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The Spring Storm
It wasn't what Kedri would call a party. They knew a party in Bodkin, when they celebrated a wedding or a baby, or even a death, they really celebrated. They knew a party in the Garden of Aine where revelry could rob years from an unsuspecting mortal soul. This was not a party. It was a "Social Event" organised by a family of new mercantile wealth in Avendel.
Around the ill decorated room lesser Nobles and elevated commoners mingled discussing news of the day. It sickened him really. In the corners of the room, under the chaise lounges and behind the curtains he could see the shadows boil. Where in Bodkin he could make out the rough edge of the world where it fell into the flowing colour and blinding mystery of the Fey Realms, in Avendel there was only shadow, living, sickening shadow.
And he smiled.
And was charming.
And he made the trade deal he needed to make.
Bodkin now. The first store and an impromptu meeting of staff. Some of the staff anyway, as the organisation grew and changed to meet the official needs of the Library and the unofficial needs of the northern magical community he recognised it less and less.
Zephyr Mull, Mrs.Dubh, Morag Hemlock, Fezzick Nelim, the Wicker Twins. They were discussing something, arguing perhaps. Kedri stood to one side, hunched over a ledger. Pathos bobbed behind his shoulder as Kedri read over the latest string of accounting wizardry his familiar had dreamt (nightmared?) up.
"I will not rat them in!"
"No one is asking you to give them all up, we need to give them a solid lead or else we will become suspect."
"We're all suspect already! That's the point!"
The voices barked back and forth. At the edge of Kedri's vision the world frayed and the light of the spring to come dappled through.
Another Avendelian party, his mind had wandered. To hide the fact he wasn't listening to the mess of pearls and wig architecture he was supposedly talking to he smiled winningly and tousled his hair roguishly.
The wealthy daughter of a Candlemaker was asking about the Huntress. Odd, normally they made him recount the slaying of Ebarius. Her version of events was horribly garbled and she was conflating the Huntress and the current Witch uprising. He suddenly missed Isania and his mind wandered again.
Morag lying, near death on the floor of Uncommon Goods her eyes gouged from their sockets. His oath to kill the Huntress his debt to Numos for his alchemical knowledge in that moment. How many years had that been now? Kedri wondered if he would ever stop feeling guilt for that.
The Bluebell Council were arguing, the ones who hadn't become distracted and joined the lascivious dancing in the next clearing over anyway. Kedri had stopped listening to the Selkie and the Satyr, the Dwarven Cat and the Pixies. He was watching the flowers of the Garden sway in the warm breeze of eternal spring, overhead the distant rumble of thunder threatening a sudden spring storm.
Scarabs of Wormrot beyond count, stripping clean the bones of Ebarius.
The fall of warm rain over New Rivenmaur. A moments calm, Elluir, and then the thunder again.
The storm was no longer beyond, something to be heard in the distance of the Garden or the material world, an inversion had occurred. The storm was him, its clouds surged behind his eyes and his voice was the thunder, his will the lightning.
His will leap forth, tracing the possible worlds and it hit home.
A moments calm, the eye, and the comforting scratch of quill upon Velum.
The time is now. Everything is in place. We must talk. The Cauldroncan be used but we must work together to see it done."
He stands, accidentaly knocking over one of many piles of books in the room. A sheaf of dictation comes loose, copied from the death rattle of a Hag and slides unnoticed beneath Kedri's bed.
then bridges fall,
and Spring will call.
Lest the brave
stand up to wrong
from Connor's cave
your doom will come.
Beware the ice and wolven queen,
Beware the bull and pastures green,
Beware the hearth and threads unseen,
Beware the storm beneath spring's sheen."
Last edited by everf, 4/4/2013, 3:49 pm
Kedri Senderthen- The Spring Storm
Fredegar Bumbleroot - A Happy-go-lucky Halfling
Pug - Half-Orc Dock Worker
2/20/2013, 4:39 pm
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Re: The Spring Storm
[A small boy hands a sealed envelope to Widow Dubh; within is a hastily scribbled note.]
This puzzle has three pieces. I have it; Darach, the knowledge to mend it; and safely hidden is the last piece. Did he show it to you? And why would he do that?
Actually, why don't you just come over and tell me in person?
Last edited by Numos, 2/26/2013, 11:23 pm
Numos: Shapeshifting wizard
Taevis Bentham: Woodsman
2/26/2013, 11:22 pm
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