Post by velturus on Jan 22, 2007 13:35:39 GMT -5
Face of Time 2:
“…but I am unsure of whether the Undead will,” the attendant stopped his statement immediately as the Ancient Drow entered the chamber. “You are dismissed,” he said to the Emissary. “Lord Chamberlain, how can I be of service to you this Dark Day?”
The Ancient Drow looked deep into the steward’s eyes, “Schedule me for an audience with Her Majesty. Make this of prime importance.” The Ancient Drow stood and stared as a moment of silence followed. The steward began to raise his tablet and quill in objection, but then felt the cold stare upon him, and simply nodded, writing down the audience at the top of the list for the days activities of the Empress.
“Dos Listens, Dos Listens! Before this Court, the Venerable Chamberlain of the Second Empire of Armageddon, Quar’Valuk Velturus Viaxus does seek audience to her Imperial Highness, Empress Velturasa Viaxus!” The herald stepped back as the Ancient Drow marched slowly towards the pentagram in the center of the throne room. Velturus noticed that the guard had been doubled, a familiar sight in a time of war. He wondered for a moment how many archers stood in the shadows or had been enhanced magically to appear unseen next to the walls and columns. Velturus knelt down to one knee, and lowered his head, keeping an eye on the herald, who nodded slowly when the proper amount of head bowed for his station had occurred.
“Lord Chamberlain, your presence here in our court is a mystery, as we believed that my instructions to your latest journey were quite clear. Have you come to challenge the wisdom of our proclamations, or are you simply seeking a quick finish to your accomplished life?” The Empress laid her scepter upon her lap, and grasped the end of her arm rests with both hands, leaning in slightly forward, anticipating the answer.
Velturus raised his head, still staying on one knew, his cloak and robe draping over him to look as if he was a shortened creature, his visible features hidden in the folds. “Your Imperial Highness, the Quar’Valuk would never dare challenge your wisest decisions, and believes that the life of this body has yet more to offer you in exchange for continued presence in these realms.” This was the typical answer to an introduction question. Formality bored the Chamberlain, but the court was insistent upon it.
“Then why is it that you appear before us, instead of beginning your journey, as we instructed?”
“Your Imperial Highness, I have come with a concern that I believe only you to be most powerful enough to address. The prisoner captured in the City has laid upon me an enchantment of unknown origin, and the Faernen have yet been unable to decipher the incarnation or a cure to counter it. I therefore ask that your Imperial Highness grant unto me relief from my current Imperial duties.”
The Empress set backwards for a moment, retrieving her scepter from her lap, and began holding it in front of her in a defensive posture. “Guards, take the Chamberlain into Custody.”
Velturus looked to his left and then his right in a sudden instant, as dozens of Olath Kyorlen appeared from the shadows, pointing their enchanted repeating crossbows at different positions of his body. His mind began to race to possible escape, but it had happened to quickly. He did not expect this to occur, as he had been the most loyal advisor to the Empress of all time, but he had allowed his misjudgment to betray him. He remained perfectly still, almost like that of a statue.
The Kyorl closest to him lowered his crossbow on approach, and reached down a metal gauntlet to place on his shoulder. Velturus reached up with his gloved hand, and took the gauntlet of the Kyorl that was attempting to place him into custody. A short feeling of satisfaction overcame the chamberlain, much like when one eats a meal after fasting for a week, and the Kyorl backed away a moment.
The Empress looked down at the action and bellowed, “Kyorl, place the Chamberlain into Custody!”
The guard stepped back, and lifted the visor from his helm, and looked straight at the Empress. “Your Highness, he has not done anything. Perhaps if we were to reason this situation out, we could determine where we all went wrong, and perhaps save our living souls into service of the virtues?”
The Empress stared blankly at the guard, as the Imperial Court fell completely silent. A moment passed, as no one moved towards the chamberlain or out of position. The guard looked patiently at the throne, as if he was expecting an answer.
“Kill that Guard,” the Empress said slowly, and calmly, pointing in his direction. In less than the time it took her to speak the last word, the cracking of enchanted rope upon the crossbows in the hands of the dozen other guards rang through the Palace. The cursed guard appeared in a moment unscathed, and then filled with more than two score of bolts lodged in his midsection, throat, and helmet. Small trickles of blood began to leak out of the wounds as he lost his balance, and fell to the cold stone. The trickles began to grow more intense, and began gushing out, covering the frost wood bolts into a deep purplish red as a pool began to form below the guard’s body.
“We don’t suppose that you will willingly surrender yourself to this court, chamberlain?” the Empress asked casually, slightly turning her head and averting her eyes from the floor.
The favor of the crown had been lost with Velturus, and he could feel it as the Empress turned her head and averted her eyes to him. He quickly scanned to see if he could recognize the armor insignia of any Kyorlen that were loyal to him alone, and saw only a handful. “Check,” he whispered to himself, imagining a Sava board before him. He raised his head slowly, “Of course your Highness. I shall see to it that I am confined to my own Chamber, and that a regiment of Imperial Guards and Faernen are on hand to secure my person. I would like to ask that you permit me to continue communication with the Qu’el’Faeruk, in hopes that this curse upon me can be ceased, so that I may return to faithful service of the Crown.”
The Empress waved her scepter dismissively. “Very well, we will grant you this. Be gone from our pristine field of vision before we decide otherwise.”
Velturus rose cautiously and slowly, feeling the conscious focus of the guards and their weapons on all sides of him. He walked slowly, much more slowly than he had entered the chamber, towards the exit. As he approached the door, he turned and whispered to the entourage tailing him, “I dare one of you to touch me.”
“…but I am unsure of whether the Undead will,” the attendant stopped his statement immediately as the Ancient Drow entered the chamber. “You are dismissed,” he said to the Emissary. “Lord Chamberlain, how can I be of service to you this Dark Day?”
The Ancient Drow looked deep into the steward’s eyes, “Schedule me for an audience with Her Majesty. Make this of prime importance.” The Ancient Drow stood and stared as a moment of silence followed. The steward began to raise his tablet and quill in objection, but then felt the cold stare upon him, and simply nodded, writing down the audience at the top of the list for the days activities of the Empress.
“Dos Listens, Dos Listens! Before this Court, the Venerable Chamberlain of the Second Empire of Armageddon, Quar’Valuk Velturus Viaxus does seek audience to her Imperial Highness, Empress Velturasa Viaxus!” The herald stepped back as the Ancient Drow marched slowly towards the pentagram in the center of the throne room. Velturus noticed that the guard had been doubled, a familiar sight in a time of war. He wondered for a moment how many archers stood in the shadows or had been enhanced magically to appear unseen next to the walls and columns. Velturus knelt down to one knee, and lowered his head, keeping an eye on the herald, who nodded slowly when the proper amount of head bowed for his station had occurred.
“Lord Chamberlain, your presence here in our court is a mystery, as we believed that my instructions to your latest journey were quite clear. Have you come to challenge the wisdom of our proclamations, or are you simply seeking a quick finish to your accomplished life?” The Empress laid her scepter upon her lap, and grasped the end of her arm rests with both hands, leaning in slightly forward, anticipating the answer.
Velturus raised his head, still staying on one knew, his cloak and robe draping over him to look as if he was a shortened creature, his visible features hidden in the folds. “Your Imperial Highness, the Quar’Valuk would never dare challenge your wisest decisions, and believes that the life of this body has yet more to offer you in exchange for continued presence in these realms.” This was the typical answer to an introduction question. Formality bored the Chamberlain, but the court was insistent upon it.
“Then why is it that you appear before us, instead of beginning your journey, as we instructed?”
“Your Imperial Highness, I have come with a concern that I believe only you to be most powerful enough to address. The prisoner captured in the City has laid upon me an enchantment of unknown origin, and the Faernen have yet been unable to decipher the incarnation or a cure to counter it. I therefore ask that your Imperial Highness grant unto me relief from my current Imperial duties.”
The Empress set backwards for a moment, retrieving her scepter from her lap, and began holding it in front of her in a defensive posture. “Guards, take the Chamberlain into Custody.”
Velturus looked to his left and then his right in a sudden instant, as dozens of Olath Kyorlen appeared from the shadows, pointing their enchanted repeating crossbows at different positions of his body. His mind began to race to possible escape, but it had happened to quickly. He did not expect this to occur, as he had been the most loyal advisor to the Empress of all time, but he had allowed his misjudgment to betray him. He remained perfectly still, almost like that of a statue.
The Kyorl closest to him lowered his crossbow on approach, and reached down a metal gauntlet to place on his shoulder. Velturus reached up with his gloved hand, and took the gauntlet of the Kyorl that was attempting to place him into custody. A short feeling of satisfaction overcame the chamberlain, much like when one eats a meal after fasting for a week, and the Kyorl backed away a moment.
The Empress looked down at the action and bellowed, “Kyorl, place the Chamberlain into Custody!”
The guard stepped back, and lifted the visor from his helm, and looked straight at the Empress. “Your Highness, he has not done anything. Perhaps if we were to reason this situation out, we could determine where we all went wrong, and perhaps save our living souls into service of the virtues?”
The Empress stared blankly at the guard, as the Imperial Court fell completely silent. A moment passed, as no one moved towards the chamberlain or out of position. The guard looked patiently at the throne, as if he was expecting an answer.
“Kill that Guard,” the Empress said slowly, and calmly, pointing in his direction. In less than the time it took her to speak the last word, the cracking of enchanted rope upon the crossbows in the hands of the dozen other guards rang through the Palace. The cursed guard appeared in a moment unscathed, and then filled with more than two score of bolts lodged in his midsection, throat, and helmet. Small trickles of blood began to leak out of the wounds as he lost his balance, and fell to the cold stone. The trickles began to grow more intense, and began gushing out, covering the frost wood bolts into a deep purplish red as a pool began to form below the guard’s body.
“We don’t suppose that you will willingly surrender yourself to this court, chamberlain?” the Empress asked casually, slightly turning her head and averting her eyes from the floor.
The favor of the crown had been lost with Velturus, and he could feel it as the Empress turned her head and averted her eyes to him. He quickly scanned to see if he could recognize the armor insignia of any Kyorlen that were loyal to him alone, and saw only a handful. “Check,” he whispered to himself, imagining a Sava board before him. He raised his head slowly, “Of course your Highness. I shall see to it that I am confined to my own Chamber, and that a regiment of Imperial Guards and Faernen are on hand to secure my person. I would like to ask that you permit me to continue communication with the Qu’el’Faeruk, in hopes that this curse upon me can be ceased, so that I may return to faithful service of the Crown.”
The Empress waved her scepter dismissively. “Very well, we will grant you this. Be gone from our pristine field of vision before we decide otherwise.”
Velturus rose cautiously and slowly, feeling the conscious focus of the guards and their weapons on all sides of him. He walked slowly, much more slowly than he had entered the chamber, towards the exit. As he approached the door, he turned and whispered to the entourage tailing him, “I dare one of you to touch me.”