The realm is a rain forest, life ever-present and constantly growing. The capital city of Zernika is located in the centre of a set of fresh-water grottos supplied by underground streams, set in a pattern whose meaning has yet to be deciphered.

The people are called the Xin. Xin is both the singular and plural of the word.

The Xin are dark-skinned, and normally average about 5'4" for men, 5'2" for women. They are accomplished hunters, have a working understanding of agriculture, and have worked out an understanding of the local weather systems and seasons. Astrology is a developing science, and a moisture durable variation of paper has taken root, allowing for oral traditions to be enscribed into physical records. A system of personal and cultural honour is flourishing, where service to the group at personal sacrifice is greatly rewarded in social stature. The royal lineage is also the priesthood, and these educated Xin rule over the less educated masses, intertwining religion and societal needs to better allow the survival of the group.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:30, Sun 01 Nov 2009.

A man walks through the woods. He is not a tall man, nor does he look particularly strong. He carries a sturdy spear adorned with a white feather in his right hand, and his left deftly moves stray vegetation out of his way. His white robe clings to his upper body, and ends above his knees, exposing a pair of tan leather boots. He moves with confidence, as though he knows where every step should fall long before he takes it. His eyes remain fixed on the path, though he stops often to pick a flower, leaf or berry from nearby vegetation. These he puts in a leather satchel at his side.

It is uncertain how long he has been walking, though the pouch does have quite the array of vegetation. He seeks a city, which he knew the path would lead, eventually. He pulled out a mango, and took a bite, savouring the taste as he walked.

The mango tasted sweet.

Hirsu soon came upon Zernika, the City of Pools, and found himself within the bustling city, surrounded as he was by his people, the Xin. Spears and herbs followed him everywhere. Above, the stars shone.

Hirsu smiled as he walked amongst his people. It was nice to see them so active during the night, and he idly wondered if some type of event was occuring.

He began moving towards the centre of town, looking for someone with authority.

There wasn't an event, per se; many of the wild creatures of the forests only came out at night, and could thus only be hunted under the moon. There were many nocturnal Xin.

Hirsu soon came upon a broad, muscled, well-toned man, with strong eyes and a silver-tipped spear; a leader of some sort. The man cast a look upon Hirsu, and smiled, bowing very slightly.

"You are the one who walks with us," said the man, simply.

Hirsu smiled, his lips curving, showing strong teeth. "I am. You are the one who speaks my name?"

He studied the man surreptitiously, weighing his worth in the blink of an eye. He did not bow at this time, waiting for the answer to his question.

"I would not dare to pronounce such a name," said the man. Hirsu suddenly realized how old he must be. Physically prime, yes, but old with the glamour of youth.. "I speak only in titles. Forgive me," he said.

Hirsu gave a barely perceptible nod. "You are forgiven. I have come to aid the people, to guide them through the darkness. Are you my high priest?"

"I am a shaman and a hunter," said the man. "I do not claim the title high priest - or priest at all. Many of the clergy despise me and my kind. Nevertheless, I am here, and I hope to serve the Lord who Walks With Us."

Hirsu continued smiling. "I gladly accept your service. What is your name?"

Once he had heard the man's name, he proceeded. "The first task I ask of you is to take me to the royalty. There is much to be discussed."

"My name, Lord, is Xca the Far-Seeing, for I have been gifted with sight and titles, among other things. As for the royalty.. there is a small issue there, Lord. They see no visitors. A terrible plague has struck the royal house, and they open their doors to none save the most trusted service, scared as they are of witchery and curses."

Hirsu chuckled. "They shall open before me, if they are faithful servants. If they are not, then they shall wither and die as they have turned away from their lives. Take me to them, or as far as you can without placing your life in danger."

"I shall, friend of the friendless," said the man, and he took Hirsu through the city, through tiny allies and bustling swarms, until he reached a tall, wooden wall. It was finely made, and too large to climb. There was a black, two-dimensional portal engraved upon the wall - a marking in the form of a door.

"Only those with royal blood - or those who know the sidewise ways - might walk through the royal door," said Xca.

Hirsu examined the door, looking for traces of order or chaos on the tracery. "How do the sidewise ways work?"

Hirsu felt a strange power here - like Order, but a little different. Very similar..

"They are a magical tradition passed down through the royal family, Lord," said the shaman. "And those not of the fine blood aren't allowed to learn the technique on punishment of death. It is very secret, very forbidden.. but.."

He smiled softly.

"If you care to follow me, I know a man who knows the ways of walking sideways."

Hirsu nodded. "Very well. Take me to this man."

Back through the alleys, the markets, the squares, the throngs.. the entered a small, derelict building on the frontiers of the city, almost overrun with green growth. Sitting enigmatically in the corner, smoking herbs from a long, ornate pipe, was their man - old, but not ancient, a little weathered, with wise eyes.

"Ah," said the man. "He who walks with us - and the shaman king. Welcome, welcome.."

A soft smile curled Hirsu's lips. "Greetings. And it would seem you have the advantage over me. By what name or title are you called?"

"I am the man who smokes the sacred herbs," said the shaman. "Would you care to experience an inhalation from my pipe? The experience, I promise you, is enlightening.."

Hirsu bows his head slightly in thanks, and takes the offered pipe. He takes a slow inhalation through the pipe, holds the smoke in his chest while he passes the pipe back, and exhales slowly. He waits a moment to see if he can detect the pipe's effects on him.

For a long while, nothing happened. Then, a slow feeling, as if his mind were expanding and being filled with unknowable, eldritch wisdom.. only to have it snatched away. Still, the experience of knowing - at least once - was a fine one.

Hours passed. Hirsu was lost in haze and smoke.

Hirsu stared dreamily through the air, enjoying the haze. He began studying the shapes the air currents made in the smoky room, watching the twists and swirls with rapt fascination. He wasn't sure what was in the pipe, but he didn't really care at this point. For now, he was too busy enjoying himself.

Soon, unfortunately, Hirsu came down.

"You saw, then. You saw the cloud, the mist, the smoke of the shaman. Did it please you, he who walks with us?" asked the smoker of the sacred herbs. The shaman king sat next to him, smiling.

Hirsu smiled easily. "It did, smoker of the sacred herbs. But tell me, what herbs produce this effect, even on one such as I?"

"A special crop, raised on the corpse of a dead god," spoke the shaman. Hirsu did not know whether he was speaking truthfully, metaphorically, literally, or all or none at all. "The herb must remain nameless."

Hirsu nodded his acceptance to that. "My thanks for sharing the herb with me. I came to learn how to travel the secret ways. I will need to deal with the royals if I am to act freely here, and since they aren't seeing anyone voluntarily, I'll need to go to them."

Ruse appears here, and senses for divinity. He then begins to fly towards it. (or the smallest divinity if he senses multiple signs). He is looking for Hirsu.

Hirsu

"Ah, yes," said the smoker of the secret herbs. "The herbs, they teach me things - secret, wicked things. Useful things. I know the secret ways of walking. I can guide you, if need be, he who walks with us.."

Hirsu senses another divinity in his Realm.

"One who walks with others has come," said the king shaman morbidly. This could be an ill omen, he knew.

Ruse

Ruse senses that Hirsu is within the outer city limits, somewhere, within one of the ten or so half-ruined buildings that were scattered among the jungle roots.

Ruse continues heading towards Hirsu, using a quick life spell to help him zero in on divine energy to make his task even easier. He took note of the realm as he continued on his way, but didn't stop to see the sights - he was here on official business.

He motioned for the Callisti to follow him as well.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:59, Sun 22 Nov 2009.

Hirsu looked up. "Yes, one has. I am impressed you could sense its arrival. I shall go out and meet the other walker. After I have met with them, I shall seek your guidance of the secret ways of walking, Smoker. I shall return when I am able."

Hirsu left the building, and took close note of his surroundings. He began to jog towards the intruding presence, moving smoothly through the streets and into the jungle to meet with the divine stranger. Once into the jungle, he carried his spear in his hand, moving through the night with the deliberate steps of a hunter following wounded prey.

They both met each other upon the shattered half-pavement of the outskirts of Elan. Hirsu saw the tall, regal, pallid man - and Ruse, in turn, saw the vibrant, powerful Hirsu.

Hirsu looked up at the other god. He held his spear at the ready, his eyes focused on the other god. "Who comes to my realm?"

Ruse rolled his eyes when Hirsu drew his spear. So typical of other beings to greet the Mistella with hostility.

With a "hmph," the man stepped forward confidently towards hirsu, slowly and without urgency. As the man approached, Hirsu could see that the man really was both pallid yet beautiful. Gorgeous actually. His flesh wasn't really palid - that was reminiscent of deathliness. No, his skin was white as clouds, his hair long and soft like down. He had eyes that occasionally glowed a pale blue - those eyes belied a strange power and a strong life force. His lips and skin were unblemished, his bones and body lean and perfectly symmetrical, his dispotion like that of a high elf. Although this was no mere elf though.

The mysterious man trailed an even more mysterious mist in his wake, although the mist never seemed to get too dense. The man pulled something from his robes - a Conclave Badge - and that of a Low Lord at that. Around his neck hung a small oathblade necklace. This was a legit Conclave representative.

"It is rude and unseemly to point a weapon at your lord, is it not..." The man grinned, and continued, "Hirsu, god of life? So I will have you lower your weapon immediately, and not raise it to me ever again."

The man gesteured with his hand, and a floating silvery orb floated to his side. This was the Callist. It dropped a small oathblade similar to the one the man wore around his neck into his open hand. The man nodded to the orb in a gesteur of thanks.

"I am your Lordship Ruse, Low Lord of the Conclave. My companion orb is one of the Callisti, and also a member of the Conclave. I am here to see you, Hirsu god of life. Here to see you about fully joining our most esteemed Conclave. It has come to my attention that you are interested in an associateship. We'd have you come to us, but our Halls of the Sun are temporarily closed at the moment, so we're doing house calls. I am here to oversee the oath swearing. Do you have any questions before we begin?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:20, Tue 24 Nov 2009.

Hirsu nodded in recognition when Ruse identified himself, and lowered his spear, carrying it as a hunter might when they knew their quarry was no where near. "In fairness, I did specify that the representative should inform me before they come to my realm. Given what I have learned in the short time I have been to the Valley, this is not a time to be greeting unannounced strangers with open arms."

Hirsu considered the god before him, and could not help but feel somewhat impressed. Here was a being much to his own taste, one who carried a undeniable vitality within himself. Though perhaps very different in nature, Hirsu felt a small amount of recognition for this one, which made the situation somewhat easier.

"What will I be swearing, and will I be allowed to ask more specific questions about my own potential roles in the Conclave afterwards?"

Ruse nodded, and forgave the man of his rudeness.

Ruse circled Hirsu like a cat, before finally ending up where he began.

"Don't mind me, I had to quickly verify a minute element of your aura. You are like me - one of the rare Zealous gods. It is good to know that there is another god who is aligned well with Yggdrasil. But I digress."

Ruse spun the oath blade around his finger, from its chain.

"Normally we are good about giving prior notice, but as I'm sure you've figured out the conclave is in a bit of disarray right now due to the actions of enemies of the tree. Plus now is when I am available to assist you. Now...here is how this is going to work. I will ask you some questions, and you will respond to them truthfully. Be warned that lying to either myself or the Callist is next to impossible, so perish the thought before it even becomes a temptation. If you answer my questions to the satisfaction of the conclave, you will be sworn in and made an associate. Associateship comes with a variety of useful benefits - you get an automatic vote in certain conclave ballots, automatically get a lot of otherwise hard-to-gain liscenses and permissions, and of course you get to be utilized for the good of our cause, and compensated for your merit generously. Currently, you and everyone else is considered under the jurisdiction of the conclave, but with few of the fringe benefits. Consider an associate ship as the equivalent of being made a minor noble, if that makes sense."

Ruse tucked away his badge, and continued,

"Normally, many Conclave representatives would be curt and to the point. I, however, due both to my own generosity as well as for a nod toward your zealous affinity, am willing to answer all of your questions, within reason of course, to the best of my ability. I will always allow you to ask anything you'd like, but I do reserve the right not to answer certain questions. but yes, I am willing to tell you about oathblades and your future career opportunities, as well as other rules and even some kind suggestions and advice. Like if you meet a low lord named Aesin, know that he's a genuine prick - his worse makes mine seem cuddly. But please, go ahead and ask what you'd like before we begin the oath proceedings."

Hirsu smiled slightly. "Certain of my questions would likely only be answered after I have been judged worthy of their answers. However, I will abide by your generous offer, and ask them now."

He smoothly recited his questions one after the other, clearly having thought of them before being given this opportunity. "What is the punishment to breaking this oath to the Conclave?

"I came across the Conclave's classification of species, and the explanation that there are ten type one species. Yet only four are listed. Divines, Dhelvanians, Systemarchs, Artosians. Who are the other six?

"I am currently under the assumption that something like a hospital would be under the jurisdiction of Familiar Operations. Would this be correct?

"Aggressive Operations hold jurisdiction over the open warfare of the Conclave. Most governments would want to tout their successes in order to encourage enlistment or public support. Why is news of their efforts concealed?

"War has been openly declared against the Sphere of Force and Fire. Where is the current front-line in the conflict?"

He paused, judging Ruse's reaction to the questions, wondering whether he would find self-confident assurance, indecision, arrogance, contemplation, or something altogether different in the other god. "Whether you answer or not, I am prepared to continue."

Ruse looked at Hirsu with a smile - they were like a big cat playing with a somewhat bigger cat, yet both large cats. And both on the same page.

"I deign it okay to answer your questions, and good questions they are. Fine then. Let me run down the list."

Ruse stopped for a moment, organizing himself mentally. But it was only a breif moment. It was obvious to hirsu that Ruse was an extremely intelligent individual.

"Alright then let's see...ah yes, the ten species. Well there's three categories of species. Type 1 species are the "big ten" who are central to Conclave politics and functioning. They aren't all equal on a species level - I mean you have Earthborn classed with gods for instance - but they are all treated equally in terms of the conclave ranking system. They are Divines, Dhelvanians, Systemarchs, the Earthborn, the sorcerers of Alkan, the shage, the callisti, the vakud, the returned, and the leviatu namar. Artosian is not an offical type 1 name. Type 2 species are servitors to the type 1 species, or those species who are acceptable to the conclave but yet not deemed as pivotal in importance as the type 1. Type 3 species are dangerous or otherwise deemed unfit to live by the conclave, for a variety of reasons. Some could be type 1, under certain circumstances, but honestly I don't know much about that."

"You are correct. There are three career paths - aggressive, familiar, and estranged. The first is our military arm, the second is more of our infrastructure and research arm...a support arm, although no less important than the others. Estranged is our "shady" arm - espionage, assassinations, and other seediness that we must do in order to fight certain kinds of enemies. I myself personally began in aggressive to get my feet wet, but due to many circumstances I'm sort of outside of the system entirely, although if I had to choose would say I'm more estranged now. I support the councilate directly. But those odd little categopries aside, all you should concern yourself with are the main three branches.

A hospital would generally fall under familiar operations, I'd say. You've got field medics, but that is a different sort of focus than a hospital I'd say."

"Hmmm...a valid question indeed, but I will tell you this. The Conclave is an institution of lawfulness. It is more neutral in terms of good and evil, and lawful on the law-chaos axis. They like to um...how do I say it...control certain types of information flows. While they will let the conclave know through a special metaphysical channel called the Herald - which you should have access to by the way...just concentrate on it - of certain victories, at the same time the Conclave doesn't like making a fuss over things. Another way to put it is that victory is the assumed norm, not the exception. As such, you'll almost always hear more about losses than victories, although the pay is so good that you won't find an aggressive associate complaining."

"While war has been declared on the cult of Osiris, we also are at war with just about every other cult out there. Osiris' cult is just the most immediately dangerous. While I can tell you that there are efforts underway to combat the cult activites, I am not at liberty to discuss any more at this time, as you are not an associate."

Ruse let out a sigh, and condensed a large cloud of mist into a small cloud that eventually turned into dew. He motioned for it to enter his mouth, refreshing him.

"But that is all small potatoes to the biggest question of all: what happens if you break the oath. I'll cut to the case and not pussyfott around for this one. Basically, you die. Yup...you die. I believe it will kill you through all of your lives too, although to be honest I have no idea what it does to a reborn god. That'd be a nasty conundrum though I'm sure. But anyway, about the oath. There are two types of oaths that you may choose: the lesser oath and the greater oath.

The lesser oath involves you simply answering some questions for me, and then agreeing to equip an oathblade -which despite its watchdog nature is also a back-up weapon for when you're in a pinch, so it isn't all that bad. It can't read your thoughts per se, but it can read your intentions, and if you ever act to betray the Conclave, it can metaphysically warn the organization, and if they so choose can have it explode - and you along with it. However, at least it's only 1 of your lives, but it's a really painful and messy way to go. But on the plus side, if you're on the up and up then it acts as a pretty necklace that serves to prove your conclave membership, along with a badge the Callisti will give you. Even better, is that it is living metal. Don't worry it won't eat souls since it's been neutralized, but if you allow it, it can take temporary control of your body, and give you a small boost to your combat skill. and yes, in this state it grows into a super sharp, full-size sword. This oath is for people who are either content with associateship, allied to the organization but not too comittal, or who are testing the waters. You can always get the greater oath later, if you choose.

Then there is the greater oath. This is a package deal - you get the oathblade and badge, but you also must take a metaphysical oath sworn on a Callisti. This oath - which must be willing and the orb will know if you're not - is binding aacross all lives, so if you turn on the organization you will die. On the plus side though, taking the Callisti oath is the only way they will EVER let you advance up the food chain past associate. Taking the oath won't start you as a low lord, but it makes low lordship an option at least, while as with just the lesser oath you can't ever rise above associate. It's pretty heavy-handed, but that's the way it is since good help is so hard to find these days.

Ruse looked at Hirsu, and then added,

"I know that the conclave is pretty tight-fisted. It's great at what it does, but it is still tight none the less. You will be expected to conform to our hierarchy...well you already are anyways as a grey member, so you might as well at least get an associateship and get some priviledges to go along with the responsibilities. That, and I assure you that the Conclave is by far the lesser of the many evils presently plaguing this world - it stands for life and order, as well as the preservation of the tree - the most important thing there is. The question, then, is what sort of oath would you like to take? I personally took the lesser oath to start out and get my feet wet, but I eventually took the Callisti and passed it. What is your decision, god of life?" 

Hirsu considered the matter quickly, answering after a brief pause. "I will take the lesser oath, for now. In time, perhaps I will take the greater oath, but considering how little I know, risking all of my lives on the organization when the need of the tree might be greater would be foolish of me.

"I am prepared to swear the oath."

Ruse grinned a pearly smile at Hirsu, of something cunning and insightful.

"A wise choice, my fellow zealous friend. And also for similar reasons as my own - not identical, but similar enough. Also, note that since you did not take the sphere oath, you must carry the oathblade with you at all times. It will monitor your intentions, as I said before, but otherwise it's not actually mentally intrusive or anything, and it does have its perks."

Ruse glanced at the Callisti, winking at it in a gesteur to begin sensing for lies.

"Now for the questions. This will be much simpler and less invasive than the greater oath. But remember, please think wisely about what you say as you are in the presence of the Callisti, and many in the Conclave are not as generous and understanding as I may be. And of course, lying is a no no." He added with a wave of the finger.

"I need you to state your full name, domain(s), and titles, as well as that of your realm and your people."

"Now, do you swear that you've neither committed any crimes against the conclave in the past, nor plan to in the future?"

Hirsu spoke solemnly before the pair "My name is: Grey Neoacadem Hirsu the First of the Balanced Realm of Elan, Zealous God and Slight, Conjurer of Life. My people are the Xin.

"I swear that I have not committed any crime against the conclave in the past, and do not plan to do so in the future."

Ruse looked to the Callisti to see if the god of life spoke the truth.

((Hirsu, feel free to give me ooc knowledge if you're being truthful (we can be mature players), if you want to skip nat having to post and allow us to continue on. Otherwise, we have to wait for Nat to post for the callisti.))

PM

Ruse nodded in approval.

"Alright then...things seem to check it from my end. If the Callisti starts chirping or something we'll know there's an issue, but unless that happens let's just go on and continue."

The oathblade necklace levitated out of ruse's hands and over to Hirsu, carried on thin, near-transparent vapors. The vapors deposited the necklace into Hirsu's hands harmlessly, accompanied shortly after by an associate's badge.

"Go ahead and put the necklace on, and tuck the badge away. Keep both with you at all times - they will serve as immediate tools to allow you to access the majority of your associate priviledges. By the power invested in me by the Conclave, and as a Low Lord of said institution, I hereby do name thee an Associate Member. Welcome aboard, Hirsu god of life."

Ruse looked over to the Callisti, and said,

"If you do not detect an anomale or flaw in the proceeding, please record to official record that Hirsu is now an Associate of the Conclave, and is to be granted Brown Status. Thank you for your assistance, Callisti."

Ruse looked back to Hirsu, and said,

"Okay...here are some immediate things for you to know about. Your realm is located within a cluster of realms that the conclave arbitrarily names as meta-districts. Our metadistrict is shared by my realm, yours, Associate Max, Low Lord Raelis, and Low Lord Prick err...excuse me I mean Low Lord Aesin. There are a few others in the metadistrict too but yourself, myself, the three others I've named will be most immediately important to you. As an associate, you technically answer to the low lords of your metadistrict, although for now I am your immediate supervisor over Raelis and Aesin, until the Conclave deems otherwise. Raelis has Max and Aesin is up to his head in work. Aesin is the Hound of this metadistrict, but he has no authority over Raelis or myself unless granted such by a high lord or above, and only then in regards to specific sorts of inquisitorial missions. However, if he comes to your realm on a mission, it is best that you do not get in his way. If he gets you in trouble, contact me."

Ruse was about to snap his fingers to open a portal to his realm, but then stopped, and added,

"Now I need to give you a capabilities test before we discuss career paths. I have decided to hold it in my realm for reasons that will be apparent soon. Are there any questions, comments, or concerns before we continue?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:05, Tue 24 Nov 2009.

Hirsu shrugged. "Knowing anything about the capabilities test beforehand would most likely lessen its effect, so no. I am prepared to begin when you are."

Ruse nodded with satisfaction.

"Very well then...and a most thoughtful response as well."

The lord of mist snapped his fingers, and a portal to the valley of mist appeared.

"Enter through this portal -  I will be right behind you. You will encounter a type 2 species similar in look to myself, but less gorgeous, although still more beautiful than any other god or species in the universe. They are the Mistella, and you must under all circumstances treat them well no matter how they may treat you - you actually will lose points if you're not careful. Your first assignment and the most intense part of the test is to heal, cleanse, and otherwise restore the vitality to as many Mistella as you can until your Theogenic field is about to collapse into exhaustion. That or unless you impressively manage to heal all of them before such a thing is an issue (bonus points for that feat!). Your range of motion is only the central province - for that matter, do not leave the central province at all. Come now, and demonstrate your domain, abilities, and critical thinking to me. You score more points if you can do your task quickly without losing efficiency, as well as if you utilize your various capabilites creatively without losing efficiency."

Ruse gesteured to the open portal. If Hirsu passes through, Ruse follows and the portal closes.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:39, Tue 24 Nov 2009.

Hirsu shrugged, and entered the portal. This would prove interesting.

((Alright, to save Nat some work let's take this on over to the valley of mist thread ourselves. He'll need to post to gauge your progress since he adjudicates abilities, but at least we can help him along this way.))

(Thanks for the management, Ruse, I owe you one :) )

Hirsu returned to his realm. He reappeared at the edge of the city where Ruse and he had departed. He looked at the sky, trying to determine how much time had passed here. After that attempt, he began to walk back to the room where he had left Xca and the smoker.

A few days had passed, perhaps - or maybe only twenty-four hours. Or maybe even less -- it was late afternoon and he'd left at roughly midday. But intuition told Hirsu that time had passed - less then a week, but more than a day.

He found the room easily. The smoker of the sacred herbs was there, and nodded towards his Lord, smiling broadly. "I knew you would return," he said. "The smoke told me so."

Hirsu nodded his acceptance to that. "I will need to walk elsewhere again soon. But first, let's see what I can do about the royal family's sickness. Can you take me through the hidden ways to them?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:20, Sun 31 Jan 2010.

"I can. But it will be dangerous, Lord, for the smoke does not act kindly to the stronger blood. We will need to walk through the rivers of the dead.. but with the smoke, I can take you anywhere. Here, there, it matters not: all is united in death, and all unities are revealed by smoke. These are the hidden ways. They fall outside the jurisdiction of you or I or even the royal family. They are not ours, and are all the more powerful for it."

Hirsu nodded. "Death is only a part of the cycle. The dead are to be feared no more than the living. Let us proceed."

The smoker of the sacred herbs nodded in affirmation. "Yes. The opening of rivers is my greatest ability, and one coveted by only a select few witch-men in Elan. It is a tradition outside the typical shamanism of your people, Lord friend, as brought to us by the Purple-hooded Mystic.. forgive me if I seem hesitant to show it to a non-initiate. It is not a matter of trust, Lord, but of secrets.."

He shook his head, smiled.

"Nevertheless. Come with me.."

The smoker of the sacred herbs led Hirsu into the back room - which he'd assumed was the living room of the shaman, but which now was revealed to be a herb-room of sorts, filled with all manner of mushrooms, weeds, strange substances and powders..

Hirsu picked a small bag filled with a dark, grass-like substance.

"Grown in the rivers. Hardest herbs to find in the world," he said. "We smoke it. Do you have a pipe?"

Hirsu shook his head. "Unfortunately, I do not."

The smoker of the sacred herbs frowned. "That is not good. A man should have is own pipe. If I were to lend you mine it would mean my death; the smoke would forsake me. Go carve your own pipe, friend, and return. I will be waiting."

Hirsu shrugs, and leaves the smoker's hut.

He walks through the city in silence, and did what he perhaps should have done when he first arrived. He walked among his people, remaining silent and observing them. His eyes scanned the crowds, examining their life forces with a growing ease. Every time he saw someone who was injured, whether rich, poor, working or shopping, he approached them in an indirect manner, and gently lay a hand upon them. He healed their injury or illness without fuss, though he left any old scars or piercings in place. He spoke a single sentence to them as the surge faded. "I walk with you always."

He moved on without another word, losing himself in the crowd.

After a few hours, he began seriously looking for a carpenter. When he saw one, he approached them. "Hello. I need to make a new pipe. Could you teach me how?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Sat 06 Feb 2010.

"My Lord," said the carpenter. "It would be an honour. I did not know you had an interest in the lesser arts of sorcery - or are you just enjoying the rich weeds which line this fair city?"

Hirsu gently smiled at the man. He was somewhat surprised that he had been recognized so easily, but given his natural elan, he was most likely hard to miss. If the royal family had not isolated themselves, this would be much easier. "Probably both at some time or another. I've never had the pleasure of making a pipe, so we should most likely stick to a simple design. Please begin, and I shall follow your instructions as best as I am able."

"Yes, my Lord," said the carpenter, pleased with his task. "Do you have a preferred wood?"

Hirsu looked thoughtful, then nodded. "If you have any, I'll use wood from a mamey tree."

The wood wouldn't be as sturdy as some other options, but the symbolism of it pleased him. The tree gave its fruit nourishment and a means to survive to others, and provided fairly large branches which could be harvested without damaging it's fruit-bearing capability.

"If not, I will use what you would suggest as most suitable."

"I have the wood of a mamey tree," said the carpenter. "Come, let us work.."

He took Hirsu to his storage rooms, where he selected two trunks of mamey wood and two sharp whittling blades.

"This shouldn't be too difficult," said the carpenter. "Follow my instructions, and my actions, and you'll do fine."

Hirsu took the blade and the trunk of wood, and nodded. "I have no doubt. Please, let us begin."

The carpenter began carving, Hirsu with him. It was not an exceptionally difficult task, and soon the pipe was finished.

"My Lord," said the carpenter, bowing. "Thank you for the honour."

Hirsu smiled, and gently laid a hand on the man's shoulder. A small rush of energy filled the man at the touch, leaving a pleasant tingling. "Thank you for the instruction. I walk with you, always."

Hirsu took his new pipe, and walked through the city. He gently laid his hands on any injured person he came across, and made his way back to the Smoker's hut. He knocked once, gently, and entered. "I have the pipe. Are you prepared to walk together, Smoker?"

"I am prepared," called the smoker of the sacred herbs. "But are you? I have studied for this moment for my entire life. I am truly a master of everything that the sailing means, and I can avoid every attempt it has to ruin me. But it will be dangerous. We will not have an Eater of Bone to guide us."

He smiled.

"We will not be traveling far, of course, and on such short journeys the patronage of an Eater of Bone is not, perhaps, necessary." His face turned grim. "But do not delude yourself, friend - where we will be going is as real as any place we have ever, or ever will, travel. It occurs in the mind, yes, but not in the sense of dreams or illusions - it is summoned just as reality is summoned. Do you understand? You have a lovely pipe."

Hirsu nodded, his own face a mask for determination. "My thanks for the compliment, and the warnings. What occurs there is actually occuring, and it will be filled with dangers. My hope is that we can complete our task quickly, before many dangers become aware of us. But if you feel it is necessary for us to retreat, I will follow you."

The god studied the smoker intently, his eyes taking in the strength of his life force. It would not do to discover a heart defect or other dangerous illness when panic might ensure their doom. If there was any problem, he healed the man with a touch.

"Let's begin."

There was no problem; the smoker of the sacred herbs was, despite his mild habit, incredibly healthy.

The smoker nodded, pressing a little of the herbs into Hirsu's pipe, being especially careful not to touch the wood. He filled his owned, lit the two, and grabbed Hirsu's hand.

"Do not let go of my hand," said the smoker of the sacred herbs. "When you are ready, smoke."

Hirsu nodded. He took a deep breath, and focused his mind on the task ahead. He filled himself with calm, then lifted the pipe to his lips and inhaled slowly.

As Hirsu inhaled, he felt nothing. Nothing at all..

.. save the coldness. It was so very cold. Hirsu almost tore his hand away from the chilled, dead thing that belonged to the smoker of the sacred herbs. His bones hurt. The light seemed to disappear altogether, bathing the room in darkness.

Hirsu noted that he was standing up, knee deep in water. No one was next to him, yet he could still feel the hand. It was unpleasant. Perspiration drenched him.

A match was lit.

Hirsu saw the grinning face of the smoker of the secret herbs, he shuddered. The face looked like a skull..

"Welcome to death, my friend," said the smoker.

(Continue posting in the Realm of Rivers)

Hirsu was back in his realm, and breathed deeply of the vibrant air of this place. He clenched his fist around his bone chips, and carefully placed them in his bag. He would need to be watchful around those, and determine exactly what they were and what they could do. For now, though, he had more pressing concerns.

Hirsu approached the south wall, and examined the glyph, trying to make sense of what it might do, or what magic it might be related to.

Hirsu knew that this glyph was a doorway, of sorts, that would lead into Elan proper; otherwise, he couldn't quite tell how it was formed, what laws governed it, or how to activate it. The bone chips were safe within his leather pouch.

Hirsu turned around without touching the glyph, and walked across the room. He tried the door with the lock on it, testing to see if it was open.

It was open. The knob fully turned, the lock hadn't been set. From outside the small room, Hirsu heard a loud voice inquiring as to why the door was opening.

"Is it a member of the Royal Family that comes at this late night?" he called. "If it is demon or spirit, I abjure thee. The blood of the higher runs through my veins."

Hirsu chuckled to himself, and walked through the door. "No abjuration is necessary. I have not come this far to do my people harm." He strode towards the speaker, watching for movement from other directions as he did so.

The speaker was a young, rugged-looking soldier holding an exotic blade in one hand and a wooden rod in the other. He was dressed in dark red and green - not the colours of Christmas but vivid symbols of the Royal Family of Elan. He rose the blade as he saw Hirsu.

"Don't move, I'm telling you, stop," he said. "How did you get through the Wall? Only members of the Royalty should be able to access the glyph. Only they know the ways of walking. If you've been sent by one of the gutter-mystics.."

Hirsu narrowed his eyes and sneered at the man. His voice rose to just below a shout, his voice projecting clearly through the room. He spoke to the prince, and for the benefit of any hidden ears which might be listening. "You dare threaten me? Whatever power flows in royal veins only exists because I willed it so! Open your eyes, arrogant fool, and know me for who I am!"

He stood still, hands at his sides, but his eyes promised swift punishment for disobediance in this. He lowered his voice, but his tone still held an absolute authority behind it. Each word was clipped off, emphasized. "Lower. Your. Weapon."

"I, please, I mean to, that is, please, friend," said the bastard child of the Royalty, shaking with fear. "I cannot. You know, I know I cannot. That's .. they'll kill me. They told me. Not to let any through. Please."

The blade fell to the floor, clattered against marble.

Hirsu walked forward, his gaze more compassionate, but still resolute. He did not move from where he was. "No, they won't. I walk beside each and every one of you, and will not allow any to be punished for heeding me."

Hirsu studied the room, looking for hiding places and places where traps might be hidden by paranoid royalty so far gone they would deny their people access to them. A single guard seemed unlikely, though perhaps they were so paranoid those they could trust with such a task were too few.

"Tell me, what is your name?"

There were no traps, as far as Hirsu could see. The youth was obviously neglected, untrained. None save the smoking mystics of the common city could enter such a palace - and why should they? Retribution would be absolute. None would dare.

The room was bare, nearly unfurnished save for a single rug, a further door guarded by the youth, a small desk holding a crystal flask of wine and a tidy pile of papers.

"I am.. Yacuatol of the Royalty. Separated," he added, hastily. "I hold no - no claim, if that is what you are asking. I am simply a servant to my King and Queen. A guard. Please. Nothing.. nothing more."

Hirsu smiled, and crossed the room to stand before the youth. He knelt and picked up the sword by the flat of the blade, keeping his fingers away from the edge. He handed the blade back to the lad, hilt first. He looked him directly in the eye before answering. "There is something more. Always will be. Don't take the definitions of others as your limits."

Hirsu walked past him and opened the next door. He turned back. "I would like you to lead me to the sick members of the royalty, if you would."

The youth, Yacuatol, took the hilt of the blade, but he could not bring himself to smile even as his eyes were alight with hope. And then, suddenly, the fires were snuffed, crushed by tradition and by family.

"I.. cannot," he said, sadly. "Please - forgive me, Lord. I just.. it's that the Royalty, the King and Queen and my Brothers and Sisters that hold claim, since the plague passed - said to, um, be the work of the embittered Flayed Sorcerer to the East - they are suspicious of sorcerers, wise-men, medicine bearers.. their only aid, by decree of the King himself," and at the mention of this Yacuatol held his fist to his chest, "By the decree.. only our own Royal sorcerer, Pactsal, and the trusted servants and family of the Royalty are able to.."

He stopped, grimacing. He was obviously flustered.

Hirsu studied the man, and decided not to push him further. He smiled, showing white teeth to the man. "Then I shall find them on my own. You have not failed in your duties, Yacuatol. Remember, no matter what comes, I walk with you."

He left the room, and shut the door behind him. Once on the other side, he examined the next room her was in. He dug through his pack, and took out some dried moss. He held this in his hand, and whispered words ancient and pure.

Hirsu felt the magic flow from him, drawn from the very thoughts and habits in which his personality, perhaps his soul, was encoded, and felt it release. There was almost an immediate response, and Hirsu a hazy vision of the map in his mind - saw that the palace was massive, with thousands of rooms and chambers, and, somehow, shifting. Changing. Rooms swapped, staircases floated away, baths disappeared entirely and feasting halls edged malignantly to the left.

Either his magic was off - in his educated opinion the likeliest scenario - or there were powerful sorcerers behind the palace, distorting the very space itself.

Hirsu felt a twinge of annoyance. But what could be affecting his magic here? Some type of mystical shielding?

Whatever the source of the error, he would need a guide if he wished to find the royal family, especially those that were ill. He began searching for a staircase, reasoning the family would likely be kept high in the building, and if the person treating them had any sense, in a room with windows.

Hirsu felt the magic be taken from him - not expelled, as was normally the case - and had a theory of his own: the emergence of the Flood was somehow causing a magical vacuum that was impairing his magical abilities. When the resulting crash would be summoned it would majestic.

Soon after leaving the nondescript room, Hirsu wandered through an elaborate stone hallway filled with tribal art and smoking lanterns. There were no doors, and he walked for the longest while until..

"You still have the smoke within you," said the smoker of the secret herbs, smiling at Hirsu. He had been sitting on one of the tables, unnoticed, smoking from his sacred pipe. "I am glad that you are alive."

Hirsu stopped, and smiled at the man, though his eyes were quizzical. "As I am glad that you are alive. Interesting that I should find you here, when the Ahemait sent you back. I don't suppose you could guide me through these halls, so that I might heal the sick?"

"He sent me back, yes," said the smoker of the sacred herbs, sadly. "To the land of the living. But I am not living, see. He took my life - the cost for bringing another into the Rivers, for bringing myself into that darkest cavern.. and now I wander Elan, tied as I am, forever restless, the restless dead. Never allowed passage Below. I suffer, Lord of Life. I suffer."

He seemed to ignore Hirsu; perhaps the God of Life's problems were minuscule compared to his own.

Hirsu frowned, displeased by this turn of events. "I see. You served me faithfully, smoker. Simply ask, and I will do what I can to help you."

Hirsu knows that the man is dead. His expression was pained, his eyes hollow.

"Send me.. below. Force me below. Force me to the darker, wet places, where I might be judged and destroyed, or given new life, or anything - anything but this. Please.."

Hirsu nodded. He closed his eyes to focus himself on the dark place, the destination where he wished to send this man. When he opened them, they had hardened with conviction. He channeled abjurative energies into his palms, and walked up to the spirit. "Begone from this place. Go to the rest you deserve. GO!" He laid his hands on the spirit, and attempted to banish him from the world of the living.

There was a ripple - a breeze, a chill wind colder than it should ever have been - and a sudden wail. The smoker of the sacred herbs was gone, replaced only by the distinctive scent of the smoker's herbs.

Hirsu sighed involuntarily, the act exhausting him. He'd used sorcerous means to circumvent the direct will of an Ahemait, and it was.. exhausting..

He blinked, and with the suddenness of the Realm of Rivers he was surrounded by ghosts. Some of them were murder victims, butchered or poisoned or mauled or strangled or drowned or hanged or set aflame, and they called softly for passing. Some were children, naughty children, struck down by the plague of yesteryear. Some were soldiers, killed fighting a battle on sacred ground. Some, Hirsu saw, were utterly silent, and wore beautiful robes made of gold and red. All were of their original colour, stained with pitch black and river-blue, and Hirsu was momentarily overwhelmed by them. Some were angry, but most had horrific sadness in their eyes.

They were the spirits of inbetween, cursed to wander the land.

Pass.. pass.. one cried.

Destroy.. body.. destroy.. my body.. yelled another.

Hirsu closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sadness of these spirits wash over him much as the exhaustion was. He reached into his satchel, and pulled out a small root he had previously taken a few bites of. He popped the rest into his mouth, and chewed satisfyingly. He swallowed the simple food, and felt a little better. He waited a few minutes, letting the spirits continue to make their pleas.

He let them continue speaking for a few minutes, before he opened his eyes. He stared at those in front of him, and spoke a single word, one of command reinforced only with his own quiet confidence. "Silence."

He waited a few seconds, let the word reach the walls. His eyes studied the spirits, before his lips moved again. "The man I just gave relief to served me well in life, and was killed for helping me. I expect the same from any I would help. I am not without pity, but I am not one to be taken advantage of.

"In time, I will call each of you. Serve me well, without complaint, without question, and I will grant you the release you crave. Betray me in any way, and I will make your existence worse than it is now."

He rummaged through his satchel, and took out his copy of Msonus's What We Learn Without Magic. He flipped it open to the the Sixth Chapter, already defiled by the scribblings of some trickster. He also pulled out a simple stick of charcoal. "Take turns telling me your names, which I will record on these empty pages, and I will use the names to call you when I have need of your service."

They were slow, cold, hesitant - but they spoke.

"Sorvul," said one of the doomed children. "Aj. Kendeth. Gordon. Ulan. Broatd. Uatl. Xerx," said the others.

"Kasper," said one of the murder victims. "Toor. Murd. Uaxtle. Porgros. Notdl. Tactk."

"Louk," said one of the soldiers. "Garnath. Zel. Azn. Tabon. Char. Yellis. Actas."

The silent, noble ghosts did not speak.

One ghost - separate from the rest, smiling, perhaps trapped of his own volition - bowed at Hirsu. He wore deep grey robes, a wild mane of hair and a startling green and gold crown.

"Touched by the Dead - Lord of Life - a gift.."

The ghost bowed, placed his own crown at the feet of Hirsu.

"So long.. since it has been within.. the Elan.. you are worthy, Hirsu.."

And with that the King of the Trapped was gone.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:50, Thu 03 June 2010.

Hirsu took down the names as they were spoken, writing them each carefully. When the spirits were finished, he turned to the final spirit, the King of the Trapped. He didn't speak to him, he instead listened with respect. As the spirit departed, he gave it a soft smile.

He knelt upon one knee, set down his book, and picked up the crown. He grasped it gently in both hands, and turned it about. He lifted the crown, and placed it upon his own brow.

He stood once more. His eyes scanned the crowd of spirits, until his eyes fell upon Sorvul, the first who had dared to meet his request. "Sorvul, you will be the first to serve. I need you to locate the royals who are sick, and lead me to them. Beware the royal sorceror and prince Surhal, as they likely have the power to harm you. The lives of many are on the line. Be brave, and be quick.

"The rest of you, I will keep my word. You will each get your chance to serve, and to earn your freedom."

"Yes, friend, yes," said the child, nodding madly. He gripped Hirsu's hand and the feeling it gave him was cold and damning and almost froze his soul. He pulled Hirsu towards a wide hall. "This way. Follow."

The other ghosts nodded.

Hirsu fought down a shiver from the touch, and was suddenly far more relieved that he had dealt with these spirits rather than trying to combat them. Such beings were suffering greatly, but the suffering they could impose with but a touch was terrifying to contemplate.

He silently rallied himself, and allowed the child to guide him to his goal. This day, the royal line would be restored, and his realm would begin the slow climb to greatness.

The boy wandered down the corridor, and instinctively, Hirsu knew, understood the layout of the magnificent palace, but held no respect for conventional, physical barriers. He stepped through doors and sideways, passing walls with ease, and as long as Hirsu held the boy's hand he slipped, too, as incorporeal and invisible as the ghost itself.

Very soon they were within a chamber filled with shadows, illuminated only by tiny crystalline globes filled with silver light. It was filled with books and papers - scraps of knowledge regarding mysticism, ancient healing, hidden wisdom, the magic of nobility - and was dominated by a single bed, itself hidden beneath dozens of furs and blankets. Above the bed was a wretched, shifting thing, with terrible teeth and hundreds of glinting, beady eyes. It was a spirit of death and it hovered above whatever wasted being was held in the embrace of the bed, minutes away from the inevitable, perhaps to devour the poor soul as it emerged or to ferry it to Below..

Hirsu frowned, and but knew he couldn't hesitate. Not in the face of that thing. He released Sorvul's hand, and walked to the bed. He stared at the specter of death in the room, meeting its gaze without any fear in his own. He could deal with such a being, if he wished to. For now, though, he had larger concerns.

He stood at the bedside, and examined the occupant. He studied the person's life-force, and let his gaze drift over any exposed parts of their body before settling on their face.

The spirit of death, sent to ferry the nobleman to his waiting Ahemait, ignored Hirsu. It was a skeletal, terrifyingly silent thing composed of ash and dust, a dirge to the Realms beneath.

The person's life-force was very, very weak. It had been gnawed at over a lengthy time - probably by plague, Hirsu deducted. He saw the nobleman's face, young and yet creased by an unnatural age, the aging of the disease, long hair turned a frosty white. The nobleman's eyes were filled with the delirium of those caught by pestilence, and he did not react at Hirsu's presence.

Hirsu nodded gently to himself. The man was weak, his mind nearly gone, but he could still be save. Perhaps.

He calmly and gently pulled back the covers, so as to expose the man's chest. He gently laid his right hand on the man's chest, and his left on the man's fevered forehead. He slowly began channelling his divine power into the man, bestowing upon him the gift of health and repairing the damage to his ravaged system. As his body slowly grew healthier, he channelled more energies into the man, opening the floodgates so a trickle became a stream became a river.

"Your end will come, but not this day. You have too much work ahead of you, and you've avoided it long enough."

A long time passed. An hour - more. Silence filled the room as Hirsu worked his Yggdrasil-given duty. Much more time than usual passed. This man had already been claimed.

Suddenly, the booming filled the room. The terrifyingly silent creature of bone and dust and ash and dread lookedm upon Hirsu, and he felt fear.

"No," it said. And that was all.

Hirsu could continue - the man was far gone, and would continue to die, but he knew he had the capability to save him.

Hirsu gritted himself for the battle of wills to come. This man would not die this day, and the spirit would just have to accept that. This was his land, his people, and while these spirits played a vital part, his word was final. "Another time, spirit."

He poured more divine power into the healing, resolute in his desire to save this man.

The spirit looked at Hirsu, the pits of darkness upon its face reflecting horror upon the God of Life. Hirsu shook uncontrollably. Fear rose from within his gut.

"Take," said the spirit, the messenger and the guide to the Ahemait and the Realm of Rivers. And then it was gone, a shadow against the wall and then nothing.

There was a hacking cough from the bed, and Hirsu knew the greater part of the battle had been won. He had now only to heal the man and his work was complete. He felt exhausted, however, the trumping of the spirit of death tiring him.

Hirsu nearly dropped onto the bed in exhaustion, but he firmed up his back and continued to lean over the sick man. Healing energies continued to flow through him, through his hands and into the man in the bed. He filled the sullen husk with life, that it might fulfill a different destiny than the one planned for him by others. Sweat poured from his brow, and ran down his arms. He felt the weight of his robes plastered to his body. He felt the wall, the limits of his capabilities.

With a growl, he shoved through it, tearing past exhaustion and leaping over the height of his limitations.

The mortal would be healed, or he was no god.

Slowly, beautifully, the man began to stir. The delirium slowly left his eyes, and as Hirsu weakened he felt the man strengthen in turn. Finally, Hirsu collapsed with a sigh. The man snored softly. The presence of the spirits of death had vanished. He had completed his work.

Hirsu let himself relax, finally. He sat down next to the bed, resting his back against the wall. He still had a lot to do. Mortals to confront, mortals to track, and gods to interview. For now though, he was simply too tired.

He used the power of his crown to transform into a serpent, and slither under the bed. He curled up there, resting to regain his strength.

Several hours passed, and neither nor the healed noble did more than snore in that time. Hirsu suddenly awoke to the coughing of the healed noble and to the voice of two other people in the room:

"Royal Sorcerer Pactsal, know that I am most - most pleased," said the slightly arrogant voice of a young woman. "You will not go unrewarded. Uncle Froct is completely healed!"

"Yes.." whispered the voice of the healed noble, Froct. "It is a miracle.."

"A miracle," agreed the woman.

"No, um, miracles," said the Royal Sorcerer Pactsal. "Magic. Sorcery. I can, your Highness, heal your father and mother, just give me time.."

Hirsu shifted slightly, his sinuous body uncurling and gazing out at the sets of feet in the room. He twsited his thoughts into a different direction, and touched the lines of magic in a new way. Peering at the Sorceror, he gazed deeper, and read the man's thoughts.

Hirsu found that the Sorcerer's thoughts were clouded - shielded from him. He could not access them. Nevertheless, Hirsu had fine technique, and learned that the Sorcerer himself was mortal - but not from the Realm of Elan. It was an alien, a foreigner come seeking the Royalty..

"You have as much time as it takes," said the woman, whose voice was cold. "Just know that if my parents are killed by this affliction.. you will pay with your magic, your wealth and then your life. Do not forget the hold I have over you, Pactsal."

"How can I.. how can I forget? I will continue my work," replied the Sorcerer.

"Yes," said the woman. "I am pleased by my uncle's sudden recovery. It seems he has fallen asleep again. Perhaps it is time for us to leave."

With that, Hirsu heard the two slowly leave the room.

Hirsu's tongue tasted the air. It seemed things here were much more complicated than he had hoped. A shame. Still, it seemed that the sorceror was not, in fact, trying to kill the royals. He could give the man some time to stew, to try to figure things out. For now, however, he had another obligation he had to fulfill.

Hirsu opened a small portal, and slithered into the Valley of Mist.

There was a crash of thunder - the fluttering of butterflies - and the crops this season were all dead -

and he was there.

Hirsu returned here, and looked around, taking in his surroundings.

He was caught in thick jungle, the cawing of the red-birds heralding dawn. It was still night this low in the growth, however, and the path he had followed was overgrown and filled with the poisonous, pink-flowered weed that killed so many children each year.

It was cold, in the jungle, this close to the rising of the sun.

Hirsu looked around him, somewhat surprised he hadn't reappeared where he'd left in the palace. He gently stroked Coatl's head, and silently cursed himself for leaving, hoping he could get around the wall without the guidance of his teacher. He dared not risk the sideways ways without more learning, or a guide. With his previous guide passed on, he would have to wait for a time.

He wove a shield of Life about his body, protecting himself from the vagaries of Death magic. He then opened his mind, and Saw the Order of his arrival at this place and time. To arrive on a path filled with poison, at the herald of a dawn that did not reach him, there was an Omen there, and he sought to comprehend it fully.

The omen..

The jungle represented events, and Hirsu's control over them. He owned them, sure, at least those affecting him.. but they could not adequately be controlled, manipulated. In fact, quite the reverse was true. They may be destroyed, but only at massive personal cost.. Hirsu knew that he was out of his depth in certain areas of his life.

Pink-flowered weeds.. do not trust, Hirsu, those who seem totally innocuous. Those who might seem without reproach are often the puppet-masters behind the scenes, and there are no complete innocents in this world. There was a betrayer, or betrayers in his mist. Traitors. With further prodding, though, Hirsu knew that this didn't directly involve him, but instead his organization.. the Conclave. It was filled with rats, with spies, with defectors. He..

A vision: a white-haired, perfect-featured God, mighty in power yet soft spoken, commanding the mists as one commanded the servants.. he wore shackles wrought of cold steel and a crown of forbidden red iron. The steel was wrought of lies, the iron of psychism..

There were others, but they were unclear.

The sun would not reach him for a very long time. A battle was coming, a triumphant cataclysm, and all would be caught up in it - especially Hirsu. A plague from another world, strange stalkers from beyond the Void, the pollen of the mad..

Suddenly, he was himself again, and the visions were gone. It was hot, and the sun had pierced the leaves high above. Hirsu had spent at least an hour crying frantically in the dirt.

Hirsu took a few moments, resting and catching his breath. He let the sorrow run its course, slowly reeling it in until it was no longer overwhelming. He slowly stood up, testing his legs, and breathed deeply of the jungle air. The moist air tasted warm in his mouth.

With a gesture, he washed a gentle spray of water over his face, then ran his fingers through his hair, cleaning out tangled dirt and leaves. Disaster was coming. And he wasn't sure there was anything he could do about it. But even if it was the end of everything, he wasn't going to go out without a struggle.

He oriented himself instinctively, and began walking towards his people's city. The Xin needed to hear him.

As he walked towards the City of the Xin, the God of Life stumbled and fell. A river poured about him, completely content to go over his body; fish swam about him. The birds above chirped but did not deign to help him. He seemed utterly defeated... and yet -

The water of the river chilled his bones, but they gave him clarity of mind. The fish nibbled at his flesh, and gave him clarity of purpose. He had stumbled, yes, but was now surer than he'd ever been that his path was true. Omen or not...

A King crowned in red iron. The symbolism seemed obvious, and yet he could not piece it together. What did it mean... ?