The Ember Glows|Darkthrone, New Morilanta

[Kender Bard]

A priest approached Die in the sanctum. Generally the priests did not bother Die here, but this was a matter that the priest felt was fairly urgent.

Of course it could mean his lord's displeasure if this was not the case. The priest was suitably humble in his approach, just to be safe. "Holy one, the Thuothians request your presence on a matter most urgent," he announced after kneeling. In the temple, Diederik ranked higher than even Saul.

"One of their number was assaulted and slain in the streets, and his personal key stolen. Consequently, the thieves managed to locate his vault within the temple, under guise, and spirit away some precious documents. Their Thesaurii were able to find the thief and capture him though. Some highly regarded merchant. It was all very scandalous. They recovered the documents as well but seem unsure what to do with them.... They've been despoiled, having been taken from their safekeeping. They'd like you to come review them and decide what is to be done with them, as well as pass judgment on the captured thief."

[Darastrix]

Die stood still and silent as the priest spoke, hands clasped beneath the voluminous sleeves of his robes. Inwardly, he was laughing with delight. What a boon! In a few short moments, he would have in his hands secrets of the secret-keepers. He didn't even care what the secrets were--well, all right, he hoped it would be something at least marginally interesting. Something useful would be even better. Regardless, it was shaping up to be a marvelous day.


"So." Die slowly approached the kneeling man. "You enter my sanctum and interrupt my meditations to tell me this?"


He leaned over the man, then smiled widely beneath his half-mask, his eyes taking on the shape of crescent moons. "Excellent decision! You've just earned my favour from now until some arbitrary point in the future. Anyone who attempts to kill, betray, maim, et cetera you will earn my most profound displeasure. And I'm not going to announce when said favour is withdrawn, so it can be a surprise."

[Kender Bard]

The priest was clearly delighted. He beamed before managing to school his face to more reserved pleasure. "Your lordship is most gracious," the priest replied. "Thank you. The priests in the Temple of the Forces await you on your pleasure. The head priest has made it clear that he doesn't mind keeping his prisoner sweating, amongst other things, while awaiting you."

His message delivered, the man rose and bowed before scurrying out of the temple, already planning to make good use of his favor.

[Darastrix]

Die dallied in the sanctum for half an hour longer. Though he was eager to get his hands on whatever documents the dead priest had squirreled away, he didn't want to seem too eager. That might just pique someone else's curiosity. And the thief could stand to fret some more, though considering the circumstances, Die was inclined to think well of the man. After all, the theft and despoiling of Thuothan secrets was an act of Evil. The priest's murder was also an act of Evil, and it served Die's other Lord. And best of all, he was getting something he wanted out of it.


It was too bad he couldn't reward the man. The Thuothans would never stand for that, and it could have the unfortunate consequence of making it appear that perhaps he'd put the man up to it. Ah well. He could order to have the man executed painlessly. He smiled at the red-flowered vine he kept in a small, glass-encased "garden." That would do. Unless the thief managed to offend him beforehand, of course.


"Well," he said to himself as he headed for the door. "Let's go see what this merchant thought was worth all this trouble to get, shall we?"

[Kender Bard]

The Thuothian wing was, as usual, a silent hall. The priests there stopped to watch Die mutely while the acolytes moved about like disturbed birds, seeking their mentors to alert of them of his presence. Near the door, one of the Thesaurii bowed his head respectfully but didn't move from his post.

The head priest was summoned, attended by a few of his brethren and a small group of acolytes. He was an old man, possibly frail though it was hard to tell under the fur and hair. He was a Beast, sporting floppy rabbit ears. His snow white beard was incredibly bushy and wide and his muttonchops were just as untamed.

He bowed to Die, then proceed to make gestures and strange clicking sounds in the language that only the Thuothians knew.

The acolyte translated. "Welcome, Holiness," he began, bowing as well. "My master, Pall, thanks you for coming. This whole affair has left him greatly distressed. He asks if you would like to see the thief."

[Darastrix]

"Indeed I would," Die responded, glancing briefly at the acolyte. "Has he said anything about the theft so far? Any whys or whatnot?"

[Kender Bard]

Pall smirked before replying.

"He's sang us many songs. What is lie and what is truth is harder to glean, but we have a way of knowing these things," the acolyte said. "We believe he has been watching us or perhaps gaining knowledge from other, non-priests from our order. This wasn't random, he knew to attack this particular priest."

Pall beckoned and headed to a spiral staircase, heading down beneath the temple. Almost all the wings had areas reserved for darker activities. The thief in question was currently slumped in a cage that was too tall and narrow to allow him to sit. The whole concoction hung above a fire. There was a smell of burnt flesh in the air, though at the moment the man was safely above the flames. Pall gestured to him.

"This is the thief, most holy one. His fate is yours."

[Darastrix]

"Nothing like warming up by the fire on a chilly day, hmm?" Die said, walking around the fire with his hands behind his back as he looked up at the man. "I know he's offended your lord, but he's rather pleased mine. No worries, though. I think his death will make them both happy, then he can find out whether Taed's pleasure outweighs Thuoth's anger. The manner of his death is a different matter."

He turned to look at Pall. "I'll look over the documents he took before I decide how to kill him. If I end up poring over some tedious something about old inheritances or money, I'm letting the Efilians play with him for however long they can keep him alive and those pages can be his last meal. But!" Die held up a finger. "If I'm entertained, I'll give him a merciful death."

"Now, if you haven't already, let your Thesaurii nose around his home and business for any interesting little secret documents he might have squirreled away, and I'll see about having his assets seized for his crimes against the Church. With a percentage going to Taed's wing and the main temple, of course," Die added. "But you'll still get most of it. Buy yourselves a shiny new informant or something."

[Kender Bard]

Pall made a sound in his throat, something like a snort, but it was difficult to discern the feeling behind us.

The acolyte shifted. "We have looked over his estate," he translated as Pall gestured. "But it won't hurt to do it again. Your Holiness is most gracious. Sadly, I think you will find the documents more than a little entertaining so the thief will get lucky this day, in a matter of speaking."

At this point, Pall shooed away the other priests and acolytes and even his own interpreter. He beckoned with Die and went to another chamber that was nearby this one filled wall to wall, floor to ceiling, with little lockboxes embeeded right in the stone. He took a key that hung about his neck out from under his robes and unlocked a chest near the door, pulling out a leatherbound tome and then quickly shutting and locking the box once more.

As soon as his key was tucked away, he turned and offered the tome to Die. The cover was plain and unadorned save for the title, which had been burned into the leather. It was in old tongue.

Rinrecor an Evil

Or, in common, Musings of Evil.

The parchment within was still crisp and new. The writing on the first page in an elegant and flowing handwriting. Pages from the middle of the book and onward were blank. Some of the pages contained a shorter, harsher handwriting.

[Darastrix]

What have we here? Musings of Evil, not musings on. Better and better.

"Considering that it's already been despoiled, I'm assuming there's no problem with me taking it back to my sanctum to read," Die stated, turning the pages.

[Kender Bard]

Pall shook his head and heaved a sigh. From the way he looked at the book, it was clear that he longed to keep it for himself... But Pall, and most of the Thuothians, were strangely devoted to their strict does and ways of life. He started to gesture, remembered he'd sent his acolyte away, and made an irritated grunt. Instead, he poked a finger against the book, and then at Die pointedly. Keep it.

Or, perhaps, It's yours.

[Darastrix]

Die nodded, pleased. If it proved to be very interesting, he might just make himself a copy and destroy the original. That might discourage anyone else who may have had known something about it from trying to steal it.

Well, one thing at a time.

"I'll send for the thief when I'm ready," he said, turning to go as he tucked the book away in his robes. "I'm sure you'll keep him entertained in the meantime."

It was probably a good thing for the man that he was a swift reader.

[Kender Bard]

Pall's smile was as cruel as could be. He nodded, bowed, and saw Die to the entrance of the wing. By then his acolyte had rejoined him.

"May the secrets within bring you delight, holy one."

[Darastrix]

"Oh, I do hope so," Die responded. "And may your secrets die with you." With a little fingertip wave, the high priest left the Forces' temple and made for his sanctum to peruse his new acquisition.

[Kender Bard]

When Die settled in the sanctum with the book, he found the first page to be written in the elegantly flowing handwriting, dated at the top with the founding of New Morilanta.

Herein marks the first entry of High Priestess Rajani, first priestess of the glorious New Morilanta.

Contrasta has fallen, sunk beneath the waves. Gone with the old land was our late king and former high priest. We turn our praise now to Imperator Nissar Negri.

I will take pains to safeguard this journal. The old one, kept in the confidence of several high priests after The Burning, was lost amidst the chaos of the sea voyage.

The accounts that followed were dry and relatively uninteresting; recountings and reports on the construction of the new temple and city, the rise of new priests and nobles, and so on. It took five pages in small handwriting until the entries became more personal and reflective.

Nissar rules with a quiet word and a threatening look. He appears to have two signs--both Mind. I've seen men collapse in his presence, presumably struck down by his ire. He remains an enigma to me. I believe he belonged to a minor House, one of many lost and drowned. Beyond that, I know little. I approach him at night to give him teh spiritual burden of our people and accepts without comment or interest. I hope he is not a false believer; I cannot abide men who make pious noises but shut their heart to the truth. I will take it upon myself to find out where Nissar stands, and take action as appropriate. With caution, of course.

Below that, crowding the bottom of the page, was the harsher writing in another hand.

Inquire how? In his bed? As for caution, that is laughable. If Nissar has power, he hoards it as greedily as a miser. True, he'll make the odd showing now and then, but if he truly possessed the power to do the High Priest harm, he would have moved me long ago. Rajani had a prime opportunity at this point to begin making Nissar her puppet. Instead, like all wanton and feeble women, she let herself be the one bent.

The pages continued in this manner; Rajani writing on her progress in inspecting Nissar. Comments following making mock of her words.

As I write this, I tremble with excitement. The more I look, the more I believe that Nissar is the one prophecied to lead Morilanta to glory. That, or he surely has some key role to play. His heart is as cold and black as the new moon, yet I feel a purity and a lightheartedness in his presence, as if all the poison in my soul is being siphoned away, into his own heart.

Evil is being freed! He will walk again when Nissar sacrifices himself to free the dark Force from all of humanity. Glory will fall on Morilanta, and we will take our rightful place as equals amongst the Sundancers!

No later than two pages later, a new opinion came up.

I am doomed. Cursed. Lost. Or perhaps I have been saved. I no longer know.

I fear for my soul. Am I being cleansed or am I being destroyed?

I carry a child of Nissar's in my belly. It will be a son; I am sure of it. Heirs matter little in Morilanta, but this time it will be different. Nissar and I will conspire together and keep our son in power when he comes of age. Nissar will bring the pain and suffering of our people to a head, and together we will lance the boil. Our son will rule a new golden kingdom. An empire to be.

This will come to pass. I am sure of it. Only the true king and savior of our people could make the very high priestess feel the tender and inviting caress of Love herself.

In bold, large letters below.

I have you now, Nissar!

So it went on until a final page written in Rajani's hand.

I have been cursed. Efil means to claim my soul and the soul of my husband. Perhaps our children as well, I do not know. This was folly. In my arrogance, I forgot that the Forces do watch. They do listen. We were visited by Taed, but this is not a place where Efil shuns. She exists here in the beating hearts of men as she does everywhere, and I have incurred her wrath.

Merciful Taed has allowed to make a bargain. I have sold my soul, and all hopes of salvation, to the fiery pits of hell itself. My son will be blessed and his heart swollen with the whispers of Love herself. And, in exchange for both of these things, Efil will stay her hand until Nissar's death by mortal means.

My beloved, I am sorry. I can only hope that you'll someday carve the kingdom I dream of each night as we lay together.

Not bloody likely.

The pages all after this were written in Bastion's strong hand.

Herein marks the first entry of High Priest Bastion, second priest of the glorious New Morilanta.

Morilanta was raised up on the flimsy spirituality of Rajani. Its potential strength sabotaged early by her strange belief in mystical means. I have left the rituals detailed in the back of the journal unmolested. It may be that someday I, too, have need to call down the attention of Taed or Efil, though I believe that the Forces are best left unpestered.

There is one that does still intrigue me, the only one to bear real and true potential power. It was mostly lost in the sinking of Contrasta, but I see Rajani has tried to duplicate it to the best of her feeble abilities. I find it lacking. There had to be more than simply having priests hold hands over a bit of accursed land and pray really hard. That is ridiculous.

But there is power in this land. I see it and hear of it often. The Forces walk here often. They give their blessings freely. Then, perhaps, why not the Elements? Why not Erif?

I am not a Fire, but I hold Erif is vast interest. If ever there was an Elemental who might favor the causes of destruction and change, it is that one. But who am I to know if the Elements even think?

Still. I feel there might be something to what Rajani wrote down, but I don't believe we'll much more accursed ground sprouting up without making it ourselves, and that comes at a great peril. The Forces might not be so inclined to assist one after being thoroughly harassed. But far across the land on the western coast there is a volcano... Perhaps if it were to be worked into the ritual, there is hope of success in duplicating, more successfully, the freedom of Evil. Or, perhaps, it'll merely call winged beasts up from the pits of hell again. Perhaps I should try it, just to bring up Rajani's shade and laugh in her face.

Ah well. Later. For now, I intend to sweep Nissar aside and begin work on bringing Morilanta to glory. We'll begin with quill and parchment for those can often do more than the threat of swords ever could.

Unlike Rajani, Bastion had no true final entry. He wrote of the battle that he began with Nissar, reveling in his imminent victory... And there it ended.

True to Bastion's word, however, the back of the book contained several rituals in intense detail.