OOC: Well, I felt I would introduce a concept that has been something of a tradition among the General Rpers on TLK and Sansai’s, among others. Back in the day, this place was called the Village, and later on the Village Planet, on this day I shall dub it The Hub. The basic concept in the past was that this is where most of the “action” takes place as far as storylines go, though it was certainly not limited exclusively to The Village Planet. For instance, back on Sansai’s (my personal favorite, aside from this forum, of course) many of the nation state Rpers would fight over complete ownership over the planet in order to gain a certain amount of prestige among other nations and the general RP population, though only partial ownership was typically achieved. However, much of the fighting among nations also occurred outside of the planet, as did a good deal of character-driven Rps and Rpers usually dealing with war-related scenarios, piracy, or treasure hunting. As multiverse-driven RP centered around a central “hub” has enriched my Rping experience in the past, I feel I should present this idea as my own humble contribution to the forum to enrich the entirety of the Multiverse Forum.

Ah yes, I’d also like to apologize for the rushed nature of this post, I’m a little overeager to start the thread and I’m very much rusty as far as character RP goes, so forgive me.


ic: With a soft click, the coverings of the window gave way to a picturesque cityscape, of which Tiresias had no small measure of disdain for. He quickly averted his eyes from the festering neon mess that was the The Hub’s largest commercial district, a sickening gallery of antiquated economic ideals wrapped up in wolf-in-sheep’s cloth pragmatism the so called civilized people of the planet call their independence. Not able to bear the sight of such a travesty of city design and architecture any longer, he turned his attention first to the passenger beside him, passed out, and then to the drink he had on hand; a tepid plum wine and spritzer he presumed was what passed for a decent drink on this sorry airline. He cursed this place and all its inhabitants as he nudged the drink away in a gesture of disgust; he cursed his obligations to stay here, and most of all he cursed those who had sent him here to begin with.

Acting, moving, doing, everything in auto-pilot as he went through the motions he had done so many dozens of times beforehand. The airport security that hardly did their job, the tired workers smiling away to show a good face for the starport and airline alike, the hundreds of people droning on, barely even connected with one another. The whole thing was like a glimpse into Terra’s dark past, a civilized man born from high ideals sent to the Neolithic period. Still, he had his own job to do, as much as he would love to dismiss it. Eudemonia was counting on intelligence of this area, however the higher purpose of such was lost on a man so very much wrapped up in his own existential crisis.

What did it all mean, anyway? His transfer to the intelligence services and cracking down on several cases of production fraud with a high degree of precision and efficaciousness should have led to a long and illustrious career within the Civil Protection Service. And yet, he was cast off the Eudemonian heartland into the mouth of darkness, a den of barbarous fantasies and desires to torment and tempt him, surrounded by people who wouldn’t even know who Vredfir the Trakion was, never mind his great contributions to intellectual thought. Dark, brooding thoughts of ideological desolation haunted him as he left the starport in search of his contact.
As he walked the streets, a certain melancholy tainted the skies above, hinting of a storm to come, though the masses below paid no heed to the warning and continued on their usual business, Tiresias making his way through the crowd and past the assortment of vendors, street dealers, and a multitude of various kinds of shops before arriving at his destination, or at least what the small piece of paper suggested was his destination.

Hm, the… cantina? What a bizarre name for a drinking establishment. I would hope my contact would have better taste.

Tiresias thought to himself as he carefully studied the exterior of the weathered building, taking a few careful steps closer to the building in order to peer into the interior, for fear of some sort of trap. After a minute or two of gathering whatever information he could from the building, Tiresias’ curiosity (or perhaps paranoia) was sated enough for him to finally push the heavy oak doors aside, his careful maneuvering to a table taken with enough cautiousness as to enable him to notice the worn engravings on many of the booths. Indeed, this place has seen better years. Eyeing the inhabitants of the bar, he edged himself into a seat somewhere in the far right corner, huddling into the corner of the woodwork and waiting for some clue as to who the contact may be.

There could not be a more different person to Tiresias than this one. Where as Tiresias views 'lesser' peoples with disdain, this one has more of a child-like curiousity and, at times, almost admiration for those who do not have the necessary education to harness their own potential for Virtue. Maximilian Hauteclere, an Illuminator of the Order of the Aiden Knights, is typical in this regard. "Be like children" has always been the mentality the Illuminators have had. Humble, and with a thirst for knowledge.

To a degree, he exemplifies that virtue of the Illuminators, in love for Knowledge and sources of Knowledge. So much so, that when he was ordered to serve as a local operative of the Aiden Order in this region, he leapt to the opportunity for more knowledge of what he considers a more primitive culture.

It is with this mindset that he opened his eyes, awakening from a short meditation as he sensed his arrival at the target destination. Bright eyes then turn to the driver of his "Taxi", who of course requested his dues. The transaction was brief, and with something of a large tip for the man. This is again typical of the Aiden, who eschew material possessions as distractions.

"Good day to you, sir, and may your tomorrows bring you many opportunities to hone your Virtue."

Maximilian offered to the man, a bright smile upon his youthful face.

"Yea, whatever you fruitcake."

Was the immediate response, to which the Aiden merely smiled even more towards before standing up out of the brightly colored car which had brought him here. The driver didn't even bother to wait for him to take a step away before peeling away with enough speed to leave two distinct tire marks upon the street before him. Surprisingly, he doesn't even seem to mind this, not even the small amount of mud which splatters upon his plain white robe, an obvious mark of the Sages of the Illuminators. It's apparent he wants to reinforce the notion of what he is to whoever he's meeting, or perhaps to those around the one who he's meeting.

At once though, his eyes get somewhat more serious as he observes the building. He is, after all, here on business. So a discerning look is cast, as well as a certain inner 'focus' to detect any obvious threats that may show through the Aether. Nothing directly, but he's still on guard, despite that usual half-smile that keeps itself upon his pale features. He spends a short time, then, preparing himself for his meeting, getting black hair into place, and the folds of his robe fully straightened.

After he's sure of his appearance, the Illuminator then carries himself into the Cantina with a signature graceful, purposeful stride. Not many here would know who he is, but the message is clear from the confident way he holds himself. He is not one to mess with casually. This, more than anything else is what he tries to aim for, even as he turns his gaze from one dull, empty face to another. This is not the sort of place he'd usually frequent, that much is certain. It is quite easy to spot the lone figure who does not seem so... simple. It is to him then, to Tiresias, that he brings himself slowly, boots sounding firm impacts upon that sticky, tiled floor. Once within close ear shot he offers with a practiced elocution,

"The Corporate Progression Act of 2182 was a farce."

Tiresias gave a suspicious look towards the rather conspicuous figure that entered the room, more or less instantly pinning him as hailing from more civilized lands, most likely a historic Selekusion vassal state. His demeanor, obviously of a quixotic nature was further worsened by the foolish grin on his face, Tiresias gave a narrow-eyed stare at the man and quietly pondered the wisdom in sending wide-eyed optimists as agents of the Ardren Empire. Surely this had to be a trick, or the Ardrens thought the Eudemonians a fool and sent some poor soul to thoroughly patronize them. He thought too of the alternative, that the Ardren sent a fool as a show of good will, though the solidified state of Eudemonian-Ardren relations would render nonsensical such silly provisions on the part of the Ardren. Worse thoughts came, however... perhaps this man is an impostor of an Ardren, or the man is far more dangerous than what one might surmise out of external appearances alone, though the reasons for such a deception would be as equally preposterous as sending a fool for an agent.

Then, his train of thought was derailed by the man's question, a piece of trivia regarding the pre-modern period of Terra and her colonies, and an obscure one at that. He thought for a moment, recalling the survey course in Terran history he took back in college, then prepared himself to respond to the call, his demeanor changing from something severe to a more matter-of-fact tone.

Well, the Corporate Progression Act was seen something as a savior to the Terrans of the period, fully believing that the amalgamated corporate states, both domestic and foreign, would help relieve the faltering economy and military structure by taking the brunt of the cost of maintaining such, supposedly saving the government untold fortunes and showing the free world that corporations can safeguard democracy just as much as traditional federal republics. This, of course, was a lie and the act itself was really the corporations utilizing the already disproportionate amount of power they wielded among a good deal of the Terran states in order to provide some legitimacy for their own brand of corporate feudalism. Far from saving the "free world" and acting as the guardians of democracy, within a decade of the act there were only a handful of true federal republics left amongst the once free state of Terra, an oppressive form of corporate feudalism taking its place, the tyranny of which was only relieved by several colonies of the Terran states, with many of the rest of Terra still living under that particularly vile form of slavery.

Tiresias stated, with some sense of authority on the subject. With little more than a pause to compose himself momentarily he continued on

But that's not the code word, at least not from my reports. Did you lose it somewhere? Judging from that stupid smile on your face and that ridiculous garb you must be from Ardren, or more specifically the theocrats that roost within Ardren. Regardless, have a seat and tell me why Ardren sends fresh-faced kids into places like this, I've been dying to figure it out since you walked in here.

A series of small jingling bells, trinkets and the occasional click-clack of two hard, non-metallic surfaces heralded the approach approach of a simply dressed woman of fairly small stature with long auburn hair except for two thick sections of bright green which framed her face, but a sturdy build long before she reached the doors of the cantina as she meandered down the street in no particular hurry. She wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea of playing ambassador for a very loose-knit group of junkers who would more than likely end up doing their own thing regardless of whatever agreements were met during this meeting and she made no effort to hide this slight bitterness as she entered the building.

She scanned the room, finally settling on a rather angry looking man with glasses at a table and another standing somewhat inside the entrance with an idiot's grin on his face. She'd take a shot in the dark and assume the two oddest looking people in the place were the supposedly dignified fellows she was supposed to meet with, as everyone else present seemed to be the usual staple of disheartened working stiffs seeking a release from the droning monotony of their lives, and the barflies trying to pickle their insides as much as possible before liver failure gave them their last call. She jammed her hands into the deep pockets of her trousers and asked:

Either of you two high-class gentlemen know anything about some kind of diplomatic meeting supposed to be taking place in this hole?

Her gaze shifted between both of them as she awaited an answer of any sort, the almost wooden-sounding clicking of the terribly unusual segmented tendrils that trailed down from the base of her skull to her ankles, ending in vicious looking circi picking up in tempo as soon as she finished her question.

The Illuminator looks sincerely impressed by the Eudemonian's knowledge of Terran history. That's something of an obscure topic, and that's a pretty detailed knowledge of such a thing that's nearly ancient history. So, he claps his hands with a dull thud, the sound muffled by a pair of gloves. He then keeps that half-smile up, not even flinching when he's insulted by Tiresias.

"Ah, that is quite a detailed knowledge. However, it isn't the code word. Though, I don't think I'll be needing one at this stage. You're obviously Eudemonian, and I was told my contact would also be quite perceptive, albeit with a near total lack of courtesie. It sort of helps that your Aether signature matches up with the one I was told to look for."

He states with a wink, before lowering himself down into the seat next to Tiresias, just as he was offered. The Illuminator slowly turns towards him, and then lifts a hand, one finger outstretched to allow him to gesture slightly while he then speaks.

"Well as for your curiousity, you of all people should know that appearances alone often tell you very little about someone. Sight by itself can be very deceptive. Now, I think we have an addition to our little troupe."

He explains in an increasingly typical tone which, indisputably, rings of education while at the same time directing his gaze towards the approaching female. Seconds before she was in earshot, he'd caught a note of curiousity among the minds around him which was somewhat different from the others. "Are these they the ones I'm looking for?" as opposed to "Who is that guy?". Markedly different, to one in tune with the Aether.

"Well, I'd assume this is something like a diplomatic meeting."

He then responds, quietly enough to not be heard beyond the two other sets of ears he intends to inform.

Tiresias crossed his arms over his chest in a disapproving posture, failing to see the point in asking what was, in retrospect, a rather trivial question to begin with

Right, you're like some kind of old-fashioned Trakion witch, you know that? Anyway, we're all here now, so we might as well conduct whatever business our respective organizations sent us for, correct?

He then unfolded his arms to produce two PDA-like devices from his pocket, sliding them across the table to the two agents before him in a inconspicuous manner. Inside the devices would be data regarding what Eudemonia had to offer each respective party, as well as an encrypted file to be transferred to each agent's employer in order to finalize the deal and make it official. With a casual gesture towards the woman he offered his belated salutations

Ah yes, this would be it. I presume you are the representative from the Junker's Guild? That device before you should have some of the particulars regarding my employer's offer, and should be utilized as reference if you so desire...

He continued on, casually waving over the waitress to order a round of brown ale, almost in midsentence before he began to speak of the particulars of this meeting

Well, I suppose we should get down to business, yes? My employer seeks to first and foremost come to a non-aggression pact with both the Ardren and the Junker's Guild, both of which I understand have no small interest in this planet, and from what I understand our employers would like to seek as much cooperative aid in the refocusing of power in this region as possible. Furthermore, I was also sent here to negotiate terms for the Junker Guild's non-involvement with Eudemonian shipwrecks as well as a handsome fee supplied to all Junkers who happen to "retrieve" enemy ships in the event of hostilities with foreign states. The Junker's Guild will, of course, be fairly compensated for their future inability to harvest Eudemonian ships through a monthly payment equal to an amount that has yet to be determined, though a table of offers contained in the device before you may be helpful. Furthermore, we wish to enact similar treaties with Ardren, though we wish to provide a mutual maritime safety pact in which both of our represented nations would be obligated to aid the other in the event of emergency both inside and outside of Hub space...

A stranger sat upon the cemented ground of the sidewalk, adjacent to the Cantina. Smoking a cigarette, which seemed to bare the brand of Espik, the strange individual seemed to have been dropped her from another world. His face looked Terran, a rather unextravagently clothed one at that. His orange tinted goggles ran around his dark eyes and along his shorten brunette hair, while his apparel seemed to be suggesting that his mindset had believed that the city hailed from the winter side, despite the bright sun peeking up from the buildings. Yet there was something significant about him other than his universal normalcy and a face of empty expression. His mere presence seemed to wilt the flowers around him, appealing to the fact that he looked like Death.

As the out of place man noticed stranger and stranger people entering the Cantina, he nodded in agreement. He looked at a few scraps of parchment wielded at hand; the three seemed to match the descriptions of those he was watching for within the most specific detail. As the final member of the trifecta entered the building, the man's lanky body hopped to it's feet with unseen energy. Cigarette clenched gingerly between his lips, He stalked up to the entrance, pressing his weight against the thick wooden doors. His feet seemed unadjusted to gravity, shaking from to and fro every so often. He turned around in a swift maneuver of his legs, of which nearly caused him to trip over his feet, and unveiled the doors.

The bizarre man quickly ventured into the establishment with a soundless swagger, silently stepping onto the earth through the building until he reached a bar stool not far from the table of what appeared to be two diplomats and a woman who stood off from their direction. As he placed his hands onto the counter, the bar tender accompanied his arms with a menu of their alcoholic beverages.

"You don't seem around here, stranger. You might need that."

Grabbing the menu in an awkward fashion, the stranger placed it in front of his face, using it partly as a method of disguise and simply to have something to do for the time being. As he poured through the Arial font, a line appeared on his forehead as he grew frusterated in his attempt to understand the strange symbols. As he turned the menu this way and that, his irritation became more and more apparent. Finally, as he turned the paper upside down, his eyes flashed in triumph.

"Plum wine?"

The bartender, a tad at odds with the unusual vistor of town, directed a glass of cheap, plum wine in the man's hands.

"Alright there, kid. Here you go."

OOC: The forum kinda stopped working last night, so my post is slightly delayed.

IC:
A wry smile crossed Skogul's face in response to Tiresias' snarky comment to the foppish man, causing a momentary flash of pearly, slightly elongated cuspid teeth as she closed the distance between herself and the table in the corner, taking a seat across from both men. This was going to be an interesting meeting, she could tell that much already. Slouching quite a bit in her chair, she afforded herself one more inspection of the establishment, taking silent notice another displaced man who'd recently entered and adopted a spot at the bar a distance from their table.

As Tiresias handed out the devices, she turned her attention back to him, picking the one offered to her up and lazily pecking through the information it contained as he spoke his business. It was a fair arrangement, but knowing those like her, Eudemonia might want to sweeten the deal just a little, if they wanted the level of cooperation they were looking for. Suddenly, her attention would snap back up to him in full, her vivid green eyes intensely boring a hole in him; her face now very much uncharacteristically grave.

Salvagers.

She corrected him sternly, nearly interrupting him just as he trailed off. She knew the basic nature of her trade was to repurpose scrap and abandoned equipment and material, but she did not appreciate anyone referring to the job she and those who shared it with her as merely collecting trash and refuse that was of no practical use. They were not garbage haulers and she would not let such a mistake slip by.

Gaze still fixed on the man before her, she settled back into her nonchalant demeanor a bit, setting the device down again on the table before her as she spoke.

Anyhow, I may be the... representative of the guild, but it's barely what you would consider such. We're a very loosely-knit group and most of our members are that in name alone. We come and go as we please and do as we please, in general. I can run this by the leaders of the guild, but there is no guarantee my brethren will abide by this or any other agreement made. A number of our members are known to work outside the boundries of the law, and there's not a lot the guild can or will readily do to stop that if the, eh... resources... salvaged from your country's wreckage is worth more than what your government is willing to pay them.

Uh, yes, excuse my casual use of regional terminology, I meant to say the Salvagers...

He quickly corrected himself upon realizing his mistake, the sign of which was no more obvious than the woman's soured tone. He had offended her inadvertently, most likely owing to the fact was was of Thebvae blood, a people known for their casual speech and near total lack of respect for social niceties. This, of course, was further compounded by his Selekusion, and specifically Eudemonian birth, granting him a certain dismissive attitude towards foreign culture, sometimes bordering on outright disrespect for foreign cultural norms intentionally, or in this case, unintentionally. Thankfully, he had the foresight to order the drinks before his faux pas regarding the preferred terminology of the junkers

Ah, look. Our drinks have come. Take a moment and enjoy, it's a type of brown ale produced by a brewery in Ardren, which I must confess I have a certain affinity for this particular ale, characteristic of the "autumn" season of their birthplace. While we have been deprived of the artwork on the original bottles, it is in of itself something to behold.

Taking a sip of the frothy brew, he savored the sweet-roasted maltiness of the brew, without a hint of hops to be found. Swishing the drink around in a rather obvious way, he further detected a strong note of honey and further fruitiness to balance the roasted characteristics of the brew

Yes, yes... very nice. Anyway, the artwork has a group of well-fed women adorned with various kinds of fruits and foods of the harvest collecting the bounty of the land, if I recall correctly. Perhaps a little provincial in theme, but the artwork itself is very telling on its own and represents much for the Ardren people, I'm sure, given their stubborn insistence of local custom. But I digress...

After peering through the glass, largely to admire how the light hit the brew before him, he set the glass now and addressed the woman with renewed serious, now that he felt he has dissolved the tension through the innocuous little tangent on the nature of Ardren beverages.

Well, I'm sure my employer will increase the monetary compensation to whatever you feel with best serve your collective interests, within reason of course. I'm sure other things may be arranged, as well, such as amnesty in Eudemonian space, perhaps? After the recent successes in claiming many former Selekusion territories, we have demonstrated some amount of martial prowess as well as the will and ability to export our way of life to those so badly deprived of such. Given these self-evident truths, universal amnesty among all members of the guild, provided no prior transgressions on the individual's part, may prove to be a safety net the Salvager's Guild would be more enthusiastic about acquiring? I...

His voice trailed off, his angular dark brown eyebrows furrowing and eyes focusing on nothing in particular, something was off, though he wasn't quite sure what. Imperceptibly, he shifted in his seat, resting his right hand somewhere over the lower part of his torso as a sense of paranoia started to grip him

Maximilian quickly lifts a hand to seize one of those devices when it's offered to him, and, for once, he adopts something of a wholely serious expression. If knowledge is vital, this knowledge is something worth pouring over. Even as he reads it he allows his heightened mental faculties to go into work, studiously 'imprinting' everything he reads into his mind for later reference. His focus is such that he almost misses the entire exchange between the junker and the Eudemonian. To this, his eyes narrow somewhat in interest, brown eyes twinkling in amusement. It's a mere moment though before he adopts that signature smile once again. He offers them both proper time to get their words in before he lifts a hand up, once more to help him gesture while speaking.

"Well, if I may interject for but a moment. I know you two still haven't handled your own business, but my own will take just a moment. I see no reason that this proposal would be a problem. The Aiden Knights at least will be pleased with this, and I do not think the bureaucracy in place will reject this through the proper channels."

He offers, right when Tiresias stops speaking. He of course does notice a strange tenseness about the Eudemonian, which sparks a curiousity of his own. He has not yet sensed any danger, but that does not necessarily mean there is none.

"Excuse me."

Maximilian offers, before turning in his seat and hoisting himself up onto his booted feet. With his eyes free to examine the room, he is that much more able to focus his Sense upon the other beings in the tavern. Naturally, the one drinking plum wine comes to his attention the most. There is something odd he notices there, not just in his body language, the way he sits, speaks, and stands, but also in the way the Aether flows about him. A certain displacement in the man's demeanor. For one reason or another, he doesn't seem to 'belong' here. There is a chance he is here for a reason, perhaps not even one he realizes.

So, without much other consideration he tucks his hands into the opposite arm's sleeve, and makes his casual way over towards the fourth figure of interest in that tavern, never making any sudden motions. When he's within earshot, he offers a smile and a few congenial words of greeting.

"Good afternoon, good sir. I noticed you sitting here, and then I also noticed that you have a sort of curious air about you, so I felt compelled to extend a greeting to you."

The stranger, just as he was going to offer a comment about the plum wine, began to percept the words flowing from Maximilian's tongue. He was certain without a shadow of a doubt that it was the Aiden who spoke to him; the flowering language with a touch of unnatural happiness injected within the words was too obvious not to catch. Instantanously, The man leaped out of his chair, instinctively returning his body into a bizarre fighting stance through muscle memory. His style resembled something of a viper, both of the stranger's hands at chin level and positioned with limp palms facing the earth. His left hand, indicated to be his dominant, was placed further out than the other, yet both had a vicious show of battle experience easy to pick up even by a novice of martial arts.

"Got him," The stranger said in a monotonous voice.

Within a matter of moments, his stance had changed entirely. His feet joined together like the rooted truck of a tree, his hands outstretched to the sides in familiarity of branches. The man's arms began to curl up and close into together, fist colliding with fits in a swift manuever. As his fists converted to open palms, an oddness filled the room, the very elements that built the walls seeming to take a new perspective. The room was suddenly infused of a univeral concussion of mystery; the out of placed individual, along with the Aiden, appeared to have vanished from the earth they had stood upon mere seconds ago!

However, in Maximillian's view as well as the stranger's, the room was still with them, simply... different. the air had grown a blue iridescents, as curious and almost beautiful hues of azure flooded the room like water. They were alone in this world; the seats vacant of life as if they had entered a ghost town. The odd man, having diverted into a casual position with his body, grew closer and closer to the Aiden, until they were face to face.

"I thought it would take much longer to draw your interest; I am thankful I was wrong. I apologize for intruding on your little gathering, but I've got a few things to discuss with you about... in private."

His words were casual, without the extensive vocabulary as the Aiden himself might have been accustomed to. Yet, he did not seem to be uneducated, had obviously had a purpose with Maximillian, of which consisted of threatening his life as well. Having kidnapped a representative could easily be regarded as a death wish, though "kidnapping" may not be the right word for his endeavor. They were both within the same room and yet not at the same room; a new room, within the space of the old.

Whorls of dreams and fragments of realities echoed through the gloomed halls of the great castle. Slowly the thrum of curiosity reverberated through out Emain Scathach, the sleeping queen felt a new ripple in the holons. Slowly the eternal dreamer turned her attention on a place where of recent, her Aeryn and Cughtagh have travelled to gather experiences for the sleeper to ponder upon.

The shadowed halls shifted slightly as the resonance of curiosity one again stirred the eternal dreaming queen to waken one of her explorers. Slowly raising the call the resounding ripple of energy washed through out the castle, touching every shadow filled hallway, and caressing the shrouded sleepers in their basalt resting places.

Eerily the Aeryn rose from her slumber, the amber energies flared and incandesced in the eye sockets, the grinning skeletal being sat up, a gauntleted hand rested on the edge of the basalt sarcophagus, the thrum of resonance echoed and rumbled through the great dark dream filled halls, standing slowly Jessi the Aeryn stretched, the popping of the frayed ligaments and tendons carried forth as the Xindhi explorer eased out and on to the floor. Slowly the shadows surrounded her, as one shimmering film of dream substance disappeared and another emerged to replace it, one of a city.

The miasma of amber energy that streamed from the eye sockets peered at the images, a city, a world, a new experience for the eternal sleepers to embrace. Slowly Jessi reached into the sarcophagus and grabbed the two swords that always accompanied her, Doom Bringer and World Slayer. Like all Xindhi explorers the names of the swords held significance to the wielder, these were aptly named and cherished by Jessi.

With a slight rasp of metal on leather the swords and their sheaths fell into the frogs that would hold them securely on the wide leather belt, with a nod towards the arch that led to the vast central chambers that held the queen, Jessi murmured, “I shall ride forth and observe this holon, whatever secrets may lay with in I shall study, note and understand.” With a slight bow of her head, Jessi spun and marched along the resonating path that snaked towards the great gateways of slumber, every step echoed through the vast and silent halls.

Ahead the great horned guardian, ever watchful, opened the massive gates, as he did so the myriad of holons, the multitudes of existence streamed past, their future, past and present all as shimmering dream substances to be entered and explored. With a deft touch of the translucent amulet that hung around her neck, the Aeryn summoned her destrier from the dream memories of the great Scathach. Slowly the clop of shod hooves upon flagstones carried from the deep gloom. Suddenly a flare of amber energies pierced the shadows, a great skeletal horse, the hooves shrouded in amber flames, the great eye sockets illuminating the area with the amber energies that flowed and coursed through its body.

Mounting the great beast, Jessi nudged it into the swirling holons of existence, as she did so she reached out with the resonance of darshan and prana to locate the thrumming of the experience the great queen sought to understand. Feeling the echo of the holon called the Hub, slowly the Aeryn began her journey.

As the flame shrouded hooves cleaved through the holons, passing through the dreaming state as a shadow, a nightmare, a disturbing presence to the holon, recorded in the memory as a flittering shade. Every holon, be it science or metaphysical, advanced or primitive, sacred or profane, all recorded the eternal watcher as she rode through. Only those who still believed, still remembered the legends of the hoary past of the Xindhi, would feel the passage as a subtle breeze along the strands of their holons memory.

As she approached the vast city-planet, she eased up the long-legged gallop of the destrier, as the shimmer mirror of a dream flashed before her; Jessi the Aeryn felt the thrum of the resonance of this holon reverberate through her. In an instant the skeletal horse and rider were on an asphalt covered ally way between monolithic structures. Sliding off the mount, Jessi tapped the amulet and the dream substance that comprised her horse swirled and drifted off as if a wind were carrying it away.

Resonating the darshan, Jessi the Aeryn allowed the memory of this existence to swirl around her, encompassing her, flooding her with as much as she could glean of this holon. Slowly the amber energies flashed and incandesced, creating an amber colored glow that seemed to light up the gloom of the ally way. With a pause Jessi the Aeryn reached out and touched the building before her, it was place the sleeping queen had seen. Lifting her mask to cover the skeletal remains of her face, and flipping the hood of her cloak up and over her head, Jessi began bending the light around her so that she would appear as naught more than a shadow to those who were unable to perceive such beings.

Quick, sure strides, the Xindhi known as Jessi the Aeryn moved towards the door, and with a deft touch she opened the portal and slipped in, to those unable to see pierce the veil of illusion, they would assume the door had been blown open by the wind. Stepping to her right she allowed the shadows to swirl and surround her. Not many holons of existence remembered the Xindhi, most dismissed them as nothing more than a story to scare children, if they remembered them at all. Silently the watcher moved about the outer edges of the room, seeking those who would radiate the energies she sought, the purpose of her waking from her slumber.

The Illuminator's eyes widen, more of out amusement than shock or surprise as he finds himself suddenly confronted with a man who, despite his previously laidback composure, now confronts him as an antagonist. The Aiden however doesn't respond with much more than that smile and a nod of acknowledgment. In fact, he offers to the evident fighter a statement of praise.

"My! What a grand fighting stance, though isn't it a bit weak on the mittel and unter wards?"

And that is probably the last thing Tiresias and Skogul hear or see of the Aiden before the man before him changes positions, and he and the stranger suddenly vanish from sight.

"What a magnificent trick! Why, you'll have to show me that again, some time."

Maximilian then offers, amidst a short fit of laughter and joyful hand clapping when he sees himself suddenly transported from one room to another in less than a breath's time. What a grand feat! He then spends some time admiring the surroundings, which are quite unlike anything he's seen before. This is interesting indeed.

"Well, if we have private issues to discuss, I believe we must be introduced. I am Maximilian Hauteclere, Illuminator of the Aiden Knights. Who might you be?"

The Aiden offers, while optimistically lifting a hand up for the stranger to grasp.


Back in the Tavern, there is more action than the startled people around Skogul and Tiresias. In particular, a single figure who breaks from the rest of the crowd who while casting off a dust-cloak, offers a swift cut, from the floor up to the air with what appears to be a long, two handed Longsword in his hand. Unfortunately, he is but a heart beat's span too late as by the time the blade touches the stranger with malice, he has vanished from the room leaving little but the air for him to cut. The man, who with some frustration finds his attempt to strike down the stranger thwarted, stands upright, and turns to the others. He then speaks in a much firmer tone than that of anything Maximilian spoke.

"I am going to assume that the two of you had nothing to do with this. This could only be done by powerful Aether manipulation or some sort of analog."

He directs towards the junker and the Eudemonian while the blade in his hand literally deconstructs, melting back into little more than a hilt which he hooks onto the belt around his black cassock. This one, is evidently an Aiden Sentinel, a much different animal than the Illuminators.

"

Tiresias stood up as the two were about to exchange blows, brow furrowed and mouth pursed in some kind of angry looking face akin to a living kabuki mask. These Ardren certainly have a certain bravado of them, even the wimps, as the dandy-turned-warrior had demonstrated. Tiresias though, barely even a second into the impending fight, had enough; he certainly wasn't going to make some duel of the machismos a monkey of this meeting. In a brief moment he produced a gun from his waist, probably a rail pistol of Eudemonian construction, and leveled it towards the interloper.

Listen you, this is absolutely absurd, why don't you ju-

His words were then interrupted by the simultaneous happenings of the two disappearing, and then ANOTHER Ardren brute swinging his freudian imagery about the room. His gun lowered slowly as the man's blade retracted, left with a certain sense of disbelief and frustration. Surely this couldn't be happening.

He gave a quick look towards the woman, barely giving off the message that desperation had set on through his barely affected facial expressions. This, indeed, was bad for all parties due to the barely legal nature of the meeting, particularly with the junkers. Furthermore, if the Ardren was indeed kidnapped, it would prove to be a severe blow to Ardren-Eudemonian relations and most likely push Tiresias' already fragile career over the edge.

I'll be honest with you... I'm at a complete loss.

Jessi paused as the holon memory shifted a moment. Something had occurred, some event that clearly elicited a response from a darkly clothed individual, who seemed to have addressed the two seated at the table. The swirling energies in her eye sockets narrowed to points of light, slowly reaching out with the resonate darshan, Jessi the Aeryn began the process of understanding, seeking to capture from the recorded memories of the surrounding area the event that had occurred.

It seemed there had been two others, slowly their energies were dissipating, vanishing, something was amiss, something out of the ordinary had occurred. Turning her attention towards the seated, Jessi watched their actions and reactions to the events that had occurred. Clearly there was more here, undercurrents of some greater event, and tendrils of power surrounded certain people, certain entities drawn forth from their homes to this tavern. Weapons had been drawn, confusion, what ever had occurred had taken them by surprise as well.

Sliding further to her right, Jessi paused near some dart players, her presence slightly perturbed them but they continued on their game, one with the subtle aid of darshan scored a bulls-eye. Jessi allowed the energies to flare and expand and for a moment the bent light waves shimmered allowing those who were looking in her direction to glimpse her then coalesced again as the flight refracted around the Xindhi.

Jessi expanded the resonate thrum of darshan and allowed it to flow and surround her, touching every object in the room, as the energies swirled and caressed everything, the watcher began to understand more of the existence she was in, slowly the resonance began to reveal the nature of the world she currently resided. Indeed the great sleeping queen was correct; this holon would grant new and varied experiences.

"Tell me everything you know."

The Sentinel questions, before immediately set about examining the area which his Brother in Arms had just occupied. What he wouldn't do for a single Justiciar to be around to help him investigate. But, there is no sense worrying about what cannot be, so he simply lowers himself down onto one knee, an action which leaves its opposite solely visible through the shroud of his cassock. At the same time, he lowers a hand down to touch the ground where his comrade once stood, and he focuses himself. The echo of the Illuminator's Aether Signature still remains, though it seems much weaker than it should be. Likewise, it seems to abruptly end.

"This makes no sense. There should be some sort of trail, even if he were transported via portal or teleportation. There should be something."

The Sentinel offers, with some frustration. There must be something of an internal discipline at work, despite that amount of emotion showing. After a short while though, he's torn from his focus when he notices something on the side. There is another strong emanation of the Aether. Another being who is more than a simple Sensitive.

"Never mind."

He then speaks, mere seconds afterwards. It is at this point that he stands once again, and turns around, while scanning the room.

"Junker. Eudemonian. There's another Adept in here. I'm going to approach her. See if you two can block the door."

The words seem to come right into their minds like a stray thought, but far stronger and more demanding of attention. The look he gives the two of them clearly shows that he is the "author", so to speak. No more than a second later, he turns and casually approaches Jessi, who he detected through her own examination of the world using more than the Common Senses. At the same time, he makes a good show of having his hand stay far away from the Blade at his hip.

As soon as Maximillian had promptly dismissed himself from their meeting, Skogul was put on-edge. She didn't even have to turn to watch him approach the stranger at the bar to know there would probably be a confrontation between the two, and her hunch was only supported as the Eudemonian then stood, pulling a previously concealed firearm from its hiding place and pointing it toward the bar and it was then that she began to rise as well, turning toward the bar, those strange, segmented tendrils no longer hanging idly behind her, the circi at their termini held slightly agape and at the ready should they be needed if hostilities traveled back to the corner of the bar.

However, she, like Tiresias, the newly arrived Aiden with the fancy blades and all other patrons of the cantina who were still able to notice anything going on around them, she was taken aback as both the bubbly illuminator and the rail-thin, be-goggled stranger vanished into thin air. She blinked a few times, just to make sure there was no optical illusion playing on her senses. Satisfied, she began to scan the immediate vicinity of the bar itself for any sign of either man, but came up dry except for the man brandishing the swords and a woman who seemed almost as displaced as the recently-absent man with the goggles wandering through the room.

Skogul turned back to Tiresias for a moment to gauge his reaction to this unexpected and truly anomalous turn of events, then back to the other Aiden, relaxing only slightly as she let out a pent up breath. Here, she'd hoped this little rendezvous would go off without any sort of physical confrontation or bizarre abductions. So much for that.

Not much to say, really. The dude that your buddy went to go confront came in just after us and as soon as we'd really started talking, the Aiden went over, looked like they were gonna start some fisticuffs, and they both vanished like they never existed in the first place. Your guess is as good as mine as to how they did it or where to, sir.

Now she watched the other Ardren inspect the scene, touching things, looking vexed and generally milling over what had happened and exactly how with nothing really helping him figure it out. Once she catches him looking for the strange female who'd entered almost at the same time as the disappearing trick, Skogul turns in that direction as well. Her expression sours once again as she hears the other, less flowery man address her incorrectly as a junker.

Salvager.

She corrected again, noting that it was a small relief that this new guy was more to-the-point and didn't have the sickeningly optimistic attitude his comrade did. She made her way to the door casually, so as not to raise the suspicions of the "adept", as the Ardren put it. She wasn't much interested in being whisked off to some unknown magical closet, and being by the door would come in handy should discretion need to become the better part of valor.

Seeing the black clad individual, a male, approach her, Jessi drew from her memory a vibratory echo of a long lost voice and tethered it to the withered and long unused vocal cords. Pausing a moment before she spoke, Jessi opened long unused jaws and croaked loudly, the sound seemingly emerging from the deeps of space, causing the dart players to freeze as they turned to see where the ghastly sound came from.

Raising a gauntlet covered had, the movement splaying the cloak open reveling the dusky chain armor all Xindhi wore, the wide black leather belt holding the two swords, one on either hip, hanging from the leather frogs designed to hold them. Speaking slowly so the words formed clearly from under the thick cloth mask that wrapped around her face, only the miasma of energies where the eyes should be flared as the figure came closer.

“You can reckon my form? I am surprised.” The voice strained and echoed from a life long past, a life of flesh and blood. Bowing slightly as a sign of respect Jessi drew the information from the memory of how greetings in this existence should occur, “I am Jessi the Aeryn, scout-explorer of the Xindhi.”

Flaring the light away from her, Jessi allowed only those directly before her to see her, the flow of light and energy would only cause those who glimpsed her to do a double take and by that time they would have moved just enough to only see the light as it weaved a path around her.

Nodding towards the place where the energy trails once had been the gravelly voice once again echoed, causing the men playing darts to move away quickly as they glanced into their mugs, hoping to hell it wasn’t tainted, as they grumbled about hearing voices and someone spiking their drinks, “The holon has recorded a new memory, an event unexpected and with unusual properties, do you not agree?”

Meanwhile, within the blue space inside of the Cantina, the stranger and the optimistic Aiden began to exchange greetings. The odd man himself was a tad uncomfortable with such pointless endeavors, but he assumed it would be best if they at least got onto the right foot, however such a feat would be done.

"My name is Matthew Graves. I know who you are, though you suprise me. You see more than regular humans, if you really are one."

Matthew stepped back a second as Maximillian placed his hand in front of him. He examined the hand closely, watching it curiously from all sides of perspective. Assuming it was a greeting, Matthew, cautiously at first, returned his hand as well, and shook their hands once, only to leap back a few feet as he did so. His tense attitude ringed out through the blueness; he was not one to trust people so readily.

"Alright, now that we've done... that, Shall we get done to business? Yes? Good."

Matthew drew somewhat closer, though his movements remained unemotioned and lacked friendliness or trust. He would have done more to restrain the Aiden's own manuevers, however he did not know what to expect from this odd one who obviously sense more than lower man. Even Matthew's feet took no chance of retailation, their exact, to-the-point steps constantly aware of their immediate surroundings.

"I come not to harm you, Maximillian Hauteclere. But rather, to protect you. I believe people of your world refer to it as... stalking?

The stranger's termonology was obviously quite terrible to say the least. There was no doubt that he wasn't from the normal world, and that he was not such a normal person. However, there was more in this blue, recently thought to have been vacant world. This room connnected with another world entirely, a mirror image of the old world Matthew himself knew so little about. What is more, there were other creatures here, their hearts full of malice and savagery. They did not yet venture into the room, but rather tucked away close to the doors, awaiting the prey from inside the establishment.

OOC: I just talked to Josh (Heimdall) a few hours ago and he says he should be able to post later tonight, so hang in there, Matt

IC: He silently shook his head as he stepped out of the booth, gun still at hand in case any more surprises were to make themselves known. He began to nervously stroke his beard with his left hand as he pondered the situation, stopping only to heed the words of the Ardren swordmaster and take up a position by the door, beside the junker woman. He gave a steely gaze across the room, finger hovering above the trigger as he readied himself for a snapshot at whatever, presumably the interloper, would finally commit themselves to a fight. His attention was distracted, however, by the Ardren swordmaster apparently talking to nothing and milling about as if a incurable in a 19'th century asylum. Quirking his left eyebrow and shooting a glance to the junker woman, he gave an air of renewed concern

I think he's mad, look at him rummaging through the stuff and sniffing it as if some animal, talking to the air and conducting himself as if a lunatic. Soon he'll snap, I know it, and this whole evening will have become worse than it started.

He stated with the concern and conviction of his namesake, half-tempted to call for back-up, though he realized in the back of his mind that by the time the man would inevitably snap and start slicing people up, back-up in whatever form the paltry presence of Eudemonia could muster would take several minutes, or even hours, to appear. Suddenly thoughts of exactly how sharp the blade is crossed his mind, as well as the impressive physique of the probably psychopath. Things were starting to degenerate at a pace far beyond what Tiresias had anticipated or even thought possible

Right, at least we are near the exit...