*
The Baron was a very political man in his middle age. At the age of 30 he began to take an interest in the goings on around his isle first poking his nose into the business of others before diving head first into the issues of Messiah. Now at 35 he was neck deep in the affairs of others and held meetings at his humble abode with various concerned councils and rulers associates. It appeared troubled nations found relief entrusting their problems to a seemingly trouble-free man of wealth and opportunity.

Now he sat at a round table (chosen specifically for equality) as he shared this table with many troubled faces. It was no secret to those present that Messiah was heading for a fall. To confirm it many had gathered here to discuss ways to avoid falling with it.

That's why the curious Alma Finch and 3 other pretty female figures were hiding just outside the large conference room where the Baron was holding a rumoured 'very important' meeting. Alma didn't know many politicians by name but she could certainly tell a big fish when she saw one and there were quite a few swimming in the pond of the Baron this very morning.

Alma had only a while ago been slouched in a chair in her bedroom having her hair yanked in various directions with beads, brushes and clips when a nimble figured girl with bleach-bone coloured hair and big emerald eyes tumbled into her chambers (fiancee number 4) and gushed about the said meeting occurring right this very minute. The boisterous blonde was out of that seat quicker than a cat out of water to the disdained wails of her servants.

Now 4 of them were stood perched against the wall in their night dresses listening intently to a conversation that wasn't to be heard.**

Stand straight; attentive. Unmoving. This was a familiar saying that he had been disciplined with from his instructors. Faenur kept his shoulders square and his spine straight, an accustomed habit that he has taken to for the last 7 years, rigid and still. He kept on his own poker face, neutral and indifferent as he watched the others present in the room that The Baron had provided for the company here today.

While he had never kept any sort of contact nor had he been friendly terms with his fellow Elven representatives, he respected that they were well-received (more or less) individuals in their society. An Elf Council member is present to represent the other Council member that would not attend, and a representative of the Fir’kah Order, their religious ways so highly thought of. He's heard of the two individuals, perhaps lightly and in hushed tones as he had studied, but he knew nothing about them. Faenur was in a position that, according to what his memory would follow of the foreign studies of military and army order of foreign lands, translated from what the complexity of his 'world', his ranking was likely like that of the Lieutenant Captain of the Guard, as the Captain is unable to leave his post from the Guard from their society. One must always be prepared for war, especially under these conditions. He had kept note of their names and they all did not seem to enjoy conversation as they had traveled here to the Isle. He found it fine. They would likely be go to continue their separate ways, depending on how this would go. The very same for all of the other representatives here; they, strangers, conversing over the issue at hand. There will be most definitely arguments. Faenur couldn't help the mixed feelings of his directed towards the diverse individuals.

Faenur could've swore in the silence that the room held so far that he could hear some sort of thumping, very light and barely noticeable, like a sort of light struggle with something behind the walls of this room, but focused his attention on the meeting. Think nothing of it. Likely a servant tripped over. His gut felt a bit uneasy though. It was likely to reason from the fact that he was currently on the Isle, a place where his society has thought nothing but of lowly things from its nature, things to feel, if only a little bit, uncomfortable about. His uneasiness came from the dreams that he had been getting, equally worrisome and uncomfortable as he would often wake up in a panic and in cold sweat. Faenur had consulted for medicine, but it hasn't worked so far.

His brows furrowed if only the slightest bit, a very small muscle movement that had at lest gave way to hint to his slight worry over the seriousness of the nature of the meeting, perhaps it would be the only tell that he would give way. And hopefully, it - this meeting - will go well.

A figure swathed in deep blue silk sat directly opposite the Baron, for all the world resembling more a statue than a man. It would have been a fine statue, perhaps, lifelike in detail, but perhaps one into which the artist had forgotten to carve any hint of emotion. The man’s ears swept backwards to points, ending just beyond the back of his head, covered fragmentarily here and there by starkly-white hair that appeared to be of a similar texture to his clothing. Pale silver eyes were half-lidded, appearing for the most part to rest only on some undetermined place just over the Baron’s left shoulder.

Such was not exactly the case, but as his stone-hewn visage would suggest, Aransandorian Dwin’shadr was very good at both gathering information and hiding what he knew. Like the fact, for example, that this meeting was not quite so private as the Baron believed. He knew not who the eavesdroppers were, but as he sensed neither hostile intent nor magic in any great measure from any of them, he decided he would leave it be. They were of no consequence to himself, at least.

Currently, the monk appeared quite unconcerned with anything, having perched cross-legged in his chair and folded his arms into his heavy, distended sleeves. His posture was perfect, but he somehow managed to avoid looking too rigid. Perhaps it was the staff, the butt end on the ground in front of the chair and the ring end leaned casually on his right shoulder. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he felt no desire to display any kind of anxiety or disquiet. The matters at hand were certainly serious, he would not deny that, but their severity alone was no reason to panic.

Briefly, his eyes flickered to the others in the room. He recognized the elven councilwoman, though it had been a considerable amount of time since he’d been in elven lands. Part of his mandate was keeping track of political figures everywhere, and the fact that one with long ears had managed to ascend so high was something he imagined he might once have been proud of. Now, he was unmoved; this was just another piece of valuable information.

The other one was a soldier, if is carriage and wary stare spoke true. A respectable position, moreso if he was adept enough to earn himself a place here. His face was just about as unreadable as Aran’s, something which took quite a lot of practice. That, too, was admirable. Excessive emoting in a situation like this was undesirable and inefficient.

One of the others was surely a Kendani, perhaps serving to represent the tribes at large. Aran had met one or two of her people before, and of course study of the culture was required, but he could not say he’d had a protracted conversation with any of them, so she was perhaps the largest unknown quantity in the equation he was currently building of the situation.

The Baron himself was human, which could have meant anything. As it was, however, Aransandorian knew a great deal of the man, most of it recently learned, and including his penchant for young women of his species. It was a strange thing, the elf had thought to himself, and he personally did not understand it in the slightest. How was it that those women were content to be shut up in this place with not even a trace of their own decisionmaking left to them? Even when he had been an urchin scrounging in the dirt for his next meal, there had been some semblance of choice, and he would not have traded that tiny morsel of freedom for all the glitter and riches in the world. Perhaps the Baron’s young brides were simply of a different sort.

It wasn’t anything more than an idle curiosity, anyway. He had spent far too long looking at larger patterns of world-changing events to focus long on the minutiae of experience.

He wondered, with a brief flash of impatience that did not disturb his outward serenity, if the meeting would soon start or if he’d be spending more minutes wasting his time contemplating the life choices of people he would never care to encounter.

Vahana was sure her tongue would start bleeding at any moment, the way she was gnawing it with her naturally sharp teeth. It was a habit of hers in stressful situations. This was by far the most stressful situation she’d been in so far in her life. Any of the discomfort she’d felt during the Trials of her Rite of Passage paled in comparison to the discomfort she felt just sitting still in a room full of strangers. Sitting still in itself was hard enough, for the Kendani was used to running around, hopping to and from trees and such. Maybe chasing the occasional prey. But this was different. Very different. And she hated it.

Although she was priviliged and honored to have been chosen to attend, of all the others of her race, she’d never expected it would be like this. Her golden eyes were narrowed suspiciously and her lupine ears were pricked as she conducted a better analysis of her surroundings. First, she scented eavesdroppers. Four. Female. Curious. Annoying. The latter at least to Vahana, anyways. People who tried to be sneaky angered her. They were hardly ever any good at it. She rimmed the sharp edges of her fang-like teeth with her tongue lightly as she analyzed the others in the room.

There were four elves, two long-eared and two short-eared (not that it mattered much to Vahana; elves were elves, right? That’s what she thought, at least). One was a female, with wavy hair similar in shade to her own. She didn’t seem threatening. Not in the least. The other was a silver-haired, solemn-looking male who seemed to be observing just as Vahana was herself. Her gaze lingered on him as she considered how threatening he was. She disregarded it after a moment and moved to the next, a short-eared elf. Judging by his stature and figure, Vahana infered that he was a warrior of some sort. Or something along those lines. The last short-eared was sort of like the male long-eared. At least, as far as Vahana looked.

Moving on around the table with her gaze, Vahana laid eyes on whom she’d been informed was the Baron. He was human, judging by his scent and features. Vahana always found the world outside her tribe interesting, but nothing more so intruiged her than the human. How odd it was that while the Kendani shared a similar form, there were monumental differences between the two. Humans were so interestingly regular. They weren’t very special at all. And somehow, they managed to make a place for themselves in the world.

Vahana, satisfied with her relatively quick scrutiny, turned her gaze to her hands, folded uncharactersitically in her lap. The sharp nails dug into her skin as she kept them tightly clasped together, breathing deeply to calm herself down. It was Kendani instinct to be very wary of new things. Odd as it was, any other of her race would be having a nervous breakdown. But Vahana was a different sort, and was willing to cooperate with these other, foreign beings. She had to be.

The Baron surveyed his company with calm green eyes before leaning his elbows on the table. He’d been contemplating his speech for quite some time, unsure of how to start an explanation that briefly indicated the world ending. It was a strong subject and was only being breeched because he was certain that they really had left the problem alone for long enough.

“Good Morning company, I thank you for joining me in such short notice.” He began whilst clearing his throat in the process. Many eyes turned on him and the attention would be rather stifling if he wasn’t a man of such great composure.

“As you may or may not of heard from various rumours there is a spot of trouble accumulating in Messiah and when I say a spot of trouble…I mean a growing spot.”

The Baron pushed out his chair and made his way round to a great canvas hung on the wall that mapped out nearly all of Messiah. With a cane he gestured to the western area of the map.

“The Glaciar Kingdom in the west has been known in the past for hostile conduct. Despite this though we’ve never really had much cause to be concerned. Our nations are perfectly prepared for wars and such, however recently I’ve received some disturbing news from various sources.
According to them the Glaciar Kingdom is attempting to wage a war. I say attempting because they have not yet declared it themselves. Now I haven’t brought you here on the basis of a hearsay.”

The Baron paused to look at his company his bottom lip clenched momentarily between his teeth.
“I investigated things myself and what I discovered was most…disturbing. The Glacians have somehow managed to acquire a very sinister form of magic. A kind I have never seen before. A kind that appears to be far too strong to control. The Glaciar Kingdom has infact fallen.”

The Baron put his cane down to rest upon it for a moment. The news was still raw to him. It wasn‘t every day that you discovered an entire Kingdom had disappeared right underneath your nose.

“There is no Kingdom. It’s gone. Not a Glacian in sight. Only…monsters. A darkness has taken over the west. I captured one of the creatures I found there. The unearthed magic had somehow dominated a Glacian’s mind and soul turning them into something unnatural. It’s infectious and very violent.”
At this point the Baron pulled up his sleeve to reveal a series of vicious scars which looked terribly poisoned and hazardous to his health.
“I under came an attack when securing the creature- being human I can’t quite handle the sheer power of the magic transferred in these cuts. Hopefully the death I shall soon meet won’t be too punishing. After all I am a good man.” With this the small smile on his face weakened.

“The point of this meeting is to inform you that this darkness is travelling. It’s violent and infectious nature is making it’s way into small communities, into villages and towns spreading violence and mutilation of the mind and body. Soon it will reach Valing-dale and after that…the rest of us.”

The Baron retook his position at the table his appearance suddenly very tired and very ill.
“There is no avoiding the matter. Messiah needs a miracle. Otherwise your homes, your families, your friends will all be forfeited…the world as we know it will come to an end. Take it from a dying man, no army or medicine could cure this. There is nothing but one option…travel beyond Messiah and find the peace maker.”