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Snippet #2605947

located in Valonian Empire, a part of The Magefire, one of the many universes on RPG.

Valonian Empire

None

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Character Portrait: Maeve Winterborn
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There was an awful lot that could be said for the march of progress. It was something that many of the esoteric researchers were only too quick to point out when people began to get sentimental.

Since the reign of the empress had begun, the blanket of fear and superstition that had once covered Valon had been gradually lifted away, into a new and enlightened age of understanding.

They could understand how magic worked. They could enhance and control it, focus it and use it as power. The force that had once seen the species of Valon cowed and terrified had become a means for them to better their lives.

Through one of the high, vaulted glass windows it was possible to see out into the blue pre-dawn, where the eerie glimmer of the magelights that lined the streets of the capital swayed in the wind. Winter was beginning to draw in, though to the inhabitants of the city, such a thing held little fear. The enchanted gardens allowed food to be grown all year round.

A few inhabitants already awake and heading to their places of work trod along the cobbles, attempting to keep out of the path of the golems. The hulking, metallic figures in question plodded through the streets with brooms and cleaning cloths, the magelights glinting off their bronze shells and immobile masks. Children often shied away from the constructs, though few of the adult inhabitants of Valon batted an eyelid any longer to their presence. They had become a fixture, yet another great gift provided by the new governance.

It couldn't be blamed on them, it was natural enough to wish for comfort over hardship, and under the influence of those who dwelled up in the palace, the people never seemed to face any sort of difficulty..to the point that they neglected to ask very important questions.

The insides of the palace were probably not what most would imagine...well..below the ground floor at any rate. A great deal of effort had been taken into preserving the old features above, though the installation of esoteric power had proved a challenge, and meant that the old dungeons and storage rooms had had to be drastically remodelled.

The chamber could not have been more than one floor below the ground, if the small windows were anything to go by. It had been built to minimize sound, though it appeared they did not feel that they had much to hide regarding the power even if it were somewhat...distasteful to individuals.

A few magelights burned overhead in the large domed room, the copper-plated door left somewhat ajar.

At the front, a haphazardly dressed figure paced back and forth, wringing their hands.

The individual appeared to be a woman in her late twenties, rather unimpressive in stature, bearing the look of someone who had far too much on their mind. Her dark blonde hair was tied back rather messily, and seemed somewhere in need of a wash, reflecting the lights in a rather unappealing manner. She looked a little on the pale side, eyes deep-set and cheek bones rather high. It was possible there was some elf in the family, but it was clearly quite a way back.

She was dressed in a collection of ill-matching, and admittedly rather cheap
clothes, her outfit seeming to have been assembled by committee, and more than enough to demonstrate that she couldn't have been there as a guest of the empress or any of the council members that dwelt within the building.

No, Maeve was there as a matter of...what was it...obligation? Guilt? Some manner of foolish optimism that her presence might be of help? No...it wasn't exactly any of them.. it was more that it was the only thing she could do. The Order was gone. The schools of magic were scattered, and the mythical creatures were and hidden in fear of falling prey to the Esoterics. She was pretty certain there was not likely to be some great uprising. So this was, in some way, Maeve's only way of showing the people what she was, or what she had once been at any rate...regardless of how painful it was.

The sharp-featured woman turned and walked toward the centre, feeling her stomach twisting into knots at the sight of the shape, forlornly suspended from the centre of the dome by a considerable number of cables and ropes. It was an enormous shape, four legs and a pair of once imposing wings that lay in tatters, suspended out unfolded nearly to their full extent by hooks set into the ceiling. Numerous pipes, cables, and lengths of semi-transparent tubing rose in a complex web from its back and neck, set into fissures cut in between the creature's scales.


Set around the creature's ribs a metallic claw issued upwards, sinking into the scaleless tissue on its chest, emitting a low hum associated with large machinery as it ran, the central column seeming to glow a yellow-green shade.

This, this...travesty was the fate of the dragon Rah'von. His life force had powered the lights of the palace for approaching five years, and Maeve of the Mists, once a rider of considerable renown, found herself nothing but an inconsequential figure in it all.

Where were the others? Other dragon riders? She didn't know. Maybe they'd suffered the same fate. The bond had weakened over the years, but it still didn't allow her much further than the city gates. They could all be gone for what she knew, or the news of the terrible fate that might await those of great magical power might have scared them away.

The woman dropped to her knees beside the head of the once great creature and ran a hand over the dull scales. There was no reverence for them anymore.


......



A little way up the stairs, there was discussion regarding the events of the day...and certain concerns which accompanied them. It had been a decision that that day would be an event of some note, a day that permitted visiting of the imperial palace by the lower orders. Much of the lower floors, unoccupied by the Empress for the majority of the time, were effectively a public building, and the intent was to display how open and magnanimous the new order was. Events and stalls, performers and talks were being held there, partially to give the residents of the capital a good impression of the experience... and partly for a slightly less admirable reason.

Locking doors without good reasoning was a sure way to encourage unfavourable speculation, as was why there were no plans to obstruct access to the palace's power core, though golems would have to be placed to intervene at any attempt at tampering. The trouble was, that while, among the esoteric academic circles the usage of a dragon power core was considered a spectacular breakthrough and created such an elegant solution to the problem of powering the grid, and while lawfully they could not conceal nor deny that the work exists, it was feared that less educated individuals may see the sight as being somewhat...unappealing... and people were wont to let sentimentality ruin progress.

As such, with preparations beginning they had done their best to direct all points of interest away from the great chamber. They suspected that few would venture so far, and those that did would not linger long in the atmosphere there. Hopefully the irritating presence of the former rider would not work to spoil what could otherwise be a very pleasant day.