stark really needed him, but was almost never around when Stark wanted to find him. This wasn't the first time he'd disappeared on Stark without warning. Stark prayed to Lightkratos it wouldn't be the last. Searching the city was fruitless, though. Stark wasn't about t tell everyone to split up this time, but no one was waiting for his words any more. Maybe he'd lost their respect ith his outburst in oakheim, almost gettng killed by paladins because he couldn't keep his temper in check was pretty embarrassing. The people were none too helpful, either. He still looked pretty beat up from all these fights the last few days, and even the partial sleep he got on the cart over wasn't really doing lots for him. He really just needed to drop, but the look on Yuki's face whenever he wanted to quit kept him going.

He'd been avoiding it, the last time he'd been there, he'd inadvertently said the wrong thing, more specifically, that the whole religion was stupid and these people took themselves way too seriously, and had it not been for the calming words of an ice mage, he'd probably be missing his other eye. It was kind of a dark time for Stark, after he lost his eye, but before he gave up being a merc. He was always so angry. Eltiar had really helped, or at least, tried to, but Stark was just... he remembered the fight in there, afterwards, Stark had yelled at Eltiar, telling him not to get involved in his life, to stop pitying him. To just leave him alone. Somehow he knew, before he walked into this town, before he did the caravan, and certainly before he took those first steps outside the great library, that's where he'd find Eltiar. He just wasn't sure he wanted to. Not there, at least.

[SuperFush]

"I know others will be searching for me. I would not be terribly surprised if they find me here. Look, Drin....I knew what the result of my actions would be. I accepted them long ago. I am grateful, of course, that you don't intend to harm me, or for that matter, Stark."

Eltiar sighed. He suddenly felt very weary. For years he had been working towards what he thought was the greater good of the world. Finding out the truth...that much of what he had done was subverted and perverted to a few bastards' personal gain...it had nearly broken him. He continued his work, but at the same time, worked towards subverting the corrupt leaders of the organization from within.

Now, after so many years, the cube had finally appeared. And the person to find it was Stark. Who could have prepared for such an event? Now Eltiar was actively being hunted, and Stark too in grave danger. At least Yuki would stay safe in Carthica. She'd...be able to take care of herself. She knew magic now, at the least, and had proven just as naturally skilled as Eltiar had always known she would be. Not that it was a surprise, given her heritage.

"Drin, I do have one last request. If it's possible, please look after Stark and Yuki. I...requested the same of Remus as well, but I'd feel better knowing that both of my last friends would take care of my daughter and the man I think of as a son."

[lunarAegis]

Jeph.

Jeph didn't remember how he'd gotten to Keeparch, or why for that matter, but here he was. Inexplicably showing up in places and doing stuff seemed to be Jeph's forte. He'd have to find some way to keep track of where everyone else was so that when he appeared somewhere new he knew... well... he'd know something then. Unlike now.

The last thing he recalled was stabbing a Paladin in the back after Lyle was killed (this is a good thing). Probably a good thing that he was now out of that place and in this one instead. He decided it'd be a good call to lay low for a while and search out his comrades, if that's what they could be called. Jeph wasn't so sure, as he was celebrating his role in the death of one of them.