(RP PUBLICS means that this place can be accessed by a God even while he is in his own Realm and several other places; however, as a REALM SAVAGE, the God must first find a way to reach the Realm Savage before he will be granted access. One cannot just rock into the Realm Savage, after all.)

The Kingdom of Apath is a reasonably-sized nation found in the Realm Savage. It is a politically and economically unstable theocratic nation led by the Kaiyaash ('King') Apath, who most of the Shage in the place revere as the incarnation of the sun god Apatheastus. He does not rule by an iron fist - he cannot. His guards are mercenaries and those devout enough to kill for him. While everyone respects him as the spiritual leader of the land, there is much debate over whether or not he is fit to rule the Realm, and Apath has seen many a civil war over that issue alone.

A large part of Apath's instability comes from the fact that it is frequently, and repeatedly, struck by meteorological activity. Meteorites strike the place up to fifty times a day, and thus the establishing of settlements and the like in Apath has been difficult. The main city of Apath, Astus Ogur, is relatively untouched, but many smaller villages are struck often and without cosmic remorse. Occasionally a large meteor hits Astus Ogur and destroys thousands of lives, but it is rare; there are certain places, the mystics of the Shage know, that are relatively safe.

There is an upside to Apath's misfortune: there is a huge amount of rare minerals found within the Kingdom, bringing of wealth to the place. Treasure hunters and adventurers are almost a more common site than actual citizens. Living Metal is as common as lead, there, and is used for all manner of purposes. Kharm Oil often saturates some of the smaller ponds and rivers within the jungles of Apath, making trespass dangerous but profitable. Most important of all is the rumoured existence of witchstone: if a large deposit is ever found, Apath will easily become one of the greatest powers in the Realm Savage.

Apath is bordered by the Nation of Karnala, a relatively peaceful coastal kingdom, and by various border kingdoms that formed in the safety zones about Apath. The most dangerous of these is the Theocracy of the Nhaal, a warlike people who have often skirmished with Apath and wish the natural wealth for themselves. Luckily, ninety percent of Apath is incredibly deadly jungle, and an invasion - unless it is extraterrestrial in origin - seems highly unlikely. Conclave intelligence points to the Cult of Osiris-Ra being interested in the prospect of owning Apath, however, and believe that they may have already established a minor House within the troubled kingdom.

Ruse arrives here, and looks around. His goal is to head to the conclave fort Craterborn first, if possible.

(Noted, Ruse.)

Ruse awakens upon shattered stone, the ruins of a once-grand pavilion. Now, the courtyard is riddled with savage, spiked - poisonous? - weeds, and brutally majestic flora surround the small square. The square is closed off, it would seem - tall walls at the east, west, and south obscured further view of what Ruse assumed to be the jungle. A small gateway led into what might be the city proper. The courtyard itself contained two Shage, known for their jagged teeth and wild hair, each dressed in as little clothing as possible. They played at a game of strategy using bone checkers, and paid Ruse no heed.

It was very warm within Apath. Ruse broke out in a sweat. Overhead, it was overcast, but that didn't change anything. Ruse felt his misty properties start to wane.

Ruse easily shrugged off the heat. His misty properties weren't as fragile as before. He was not as fragile as before.

COMMAND: SUIT, please SCAN the entire Kingdom of Apath and establish a file that has maps and other useful information in it. Feel free to access conclave databanks, using high lord level access, to obtain information for or to complement your SCAN and data collecton. I want all information that the Conclave has about the kingdom of Apath to be copied and stored in a file in your memory, so that I can access it easily later as needed.

COMMAND: Determine the location of Fort Craterborn.

Adapting to local patterns..
Patterns confirmed.
/Realm Savage/
Efficiency decreased by thirty-five percent..
Chance of further drop..

The SUIT whirred away, performing its function, but Ruse knew it to be struggling a little: something about this place, it seemed, messed with Earthborn technology. Perhaps it was simply the nature of this world, or perhaps it was a drawback in the SUIT's design.

SCANNING Kingdom of Apath..
File generating..
File opened.
Copying from Conclave Information Vaults..
/3%

It started to rain, heavily. The rain was hot and sticky.

Searching for Fort Craterborn..
Spike located.
Information gathering..
Gathering..
Gathering..
Located.
Fort Craterborn is roughly three kilometers to your immediate northwest. Conclave stronghold. Would you care for directions?

Ruse's form shifted into mist, and he took to the air. He sped northwest towards the fort's location.

COMMAND: Yes, plot the best course for me to reach the fort, but note that I will be flying there through the air.

COMMAND: Continue creating the file on the Kingdom of Apath. Try your best to adapt to the surroundings to boost your effiency.

Course plotting..

Registering..

Plotted.

Ruse was given directions to Fort Craterborn, which he saw in the distance - a squat, if large, building made of light wood and built on stone. It was built so that the breeze could work through the entire fortress, and it was heavily guarded - soldiers on every side, and patrolling the roof.

Copying from Conclave Information Vaults..
/8%

Warning.

Warning: The SUIT is experiencing various power-fluxes which is tampering with its efficiency. It is suggested that you remove the SUIT and take it to a specialist.

Source: Flood/Radiation/Other

Ruse knew that he'd be able to provide the SUIT enough energy to function at least at a minimum, but he did decide to heed the warning and would go see a specialist. Someone at the fort actually might be knowledgable about this. If not, he could head back to the halls of the sun and commandeer a conclave technician to do give SUIT some upgrades.

COMMAND: I want you to run in safety mode for now, drawing only the minimum power needed to maintain your basic functions and your AI. You can shut off all functions besides your base AI, so avoid further efficiency loss. When I make queries from now on until you are fixed, make them on an individual basis as needed, being on safety mode at all other times.

COMMAND: Try to adapt to the local patterns as best as possible, if feasible.

--------

Ruse landed in front of the fort and announced himself. He made sure that his oathblade was visible, but also flashed his high Lord badge.

"I am High Lord Ruse of the Conclvave, and I demand entrance to this fort. Take me to the warden of this establishment at once." he declared loudly.

Cancelling copy..
Canceled.

Switching..
Running on Low-Frequency Mode.

The soldiers nodded at Ruse, smiling at his High Lord arrogance.

"We've been waiting for you, Conclave-Lord," said one of the soldiers. "If you would follow us, we will take you Fort Warden Hale."

((Yea arrogance is a high lord triat, I've discovered. And ruse is one of the nicer ones too.))

Ruse entered the Fort, following the soldiers to the warden. He takes note of his surroundings as he does so.

Hale was a broad, ancient man, an Earthborn with wise eyes.

He smiled at Ruse and clasped him on the shoulder.

"SUIT playing up, is it? No wonder.. it isn't fitted for these kind of areas. Welcome to my own private hell, High Lord Ruse - welcome to Apath. I have been instructed to treat you as the Conclave-Lord you are, and offer you the finest suite available. My name is General High Lord Alexander Hale, strategist to the Council and Fort Warden of Craterborn. Drink? Wine, coffee?"

Ruse looked at Hale curiously. He wasn't expecting the warden to also be a high lord, although he knew that since this was his feifdom, Ruse's orders would trump any other high lord. Although the man seemed friendly enough, and while arrogant Ruse was never flat out cruel to people who didn't have it coming.

"I will pass on the food, but thank you. You are intriguing for an Earthborn - I am sure we'll have plenty of interesting conversations. I would like you to acquaint me with apath first, as well as share with you some of my base plans and thoughts. While I am the owner of this feif, I do accept counsel from the wise and will delegate authority to those who are competent. And while this may be a hell now, perhaps we can work to help fix that, if only somewhat."

Ruse tapped his chest a bit, and added,

"You wouldn't happen to have a technician on hand who could help modify SUIT. Really, I would like a run-down of all conclave personnel besides myself currently present in apath."

"We do have an arms-master on hand, but not a particular artificer who could modify or repair your SUIT," said Hale with a sigh. "We're woefully understaffed. When the, uh, previous Conclave-Lord of Apath was killed, the Conclave redacted most of the troops stationed here, believing the Kingdom to be more trouble than it is worth. It is only with the recent finding of witchstone - for it exists within those jungles, let me tell you - and the advent of the House that they've decided to give us what we need - another Conclave-Lord and an increased budget."

He smiled.

"Of course, I am Warden of this Fort - much like the captain of a sailing vessel - and while I understand that you have complete authority in all matters regarding Apath, understand that that does not rise over to Fort Craterborn, as this place is technically - for all matters of politics and law - a part of the Valley of Ten Towers. I have an extremely luxurious suite laid out for you, and will assist you in any matter, but you cannot question my authority, not here; I have a tenuous grip over the men as it is."

He smiled. Ruse knew he wasn't trying to be rude or presumptuous or greedy; he was simply a man trying to do his job. The last Conclave-Lord messed things up good and proper, and Hale was scared of it happening again, for another tragic mistake could mean the demise of the Fort.

"I would, of course, like your input in regards to our expanded budget and the operations of the Fort."

Ruse grinned, and replied,

"Ah, well...I guess we'll have to balance the power out a bit here then, won't we - you have the fort, but I have the ground it is laid upon? I do hope we can have a fruitful relationship though - Roid speaks highly of you after all, which in my book is a mark in your favor. I have no desire to quarrel with my own faction. And if your men give you trouble, let me know and I'll whip them into shape. Insubordination is unacceptable here in Apath."

Ruse walked with Hale, and continued,

"So tell me, Warden, about the current situation here. The Feifmistress was most insightful, and your information aligns well with hers. I will be sniffing out the cultists soon, but first I need to solidify my own power base and authority here in the kingdom itself. I do not want to kill anyone, but I will not hesitate to make examples if necessary. Could you tell me about the last conclave-lord, how they succeeded anf failed, as well as the Kiyaash and how I can possibly win the shage over to my side without having to be tyrannical about it?"

"The last Conclave-Lord was known as Atthias, Lord of the Dog, and he was a fine enough Conclave-Lord in most respects," said Hale. "We butted heads a few times - mostly on the application of our - then greater - military forces, but he was a good person. A friend, even. We had an issue with spies and assassins.. not from Osiris-Ra and his House, thank Christ, but from the Khaiyaash himself. We succeeded in rooting most of them out, but - at Atthias's suggestion - the public execution we employed, no matter how by-the-book it might seem, was not a fine idea.."

Hale grimaced.

"When the Honourable Frater Accordus - thirty-second degree Architect and Sorcerer of Alkan, so major business for the Fort - came to Apath to investigate the claims of witchstone found in the deep jungles, Atthias escorted him. He was struck by thieves, it would seem, on the way back - they took the witchstone and killed both Atthias and Accordus. We have reasons, however, to believe that it was no common thief that killed him - rather, a cult of highly-trained assassins death-bound to the current Kaiyaash. I haven't been game to work any further - our troops are limited as it is. Agrippa used the death of Accordus as an excuse to cut our funding, and with Atthias gone no one - not even I - could stop the motion. So we've let the Kaiyaash consolidate power."

A sigh.

Ruse grimaced.

"So the Khaiyaash is going to be a problem, it seems. If you have definitive proof that he was behind the assassination, I would like you to submit it to me immediately. Otherwise, I will still trust your "hunch" none the less."

"I am going to need to see this Khaiyaash personally and establish myself as the conclave lord of apath. If I understand you correctly, a public execution would be really detrimental to us. I am willing to assassinate him - personally if need be - should it come down to that. But really, I need to see this "sun king" first before making rash decisions, in case new information or opportunities present themselves."

"Could you please give me the lay of the land first? I need to know what is in each province, any interesting facts about apath that I may find useful, as well as where the Khaiyaash is."

"We have no 'definite proof'," said Hale. "There is no such thing in the savagery of Apath. The Kaiyaash has the finest seers, so our magical efforts cannot even get the drop on him. Intelligence is thin - we've got some of Wyrn's people, but not many, and most have been posted to Karnala. As a general rule, I am against torture - not that it matters, as most of the Shage are impossible to capture. They'll die fighting.."

He rose suddenly, drew a large sheet of parchment from within his desk and rolled it out. It was a map.

"Apath," said Hale. "Bordered by the River of Kingdoms to the far east, the Nation of Karnala to the far west, and Adooridalu to the far north. To the south, the sea. But we're looking more locally, I'd imagine - I don't believe that international politics is what concerns you at this present stage." He pointed to a solid, curling glyph to the south of the map. "This is the city of Astura Ogur. This is us. We're south.. hunting in the jungle is difficult, and agriculture won't even be considered by the Shage, so seafaring is their main operation. Huge. There are occasional piracy problems, but the accords with Karnala state that the sea is a free place and that Apath might fish where it wants, so the main diet is seafood."

He pointed to the center of the map, where a similar glyph had been described in between the sketches of flora.

"This is the Palace of the Forever Rising Hjadash, hjadash being the native word for a circular plant which devours insects and children. They believe it to be made in the image of their sun. It's practically a city in itself. We can't get in - the sole palace of the Khaiyaash is walled off entirely. There, he trains his poisoners, his fanatic death-priests, the spies and the ceremonial warriors. It is the safest place in Apath for any who the Khaiyaash trusts."

He moved his finger to a few other areas.

"The east - we have mountains. They are sacred to many, but it is a much older tradition that takes root there - not the worship of the sun-deity. Some still live there, praying to their own gods. We have many warehouses there - as do, perhaps, hundreds of others - and the cliffs span for a thousand miles. One could hide in that place and never be found.

"The west.. and the north, completely unexplored jungle. That is where the witchstone rests, and much, much more before. It is the most horrible place on this world, Ruse, I assure you of that."

Ruse inspected the map, and then replied,

"Hmmm...the east mountains would make an excellent place for cultists to hide. The jungles would too, although if they are as dangerous as you say, the cultists would be stupid to have an operation there too long. The shage seem to live primarily in this southern city Astura Ogur. They won't farm but are very much into fishing operations. Some piracy occurs but for the most part it's okay. Then there's the central provice - the Hjadash. To the far east is a river kingdom, to the far west is the lovable Lictros, and north/west is jungle. Interesting - we have something to work with."

Ruse draws a few imaginary lines on the map with his finger, doing some inscrutable caluclation.

"Hmmm...I think that I will head to the city of Astura Ogue and Hjadash first. The Shage need to know that I exist, and that I am the legitimate Conclave-Lord of this Kingdom. They may not let people freely into Hjadash, but they will see me. Do you reccommend that I head to Astura Ogur first or Hjadash? If the former, is there a mayor or some other offocial, or should I just go around announcing myself?"

"Good luck getting into Hjadesh," said Hale, at once sincere and pessimistic. "It is a closed city, as I have said, and you will be immediately recognized as Conclave-Lord of Apath - a position very much despised by the Khaiyaash. As for Astura Ogur.. you're already here. Fort Craterborn is a simple ten minute stroll from inner Ogur. For all intents and purposes we operate solely within the city.."

He smiled, tapped his fingers on his desk.

"You can only get into Hjadesh through the Gates of the Glorious, and they are found within Astura Ogur, so the city there would be best, I think," said Hale. "As for a mayor.. they have three ministers - a savage, jungle-raised sailor-adventurer Shage named Hansh, who is immediately unpredictable; one of our men, the Shage Jkord, who is quite reliable and has served Astura Ogur for many years under the Conclave's word; and Yaash Merth, a zealot of the Khaiyaash. Things are quite strained.. much of what Jkord wishes to accomplish is blocked by Merth, and vice-versa, and while Hansh has the position by right of conquest he isn't present much to break the lock. Regardless, they all listen, to one extent or another, to the Khaiyaash - to do otherwise would be folly, and we cannot blame Jkord for it."

Ruse pondered, and then nodded.

"Well I will not bend a knee to the Khaiyaash. To do so would weaken my position - and the conclave's - here in apath. They will admit me into the city, or I may just walk in. But I am currently more intrigued by the three mayors of the town. I think I will start there. Once I establish that I am the conclave lord there, I can try to see how the mayors can help us. Jkord is a conclave member so I will see him first, and I will give him extra consideration - we need to treat our own decently in normal circumstances. Hansh seems to be a neutral wild card - I'd love to win him over though. As for Yaash...I will tolerate him but will make it quite clear from the get-go that my word is law, not the Khaiyaash. I will then proceed to assess the current problems the town is facing, and then fix those problems. By the way, please let me know if pirates attack - they will think twice after I destroy their ships with a flesh-rending mist."

Ruse then was about to leave, but another question came up.

"What are your thoughts on assassinating the Khaiyaash? I am fully willing to do so if he becomes a problem. Even better is the irony that would result - he assassinated my predacessor, then he in turn is assassinated by a conclave lord. But enough of my whimsy - I'd like to hear your thoughts on that possibility."

"Flesh-rending mist?" said Hale, an eyebrow raised. "Impressive stuff, Ruse. Assassination on the Khaiyaash will be difficult.. see, he is an Earned Khaiyaash, and has thus received the Rite of Shagmotha. As far as I can tell, he is immune to all poisons, toxins, and gasses because of this - and most blades bounce right off him. To be a gifted Shage prince is to be given near-immortality.. it can be difficult, but not impossible. If you can best him in solo combat, you might take his place as Khaiyaash, regardless of nation, creed, or species.."

He thought for a moment.

"If you are interested in forcing him to abdicate, perhaps there is a man you might wish to meet. We haven't met, but he is a fabled martial artist said, I have heard, to reside in a small island beyond Karnala's shores, in the Sea of Oil. If you could find him, his art is said to grant the secret to defeating any Shage in combat, but.."

Hale drifted off.

"Forgive me. It is a myth, and you do not have the time.."

Ruse's eyes lit up with curiosity. Becoming the Khaiyaash himself...that was a great idea1 He considered it breifly, but dismissed the notion as he thought it was shage-only. But that would solve a lot of apath's problems.

"Well...the gas immunity is a minor inconvenience, but my mists do far more than sicken things. I can make them harder than living metal if necessary, so his resistance to blades is not a concern to me. However...this artwork thing is intriguing to me. Since this is another world, I should be able to send a separate manifestation to Karnala while also remaining here. At the very least, I'll be able to see more of the world Savage."

Ruse looks at the map, noting that Karnala was east of Apath. Thankfully, the opposite of Lictros' feif.

"I would like you to tell me everything you know about this man, as well as direct me to where he may most likely be. Please point out the sea of oil on the map, as well as let me in on interesting facts about Karnala. I can portal over there quickly, although will probably come out in a random area - but as a god I have a great photographic memory so can orient myself easily."

Hale pointed out the Sea of Oil on the map. It was the sea bordering the north of Karnala, Apath's neighbour.

"I don't know exactly where this warrior dwells," said Hale, "Or even if he truly exists. All I know is that he is said to be able to kill even the Earned Kaiyaash. He is a Shage who has developed a technique to hunt his kin. Perhaps he can be convinced to assist you.. but do not rely so easily on your godly gifts, Conclave-Lord. This place is stranger than most, and it does not belong to you or me. Divine teleportation, I have heard, is dangerous, and the 'paradox' of most gods is non-existent in this place."

Ruse frowned.

"So paradox besides the one you're speaking to now does not work in the realm savage? That really is...savage and barbaric."

He was not thrilled, as that was one of a god's best tools.

"I don't think I am comfortable with leaving Apath without any oversight, and I do need to meet the mayors still too. How about I summon a daemon to try and find this elusive artist. Does daemonology - and magic in general for that matter - work normally here? I am powerful enough to conjur a potent daemon to help me track this artist."

Hale shrugged. "The Shage can paradox, but due to their.. interesting ways, they choose not too. They believe time shouldn't be butchered. I might agree - I have the ability to live through time only a second at a time!"

He laughed at that.

"Magic should work fine, for the most part. There are some spots where you are best never to conjure. They belong to the things that dwelt here before the Shage existed.. sacred sites, perhaps. Or unholy sites. Your demonology should work fine."

"I can conjur a mist daemon to assist us. All such beings now owe me their fealty now anyway, due to my deeer connection with her ladyship. I will do that then for now. If I find a way to paradox here, I may be able to follow up on this lead myself too." Ruse replied thoughtfully.

"Is there anything else I should know about apath, the shage, my magic, the funky issues of the world savage, et cetera before I head out to the town?"

"Her ladyship?" asked Hale. "Forgive me, I was under the impression that you were.. of a more masculine nature. And there are plenty of things you should know - don't pick a fight with a Shage being one of them, don't drink their alcohol being another - but the rest you could probably figure out for yourself. Go explore, friend."

The lord of mist sighed at Haled, and replied sharply,

"Do not think to apply your race's petty and irrational views on gender and sexuality to a god - we are above such trivialities, foolish as they are. Also, do not insult her ladyship in my presence again - she is Yggdrasil, the tree of life. Her name has nothing to do with your genderization or the negative stereotypes humans apply to them - she is greater than either you or I will ever be."

Ruse nodded at Hale, and looked at the maps again, searing the image into his memory. He needed to be able to replicate this without SUIT, but thankfully ruse had one of the sharpest minds around.

"I won't try to pick a fight with anything, but if I have to I will defend myself. However I did not come here to kill shage though - with the possible exception of the kiyaash. I came here to secure power, slaughter osiris cultists, and apparently to hunt down elusive art masters."

He grinned a bit. Even ruse had a sense of humor it seemed, even if he was a stoic prick the majority of the time. At least he was a relatively nice one.

"Okay I am off. I am going to get a daemon to help track down this artist for me. I am powerful enough to conjure up something potent, and if I align its affinity right it will serve me without the usual whealing and dealing. Please let me know if you wish to speak to me again in the future. For now, I intend to establish my presence in the nearby city in the southern province."

With that, Ruse left Hale (unless Hale needed to speak further to him) and headed outside the fort and in mist form began to head to the city. When he was about half-way there, he would stop.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:03, Fri 12 Mar 2010.

"Negative stereotypes?" Hale laughed. "Calm down, friend. Voice like that, you'll be stabbed fifteen times before reaching the Khaiyaash. The only way you can succeed here is if you quickly and quietly build up a power base, and alienating your most powerful ally over semantics probably isn't the greatest idea, wouldn't you say?"

He smiled, humoured.

"Good luck to you, then, High Lord, in all your acts of demonology."

Ruse exited, finding that the Fort itself was within the city - but the area surrounding it was simply abandoned and overgrown. Astura Ogur was much closer than he'd thought.

"My apologies, friend. I do consider you an ally, but just feel very protective of her ladyship. It is literally in my blood - I am a special type of god that enjoys a somewhat closer bond with the tree than most. Although lately the zealous god curse of being at the forefront of all sorts of stuff is becoming more and more apparent, unfortunately, given the absolute mess my realm is in. But yes, worry not for our relationship is most intact, and this fort will always enjoy the friendship of the conclave lord of Apath."

Ruse flashed him a genuine smile, and headed out.

When he was outside, but before leaving the overgrown area and going to the city proper, he decided to stop and work some magic.

He drew a circle in the ground using razor-sharp mist that instantly accomplished the job, all the while preserving the aesthetic appeal and detail such a summoning circle would require. He grabbed some near by grass and herbs and placed then inside the circle, and lit them on fire so they would burn and create a gentle smoke. A misty smoke, really.

He chanted sonorously and began his daemon summoning. He attempted to call as strong a daemon as he could safely pull into his presence, that was aligned with mist, gas, vapor, or anything of that sort. Normally this would be risky, but all such beings now owed Ruse their fealty.

"Spirit of sensuous vapor, come forth! Tendrils of sliding mist and banks of veiled billowing gases, the lord of Primordial mist beckons you to come forth! Come, daemon of mist! Come forth under divine suzerainty!"

The demon, thus summoned, did not appear in the form of mist or vapor or any of the noble gases. It appeared outside of the carefully constructed summoning circle. It appeared in the form of any other humanoid being, dressed in armour crafted of fine silk - no, of mist. His hair was long, of fine silver, and his face was thin and gaunt. He looked much like Ruse, in all actuality, except he had not the air of a pretentious, arrogant noble, but instead that of a pretentious, arrogant scholar.

"You've called, Lord of the Mists, and whilst I am not typically bound by your strange paralaws and secondary clauses, I find myself curious enough to arrive," the demon said gently, though with great force.

Ruse was amused by the daemon, who surely was not expecting a bearer of the primordial mist. That fact may also be what makes him so appealing to the daemon - enough to show itself. And it resembled him so much too.

"You're a handsome devil - takes after my own heart. I am indeed the lord of Mists, and have called you here to request your assistance. While I'd like this task completed faithfully and efficiently, I can tell by your scholarly disposition that this might interest you greatly. So daemon, I will grant you a lead on a potentially fascinatingly interesting piece of knowledge, but in exchange you must follow up on this lead, verify if it is real, and if so, return to me and disclose full details on your findings. Of course, you may not turn against me or use the knowledge that you gain while working for me against me in any fashion. If you agree and this lead turns out to be legit, you and I will both gain a potent piece of information about the Shage."

Ruse smiled pleasantly, and said,

"So, do you agree to my conditions?"

"Perhaps," said the Scholar of Mists. "Perhaps. The Shage have amused me for some time.. and your conditions seem fair, if rather vain. Before I can make a solid decision, however, I request that you give me a short summary of what it is, exactly, you wish me to investigate. The intelligent demon does not work blindly, you see."

Ruse grins, and nods.

"Fair enough. I would be having you investigate a means that can possibly greatly weaken a shage, even in the heat of battle. I hear it has something to do with art, of all things. I have a lead from a very reliable source as to where someone who may possess this knowledge is located, but I need it followed and verified. However, I'll tell you that only after you agree to the contract, of course. Given your interest in the shage, you must surely be as intrigued by this as I am, yes?"

"Ah, yes, the martial art of tahik-yur. It is a strange thing to be asking, sorcerer, even in these lands. The art is all but lost, save for a single practitioner in the isles beyond the sea.. the Khaiyaash-ha of this world do not care for those sort of assassins, you see."

The Scholar of Mists grinned.

"I am the most intelligent creature on this entire World-Tree," said the demon. "How could I not have studied something as - delicious - as that, as tahik-yur? In another guise, another timed, I trained under Grand Master Sacheer, before the poison got him. I learnt many of the ways. But I have forgotten them, perhaps. Perhaps I cannot recall them.."

A glint of teeth in the mist.

"Perhaps you might wish to, aheh, help me remember..?"

Ruse returned with a grin of his own,

"Oh you're a ballsy daemon aren't you - I am a much more dangerous individual than I appear, but since you were drawn to me like a moth to the flame I'm sure you realize that by now. But if you have the information that I seek, it would be...less annoying to me than sending you out to the oil pools. And like they say, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. So fine then, daemon, I'll entertain your "faltering memory" with something that may be able to help."

Ruse considered for a moment - there were plenty of things he could give to it (besides using primordial mist to force it, which he did not want to do. He could offer it knowledge, power, wealth, position. Maybe even one of the earthborn weapons he owned. There was a lot he could - at least potentially - offer.

"Daemon, I can at least potentially offer you one of multiple different things. But really such things are only as valuable as the person who wants them, so it would be inefficient for me to just starting listing things to you. So instead, I'll start by asking you what sorts of things are currently interesting you the most - both physically and non-physically?"

Ruse's face then lit up, and he added,

"I am the conclave-lord of Apath now - all that you survey here belongs to me technically, not the shage. You did tell me that you had a great interest in the shage, yes? I am willing to bribe you with a position - bribes need not always be physical you know. How would you like to work for me, here in apath? The conclave fort is somewhat off-limits unless you're with me, but the rest of this country is free game. If you are willing to provide service to me as a scholar-noble vassal of sorts, I will let you dwell here. There are many shage that you can interact with to sate your curiosity, and you also get the fun of witnessing first-hand (and possibly impacting) all the fun that I seen to attract to myself as a Zealous god. However, the one condition is you have to remain loyal to me during your tenure. However, once I fully secure my power here I will have your material needs and comforts provided for - within reason but as if you were nobility - as if you were a shage noble yourself."

"You'd get to live here comfortably, and witness all sorts of interesting things in exchange for your support. How does this sound to you?"

"It sounds fine enough, for a mortal," said the demon, the Scholar of Mist. "But I am not particularly fond of the offer myself. I am free to wander the Realm Savage as I might, ever freer than, say, yourself. I am intrigued with the Shage and have studied them for almost a thousand years - there is not much I could earn by serving you. However.."

The Scholar of Mists stopped, smiled wickedly.

"There is something you could do with me in return for service. Even now, your Conclave hyper-astronomers are noticing irregularities in the stars. They see beyond the Void, sighting those rare bodies that gravitate around the World-Tree, or are drawn towards it. Today - or possibly tomorrow - they will come to a startling discovery. They might have found it already. The discovery is thus: there is a creature, artifact, vessel or relic from another Tree - or from within the depths of the Void, or Elsewhere - and it is headed toward collision with Yggdrasil. Do you understand?"

Ruse listens with interest, and responds,

"Hmmm...interesting. So, if this thing or being is arriving on Yggdrasil, it will be happening soon. What is your interest in the matter then, and how does it relate to obtaining your service? I guess I'll be blunt and ask what you want from it?"

"Information," chuckled the Scholar. Such a stupid question. "I have come upon a signal, a code, a precious key which will unlock certain gates and seals within the crashing star. I am willing to offer them to you - offer you glory - in return for an additional fee. Two trades. All I ask is that you allow me to travel within your mist as you enter the blasted valley.. and that you allow me a glimpse of the pleasures of the flesh."

The Scholar smiled, and Ruse suddenly noticed how pretty a smile it was. It spoke of a higher intelligence, of true values. Its hair was long and magnificent, and its features were unlike anything he'd seen before. He felt an immediate attraction to the being, a lust that, he realized, had been working within him for some time..

Ruse ignored his growing lust most stoically, like a stalwart sentinel. Ruse was, at the end of the day, a very stubborn son of a bitch and never gave into such things unless it was on his terms.

He shook his head, and replied,

"Hmmm...nice try, but that will not do. You're asking for more trades than you're offering. So I will redefine our terms, and add new ones if you'd like more from me. You'll also need to clarify your own goals, so that I can determine if they clash with mine or not."

Ruse was a shrewd man, and he had the power to back up his shrewdness and guile.

"You want information then? Information on what? The star? I can provide this, in exchange for knowledge and training in the Tahik-Yur that will allow me to overcome any shage. You would like to travel in my mists? For what end? Where would you be traveling to and for how long? This, if I offer it, would be in exchange for the passwords, codes, signals, and whatever it was you were offering that would allow me access to the fallen star. However, on top of this since me allowing you travel in my mist has a 20fold benefit of allowing you to get to your location as well as me not disintegrating you in my mist, you will also have to TRUTHFULLY tell me everything you know about the fallen star, the passwords, and otherwise be willing to answer my questions."

He grinned, and continued,

"Then is the glimpse of flesh. You request this with no compensation for me. So we can negotiate. I can provide this to you in several ways. I can use mind magic to give you a literal glimpse of and even sensations of an act of passion - that is well within my power. I can take it up a step and pleasure you with my mind and my mist alone in ways you've never experienced other sexual "toys." A step above this would be allowing you to mate with one of my people. The final step, of course, would me sleeping with me personally - something that would not come cheaply I assure you. So, tell me which would you like and how much is it worth to you?"

The daemon, of course, could not lie to Ruse. Well it could but it wouldn't achieve much. The whisps of mist surrounding Ruse writhed whimsically as their master waited for a reply.

"Will not do? Hah! You amuse me, Lord of Mist. Perhaps we shall meet again. Goodbye. My place of birth is under attack and I am being called by one who truly needs my presence."

With that, the demon had gone, leaving a bitter taste in Ruse's mouth.

Ruse sighs. He could try binding it witht he primordial mist, but you catch mpre flies with honey than vinegar after all, so he lets the daemon go. For now.

It seems that he would have to figure this out himself. However, on the plus side he did obtain some free information. He now knows the name of the technique that can slay a shage: Tahik-Yur. He also suspects that the master of this technique does exist still, near those oil lakes to the east. At least he got the legend confirmed to be fact now, but was a bit upset the daemon broke of negotiations. Perhaps it realized Ruse was as cunning as it was? He had a feeling it would be back though. No misty or gaseous entity could resist Ruse's allure at this point.

Ruse doesn't want to leave Apath quite yet. He needs to solidify his presence in the city, as well as meet the Kiyaash. He won't fight the Kiyaash now - perhaps the shage sun prist may even take a liking to him for some reason. He does want to warn them of possible osiris cult activity though - he'd be a fool to not view osiris as a shared threat.

Ruse heads back to the southern province of apath - the city.

The City of Ogur Astur is a paradox of shifting spaces underneath the all-present canopy of the jungle. Vines overtook walls, trees shattered brick and everywhere the smell of the jungle permeated. It was almost pleasant; the typical smells of a large city deadened by the aroma of nature. Sometimes he walked through poor areas, sometimes he walked through areas that had been struck by meteoric showers, and sometimes he wandered through the wealthy districts. The entire city was built, he slowly realized, in an ancient pattern, following astronomical laws as to protect the city, as best possible, from things hurtling from the heavens..

"You're not from here," said the Shage, a tattooed, fully-naked beggar. He clutched at Ruse's pants. "Can see it in your eyes. Straight teeth and sharp looks. You're foreign, you are."

Ruse looked down at the shage on the ground, and replied,

"That is correct, Shage. I am High Lord Ruse, the new Conclave Lord and owner of the kingdom of Apath."

He sighed, and replied,

"So, what can you tell me about this place? If you are particularly helpful, I will use my magic to conjur up some food for you."

"You are new here, Lord, and your presumption betrays that," said the homeless Shage, his eyes ablaze. "You hold conclave, I see, your aims as treacherous as that as you seek. I can tell you much about the fabled city of Astura Ogur, of its astronomical calculations and its cultural oddities, the mystical patterns and the laws that hold the streets, or of the herbs that will kill a stranger dead and the metal which leaves magic in the minds of cruel men. If you, perhaps, are useful to me, I can divine your position upon the map."

He rattled his begging bowl expectantly.

Ruse looked at the Shage quizzically. He did not expect to be called treacherous. Not in light of there being people like the Kyaash, Lictros, and potential cultists in these midsts. He was curious that the shage viewed him - and by extent the convlave - as presumptuous and sinister, yet did not seem to have true opposition or malice towards him. It was a strange interplay, but then again these shage were strange folks.

"Hmmm...you're interesting to me. You have interesting, mixed views...ambivalence. Curiosity. Yes, I will talk to you. I would like to hear about everything you have just mentioned, and more if able. Presumptuous as I may be, this is my feif now and I'll not let my people starve."

Ruse snaps his fingers, and uses his magic (probably life or something lol) to fill the man's bowl with hearty fruits and vegetables, some of which brimmed over and spilled to the ground. The fruits and veggies were already cut and in an ideal form to be consumed.

"First though, do tell me your name. Then let us sup together while you dispense your wisdom upon me."

"You're not the brightest star that the has been cast to the embittered Astura Ogur," said the beggar, smiling ruefully as he dropped the fruit and vegetables onto the filthy ground, keeping his little bowl. "Perhaps you should learn more about the people, about the Shage, before you go about handing out various fruits. We live in a jungle. Fruits are everywhere."

Once again he shook his bowl.

"I require coin," he said, simply. "And then you can have my name."

Ruse sighs, and materializes 100 of his conclave stones into his hand, which he then drops into the man's bowl. This would surely buy him a lot of mundane things.

"Very Well Shage, take this generosity in exchange for your assistance."

"Very generous, yes, I thank you," said the beggar. He placed a single coin into his mouth and chewed upon it slowly, swallowing the final coin with a gulp. "Now, Lord of Treachery, how might I assist you?"

Ruse grinned. He had a treacherous nature, yet oddly enough he was one of the greatest assets to the Conclave and the tree right now. Perhaps he contained his treacherous potential through sheer will? Such was the nature of mist...to flow in odd directions.

"Well, let me quote your words exactly:

I can tell you much about the fabled city of Astura Ogur, of its astronomical calculations and its cultural oddities, the mystical patterns and the laws that hold the streets, or of the herbs that will kill a stranger dead and the metal which leaves magic in the minds of cruel men. If you, perhaps, are useful to me, I can divine your position upon the map."

I am interested in all of these things and more, including about the Shage in general, and even the Kiyaash. I am also certainly intrigued by this divination you mention."

Ruse smiled, and added,

"But first, give me your name. Calling you shage is a bit generic, don't you think? Know that I am a dangerous man to cross, but equally I am generous to my allies and vassals, as you have seen."

"Ah, yes, I can see the generosity filling your eyes," said the Shage, and Ruse hinted a trace of bitterness in his tone. "My name, Lord of Treachery, is Khaiyaash Khardus, of the Khaiyaash clan."

Ruse wasn't completely sure why this shage would be bitter, but he was sure to find out by continuing to talk to him.

"Khaiyaash Khardus? How odd...I was under the impression the Khaiyaash was a position of leadership around here, not a clan of shage. Well, a pleasure to meet you Khardus. Please, tell me about everything you know, from apath to shage to divination."

"It is a dynasty and it is a position of leadership. I, Khaiyaash Khardus, am King of the Beggars. We hold the wisdom of the street, of the shining star, of the forces behind Astura Ogur. I have been informed that I am to kill you," he smiled at this, his dagger-sharp teeth caught within an honest grin. "For my elder brother, of course. And yet I hold no weapons. I am more honorable than that. I wished to talk, first, Lord of Treachery."

Ruse - or at least what appeared to be Ruse - grinned at this.

"Oh? How amusing. Well, I will honestly admit that I am impressed by your sense of honor. Treacherous as I may be, a Mistella always appreciates higher principles. They separate you from the rest of the rabble. Most commendable."

Ruse gives a curtsey, and continues,

"And I must say that trying to assassinate your Conclave Lord is extremely rude."

Ruse sighed - how typical for someone to want to kill him. Been the story of his life since his birth.

"But that aside, let us keep talking. I did share my generosity with you, yes? At least give me the priviledge of obtaining my investment first before you decide to continue with the assassination. You may even change your mind by the time we're done. Treacherous or not, I'm far more friendly than most high lords."

"Friendlier, perhaps," said the Khaiyaash. "As am I. I advise you, Lord of Treachery, give up your foolish crusade now, before it is too late. My brother is not one to make empty threats. He has destroyed three of your predecessors. He has the coward Hale eating out of the palm of his hand. All of Apath is his. The Conclave has no place here - the Conclave wasn't even interested in our nation until the witchery stone was found. It is an unjust invasion, Lord of Lies, and will be met with unjustness of our own. Leave and never return."

Ruse suddenly felt a little ill. A gnawing, nauseous pain stabbing him lightly in his stomach and chest. Very lightly, but perhaps it could become worse.

Ruse rubbed his stomach reflexively, a bit surprised by the pain but unsure of its source. He looked up to the Shage and replied,

"Well...before you try to shoo me away, please at least tell me about this place, its people, and its customs, as well as the divination you mentioned." Ruse said firmly but politely. "Let me decide if I should leave or stay after we talk, but please...I am interested in learning about Apath and its inhabitants."

Ruse sighed. They always had to make it difficult.

"I cannot leave - this territory was granted to me by the Conclave. However, I am fully aware of the witchstone here, but will let you know that it is not my top priority for being here. I'm an arrogant man you see, and I don't like when others try to divest me of things that belong to me. Yet, despite my possessiveness I try to take care of my possesions - it's part of that honor thing we talked about earlier. While I fully intend on harvesting the witchstone here, I have other priorities. My first priority is to get a feel for the people and the land. After that, I will get a feel for the ways Apath is prospering, as well as what currently threatens it. Also, there are Osiris cultists potentially in the area, and I am here to help drive them out. The wealth I will earn from witchstone and other natural resources here will partially be used for my benefit, but I will also be investing back in Apath itself, especially Astura Ogur, and its people."

Ruse flicked his hair back, and added,

"I don't know how the previous conclave lords acted, nor do I care quite frankly because what is important is me in the here and now. I will secure my grip over my feifdom one way or the other. Yet, I am not a pure imperialist who wants to heartlessly gut this kingdom and leave, and while I seek to benefit myself, I equally am interested in the prosperity of my feifdom and its people. Do not seek to compare me to the other rabble from the Conclave, because while treacherous I am also nobly arrogant; you won't get a conclave lord as generous as I am in the future, who actually gives a damn about his people."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:34, Mon 03 May 2010.

The pain slowed a little, gnawing at Ruse's stomach, but not reaching any higher or lower. It was an uncomfortable feeling - but for the moment nothing more.

The Khaiyaash looked at Ruse, smiling softly.

"In that case," said Khaiyaash Khardur, King of Beggars. "I am afraid that I will have to kill you.. or I would, perhaps, if your fate wasn't already sealed. My work here is done. You are sick, Lord of Treachery. Machinery is a shaky trust for any man to invest in, and magic even worse. Technology and sorcery - to lies to never mix. They will be your end, imperialist."

He spat at Ruse's feet.

The image of Ruse looked at Khardur, mimicing the pain his true self was experiencing almost perfectly due to the sympathetic nature of the problem. He looked at Khardur, and replied with a grin, looked at him with weary eyes and said,

"Heh...you're right, king of beggars. This imperialist is indeed very sick. Sad you'd still call me that, although I suppose even the best intended individual like myself would be an imperialist by definition."

Ruse coughed a bit, somewhat purposely melodramatically, and continued.

"Well...the magic I placed my bets in is slowly killing me, so yes your job is done. So, would you do a dying man a disservice and be hostile to him until he passed on? Why not meet the wishes of the dying, and sit and talk with me instead. I'll die anyways, so why not just tell me about this place to help a sick, old man pass the time?"

"This is obviously a trick," said the Khaiyaash Khardur. "Nevertheless, you have accepted the Highest Shaman and He has considered you unfit. You will die. So I think we can talk. Yes."

He pulled a small pipe from under his furs, lit it, offered it to Ruse.

"Tobacco," he said. "Rare in Astura Ogur. Interesting, because we have plenty of the niciatina. Much of the plants. So why no tobacco company?"

Ruse shrugged, and declined the tobacco plant.

"No thank you - I don't smoke, especially in my current condition. And you know, if there are other markets here that we can set up, I would be willing to look into it. You're the one who suggested I was only here for one thing. I'm actually here for the whole kit and kaboodle. A tobacco market could be very useful to us - at the very least it would give me some resources to invest in improving the infrastructure of Apath. You know, fix the buildings, clear the roads, give beggars some good honest work they can make a living off of, and so on. We could sell our product to other worlds, if it is high enough quality. Imagine how much this place could flourish? I could even purchase some meteor defense systems for the city."

"Meteoric defense?" asked the King of Beggars, Khaiyaash Khardur, eyebrows raised in mock interest. "And pray, tell us why you believe that the Khaiyaash Apath clan couldn't have purchased these a;lready? Do you believe we are stupid, Lord of Treachery? Or poor?" He spat at Ruse's feet. "This conversation is finished. I would kill you if I could not see how your illness will cripple you."

Ruse coughed a bit, and then sighed, and replied,

"I never said you were stupid or poor - don't put words into my mouth, Shage." Ruse retorted.

"And if these words bother you, then educate me while I still have time left. Sitting there spitting onto the ground doesn't help either of us. Nor does protesting and getting all defensive. If you've got something to say, then say it. If you think my knowledge is lacking, then rectify it and fill in the gaps. I'm sure no other conclave lord will try to listen to you like this, even one who's dying. But don't sit there wallowing in your spite - someone is willing to hear you out, so here is your chance to be heard."

"You cannot hope to dispel the falling of the meteors," said the King. "The main tools of the Shage, before we learned of the ways between worlds, were bone and bronze. Our wars were bloody, yet ineffective. Importation has helped this somewhat, but.. even if we could dispel the meteors, we wouldn't. All metal in Apath - most metal - comes from the fallen stars. Witchstone, even. Especially witchstone. The Savage Jungles have a chance to be great once again.. and the Conclave wishes to bottle that dream, to sell it to aliens and criminals."

Ruse raised an eyebrow, and replied,

"I don't wish to stop the meteors - that would be silly. It would harm the economy of this place. No, I just would set up a defense grid to protect Asatura Ogur and, in time, the Hajadash palace, although Astura ogur is my priority. That way the people who live her will be protected. The other parts of Apath would continue to receive meteors though as normal - like you said they are an important feature of this place and I have no desire to stop that."

Ruse pondered the more imperialist comment, and said,

"And I told you that I plan on investing in apath's infrastructure as well as helping myself and the conclave. I'm not sure what the previous conclave lords were like, but quite frankly due to the circumstances of my birth I am far too arrogant to let a realm under my care fall into ruin while selling resources elsewhere. Now, both at the same time I can and will do, but I'm very possessive of my things and don't like letting them break apart. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? The prosperity of this place depends on the outside world, both for your sakes and my own sake. Yet, this is my feifdom and is considered a part of my estate - even the conclave cannot plunder it without my consent without provoking estate protection laws. If anything, I'm the only one standing between Apath and those who would wish to plunder it completely. Treacherous as I may be, at least I have both my interests and Apath's equally in mind. More than I can say about anyone else."

If he couldn't see it, then Ruse would make him understand what a precious resource he was for them. And everything he was saying was completely true too, ironically enough.

"Perhaps," said the King of Beggars. "It is unfortunate, however, that my elder brother, the Khaiyaash Apath, has different ideas on how we should prosper. He would see you dead, see the entire Fort Conclave razed. And who are you, Lord of Treachery, to stop him? You cannot lie your way out of certain death."

Ruse felt a sudden pain rip through his left leg. It felt as if it'd been shot, but there it was not a tearing or piercing sensation - rather, it was the pain of something catastrophically wrong biologically.

Ruse sighed, and replied,

"So your brother will not work with me then? Not at all? What a shame." Ruse said, his voice partially mocking but partially sincere. Perhaps his words had an edge to them - being on your deathbed tended to have that effect.

"But you are not your brother, are you, king of beggars? What if I either convinced your brother to follow me, or forced him to - perhaps even deposed him and became the Kiyaash myself. What would you think then? Would I gain your respect that way? Would you view me in a whole new light, with accompanying delicious irony?"

Ruse suspected so, for he knew the shage to be a forceful people despite their klingon-like honor.

"And what of the great shaman? If I can ally with him, would your opinion also change? I can tell you are not as full of hate as you may wish me to think. You love Apath, after all."

"Hah," the King of Beggars grunted. He spat at Ruse's feet. It was not a sign of hate, but rather a symbol of the folly, the madness of the Liar's words. "You cannot ally with the Great Shaman. He takes and he destroys. He gives and he receives. He is beyond I, beyond all. And I cannot imaging you defeating my brother, the greatest fighter of the Khaiyaash, in combat. Hah. It is ludicrous."

He shrugged.

"If either was possible," he said. "If you were to kill my brother you would become Khaiyaash Yogr - King Despot. If you can, say, ally with the Great Shaman than you would become Khaiyaash Yosunahabrash - King of the Mystics. Neither feat is possible, but," he shrugged again. "Dying men are accustomed to the impossible. Yes. You would win some respect, a little honour, Lord of Treachery."

He laughed, as if to shake the absurdity from him, and spat again.

Ruse's form grinned at the king of beggars. Ruse quite liked what he heard, and also - oddly enough - received a slight buzz from the king's energy and enthusiasm. These Shage...at first ruse thought they were but brutes, but as time passes they are truly interesting him.

"Why, my leige of Beggars, I would not like either of those titles. I may be the lord of treachery, but I am greedy in things like this. I don't want one or the other, but instead both! I think Khaiyaash Yogrnahabrash, the Ferocious Mystic, would suit me best."

Ruse looks at the king of beggars seriously this time, and continues,

"You say the great shaman takes and destroys, but yet he gives and receives as well. What sorts of things do you think the great shaman would want?"

The King of Beggars shrugged, ignoring Ruse's display of arrogance.

"What might the Great Shaman desire? Surely that is beyond any one of us to determine. Nevertheless, conventional wisdom combined with my knowledge of these secret matters gives me the belief that there is a very specific enemy of the Shaman that he would need destroyed, and yet cannot achieve himself. This is troubling, and yet probably true."

Ruse raised a curious brow, and said,

"Ah yes, that is...most curious and potentially disturbing. I have witnessed the Shaman first-hand. It is inside of me as we speak, growing. Devouring me piece by piece. So I do empathize with your concern."

Ruse's eyes flashed with hope, and he continued,

"But...but I am neither the shaman nor his enemy. I walk with the tree of life, so I may be able to walk with the great shaman too. Perhaps help it fight its enemy. Tell me, Beggar King, is there a technique the natives here would use for communicating with the shaman? One that doesn't directly involve invoking magic while still going through it? some sacred site perhaps, a ritual, a rite?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:22, Thu 03 June 2010.

"If there is, Lord of Lies, I wouldn't tell you," said the King of Beggars, honestly enough. "It would not be for your kind. It would be our power, a secret power, and I doubt even if we had one that it would work for you."

ruse grinned, and said,

"I'm very adapable you know. I mean even the great shaman wasn't able to kill me in one blow. Although that may be mother's doing more than my own."

He sighed, and continued,

"Well...thank you for your time, king of beggars. I'm going to go find a nice comfortable hole to crawl into before I die. Good day."

With that, Ruse shifted into mist form, and vanished completely from sight.

The crowded, prismatic jungles of Apath flew beneath Ruse as he sailed far above them, a mismatched collection of reds and blues and purples and greens, blackened rock and small communities made of wood and stone; through the lighter, sandier, rolling hills filled with light jungle, the altogether sunnier eastern kingdom to Apath, and then across the red and gold coastline, through rivers of green, to the altogether darker Sea of Oil, filled as it was of boiling blackness. It was as if some gigantic, terrible creature had died there and fallen to the bottom... the stench was horrible, metallic in taste, and Ruse felt his mist waver.

Ruse used his primordial mist to directly fortify himsef. He thickened the clouds, made the vapors coming from the dark sea below him more robust. Even if it was smog, it would still bend knee to Ruse's authority.

He commanded the harmful elements to leave him be, all the while wrapping himself in a thick layer of support.

If this worked, he would continue to his approximate destination, cross-referencing the daemon's information with his SUIT's glyphic library. If this failed for whatever reason, he would fly lower to the ground, and skim the coast to his destination rather than fly directly above the oil.

Ruse felt better above the ground, but the Conclave's Information Vaults were incomplete when it came to this area of the Realm Savage. He really was working blind. Ruse had the option of uploading the passive mapping his SUIT had undertaken to the vaults, however, if he so chose.

Ruse did indeed opt to upload the passive mapping to the vaults. His hope was that he might fill in some holes and thus consequently be able to cross-reference some pieces of information a lot easier than he could now.

He also commanded the SUIT to try and find snippets of the legend about the art form, the artist, and really all the stuff the mist demon had told him. Every bit could help.

Thank you for opting to upload the passive mapping the the Conclave Information Vaults. You are helping the future expansion of the Conclave and will be rewarded justly when the day comes.

Time passed, and Ruse continued his search.

My apologies, High Lord, but I'm afraid there is a password attributed to the information regarding the subjects you requested. They have been barred by H.C. VAJK.

(How exactly would you be using meta-stratagery?)

Ruse did not want Vajk involved, especially since she was a shage as well.

Retract the query then. I do want you to try and cross-reference other bits of information about the sea of oil though. We'll triangulate an approximate position. Also, try to find accessible pieces of information that may resemble the legend in any way shape or form.

Cross-referencing..

Ruse felt the inexplicable, bizarre laws of nature that ruled this place. They were very uncomfortable to him, alien to his very nature, and yet he could sense almost the patterns within them..

North. Over the Sea of Oil. There he would find his teacher.

Ruse was...disturbed as well as fascinated by the inner workings of the realms savage. They were very different from the realms supernatural. Yet, he was a god and he would adapt. He had to - it was either adapt or die. And death was not an option.

He continued to read the currents and the flows of Apath with sight beyond sight, and headed northward in a streak of mist. The noxious fumes coming off of the sea did not impede him in the slightest - in reality they actually parted way for him, sometimes even lifting him up with their wispy dark tendrils as the lord of mist went about his way.

Ruse would find his teacher.

Soon, the Sea of Oil thinned, went from black to blue-black to deepest blue and, finally, to a lighter, more natural shade of azure. There was a tiny archipelago of islands below Ruse, a collection of four or five small, green islands. He knew that whoever it was he sought could be found down there, in one of those rocky landmarks spotted with emerald. He could see people - not many, scarcely a hundred or so - below, living on those islands, their huts built on the rockier areas, near the docks.

Sot his was the region of the realm savage where Grand Master Sacheer either lives...or once lived. While he did not narrow it down to the exact house, considering his information in a huge dimension, narrowing it down to 5 small islands was most satisfactory to the mist god.

Ruse descended down from the heavens, and landed upon the closest Island to his current position.

SUIT...you may continue mapping this area, but do not upload it quite yet. Retain the information in your files until I give you the order to release it.

Ruse materialized, and approached the nearest people to him and greeted them.

Affirmative, High Lord.

"Ach," said one of the two seamen, fishing with nets, at Ruse's approach. "And how do you do? You're not 'round here, friend," he said. "That much is for certain."

"You've come seeking the, aheh," the other laughed, "The 'Grand Master', yeah?"

"Old Cheerie."

"You're not even Shage, friend. How'd you stand a chance in these waters?"

Ruse grinned at the men, and replied,

"Well aren't you rather straight to the point? I like that in times like this. Yes, I am here seeking the grand master Sacheer, although have reason to believe he may no longer be alive. In that case, I seek Sacheer's legacy. Worry not, for I come in peace, but I do need your assistance."

He looked back to the waters, and scoffed a bit before looking back and adding,

"Those waters are but a mere trifling inconvenience for me. I walk with the smoke wafting from the seas of oil. The noxious fumes of this place lift me up as well as any other. So, could you please direct me to the legacy of the grand master?"

The fisherman on the right shrugged. "Seek the easternmost isle. There is where Sacheer keeps his dojo."

The other one smiled cynically. "It is also the largest island."

"Good luck with finding his audience, friend," said the first. "He is not known to welcome strangers."

Ruse guffawed disdainfully, and replied,

"No problems, friend. It being large or small is no obstacle to me - I will find him in due time. That much is certain. And he will see me - I will not be denied. Plus, I am no mere stranger. Hopefully he will realize that sooner than later."

Ruse's form dissolves in a brilliant burst, leaving a cloud of silky misty vapors. He streams into the air as his silvery strands flow most quickly toward the easternmost island.

Ruse scans the island for sentient minds with his mind, as well as divines the name "Sacheer." He has the SUI run a similar scan.

The SUIT does not come up with anything useful except the location of the furthest, largest island in the archipelago, and Ruse could not sense the mind of the Shage Sacheer. Nevertheless, he found the island. It was lightly wooded with strange blue-purple, leafless trees, each looking like a large phallus to Ruse's discerning eye. He saw a small, wooden dock, with two small rowboats at the pier, and a closed, stone-built monastery on top of the larger cliffs. There was a man fishing at the dock, and two young monks guarding the monastery doors. The courtyard outside the monastery was empty.

A fine silvery mist began wafting off of the waters around the docks and onto and around the pier. It appeared suddenly, although was not harmful in the least. After a few moments of enveloping the fisherman in a large bank of mist, the fog parted, revealing a handsome man standing on the very end of the pier. It was as if the mists themselves had deposited the man there from elsewhere.

Looking at the fisherman, the image of Ruse asks,

"You there, fisherman - I come in peace. I seek an audience with grand master Sacheer, or failing that the legacy of grand master Sacheer. Could you please give me directions, as well as tell me anything about this place that I should know?"

"Nothing particularly special about this place, m'friend," said the fisherman, "Save for the abundance of fish come currying from the Sea o' Oil. An' I must say we don't get much fog round these parts.. save the fumes of the aforementioned sea, y'know?"

He smiled.

"Yer no Shage, that much is obvious," he grunted. "Yet your Art is strong and supple. The monastery is where ye'll find Master Sacheer, y'will, though he isn't taking guests or students at this present stage. Ye've come only to be disappointed, I'm afraid, m'friend."

Ruse rolled his eyes and made an arrogant huff.

"Sacheer will see me. That much is certain. And if he has any pride as a grand master, he will not turn away the opportunity to instruct one such as myself - the opportunity to form a relationship with me comes once in a life time."

He casually waved his hands, and any fumes int he area from the sea were instantly dispersed, allowing fresh air to reign around the dock for the moment.

"Such unsightly fumes, but yet so necessary given the environment. The resilience of the shage is certainly noteworthy and worthy of my respect."

Ruse gives a civil curtsey, and disperses into silvery mist and flies toward the monastary. He lands at the entrance of the monastary, and announces himself.

"I am the walker in mist, and request an audience with Grandmaster Sacheer. I come in peace, but do need to see Sacheer."

Behind Ruse was the silent courtyard - perhaps where morning training was held. As it was, the late afternoon sun shined red through the clear sky. Both of the guardian monks have sharp teeth, long wooden staves and bald heads. They are scarred, slightly, and have keen eyes and terse lips.

"It is a shape-changing demon from the furthest East," said the first guardian monk. "He has come to destroy our master."

"Perhaps not," said the second monk. "Perhaps he is an official of the Conclave - perhaps the Conclave Lord."

"Perhaps he is the Liar," said the first monk.

"More likely," said the second, "That he is the prophesied Champion of the Tide of One Thousand Colours. A sorcerer."

"Yes," admitted the first. "That is more likely."

Ruse puffed out his chest, trying to play up the mystery type persona. However, he hunched a bit and exhaled in disappointment when the two basically hit the nail right on the head.

"Sigh...well I was trying to go with the mysterious stranger angle, but it appears you guys have heard of me then. fine then, we'll cut the theatrics and get to the punchline: I am all of the things you mentioned, and yet in some ways none of them, for many things are potentiality but not yet actuality. But if you know this much despite being out in the middle of nowhere, then you surely know that I am not some lowly daemon. Puh-lease!"

Ruse could eat them for breakfast. Even certain scholar daemons came when called, even if under the guise of attraction and curiosity.

"But I am here to see Sacheer - if my reputation precedes me, wouldn't you please be so kind as to either fetch him for me, or take me to him?"

"This is a monastic and martial school steeped in the most ancient of our traditions as a people," said one guard.

"We do not expect you to understand any - or all of these traditions, friend," said the other.

"Nevertheless," said the first. "You and I must obey them. You may not enter."

He shook his head sadly.

"Ours is a slowly dying species," said, again, the first monk. "But we have our ways. If you cannot respect them, you have no place here."

Ruse sighed a bit in exasperation, that these mortals would dare impede him like this. Still, he understood that they meant well, so could not bring himself to be truly angry at them. He would tolerate their little social games and customs - for now.

With a slight roll of the eyes, the mist god replied,

"Fine then, I will play your game and tolerate your customs. So tell me, then - what do I need to do to see Sacheer? I may not understand your traditions, bit I am willing to play nice and try things your way. You will assist me then, yes?"

"You will bring a gift," said the first guardian-monk. "One befitting of the Master. Without bearing gifts it is only impolite that you would come to us, to him, asking for an education."

"Or for an audience," said the second.

"Yes," said the first. "Bring a gift."

Ruse raised an eyebrow coyly in amusement at these two men who would dare hold him up like this.

"Oh? Is that so? Tell me then - what sort of gift would be fitting to secure an education and audience with Sacheer?"

"If you cannot decide that yourself," said the first monk, smugness in his eyes and on his tongue. "Then you are not fit for this school."

Ruse grinned, and rather smugly at that. He was quite easily able to reciprocate their smugness with some of his own.

"Alright then...you play an interesting game. Fine then - I am both generous and powerful, so how about this. I will give Sacheer one gram of witchstone. And I mean the real thing. In exchange, I want to be taught the most high-quality education he can give as well as afford me audiences at my request. I am fully aware of the value as well as the sheer usefulness of even a single gram of this stuff. People die over it. However, if Sacheer's teachings are as good as they say, then it is a worth-while investment. The only condition is that he would get the witchstone gram after I solidify and establish my powerbase back in my kingdom, as I need his teachings to help me do that before I can establish my mining operation. However, I will stay true to the agreement as I'd like to retain this place as a business contact on good terms.

He smiled, and continued.

<DarkBlue>"Perhaps I can even send some of my people her to train, if I find the quality of this place to my liking. I hear this place is dying, but I am a powerful man, and it is within my power to make this place thrive again, if that is what you'd like. I could have both shage and non-shage here as suited my purposes. Alternatively, if you'd like to remain more secluded and limit the flow of insiders, it is within my power to do that as well." </DarkBlue>

"Hmmm," said the first monk.

"Forgive us," said the second.

"It's just that.."

"It is unlikely that you will be able to gather the witch-stone. Shapeshifter, we do not doubt your power, but your claim.."

"Is something else entirely."

"Gifts are traditionally given before .. education, in addition."

"Though if you were to find the witchstone, I am sure the Master would happily heed your request."

"And we enjoy our privacy, thank you very much.."

Ruse began to suspect that the guards were chosen for their banter.

Ruse smirked.

"Oh no...I will acquire the witchstone eventually. There is no doubt. This goal will become more easily and more quickly achieved after Sacheer shares his knowledge, though."
He sighed, and continued,

"And of course you don't doubt my power. You'd be a fool otherwise. It's already enough that you tempt my patience, but I did say I'd play this little game, did I not."

He pondered, and continued,

"So a gift then - one that I can give before the training. How about this then: The lord of Mist will grant Sacheer one favor, not to exceed the value of his teachings or to inflict injury upon the world tree or the Conclave. The granting of a favor may seem trivial if it was most people giving it, but a favor from the Lord of Mist is valuable indeed. Perhaps there is some monster or pirates or something like that which plagues these isles that you'd like disposed of? I could do it."

"Ahah," said the first monk.

"Intriguing," said the second.

"Surprising."

"He could almost be.."

"The Khaiyaash Arkhostu?"

"Yes. Instinctive knowledge of our customs."

"Lucky guess."

"Perhaps."

They both looked towards Ruse.

"Nevertheless," said the second monk. "A favour is the traditional gift offered before admittence to the school is given - though, of course, once admitted you will obey only the command of the Master."

"Yes," said the first monk. "We have our Monk of Favours. He will meet you out here, if you wish, to discuss the favour at hand."

Ruse nodded his head, and replied,

"Yes, I will see this monk of favors. Wealth and barter can buy many things, but sometimes only a favor can truly get something done, when money and wealth fail."

He waited for them to go fetch this monk of favors.

"I am sure I can do many things for this place."

The Monk of Favours is a tall man with a thin face and a long, trailing mustache. He has cold wisdom in his eyes, and does not smile when he sees the Lord of Treachery.

"Conclave-Lord," he said, smiling. "I have been expecting you for some time. Your predecessors have all come to this temple expecting knowledge."

Ruse rolls his eyes with vain arrogance - but also a sincere confidence that was quite justified, given how dangerous a man Ruse really was.

"Oh really? So they too sought out this place? Well...if you must know, my predecessors were all weak fools who thought that they could stand up to the shage with meekness, or by-the-book strategy. That is why they are dead and gone while I stand before you."

The lord of treachery smiled then, and added,

"On the positive side of things, that means you know why I am here. I seek to learn and master the art of the Tahik-yur from Sacheer. I will offer a personal favor from the lord of treachery himself in exchange for mentorship in Tahik-yur by Sacheer."

"Of course," said the Monk of Favours, smiling thinly. He stroked his beard once and only once. "You believe yourself to be different. To be a, how do you say, cut above the rest. Unique."

His smile was genuine.

"There is no unique," he said, heavily. "We are all the same. You are all the same. There is no I. We will all die, return to the Tree of Life. We were born and we shall die the same. If you wish to propose a favour to the Sacheer in return for education," he said. "You must prove to me that you understand what it is to be the same."

Another stroke of the beard.

"That is my condition as Monk of Favours."

Ruse was appalled by the notion - of course he was better than everyone else! How could this monk even insinuate otherwise?!

HOWEVER...they had something he wanted...no, needed. Badly. He would achieve it where past fief lords had failed. He would hide his pride - for now. He was the great deceiver, after all.

"Okay, I will assent to this. We are all the same in the end, indeed. Even as a god, I am not the only one of my kind to walk the tree. Like all gods, I was born from the tree's bosom. While immortal, nothing is beyond the reach of death and even I have tasted it once. We all have our goals and ambitions - I am the same in this regard. We all want to be loved and respected, despite the mask we put on in front of others. Gods, Shage, humans...we are all the same in our desire to fit in, in our desire to survive, and in our desire to be successful."

The Monk of Favours smiled, nodded, closed his eyes.

The strike was fast and hard, and despite his mist-like incorporeal state, Ruse found himself be thrown to the side by the force of the punch. It stung, but nothing was broken. The Monk of Favours smiled, assumed a combat stance with his two fists ahead of him, and nodded once more. His fists steamed and hissed as if in anger, though Ruse knew that the monk himself was calm.

"Prove your worth," said the Monk of Favours. "Prove that you understand."

Ruse cracked his knuckles a bit after taking the blow.

"Hmmm...I had hoped to avoid this element of equality, but it seems you wish to press this point. There is one way in which we are equal - that we are willing to fight for our convictions, or if not anything so lofty, then at least willing to fight to be successful at the end of the day. I will fight you then - with non-lethal force though - and show you that we are equal in the strength of our desires. Your desire to weed out bad candidates and protect this temple, and my desire to seek the enlightenment of sacheer and the Tahik Yur. We are the same in that we will use force in the pursuit of our beliefs - yet as you have exercised restraint, then so too will I. Perhaps you forcing me to resort to combat has, in and of itself, forced me to "come down a notch" from my former loftiness?"

He grinned a bit.

"Prepare yourself, monk of favors."

Ruse appeared in his humanoid form, and his deep blue eyes looked sharply at his opponent. His hair fluttered around him as the near by breeze picked up in intensity, purely due to the strength of his divine aura. White tendrils of mist very quickly sprang from the earth where he walked, snaking into the air and dancing like hypnotized snakes before whipping about his body.

A large spear of mist hurtled through the air, intend on messing the monk up. It was a spear sharp enough to pierce sura's sands. Sharp enough to injur even a master god.

But then...when it was moments from the monk's face, it stopped and dispersed in a puff of smoke into the air, harmlessly.

"Hmmm...no, this isn't right. If I beat you like this, it will be as the lord of mist - a unique title. This would not meet your terms of being the same and proving worth. so instead I will do this, although I regret in doing so I will not be able to give you my best possible display of skill."

The mists swirling around Ruse stopped swirling, and dissipated. Ruse's misty form solidified into his human form - his true form - and his illusion dropped. All non-essential special items (like laser guns and stuff lol) he paradoxed away, although he kept his suit on as that was an important part of him now - it even was based on his hair.

He adopted a combat stance, clenching his fists. He knew that he would not be as skilled as the monk. Not fighting like this anyway. He could fight a bit of course, but this was as equal to the monk as Ruse knew how to get.

"In a rare display of humility, and perhaps stupidity, I will meet your conditions by fighting you on even terms. I will not resort to my god powers at all - just my body and my slight combat capability. I regret not being able to give you a better demonstration of combat skill, but if I was an absolute master at combat then I would have no need to seek out a school like this. Perhaps we are both the same in our desire to learn from this place, as well as our need to learn."

The Monk nodded.

"I see," he said, and looked at Ruse. "You understand the precept of humility," he continued. "You are willing to fight me with nothing more than fists and teeth. I do not believe you to have been bluffing. This conflict could have killed you. It may still. You have passed the first test."

There was a sudden grin upon the Monk's face. It was at once devilish and joy-filled.

"The second test: what must you do now, Lord of Treachery? If you are truly equal, what must you accomplish?"

Ruse pondered a moment.

He grasped - at least marginally - the concept of humility. It was a disgusting concept and one he did not adher to, but he knew what it was - if only because he expected this to be displayed by others towards him, arrogant as he was. Yet, as the lord of treachery Ruse could even betray himself now and then for the sake of accomplishing his goals. In this instance, he had temporarily betrayed his own arrogance and pride in order to pass the test.

If they were currently "equals," then Ruse had to interpret that in every sense of the word, not just physically. He would use this train of thought to help him pass the second test.

"If we are truly equal, then I should not fight my way past you for this, nor should you forcefully stop me either. If you have something I want - in this case access to Tahik Yur - and we are equals, then I must kindly  ask you if there is something I can do for you in exchange for you helping me out, since as equals that applies socially too, does it not? So beating the answer out of you would be grossly inappropriate to our mutual equality, as such crude and brute domination of one another would make us no longer equals."

"Ahah," said the Monk of Favours. His small, withered bald head bobbed rapidly and Ruse knew that he had pleased the Shage. "Ahah."

The Monk smiled at the God of Mist, and his fists uncurled. A light breeze came in from the ocean and Ruse felt his long white hair ripple.

"So, then, as we have achieved equality," said the Monk of Favours. "True communication is possible. I will tell you what you need to earn an education from the Sacheer - to earn the sacred knowledge of Tahik Yur. It is a rare art - barely half a dozen monks of this monastery have mastered it, with only a dozen more students. Most of the monks live here to serve the Enlightened Warrior, with no question to their own needs in regards to the art."

He nodded.

"In order to receive training from the Sacheer, and receive what most Shage can never hope to grasp, you will owe three favours to the monastery. The first will be to me, for my guidance and friendship - I am the key that will unlock the gate. The second is to the monastery that will act as your temple, dojo and living quarters for your stay. The third will be to the Enlightened Warrior himself, payment for the holy transmission of the knowledge of Tahik Yur."

The wind grew stronger.

"These are the terms of your education. Nothing more, nothing less. You will be expected to stay and to learn for as long as is needed, and to obey the Sacheer in all things."

Ruse nodded, and replied politely,

"I will accept those terms. However, please let me respectfully add one small caveat. The favors I am asked to do...they cannot make me harm the Conclave, myself, the tree of life, or my realm and people. Basically the favors cannot cause me to go against the Conclave or my honor as a zealous god of the tree of life. But otherwise I'm willing to even flay puppies and kittens if that is what a favor asks of me. Is this not only for my own good, but would protect this temple from the retribution of such parties. Please, as an equal, do allow me this caveat."

He smiled, and added,

"If all is well between us, then what happens now?"

The monk nodded. "That is understandable, even admirable," said the Monk of Favours. "You have prior loyalties. I understand."

He looked out towards the sea.

"If you accept our terms, friend, then I will take you to your quarters and prepare you for the First Favour."

Ruse nodded his consent.

"Yes, I accept your terms. Please, do lead the way."

The Monk of Favours nodded, grinned to Ruse, and let the God of Mist follow him. The guards parted from the gate, and they entered the main courtyard of the monastery - filled equally with the beautiful, haunting gardens common in the Realm Savage (where awe-inspiring flowers grew like weeds and could often kill a man) and empty space only sometimes filled with sparring monks or disciples dutifully going about their exercises. There were several buildings, now, that the courtyard and the high walls had hidden. The Monk took his charge to the elegantly arched wooden building to the furthest south and nodded to the monk at the door.

"This is the Monk of Rest," he said. "He will be in charge of your stay within our monastery. He will prepare you for the Three Favours from this point on. My friend," he said, smiling at the Monk of Favours (who smiled serenely back at him), "This is our friend, the Changer, and he has come to learn the ways of our art. Will you care for him?"

"You know that I will," nodded the Monk of Rest.

"If you are ready, Lord of the Conclave, I will let you be," said the Monk of Favours. "Seek me when you are ready to proceed."

Ruse nodded his head politely at the monk of favors, and said,

"Well I am always eager to get started and learn as soon as possible, however I will check in with the monk of rest first. You know, get acquainted with the place, tie loose ends, and so on. Thank you for your time, and I'm sure we'll see one another again soon."

Ruse then turned to the monk of rest, and said,

"Greetings monk, I am the lord of mist, although you may call me Ruse. What must I do to settle in to this place and prepare for carrying out the three favors? I am eager to complete my favors and begin learning Tahik Yur."

"Yes, yes, of course," said the Monk of Rest. "Patience, student. If you are worthy and willing you will receive the knowledge you need. We'll find you board.."

The monk let Ruse follow as he opened the doors to the hall and stepped within. Inside it was cool, dark and had lost of the humid mugginess that defined Apath. Ruse saw two dozen or so beds lined up against the walls of the hall. Some of them contained sleeping students, while others were messed and obviously occupied. A good sixteen of the beds were untaken, however. The beds were made of flexible wood, with no mattress and two light blankets. There were no pillows.

"Your bed," said the Monk of Rest, pointing to a nondescript bed towards the center of the hall. "That way - you will eat and study there."

At the end of the hall was a long, wooden table, heavyset. Two students sat on the stone blocks about the thing, discussing some matter.

"Beneath the bed is a prayer mat. You will rise at every sunrise and give proper adoration to the sun."

The Monk of Rest looked at Ruse with a single raised eyebrow, as if daring him to complain.

Ruse did not have issue with the accommodations - this was a monastery, not a hotel. He wasn't expecting lavish conditions.

His eye did twitch a little when the monk mentioned adoration for the sun. Ruse was a god - the only thing worthy of his prayer was Yggdrasil herself. Still, he would get up at sunrise and just pretend to pray or something - really, he looked at it as a time for meditation. Even if he had no true adoration for it, he would still use that time to discipline his mind and body, and make himself more receptive to the teachings.

"Very well." Was all Ruse said, his tone cold and distant like mist, but polite none the less.

"Please continue, monk of rest."

The monk nodded, smiled serenely, and continued. "You will give up all personal belongings brought to this place to our Monk of the Outside, who will have them couriered either to our sister school on the mainland or to the Conclave embassy. Clothes, jewelry, weapons, scrolls, all of it. You will make a vow not to leave this place before your work is done upon our Stone of the Sea, and you will bathe in our sacred pools and undergo grooming. You will be tattooed with the Mark of Tahik Yur. You will receive robes, a bo staff, a shaving blade, blank scrolls and ink and a wooden bowl and cutlery set. Is this acceptable?"

Ruse nodded his head. His arsenal of weapons had long been paradoxed out onto another manifestation, divvied to his people, and so on. So that was no problem. The only three major articles he had with him were his special uber-SUIT, cashmathar, and of course his oathblade necklace. Cashmathar was also paradoxed away to some other manifestation.

"I accept most of your terms, there are two things I cannot give away, given my position and responsibilities int he Conclave - and this is covered under the deal I made with the monk of favors that nothing would be asked of me that would sully my pride as a high lord. However, that does not mean I will have to keep them here with me though, as I can send them away myself. The first is this oathblade necklace. It must stay with my manifestations as a whole, but under my own authority I can paradox it away from my realm savage self. The other article is this SUIT I'm wearing. I cannot remove such a thing from my manifestations without reducing my capability to do my duties in other selves, but I can like the necklace send it away from here."

He smiled, and continued,

"So that leaves the robe I am wearing. That I can give up, although I have had it for a long time. I will also consent to the tattooing and other lifestyle change. Ultimately, your request will be honored as I'll have given up my things in one way or the other, and consented to your lifestyle. That should meet the agreement the monk of favors and I made, yes?"

"The Monk of Favours has no authority here," said the Monk of Rest sadly. "I am to be your first teacher. I am to show you the ways of dreaming sideways and of resting-backwards. Nevertheless: send away your SUIT and your necklace. Burn the robes. They are meaningless now."

The Monk removed a small bundle from the table nearby. Inside, as promised: robes, a bo staff, a shaving blade, blank scrolls and ink and a wooden bowl and cutlery set. It all seemed so ... mundane.

"Shave all the hair from your body. Give all other possessions to our Monk of the Outside. And then seek me, upon the Beach of Fists, for your first lesson. You have two hours with which to rest and to make sure that it is done. At sunset the lesson will begin."

The monk left Ruse's tiny cell.

"Very well. I will agree to your revision of the terms I made with the monk of favors, but in turn I am looking forward to your expert tutelage." Ruse replied in a neutral tone of voice.

"I will have all my possessions sent away one way or the other, I will shave the little body hair I have on my body, and I will meet you in 2 hours time alert and ready for your instruction."

After the Monk left the tiny room, Ruse banished all of his possessions so they no longer existed on this manifestation (although they would on his other ones still). He even banished away the necklace - if needed, he would use his high lord privileges to allow for it if any issue arose. And since it wasn't banished from all manifestations it shouldn't have any true effect overall anyway.

As for his hair...he looked at the shaving blade disdainfully. It wouldn't be able to do as good a job as Ruse could do with his own innate abilities. Ruse agreed to their ascetic demands, not to look horrible in the process. With a snap of his fingers, his hair and even eyebrows and all other body hair turned into fine mist and then dispersed in a quick puff of air. The end result was as if Ruse had a fantastic wax job without any of the side-effects, like the welts and such.

Ruse, now naked and hairless, donned the robes and other articles provided by the monk and examined the things given to him by the monk. He then sat down and began to rest, but awoke with enough time to spare to then head out to meet the monk at the appointed time.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:50, Thu 07 Jan 2016.