- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- Online Availability
- 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
- Writing Levels
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
The Phantom Gate
Threads of moonlight pierced through darkened brambles, tendrils of fog curling upwards, dancing like willowisps along the forest floor. A man stood, his hand clutching a glowing lantern, face a frozen mask of invariance as gleaming eyes of deep green stared into the darkness. Two statues, their stone forms moss covered, rose up alongside a narrow peat path. The first was a male, tall and leanly carved, bearing hard, defined features, smooth stone wings arching upwards behind his towering form. The second, female, was curled into the extended arms of the male, gentle in appearance, elfin aspects ethereal and serene at first glance in the next moment cold and hawkish. Her own pair of wings, curtained about her shoulders reflected, through those pinpricks of nightlight the glitter of gemstones, iridescent as mercury. Oberon and Titania watched over the park in their infinite splendor, High King and Queen of the Seelie Court majestic visions of resplendent and calculating beauty. So few ever noticed the small faun, tucked between their legs, a mischievous grin playing across his handsome boyish face.
"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend."
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend."
His voice barely rose in timbre above a whisper, yet in deep baritone, the verses resonated from the man. Silence spoke next, before crunching gravel, he stepped forward.. Spines of light touched the statue faces, and for a moment one could almost sense life behind their gazes.
"If you pardon, we will mend…"
Grinding stone all at once shattered the night's stillness and the light of the lantern was eclipsed as a brilliant cerulean glow filled the woods. A razor thin split, like a tear in fabric spread from top to bottom, the statues now malleable clay, twisting, turning, curling away from their tender embrace like dancers. Revolving upwards and arching, the pair touched their fingertips together and the light bloomed. Between the figures, the incandescence swelled, the stranger's arm raising to shield his gaze. Where once there were shaded woods in the still of night, a doorway now stood and gently creaking, it was drawn inward.
"Edmure Zane… Sly fox. Would darken our doorstep so boldly, with so high a price upon your neck?" The figure on the other side stood taller than the doorframe, crouched over in a deep bend that might, but for the look of disapproval on his face, have been mistaken for a bow. Ash white skin glistened, touched by flecks of silver, the same silver as his cat-like gaze and the great chunks of weed-like stems, which stuck up from his crown. Long, spindly fingers, each capped in dangerously sharp claws curved around the doorframe, and leaning closer, the fae's pearly mouth split into a mischievous smile, "Mad, would it make them, indeed, to know we harbored you…"
"Wes, old friend, when all is said and done, I think you'll find it was I who harbored you. I need to speak to the Court."
Stepping aside, dragonfly wings fluttering, folding behind him, the fae gave an intentional bow, this time, and with a sweeping gesture, the fugitive Edmure Zane was welcomed.
~~<<§§>>~~
When one lived as long as Osgood Price, certain values, certain virtues became something of a second nature. Patience, it seemed, would require at least another millennium or so…
The desk clerk was a particularly stout, squat raisin of an old man, holding such a sour, puckerer expression that Ozzie couldn't help but wonder if he, at some point in his multitude of years, had been cursed to eternally taste lemons. One nobbled, gnarled hand gripped a stamp form and exercising all the effort of a sleep deprived sloth, he pressed it into deep burgundy ink, then showing no increase of urgency, flattened it onto one of the twenty forms Ozzie had handed over.
Eye twitching, the headmaster turned and looked to where he had left his gaggle of students, teeth grit into a tense, confident smile, his hand raised in a wave, "Almost there!"
Turning back, he bent over the indolent clerk, his fingers tensed, "Is there any possible way, my good man, that you could finish this up sometime this century?"
Without looking up, the clerk slowly shifted the top page to the side before his less than nimble fingers curved around the handle of the stamp, "You will get there when you get there. Please have a seat."
Hands flattening over his face to muffle an irritated growl, Ozzie turned back to the entryway, "Right. Bureaucracy." Arms dropping to his sides, he paused before his students, "It's gonna be a minute."
Some three hours later, the last of the papers was approved and the squat little figure behind the desk rose, walking stick in hand.
"Welcome," He said, offering very little ceremony, "To the realm of Denmar." Cracking his stick on the marble tile floor, there was a swish of wind, and a circle of light no bigger than a quarter rose above his balding head. Stepping back to the desk, he sat down as if the effort had taken what remained of his lax energy.
Swiftly, like paint pooling out of a can, the light began to grow, swelling in a spiraling fractal until it was wide as a doorway. With a flash, bright golden light became an image - stationary at first, then flowing, shifting. Conifer trees, great greens and silvers and blues rose in an arc of verdant against sterling stone, swept gently by the wind that drove the sharp, sweet smell of pine into the white-washed waiting room. Glittering in the midday light, a waterfall, slashed into the cragged side of the mountain, tripped and trickled down in a pool, as still as glass at its base. Across the portal face, a flock of white birds fluttered and the dark bow of a mighty oak branch stretched and yawned skyward. Within the mountain itself, a massive structure loomed, pale ivory towers and wide, arching bridges, glistening windows catching sunlight and silver-blue steepled roofs. The High Court of Wills seemed not to have been built, but to have grown straight out of the rocks of Mount Vastil, itself.
Along the side of the mountain, a scar of a path was carved, presently the route of three figures, a blonde woman in a gleaming white robe moved with purposeful strides towards the opened portal and at either side, two other dressed in identical armor, a deep ruddy leather with an emblem pressed into the chest piece in a forest green. At their sides we deeply curved blades, and slung at their backs, the rounded spine of longbows. It occurred, in that moment, to Ozzie that no doubt the sight was strangely out of the time period for the majority of his students and with a grin the conjurist turned to the small troup behind him.
"Now then… Shall we begin the tour?" And turning around again, he nodded to the portal, "Just take a breath and--" Trailing off, Osgood took a step forward and lifted his foot over the small gap between the floor and portal. With a shimmer his form rippled through the image of the mountain keep, as he appeared on the opposite side.
~~<<§§>>~~
"It was a last minute thing… We weren't told they were coming until last night." The whispered hush strained with frustration, as the woman drew her cloak around her, dipping deeper into the shadows of the darkened hall, "It won't interfere with the plans, but I need time to think. If anyone were to find out…"
Within her palm sat a silver compact, its mirrored surface swirling with the image of another cloaked figure, a severe looking man with a deep frown, brows knit together in irritability.
"We cannot afford to fail now, Ailenna. An opportunity like this may not present itself again. Don't let me down."
"It will be done." Closing the compact and slipping it into her robe, Ailenna looked up and down the hallway again before darting forward, disappearing through a doorway.
~~<<§§>>~~
"The Court of High Wills has been in existence for well over four-thousand years, now. Dating back to before the Great War of Realms. Within these hallowed halls, the first Sages sat and penned the Decree of the Seven, ensuring both the protection and proper preservation of the magical realms henceforth. You'll notice here, these pillars - The art upon them depicts the events of the great war in stunning detail… perfectly representing the Sages' part in sealing the Phantom Gate and driving back the forces of evil beyond its--"
"Curious…" The interruption was seamless, as Ozzie's fingertips trailed along one of the columns. Each one, ten in total, ran from floor to ceiling, spiraling designs carved into the limestone, intricate details chronologically portrayed like hieroglyphics in an Egyptian tomb, "I don't recall hearing of the Court's involvement in the war. I remember well, the sealing.. I was a part of it, after all. But from what I remember, the Sages weren't present. Something about… interfering in the events of fate and allowing actionable consequences to take shape?"
"...That's…" The guide paused, her lips curved into a frown as her eyes danced from Osgood to the students surrounding him, "That's hardly accurate… Well, it's been some time, I'm sure you're misremembering."
"History can be fickle…" Ozzie noted, with a twist of sarcasm.
"Right, well. On that note." Forcing a strained smile, the woman gestured to the room, "You're free to look around. If you've any questions, I'm available. Mind the balconies, and do try to avoid touching the artifacts, thank you." Her eyes flashed once more to Osgood, before spinning on her heels, she swished off to stand in the doorway, ever flanked by her guards.
Looking at the group, Ozzie smiled dryly, and for a moment the man seemed drained, thinned, as he shook his head, "My apologies. Not the tour I imagine you were anticipating. It would seem my… personal opinions of the Court are quite apparent, but I would hate to dissuade you from enjoying yourselves. Please. Look around… Just remember, eyes open, as always."
~~<<§§>>~~
IC | You've been invited to tour the Main Hall in the Court of High Wills. Artwork, artifacts and historical documents line the magnificent space, and the architecture houses elements both fantastical and technologically superior to anything seen within the Plainspoken realm. For some of you, this is a place of great curiosity and majesty, for others, a sullen reminder of the past.
Osgood has left you to explore, and a tour guide stands at the ready for any and all questions.
OOC Note | This is the place for intro posts - feel free to get creative with the designs of the hall - and if you aren't sure of something, go ahead and message me in the Discord. Feel free to interact with each other and/or any of the NPCs present And as always, have fun !
TAGS || @KatSea, @Verran, @littlekreen, @Ariel, @Dvyniai, @MiharuAya
Osgood has left you to explore, and a tour guide stands at the ready for any and all questions.
OOC Note | This is the place for intro posts - feel free to get creative with the designs of the hall - and if you aren't sure of something, go ahead and message me in the Discord. Feel free to interact with each other and/or any of the NPCs present And as always, have fun !
TAGS || @KatSea, @Verran, @littlekreen, @Ariel, @Dvyniai, @MiharuAya
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