Trace found himself just past the great doors of the sanctuary, talking into a small PDA as he sent a message to a friend of his about the situation at hand. He looked to the wristband on his arm and shuffled his shoulders under the weight of the fur trimmed greatcoat he was wearing. A rather fancy accessory considering the rest of his attire, which was more a less a step up from your average teenagers street clothes. He was far older than your average teen however, looking to be somewhere in his early thirties. He ran his hand across the bristly hairs on his chin with his free hand as he looked around the entrance hall.

He let his hands drop to his sides for a moment as he considered where he should take a look first. A gloved hand reached back and pulled the pamphlet from his outer coat pocket and just as he was about to look, his PDA beeped to symbolize he had gotten a return message. He held the PDA to his ear and listened, then chuckled as the message ended. He put the PDA away and looked back to the pamphlet.

Looks like someone made my decision for me.

He started to make his way towards the archives, seeing as it would most likely be the best place to do any sort of information gathering. He did his best to blend in with one of the small tour groups heading in that direction. He remained quiet and stayed as far in the back of the group as he could without sticking out.

He shighed, as hen entered the archives, the shorter man wondering how the hell they could work. With orders from the Trantor over command to gain information about all species, assuming project Extra-Over failed to work. The small being, in the standard body of a Haifa Trantor, the darker skinned peoples from the old homeworld, looked around, surprised at the nature of the data storage of the Arden. They were a hardy people, and an old ones at the look of it. Spies would be all over, but this event was the worst sort, for an investigator. It required hiding in plain sight, one could call it.

The information Trace seeks is quite easy to find, and is actually amongst the preset "suggestions" for people to search for. So, it wouldn't take Trace long to figure out that, biologically, the Ardren are essentially the same as humans albeit with a slightly modified brain structure that allows them a higher percentage of "Sensitives" compared to those of other human nations. Hence, as a species they can take as much cybernetic modification as they can manage. The Aiden however, are actually marked with a different designator. "Aetherially Enhanced", they are called, as the presence of Aether effortlessly being channeled and flowing through their bodies slowly modifies the flesh of their bodies. They become stronger, faster, more resilient, more efficient. In a similar manner their brains function at a faster rate, and their senses sharpening. The Aiden Knights themselves believe this is due to the Presence of God ironing out imperfections in those who have such a close relationship with Him, in the form of a Gift. Likewise, they take it as evidence of the existence of God in the form of the Aether. it is plain that the Aiden Knights themselves are some strange form of Monotheism, probably distantly related to the old Christian ideologies of Earth. However they do not carry lineage from the Evangelical, or Apocalyptic schools of Christian Theology. Both, the Aiden feel are travesties to the Truth of God.

At another part of the Archives, a lone Illuminator spots the Trantorian. Something is off about this one, the Knight notices. However he makes no real effort to quickly approach, slowly making his way over towards the dark skinned fellow. Once within ear shot, he clears his throat, bows his head for a moment and lifts his hands in a prayerful offering.


"May God bless you with his Grace, friend. Is there any aid which I can offer you today?"

General Dalran, of the Frostfire knights, stepped through the doors into the halls of the Aiden knight’s sanctuary. As he did so, the dusky cloak worn by all Xindhi shifted and folded back, revealing the onyx and crimson plate armor of the Frostfire knights, the long and ornate handles of his war swords glinted and gleamed in the light of the foyer.

Even as the tall Xindhi stepped past several people who wanted to see the glory and history of the Aiden Knights, they recoiled in horror at the skeletal figure that brazenly moved about them. The rumors seemed to be correct, a skeletal race of beings who were at the summit of empires, a race of beings who wore archaic armor and carried weapons of a time long past.

Turning slightly the general peered down at the hominid figures near him, the energies in his eyes flared and illuminated the area briefly, “Pardon me…if I block your view please alert me and I shall move to allow you a visual pathway.” His voice rasped as he lowered his head a mere fraction of an inch. Turning back he stared at the hallway before him, the archives of understanding were at the far end, if the datasheet offered outside were to be trusted.

With a series of quick, sure steps, the stride of a man used to command, General Dalran moved past the others who had been intrigued by the sanctuary. His mission was one of understanding, every step framed and recorded every nuance of the hall and the rooms along the way memorized and stored in the holon. General Dalran was nothing if not a believer in intelligence.

The sleeping queen and all the shadow council for that matter were impressed with the Aiden knights based on the memories of the Aeryn Jessi who had encountered them earlier at a tavern. The manipulation and control of the darshan these knights appeared to have sparked a curiosity among the Xindhi. Had they found another race who understood the resonance arts of darsan and prana? If so they would have to be wary for they could prove valuable allies or extremely potent enemies.

General Dalran entered the vast archives and framed the scene for the grand sleeper. Monitors and rows of vast, long book cases, filled with the knowledge of the Aiden knights, knowledge that the Xindhi would enjoy accessing and studying to further their understanding of the galaxy and the peoples in it.

There were others here, a man and a knight by the look and movements of him. General Dalran reached out with the darshan, thrumming a resonance with the man he assumed was an observer of this scared information, “Forgive the intrusion master knight, shall I return at another time to see the archive room?”

Even as he transmitted the message, General Dalran was curious as to the nature of the shorter man, he seemed to be dark-skinned than any others that the Xindhi had encountered, shorter in stature and even he seemed oddly out of place, as much as the Xindhi general was.

As the crowds stir uneasily around the skeletal Xindhi, they are quickly calmed and comforted by surrounding Aiden. Many have to be soothed by an caress of Aether, though most seem to have responded favorably to the images and descriptions the Aiden have provided of themselves. These tales of warrior-guardian peacekeepers seem to be enough to calm down the cast majority in and of themselves. This calming nature is something which the Aiden are known for, after all.

Simultaneously, a message is sent out throughout the Aiden present. A representative of the Xindhi have arrived, quite as expected. When the knights Surael Arcturus and Maximilian Hauteclere returned from the incident at the tavern, The presence of this one is then reported upon continuously, in an effort to get the designated Aiden to the appropriate location. The General of the Xindhi should have /some/ familiarity of the one who then approaches him from behind when he arrives in the Archives.

"Ah, no. We are open for anyone eager for knowledge. However..."

The Illuminator in the Archives responds quickly, before slowly lifting a hand and nodding towards another figure who had approached the Xindhi general from behind.

Bright eyes. Slender form. Ever present smile. Bright, lightly colored hair. There's no doubt about it. The one sent to greet the Xindhi representative is none other than Maximilian Hauteclere himself. Fresh from the previous incident, he still has that note of joyful serenity in his form despite what must have been a grueling 'debriefing'. Justiciars are very eager to get their information, after all.

"Ah, good evening, sir."

The Illuminator quickly chimes in, obviously an image of calm repose as always.

"We were expecting someone from the Xindhi would be arriving today to examine us, so we had a contingency in plan. There is a room in floor B4 that's prepared for this so we will not be disturbed. We have delegates from every Society ready to explain themselves, and ourselves, to you at your discretion."

The Illuminator states in his usual happy tone, already turning to turn his hand to the direction of a nearby lift to bring them down several floors.

The events of the training hall greet Trace long before he finds himself in the Hall itself. In particular, a series of loud shouts and grunts, alongside a cacophony of loud muffled impacts. The source of these actions become quite evident should he actually pass that door, which slides open upon detecting the being's presence. All across the expanse of this room, men wearing the traditional training outfits of the Aiden, little more than a sleeveless tunic and a pair of loose fitting trousers. The color black permeates the outfits of these men, who now spend their time granting introductory demonstrations of The Art. Many figures can be seen getting flipped, thrown, locked, and merely tossed with either grappling or firm strikes which do more to unbalance than damage. There is a special care being taken, apparently. No one will leave with more than a bruise or bump.

One figure in particular, a short haired man of medium build demonstrates a curious skill set. To eyes that know, this man could be confused as none other than Surael Arcturus.

"We use this style of Kampfringen to confront multiple opponents."

He states, as he nimbly rolls out of the way of one of the figures surrounding him and attempting to land dedicated strikes. It seems they've been working at this for a while to get them to that point. It doesn't take long before he pulls the man into an obvious headlock, and uses him as sort of a human shield before the other members of the group.

"It emphasizes evasive movements, agility, and a dedicated effort to gain control of the situation. For instance here, I've gained control of one of their comrades. They have to risk injury to their friend in order to get at me. Normally, the situation would end here, but that wouldn't be any fun now, would it?"

He states, quickly relinquishing his hold upon the man. It doesn't take long before they once again descend upon him, and he rolls, purposely buckles, and fluidly maneuvers his way through every directed strike or attack. Occasionally, he launches a counter attack which may cause one of his 'assailants' to stumble with a sore jaw, or tumble onto the ground with a simple take down.

"Notice...however, that we can... switch paces at a heart beat!"

He shouts, before abruptly lashing out with a strong kick that ends mere inches from the nearest man's face. Undoubtedly, if it had connected the man would be in a world of hurt.

General Dalran felt the presence behind him even before the man known as Maximilian Hauteclere presented himself. The energies in the eye sockets flared brightly as the Xindhi turned to face the man who was framed in the memories of the holon as one of the two knights met by the Aeryn Jessi.

The general bowed slightly with his right hand crossing his chest, the gauntleted fingers touching the breastplate briefly in a salute of honor, his voice rasped, “Ahh indeed it is an honor to meet you. I am General Dalran of the Frostfire Knights, envoy escort of Lady Drake.” Even as the Xindhi spoke, the moment was framed and locked in memory of the holon, information recorded and frozen for the great sleeper to mull over at her leisure.

“We are honored by your…what is the term? Mutual respect? Yes mutual respect we share.” General Dalran said as he stepped close to the Illuminator his voice low and gravelly, “I have been granted permission to deliver to your order knowledge that we have a city-ship coming. Our Magi and Druids are to be accessible to your order, and that the great dreamer wishes to exchange knowledge with this organization as it has peaked her interest.”

If General Dalran could have smiled he would have, however the grinning skeletal visage merely peered at the man before following the direction that had been indicated. With a brief pause at the lift, the General tapped the hilts of his war swords, and then swiftly drew the ceremonial dagger from the belt he wore. The dagger was encased in a fluid deep icy blue material that held intricately etched flames. The dagger itself was composed of crimson energies that seemed to crackle and flare along the entire fifteen inches of the blade. The handle composed of the same icy blue material as the sheath.

Facing the man again, General Dalran said, “I hand you this dagger as a symbol of peace. In effect I am handing over my arms to you Knight. While my war swords will not leave my side, this dagger symbolizes my weapons being handed to you; it represents a truce in which I shall not draw a weapon except to defend myself while in your presence.”

Handing the dagger, handle first to the man, so the blade was facing the Xindi, General Dalran allowed the energies in his eyes to coalesce to pinpoints of light, surrounded by the deeply shadowed eye sockets. General Dalran knew that few societies understood the symbolism of such an action, especially those of the mechanized order, yet he hoped the Aiden Knights would.

Even as this action was taking place, the thrum and resonance of the Xindhi riders flooded across the world, the hexad stones had been erected on a far mountain, the dream gate was ready. General Dalran stiffened a moment as the information flooded him, this would please the Lady Drake. There would be no doubt that the Aiden Knights would feel the thrum of energy, the signature thrum that all Xindhi used as communication.

Sabine watched from a dark corner. She watched curiously. She leaned on her sword. Yes she knew that sword were old and no use in some combat but she found a sword was a weapon that she was comfortable with.

Sabine's auburn hair was twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. She knew many people preferred seeing it down including her idiot mother. The mother who liked to fancy herself a matchmaker. She had left home at 17 because of her mother trying to make a match between her and some idiot in her home town. Yes her mother had made plenty of successful matches but in Sabine's mind marriage and love was just a more legal version of slavery.

Sabine stood still for a moment before walking into another room to watch Surael. She leaned against another corner. And watched with her green cat eyes. She put her sword back in its place on her belt and crossed her arms over her chest.

OOC: Sorry for the not that long post I have wonderful writersblock

It did not seem to take very long for the more colorful individuals to show up at this exhibition of Ardren, specifically the Aiden order, culture. The man in the coat and the short, dark-skinned one both would seem normal enough, if not for the experienced eyes of an agent. Argyros knew both of them had agendas, but he could not place what. He simply watched from the fringes of the crowd, shadowing them in a way most unobtrusive, under the guise of a terribly interested visitor to the compound taking in all of the splendor.

Argyros had seen it all before; being a member of Eudemonia's intelligence sequence, he had traveled to most regions of the Commonwealth for one reason or another. While initially, the wonder of Ardren architecture and art might have had profound effect on his sensibilities, it offered no rush of wonder to him now. The same went for the demonstrations of Aiden martial skill. The man, if one could call him such, did admire the way of the Aiden and their various arts, but it was nothing new to him. The expressions of amazement were feigned, convincingly, to maintain his ruse. His interests were on the more unusual visitors who were now taking part in the demonstrations. The Xindhi especially struck him, although he had gotten the reports collected from the first encounter with one of them the other day in the cantina incident that, strangely enough, involved the other operative he was ordered to keep tabs on. However, getting an intelligence report and actually seeing a wraith-like being up close were two very different things. It was quite an interesting opportunity, Argyros thought to himself.

Weapons were brought out for instructional purposes, but that omnipresent paranoia all Eudemonians seemed to share on the same level as their cybernetic augmentations started to build up in the watcher's psyche. If there were a window for things to go wrong, this would be it. However, he was unsure what capacity he would act in, if any at all, should something turn ugly. His orders were to observe, not to engage, but if one acted against any being of the Commonwealth, it was his duty as a representative of Eudemonia to aid other Selekusions. Definitely an odd situation to be in.

OOC: Just wanted to say, Driney, don't worry too much about your post length. It's the content, not the amount that matters, and your posts are fine. Don't try to push too hard to bump up the amount of words, just let it flow.

OOC: That's okay Driney, this isn't a competition after all. The post you just made was fine. No problems.


Maximilian simply smiles towards the revenant-like being standing before him. To this one, shape really means nothing. Appearances are, after all, an illusion which only serves to cloud the mind. That is part of the reason why the Aiden wear such austere uniforms, after all. More grandiose ones, telling of their grandeur and strength, would be an illusion to 'cloud the mind'. They are to inspire hope by their actions and what they represent, not based upon what they wear.

"We, the Aiden Knights, are delighted to receive you on this day. It is rare to find beings who so respect the Universe, and hence God, as you do. We also thank you for your information. Your people are welcome here at any time, and I'm sure we, The Illuminators, at least, would love to see how your society functions."

The young Aiden states with a bow from the waist. The level of sincerity in his voice is quite easy to detect, and even by more magical or aetherial means, he'd still be marked with that very same trait. It is not like him to lie in situations like these.

That look of simple serene amusement doesn't leave his face, not even when the more 'monstrous' being before him draws forth that dagger which he delicately grips and receives with a gracious nod.

"I accept this offering, and I will assure you we will do our best to make sure no harm comes to you within our walls."

After speaking, he turns and gestures towards the lift with a wide sleeved arm.

"After you, my friend."

He states in his nearly arial tone.

Across the Sanctuary at the Training Hall Surael also performs a similar movement. He, lifting his arm glistening in perspiration, however waves away the men he was just demonstrating techniques with. A few limp away, though the rest seem none the worse for wear aside from a bruise here and there. He was perhaps a little too rough with this group.

"Now, I've heard a few of you whispering about wanting to see a different sort of fechten alltogether. You seem most interested in the sword."

He muses aloud, already settling those hands upon his hips while he tosses a curious glance around the room. At once his eyes settle upon Sabine and Trace, who he appraises for a few moments. There is something unusual in the manner which they stand, and the way with which they move. More of a 'certainty' in their positions. He quickly makes a decision.

"You two!"

He calls while lifting a hand towards them.

"You both have the look of fighters, why don't you pick up a few of those steel blunts. Whatever you're most comfortable with."

He suggests, while walking over to the corner of his own mat, where he has a few belongings settled. From the mass of cloak and bottle, he pulls up a similar steel blunt of his own. This one is different however, in the fact that it is a direct copy of his actual Sword, which he shall not manifest for a practice spar. During his ascent back into a straightened position, he does pause for a moment when his eyes settle upon Agyros. There's something off about this figure, obviously Eudemonian. He can't place it, though he offers him a long, hard look before returning to the crowd at the mat. He seems mildly distressed.

Sabine followed the man's lead and and slipped her stilettos off. She stared for a moment before pick the sword that was closest to her sword, seeing as her sword was not at all dull. The sword she pick was light and a bit thinner then the others. She quietly slipped out of her belt that held her real sword and shoved it towards the wall where she could still keep an eyes on it. She preferred to fight unhindered by a sword that she couldn't use.

Sabine walked over to the man whom she was supposed to be fighting and the man who picked her. She ran her thin fingers over her hair to make sure every strand was in place before getting into ready stance. She stood still studying her opponent.

OOC: This will be my first role play post ever, so I hope it will be satisfactory. Please critize if you perfer; help is always appreciated. Though, I hope I am not intruding...

Kaspar Geist, amist all the confusion of the city streets and the like, was currently returning to the safehood of Geist Manor, carrying with him the grocery items he had been instructed to purchase at the marketplace by his masters. It was nothing more than a hand servant's duty, which he was reminded of by the robe of his profession he adorned at all hours, and thus the day had begun as it had always done so for the past two months of his employment. Yet, as he wandered through the streets, tightly clenching the paper bag of food items at his chest, Kaspar began to notice a small dissipation of the crowd than was uncommon of the busy area. And he continued ownard towards his destination, he abruptly stopped his pace entirely. Kaspar was alone. Not a soul was among his general area. But why? Such a highly populated location would surely have people upon its grounds at all hours of the day. Yet, at the moment, the streets were dead and almost reminicent of a ghost town. At this, Kaspar began to panic, searching to and fro for any sign of another life form with cautious eyes. Nothing.

However, the frantic fellow could faintly hear the sounds of conversing, which seemed to radiate from just around the corner. It was an odd occurrance indeed, of which had caused Kaspar Geist., hand servant of the Geist family, who ordinary would serve without hesitation and ought most loyalty, to grow curious. With a tempted mind, Kaspar creeped upon the corner to view the spectacle at hand, peeking out with a free eye from a wall. There they were; the great populus of Hub, crowding amongst each other to view the Exibition of the Aiden Sanctuary, an event that would spark a new interest in the mondane lives of the Hub's citizens, including Kaspar himself. With shy steps, he walked towards the crowd, hoping to view the sanctuary with his own eyes. However, as he grew closer towards the other citizens, they simply stared back with unpleasant eyes.

"What's a Whisper doing here?" Questioned a suddenly hostile male citizen. "Get your ass back to The Ghetto, mutt!"

"But..." Kaspar responded with a weak, nervous tone. "...you do not understand-"

"I don't understand? No, it is you who doesn't understand!"

The man, along with a couple of other rather large citizens, temporarily stopped gazing upon the Illuminator currently speaking, and turned their attention towards Kaspar. Meanwhile, several female individuals grew towards each other in fear, conversing with one another in a volume too soft for Kaspar to catch.

"I said, get back into The Ghetto, Whisper scum!"

"But... sir... I am an honorary citi-"

Before Kaspar could finish his sentence, he was jabbed in the stomach by one of the members of the hostile "welcome wagon." At which point, his frail body was quickly thrown towards the ground, and before Kaspar could blink he was surrounded by the troupe of hateful individuals. As one lifted him onto the ground, he was repeatedly beaten by another with whatever object could come into their hands, whilst the others simply laughed at the sight of it all. It was true, in fact, that Kaspar had not understand the situation, for he did not comprehend his proper place within this society. He was a Whisper, hated and abused because he was different, and thus was unable to mingle with true citizens. It was his destiny, of which he could not simply change to suit his liking. Thus, he took the punishment given to him without retaliation, just as what was expected of a Whisper. Kaspar was an honorary citizen of the Hub, nothing more.

Sabine heard the ruckess outside. She stared through a large door for a little while before dropping her dull sword. She grabbed her belt and slipped it back on. "I'll be right back for that fight." She added before walking very quickly outside. "Excuse me." She said to a few people who stared at her like she was crazy.

She got a firm grasp on her sword before speaking. "Excuse me, I am just wondering but... What exactly are you doing?" She waited for for an answer. When she her one of the men utter an answer, she laughed. Her laugh was horrible, it sounded wonderful when you just heard it but buried underneath was a large amount of sarcasm, and a hint of the thought that these people were such idiots.

"Let me get this straight. You're beating this one up because you find him different and because he is in a public place?" She asked sneering. "Wonderfully smart." She added sarcastically rolling her eyes. "I am pretty sure that you are all guests here so isn't it the Knight who get to choose who is welcome?" She asked them, her green eyes narrowing haughtily like a cat's.