| abstract | - Dear Fern, I miss you! I hope you're learning a lot, and that you're enjoying yourself, at least as much as you can where you are. I really wish you were here with us, though. Today was eventful, to say the least. Your presence might have made things a bit less... uncomfortable. We managed to convince the inhabitants of Skullstone that they really are better off without the Silver Prince. Amber's demonstration of Soulsteel was very effective. We left Roseblack in charge, and things seemed to go over well enough. Coral was rather unhappy with us, too, with our use of their inhabitants as an involuntary army and our flagrant disregard for their laws and proper channels. But once again, Amber was able to convince them that our intentions were for the good of Coral, though they insisted on some sort of demonstration of our goodwill within the next month. Community service of sorts, but something big and *flashy*. Unfortunately, the city didn't seem to have any pressing needs. We ended up speaking with the goddess of the city, Vercleea, who mentioned that knowledge or technology of the First Age might be very nice. Vessels would be lovely, and Amber promised she would receive a powerful one soon. We walked out, Amber mentioning that we needed to build or acquire an orichalchum warship, and I asked what our plans had been for the Brass Leviathan. We walked back in, and Amber proposed the idea. Vercleea was skeptical of our ability to follow through, but agreed it would be an excellent show of our goodwill. So we delivered--basically, we jury-rigged it so it would let her drive it around and power it, without being trapped inside like Isli. We did have to promise to complete repairs, make it more battle-ready, but she and the populace seemed quite content with our work so far--the show of lasers made it particularly flashy. So, our work at soothing over those affected by the Silver Prince's demise was complete. We decided next to visit the Emissaries, and investigate becoming a part of their order. Though they usually only accept water-aspect dragonblooded, they allowed an exception in our case. The first two tasks were fairly simple, one of strength and one of seamanship, both of which we passed in impressive and entirely unconventional ways, of course. The third task was to venture to a location deep under water, look into something, and report back what we had seen. Sounds simple enough, doesn't it? We followed old ley lines to what was apparently the sunken continent, a very ancient, early First Age civilization; now a Shadowland, surrounded by ghosts. It was evidently a powerful manse. There we found a large jagged piece of something--it was mirrorlike, but not. In it, the others saw dark images of themselves--as if they were Abyssals. I did not--I saw myself, but as a mortal, before I Exalted. Why am I travelling with this group, Fern? Why does Takara often display less intelligence than that creature Riptide? Of course, Takara had to go and touch the dark mirror--and abruptly became what his image showed, an Abyssal. He didn't act much different (though he never was the kindest of us), but as we made frantic calls to our allies in an attempt to figure out what the horrible mirror thing was, he revealed he was hearing voices, telling him to do things. (More voices, actually--apparently he always hears some??) His reflection remained the same, and his touching the mirror again did nothing. Amber suggested we further test the mirror's effects, but as Takara kept whispering for me to touch it, we decided to attempt another course of action first. No one we contacted could give us much of an answer, so we headed back to the monks in hopes that they could shed some light on the matter. The monk we spoke to was surprised, but indicated that the effects should wear off at some point, though the trigger varied case by case. There was a suggestion of stress, and Largo suggested he could provide this. Takara brushed him off, saying "You hardly stress me out, BTDubs." Bad. Move. The insult was too much for Largo, who was at his limit. He moved to attack Takara, and there was little chance Takara could survive that kind of attack--and even if he did, none of my healing abilities would help him, as an Abyssal. I pulled the monk out of harm's way, and Amber distracted Largo while Takara managed to paralyze one of Largo's legs, but the big guy still managed to get off a windmilling attack with his scythe. Seeing the fear in Takara's eyes--now wasn't that a sight!--I leapt in to take the attack myself, simultaneously negating Largo's supplemental charms and dealing him a stunning blow in the process. The hit very nearly killed me. The tiniest bit more damage, and I would have been gone. If Takara had taken that hit, there was no way he could have survived. In turn, Largo was nearly knocked out, but not quite. Amber got off some charm to stop him, though I was rather out of it at that point, so I'm fuzzy on the details. In the aftermath, I managed to heal myself, and Amber was very upset with our companions. Largo was very repentant, but Takara could have shown a bit more remorse for setting him off in the first place. I will not soon let him forget that he nearly got me killed, and I saved his life. But did he appreciate it? Did he thank me? Bastard. Oh, and did I mention that as an Abyssal, he suddenly seems to be incredibly attractive? Quite unnerving, that is. So he's still an Abyssal, though hopefully that should resolve itself somehow? But I doubt he'll learn not to insult Largo--he'll have entirely forgotten by tomorrow, I'm sure of it. Is there any way you could create something that would prevent his words from reaching Largo's ears? If he could never speak to him again, that would be lovely. Actually, no words at all from Takara would be a welcome respite. Not that I regret saving his life, of course--but silence for a time would be nice. Also, any ideas on what that mirror could be, and how we might return the idiot to his still insensitive but less dark Solar self? We need you here, Fern. Please, finish your studies quickly, and save me from these buffoons! Yours, Kai
|
