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."