Manus Veneficus

[Eva]

The Magistry Court stood in the center of the city that formed the inside of the Waking Keep. Rising high amidst the buildings of the Keep, the Court was a symbol of caution and unity for all of the tribes, as well as an unspoken guarantee of safety for those around it. Every step that the nine Magisters took up the stairs to the Court was a reminder of their heavy burden, and that burden was more pronounced today than any other day.

The nine Magisters stood on a balcony overlooking the vast Keep and the Greatlands that surrounded it. For miles they could see the envoys approaching, each one representing a tribe that had answered their calls. Once these ambassadors entered the city, they would officially be welcomed as allies to the Magistry. "I don't see the Dwemer." Junior Magister Meitner said, referring to one of the Magistry's closest allies from her territory. "No smoke. Chug chug, machines." she added, looking at her fellow Magisters. Nobody said anything, and more than a few didn't appear to be listening. "There's so many." Wynne muttered. "It's time to go to the floor, everyone. The guards will be letting some of them in now." Oleg said. The other eight nodded and turned to the door.



The first tribe to reach the gates was the Elvehanan. "Our scroll from Bahasha Fenarel." Cyrell Zammborn said, handing over a written scroll to one of the many guards that stood around the gate. There were so many, Valina Jaheirborn observed. She sat atop her riding hog, fur hood draped over her head. The hunters flanked her, in case the guards decided to pull a fast one. "What does 'Bahasha' mean?" the guard with the scroll asked. "It is a title of respect. Bahasha Fenarel is the one who came to us after he left the Mists to live here." Cyrell replied. The guard hesitated for a moment, but eventually he gestured for the gate to be opened. "Follow the golden road markers. They will guide you to the Magistry." he said. "Thank...you." Cyrell said, giving the guard a bow.

Cyrell returned to his mount and lead his group into the city. "This Keep is astounding. I did not imagine that it would be so large." Valina said, riding next to her mentor. "The ones who live outside the Mists have a different way of life, but it is not a wrong way to live. Keep your head on, Valina, there is much to see here." Cyrell said.

[token]

Siona sighed as she walked up to the gate guards. Her half brother several paces behind her. His mouth was open in awe at the majestic sight. His head dropped back as he stared to the ceiling. His eyes unable to stop bouncing around the place.

"Siona, have you seen this place?" Taltos asked his older sister. She turned back to him and stared him down. Of course she'd seen it, she walked into the Keep before he did. "I mean, look at how the light glints off the floor and statues, hell, even the guard's armor!" He continued to go on his sight seeing adventure. It was a wonder he was able to follow behind his sister with out running into someone else, or venturing away from her.

Siona dropped her head and sighed, finally making her way to the guards. It made her awkward. Being surrounded by so many different races and beings from tribes. It kind of creeped her out to be honest. She took note on how many people were to each security detail. Who were the designated captains, and who were the actual emissaries. A trait she picked up during her rite of passage.

"Who are you?" A guard asked gruffly. Not in an impolite manner, but not in a polite one either. His hand out, ready for the scroll that proved they were indeed summoned to the Keep. Siona sighed and handed him the scroll. "I am Siona Kit'la, and this is my half brother Taltos Cua'ue. We are Hofu, people of Theros."

The guard raised an eye at her. "Hofu? Theros? There are no records of your existence in any of our books. What do you take me for a fool?" He asked. He looked her up and down. She herself wore what would seem minimal clothing. Leather covering her breast region as well as lower portion. "Yes, I take you for a fool and for everyone who believes we are truly called 'Shadowmoure.'" She sneered at him. "Your Senior Magister whoever brought this too us. We can kindly refuse if you'd like." She said, which would be no trouble to their tribe in her humble opinion.

"No no, it'll be fine. There are no records of Theros, and to most, your tribe and race are just a myth." He finished accepting the proof and opening the gate.

"C'mon Taltos." Siona hollered back to her more modestly dressed brother. A draping tattered over tunic covering most of his light under clothing, swords, and trinkets. He ran to her, his tunic fluttering as he ran. And if anyone stared at him closely, they'd notice through the tears, visages of shrunken heads at his waist.

[Rose]

The D’valinn representatives left days after the Elves, but they arrived only shortly after. They followed nearly the same path as the other tribe, but their sturdy horses traveled faster than the thick boar. The only setback the tribe faced was that they had to take a wide berth around the towns they passed. The first the D’valinn stopped in for supplies had taken up arms against them, locking their doors and windows tight against the intruders. Fearing unnecessary conflict, Raziel was forced to order his men away, the group making the rest of the journey without aid. Their past was certainly haunting them.

And now the Waking Keep was on the horizon, the imperial crown of the land. Clad in heavy armor atop mighty horses, their weapons at their sides, the D’valinn looked ready to lead a small siege against the city. But they hoped to make some sort of peace.


“Commander Raziel Alin’Ra,” The white-haired figure announced as the company was halted at the gates. He held his staff at his side, but the blades were retreated safely. The rest of the tribe lowered their weapons in an attempt to look less menacing, though they refused to put them away, paranoid that the Magisters had some secret agenda. “The D’valinn have answered the call of the Magisters.”

Raziel nodded to the guards and the younger man beside him quickly withdrew the scroll from a pouch on his horse, unable to keep it in the heavy armor he wore. His movements were far less graceful, his manor far less collected than the Commander’s, but that was to be expected. The red-haired, golden-eyed man was something like an apprentice, young and inexperienced but eager to do well. As he handed over the scroll he looked quickly to his superior, who nodded again faintly.

“You may pass,” The guard called, and the D’valinn warriors rode through the gates. The formed a sort of arrow with their horses, with Raziel following just behind the lead within the center. He gazed straight ahead, his face giving nothing away, but the rest of the company looked around in awe or at least mild curiosity. After centuries of keeping to themselves, the tribe was eager to learn of the outside world. And it was certainly a grand sight.

[Eva]

As their group approached the court, they saw several figures standing before it. "It's so large." Valina said, in awe of the height of the building. It was bigger than even the palace of the elven rulers. It did not shine in the sun, as it was made of a solid, dull metal, but Valina knew that its lack of luster was most likely intentional. Perhaps they meant to seem less grandiose or pretentious? As Valina stared at the massive building, Cyrell ushered the group faster. One of the figures in the distance also came forward, arms spread out.

The boars reached him quickly, and Cyrell and Valina dismounted. "I am extraordinarily pleased at your arrival, Sir Zammborn and Sar Jaheirborn." the man said. "We made many prayers for your safe return, Bahasha Fenarel. We worried that the other tribes of the Forest would be less welcoming." Valina said, bowing deeply as she spoke. "If you do not mind standing here to greet the incoming tribes?" Fenarel asked. Cyrell shook his head. "I am tired, as are my friends. If we could have some lodgings..." he asked, but Valina stepped forward. "I am not tired in the least. I would gladly act as my peoples' representative." she said. "Then so it shall be. Bahasha, where will we be staying?" Cyrell asked. Fenarel pointed behind himself. "There are guides standing at the court's entrance. They will show you the way." he said. With that, Cyrell and the hunters brought their envoy in.

"It is a great honor to stand here, awaiting our future allies." Valina said quietly, taking her stance next to Fenarel. "I look forward to fighting this threat by your side, Bahasha. Perhaps when this is over, you would consider returning to the Mists." she added, equally as quiet. "I am content where I am, My Sar. Maybe it is you who will find a new life here." Fenarel replied.

[token]

"Seriously Si, can you believe how massive this place is? The whole city of Theros can fit in here... I think." He said wide eyed as he took in everything around him.

"It's because we aren't a power hungry controlling people who self proclaim rule over the land using followers as buffers in case a siege was ever launched by multiple tribes. They're lucky most tribes are at war with each other." Her disdain for the Keep, as well as other tribes was strong in her voice.

"But, it's... Si, what' wrong with that girl's ears?" He asked her, pointing towards Valina. "And she has tattoos on her face, just like you." He continued to point out as they came closer to her and the magister she stood next too.

"Elves as they've been known to become. Some of them are okay. They're secluded like we are. They also are neighbors with a people called the D'vallin. I picked up one of my tricks from them. You don't want to go one on one with them. I can't honestly say what they do, but I watched one go up against the village I was mercing for, I watched three get slaughtered. You see them drink blood, get prepared. That's all I gotta say." Siona finished.

"Well, check point time." She sighed as she reached both Valina and Fenarel. "We're Siona and Taltos. We hail from the village of Theros. We're more commonly known as," She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes at the name. "Shadowmoure."

[Rose]

The horned black horses with their armored riders followed the path the elves had taken toward the court. The beasts were bred to look terrifying as they charged toward their enemies in battle, but here they walked with elegant strides and heads held high. The D’valinn representatives held up their own bodies and weapons in an equally as self-confident, nearly pretentious manner. They spoke to no one, acknowledged no one until they reached the court. The silent, imposing force stopped before the small congregation where Fenarel waited among other accumulating tribes.

“The D’valinn have answered your call, Fenarel,” said Alaric, the young red-haired apprentice. His kind had no term for outsiders, not one fitting for a Magister at least. “I am Alaric, reporting for King Cyradel. He sends his best warriors and only brother as a sign of good faith. In return, he hopes that the D’valinn will be more widely recognized by the Magisters and-”

“That’s enough, Alaric,” Raziel cut in from the center of the formation as he slid off of his horse. “We can talk politics later. After their long trips, I’m sure a Blood King’s friendly wishes are far from what these people wish to discuss.”

The other D’valinn slid from their horses as well, gathering just behind the commander while Alaric joined at his side. Raziel nodded his head, not looking at anyone gathered around but greeting them as a whole. Alaric’s demeanor was friendlier and he smiled at the strange company around them, eager to speak to each person in turn and learn about the strange cultures he had never even heard of. His smile was slightly less warm than he had intended, however. He’d forgotten that his mouth of fangs was foreign to the other tribes, as were the two horns spiraling back out of his head and his grayish skin.

“Commander….they have skin as light as yours, ” Alaric announced a little loudly, looking between the elves and Raziel. His eyes lingered on the elven woman, amazed by everything about her, from her clothes to her tattoos. “But…Where are their horns, sir?”

Raziel sighed, ignoring him. He waved off the soldiers behind him, gesturing for them to keep following the elves and find some place to rest. His slate gray eyes slowly gazed around the company, not meeting any eyes but for the first time truly acknowledging that he even noticed anyone else there.

“Ignore the questions of my people. Few of us have seen outsiders, save for our elven neighbors.”

[Eva]

"Ah, yes. Welcome, my friends."

The white-haired Magister known as Wynne stepped forward to greet the Shadowmoure ambassadors, her voice as welcoming as she could make it. Fenarel was somewhat apprehensive at seeing them, as they looked more...strange, than he was accustomed to. "Let me be the first to formally welcome you to the tower. Do not feel uneasy about the environment. You are our guests, and you will be treated as such." Wynne said to Siona and Taltos. "I am Wynne, and this is my colleague, Fenarel."

Valina looked at the two, and at the approaching D'valinn. "Raziel Alin'Ra, this is Valina Jaheirborn of the Elvehanan, and Siona and Taltos of the Shadowmoure." Fenarel said, introducing the ambassadors to one another. "I am honored to meet all of you. But I am a mere apprentice. The true ambassador of the elves has already entered the tower." Valina said, her eyes not quite meeting those of the others. "Then we should join him. I don't think we should crowd the entrance up quite yet." Wynne said. "Servants will come outside to escort your pack animals and help put away your cargo, do not fret about that." She turned and walked to the heavy iron doors of the towers, and the others followed suit.

As Wynne approached, the doors swung open, with not a word or even a hint of effort from the Magister. The group was greeted by a vast, open marble lobby with more doors leading out than any of them cared to count. "Each door leads somewhere, but all but one leads nowhere, for us at least. The one we want takes us to the largest meeting room." Fenarel said.

Although the lobby was packed with people, the group had no trouble moving across it; everyone stepped aside to let the Magister-lead party through, again without any effort from either of the Magisters. The group arrived at a door that looked, at first glance, no different from any of the others. Wynne turned the knob and stepped through, and the others followed in the ways that they chose.

The door was not a door, but rather a portal. A person, a normal person, stepping through would think it was just a door. Step through, and you're in the room. But anyone who knew magic would feel the split second between walking through the door and the feeling of being pulled somewhere else. When each person walked through, they saw only the large meeting room, with its huge circular table and hundreds of seats. Not to mention the dozens of people already inside. "You may sit wherever you choose, it is of no consequence. Fenarel, we should return to the entrance." Wynne said. With that, the two magisters left their wards standing in an awkward moment.

[token]

"Tch, Shadowmoure is the name you have bestowed upon us in your books." Siona said with a disdained expression. She had looked to the D'Valinn, she remembered only one encounter with them, but she herself did not fight them, and she was thankful for that. Their powers were definitely one to be feared. She still was unsure the true details behind the powers they possessed, but in this war torn world, who knew the true potential of another village?

The Elvehanan however, she hadn't encountered before, or heard of them for that matter. She nodded respectfully to them, the D'Valinn first, then the Elven folk.


"Our true racial name is 'Hofu,' please refer to us as that." Taltos stated, a slight bit of enthusiasm in his voice, sourced from the new races that came to the keep. He was always enthusiastic about learning of the other races. A slight 'hmph' came from his half sister.

As instructed they followed behind Wynne. As they walked, Taltos clasped his hands behind his head and walked a little off from the group, looking around the hallways, his tattered over-tunic wavering with each of his stride. Letting out a low whistle as they came to portal like door. He flinched as they crossed it's threshold, a sensation tingled through his body and ended at the tip of his nose then dispersed. It tickled and he let out a slight laugh. He looked over to his sister who too felt the sensation.

She always kept her composure, it was something Taltos admired about his sister. Her face unchanged, as if nothing happened as they passed through the barrier. Her eyes darted around, eying everyone and gathering information. There appearance, weapons, how nimbly they appeared compared to the armor they were adorned in.

As Taltos nodded to Wynne he moved to a seat, only to be stopped by his sister. She waited to see where the others were to sit. A common nature of familiar, a basic instinct, yes, familiarity, but no one has proven trust. She would remain suspicious of everyone's intents here; or the true intent of this whole meeting all together.