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Honor before glory.

0 · 234 views · located in Imperial City

a character in “Ruyn Chronicles: The Winds of Fate”, as played by Red Soldier



Name: Sennex

Aliases: N/A

Gender: Male

Age: Immortal

Race: Dreamwalker, aka Ruri

Class: mythological being; magic user

Occupation: Slave, of sorts

Alignment: Neutral

Weapons: Anything you desire.

Sennex has spiraling, winding tattoos along his arms. These are black, and are distinguishable upon close observation of his indigo skin. The bands around his shoulders are gold colored, and bear written characters in an archaic tongue. They are made of an equally archaic alloy that allows his otherwise noon-corporeal body to stay together. He wears a heavy red silk sash above his slacks. Sennex's eyes - the color of molten gold - are the only thing that remain constant among his various shape-shifting forms.

What is your character like?

A spyglass, which serves as his prison (he resents the stereotype that all Djinn reside in lamps. This is simply the most common item, due to its relative . . . well, commonness). He wears this spyglass wedged into the long red cloth that serves as his belt.

Shape shifting into any non-humanoid form, limited telepathic abilities, the power to grant any wish made of him. He has learned many languages over the centuries, but can only speak them - Sennex is able to read only his native language on a basic level, and cannot write it.

Long ago, when the world was young, and civilization was in its infancy, Sennex walked the world as a mortal. Whether Elf or Man, he doesn't remember. It was a time of great legends, epic battles, and bloody duels. Sennex lost to a powerful mage in such a duel, a mage so powerful she was rumored to destroy the very souls of those who angered her. Having his own spirit broken by the end of this dishonorable duel, Sennex served the mage to the end of her life as a Dreamwalker, known to humanity as Djinn. His prison was the very spyglass he carried, a silver handcrafted contraption engraved only with the maker's name.

So passed many centuries, many millennia of either servitude or slumber. By shady means, Sennex ended up serving the emperor of this darkening land. Knowing that there are many seeking a certain lost truth, he used his last wish to send Sennex as a gift to the legendary Nightblade Assassin as an aide and servant in the upcoming quest. The emperor's motives for this action are currently unknown.

So begins...

Sennex's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sylwyn Aleanraheal Character Portrait: Karem Altan Character Portrait: Sennex Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Castle Cylas
The Following Morning

Dated, This Day, 7th Gysse Aril, 3485
For the Intended Recipient Only:
It is with the greatest urgency I write this message. I hope it finds you closer to your goal. Zamil’s last hope lies with this ancient secret. Its knowledge will restore glory to our empire and peace among the races.
However, the dangers you’ve already faced, and have yet to face, pale in comparison to what legends claim protect the knowledge. Overcome the Guardians, and you will hold the truth that will serve as our light in these dark times. Although my faith in your ability to get there hasn’t wavered, history has taught us that even the greatest heroes do not work alone. Surely, even unsung heroes appreciate – and occasionally rely – on the aide of those whose abilities compliment their own.
Thus, I offer you this Dreamwalker, Sennex. I can find no better compliment to your particular set of skills. He has served me long and well, and has proven himself a worthy servant. He will do the same for you, should you choose to accept his service. I understand the solitary nature of methods, but urge you to consider Sennex as an aide. His wealth of knowledge and experience, as well as his infinite power can only help you with the impossible task of obtaining the ancient knowledge behind the Guardians. For, if the stories are correct, it truly is an impossible task. Perhaps I am fool for dabbling in legend and mysticism, but in these dark days, I can only hope that the seed of truth in every story exists.
In any case, Sennex is able to do the impossible. You need only to ask. I have no doubt that this is a skill an accomplished artist such as you would kill for. However, he may perform only three such tasks for any master – no more, no less. Use them well.
Signed graciously,
Emperor of Zamil,
Lord of the Steppes,
High Commander of the Imperial Legion,
Etc., etc.

P.S. My offer stands on two conditions: First, that you burn this letter upon reading it. Second, that you speak to no one of this transaction, as I am acting against the firm counsel of those closest to me. It is my sincere hope that this gift will ensure the your success, upon which you will complete the sole condition of your payment – to share what you have learned with no one outside myself.

Osiric ceased writing, the tip of his quill dotting the end of his final sentence heavily with black ink, and looked up as a chill ran the length of his spine, making him shiver as though the icy north wind had blown through his study. He paused, holding the scarleted Imperial crest just above the bottom left corner of the page. A tapping noise near his window grabbed his attention, and his gaze fell on the large brown eagle perched on the sill, its silhouette bathed in amber predawn light, golden shellac, beaded orbs blinking thoughtfully. The great bird rapped once more on the ornate black and gold spyglass slung round its neck, as if wishing to convey the very urgency of the written letter.

"Come now," the emperor chided, and firmly stamped the parchment with his crest. "Give an old codger a moment to gather his thoughts."

He approached the avian, taking measured steps, the weight of his letter seeming to slow his gait. C.C. tells me I'm too young to be senile... Yet, these words either go with the last of my sanity, or the beginning of madness. The eagle remained perfectly still as he gingerly lifted the ornament over the bird's head and unscrewed the cap. I have long felt this icy wind stir, heard her voice, softly, softly, whispering to me in the dead of night. Koar take me, if my words be in vain, for then, shall all of Zamil fall to this fate.

Fixing the spyglass around the eagle's neck again, he rested a heavy, wrinkled hand atop its shoulders and looked into those golden hues. "Our hour together draws nigh, my friend, but your service is not yet done." The emperor rose and briefly stroked the eagle's feathers before pushing out the window and waving a hand toward the open air. "Go, go now, and do not fail."

The eagle blinked and stretched his massive wings in acknowledgement. With only the scratching of his talons to break the sacred silence of dawn, the bird took off, circled the manicured gardens, and flew east.

You've never failed before, thought Osiric as he looked out the open window. Gods willing you don't start now.
Imperial City
Merchant's Way

The sun was still rising when Sennex reached the eastern edge of the Imperial City. Even in the cold half-dimness of dawn, his sharp sight caught the respectable caravan preparing to depart.

Several people, some dressed in gowns or suits of silks, others wearing clothing better suited to traveling, arrived at the charabanc and began lifting skirts or adjusting coats to climb up and into the narrow entrance at the direction the Imperial Guard escort.

Sennex recognized some as regular visitors to the royal court, and two in particular as regular members. Among them was the recipient of the secret letter he carried, or at least one who could locate said recipient. His instructions had been simple, but vague regarding details of the identity of this person, but it had been his master's last wish, and thus had to be done. Would be done, whether he liked it or not.

In any case, Sennex had developed a sixth sense for how to follow vague instructions over the centuries, and infinite patience when it told him to wait and watch. He circled wide over the caravan until one individual caught his attention.

The elf lowered the lid of the trunk filled with her things inside the rear compartment of the carriage and straightened, taking in a deep breath of the cool, early morning air. The cloudless twilight sky already showed the pastel greens and purples of dawn approaching in the west. A speckle or two of stars and the faint outline of a crescent moon was still visible above the city in silhouette against the My'Bael mountains.

She turned toward the guard post outside the east gate to see if anyone had yet come out, but the only signs of movement were eight brown and black draft horses harnessed two to a wagon and four to a small charabanc, and two in the stable outside the guard post, their hooves stamping the dirt, sending upward little clouds of dust. Shutting the back door to her carriage, she started toward the stable when she felt a pair of eyes on her and glanced down into the anxious blue eyes of her furry white companion.

"Not yet, Bane," she told the animal. "Soon." She tucked her long, loose auburn plait into the hood of her blue-gray riding cloak, and strode toward the stable, trailed by the sound of padding paws.
The door to the outpost swung open, and two Imperial guards exited, the one furthest from her heading to the stable gate.

The second guard, carrying two harnesses over his shoulder, met her halfway between the carriage and the stable. "Sylwyn?" he queried, a friendly tone creeping into his otherwise official demeanor. "Are you all ready?"

Sylwyn nodded. "I've packed the carriage, and seen to stocking the wagon with enough provisions to cover the journey all the way to Merchant's Lodge. I'm sorry I hadn't the time last night to prepare anything."

"No worries, Syl. You've done more than enough. We received word from your page late last night. I understand there has been a change of plans?"

The man's accent, however light, affirmed that he was a mercenary from one of the old nomadic clans.

"Yes," the elf answered, dipping her head slightly in a formal gesture, but the tiniest of smiles found its way to her lips under a demure, bright gaze that never quite met nor completely left his. "I trust you've allotted for the extra time?"

"Hai. The caravan’ll be ready to head off in an hour. The others should be arriving shortly." The guard ended the exchange with a half smile as he tossed the white wolf a bite of fresh foul and continued on to the carriage.

Bane snapped the poultry up into eager jaws and chewed hastily mid-trot to the fence, where the first guard was tying leads to the two stabled draft horses. Sylwyn smiled, reaching down to pet the wolf's head as she passed him on her way to the stable, where the two remaining horses clopped the ground with their hooves and whinnied restlessly. The brown horse tossed his head, pulling on the lead to keep the guardsman from tightening the rope.

"They're uneasy this morning," the guard announced when she approached the fence, seeming no less ill at ease in their presence. “They haven’t been on the road in months.”

She boosted herself up, catching the heels of her boots on the second rail, and outstretched her fingers to caress the dirty blond mane of one horse as the steed tugged toward her. At first, the creature shied away, but gradually relaxed and leaned his great head into her hand.

"Tzcsa, tzcsa," she soothed, and leaned in, the loose locks of her hair brushing against his face, and nuzzled his cheek. Bringing up one leg over the top rail, she eased over the fence and dropped softly to the ground, careful to keep one hand on his broad neck. “That’s it, easy boy.” She held her hand out to the guard. “Here, give me the lead.”

The guard gave her the end of the rope, and she motioned for him to come as she led her brown horse, slow and steady, toward the open gate. Only an eagle's eye noted how the guard's shoulders tensed as he took up the lead for the black steed, and together, they guided the horses out of the stable and to the carriage. Bane trotted close behind, mouth half-open. At the carriage, the guard overtook the job of harnessing the last two horses while she repeated the same soft little Elvish nonsense word to them, stroking their stiff hair. Tzcsa, tzcsa. Even Bane, who had sat back on his haunches, looked up at her, expectantly, as if wondering whether he, too, should heed her gentle command. The guard, too, seemed to listen as he worked, a bit more slowly than an expert horseman might.

Odd, thought Sennex as he watched the exchange. I'd expect a Roamer to complete the task without so much hesitation. Even the horse can sense it.

Sylwyn helped make the last checks, tightening the carriage harnesses and adjusting them around the horses bodies and gave both one last pat before walking back to the gilded doors and having a peek inside. It appeared roomy, with folded draperies at each window. The emperor had a taste for grandeur and flair, making the subtle dark cherry wood and silver trim an unusual choice. Judging by the size, however, the carriage could not have been ordered by anyone else.

As she turned to let her furry friend into the carriage, she came face to face with a wall of red fabric. Staring upward, she followed the black Imperial symbol on the tunic to a pair of hazel eyes staring down at her.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, opening her mouth in astonishment.

“I come to see you off, and all you can say is ‘Oh,’?” James responded, sounding serious. “Well, if that’s how you feel about me…"

From the perch he had secured atop a nearby spruce, Sennex noted how the General's eye found the Roamer guardsman. As James turned to leave, the elf suddenly threw her arms around his neck. His lips widened into a smile as he slipped a hand around her waist, drawing her to him. Sennex had seen this enough times to know that it was as much primal protectiveness as it was affection.

“What are you doing up so early?” she asked, looking up.

“I thought I might catch you before I left.” James let her go and reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver brooch. “Here.” He fiddled with the clasp and pinned it to the collar of her cloak. “Now, you may take a piece of home with you wherever you go.”

Sylwyn peered down. Leaf-shaped with an emerald inlay, the adornment bore the intricate etchings done by crafters of the Eytherghymn. "Another brooch?" she murmured, brushing her fingers along the fine silver netting of the leaf. "It's.. beautiful."

"Yes, and when you tire of wearing it, you can add it to the rest sitting on your vanity gathering dust in your stateroom," he answered, with a tone that sounded like he was, or at least hoped he was, half-joking.

“Last call!” one of the guards shouted from the charabanc. “The caravan for Port Arn leaves in twenty minutes!”

“That’s you, my minstrel,” James told her, and held her gaze for a few seconds, leaning in as if to kiss her on the mouth, but broke eye contact at the sound of footsteps thudding behind him.
Sennex noticed the way the elf froze imperceptibly for an instant when he leaned in, only relaxing when he shifted his attention, and instead pressed his lips to her cheek.

Then, a boy of perhaps only sixteen years, who the Dreamwalker could only assume was the elf's page dashed, breathless, down the path, holding his floppy, wide-brimmed hat to keep it from blowing away. “Sorry I’m late, Miss,” he said. “Hey, boy,” He looked down at Bane, whose tongue lolled in anticipation, rubbed his head, splitting his attention between her and James. “I stopped at mum’s house this to drop off her medicine.”

James quirked a brow at him. “Roland, you ran all the way from the Purlieu?”

Roland nodded, swallowing as he caught his breath. “Aye, Sir.”

The General chuckled. “Keep it up, and you’ll be outrunning Ferdirand in no time." He gave the boy a hearty slap on the back and headed toward the front of end the carriage, catching the guardsman by the shoulder as he packed the last of his belongings in a worn leather traveling bag and turned towards the blacksmiths near the rear of the caravan.

"Karem." James made a loose fist and cupped it over his mouth, clearing his throat rather awkwardly when he got the Roamer's attention. With a heavy drawing of breath, he outwardly tried to assert himself by way of body language, rising to full height, arms crossed, and puffing out his chest.

But, Sennex easily spotted the manner in which the General uncomfortably avoided making direct eye contact with the guardsman when he spoke. There was no malice in his resentment yet, for he had barely recognized it. The Dreamwalker could not guess whether their rapprot would end in genuine friendship or hostility. That would depend on the woman. How cyclical mortal lives were.

"The Watch heard a rumor there might be an assassination attempt at the conference. I understand the emperor sent one of the Drenn to keep an eye on things, but you know Syl..." he said, guardedly, and pursed his lips for a second or two before continuing. "Just, uh, take care of her. And, try to keep her out of trouble, eh?"

Karem nodded in understanding. He said nothing at first, as if trying to decide how to take the General's unspoken machismo.

"So, I heard. Yeah, I know," he said, glad to accept this duty, for whatever reason it was offered. Then he met his general's eye. "I've got this; you won't be disappointed."

Sylwyn patted the left seat, motioning for Bane to get inside the carriage. Favoring his right leg with a scar running the length of his thigh, he hopped up and circled the cushion on the opposite side until he found a comfortable spot.

Roland offered his hand to help her onto the running board, and Sylwyn graciously accepted. “What did James mean by that?” he asked her as she stepped up into the carriage. “I always thought their short, stubby legs would… you know?”

Glancing back, Sylwyn smirked knowingly and shook her head, “Have you ever seen a Halfling run?”

Only Sennex saw the red-breasted raven swoop from the lightening sky and soar above the assembled wagons and guards of the caravan before taking to the air once more, observing all spread out below it as it flapped away over the tree tops. Wheeling through the sky, the bird swept low over the road, into the trees, cresting a rise and disappeared.

So it was that only two watched the proceedings of the embassy-bound caravan, for two very different reasons. Sennex knew that it had been just a raven, through and through, unlike himself. Whoever his master, the intentions were not likely noble.