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Post by Salandis on Nov 4, 2014 4:46:04 GMT -6
(Introduction RP between Raine and Marchelute, set in 6th Century Persia during the Sasanian empires' second golden age.)
Raine stepped forward over the marble slabbed courtyard, his softened leather shoes making no sound. The interior of the palace would soon give way to a lush carpet, and with the tapestry's on the wall and the Persian passion for fire, the room would be warm to the point of stifling. Raine was actually looking forward to it.
He was dressed in fine attire, with a white tunic of tight weave and tasteful embroidery hung short over loose pantaloons of matching silk. A short cape he was probably not really entitled to wear was pinned to his right shoulder. Little was truly needed in the heat of the capital, and loose, thin clothing was the norm. Similarly he wore a necklace of rounded lapis lazuli, stones carefully selected for uniform size and color, and set in links of gold. moderately heavy gold bracelets at his wrist were set with small rubies and etched with patterns from his homeland. A century ago he had spent a year with a goldsmith to design them to perfection, and they were one of his favorite accents. His dress was perfect for a noble born, speaking of wealth and standing. Which was interesting, given that his fair skin and fiery hair marked him as something truly unknown to the empire of Iran and Non-Iran.
While Raine was soundless on the marble, his escort was not. Wreathed in black silk, Imperial bodyguards walked around him in a square. Their footfalls had the clink of steel, and under the silk mail clinked and jingled with each movement. Raine considered it an honor, not a sign of distrust. He had already left his blades at the palace entrance, down to his belt knife. But his reputation as a formidable warrior, the very reputation that brought him to the palace and the honor waiting within, demanded a dangerous escort. Khosrou the Immortal Soul was no one's fool. The escort served many purposes. It reinforced to him that, despite his valor and prowess he was not Persian, not even a Dehgan, and would have to remain an outsider whatever honors he earned. But that was aimed less at him, and more to the Dehgans and other nobles of the empire, to keep them from protesting those same honors bestowed on an outsider. Perhaps it even served to reassure the royal bodyguards, to escort one so famed.
Finally he entered the palace itself, and the predicted thick carpets muffled even the footfalls of his escort. Drawing into the main hall, he entered without announcement. He studied the room carefully. Few Dehgans, lesser nobles, were present. Indeed, going by the ranks of the ones around him, he saw Shahrdar, greater nobles of the house. In an alcove towards the end of the hall he saw Khosrou himself, king of kings and keeper of the sacred fire, surrounded by Suren and Karen, members of the greater families of the empire. The place of honor at the head of the hall was taken by mobads, clearly visible in priestly robes, and an unknown character in deep robes of crimson etched in gold. Swathed in silk, even unto a cowled hood, he seemed to be the center of the room.
Raine hesitated at the entrance, and then shrugged. He was to be honored when the time was right, apparently. Until then, he was simply one guest among many. Another odd note was the absence of servants, although Khosrou himself was known to dispense with them from time to time. And so, while the bodyguards remained at a respectful distance, he crossed to the nearest table and poured wine for himself. Taking a cheerful smile, he walked over to a table with some Dehgans he recognized, striking up a conversation with ease. "Assid my friend. Have you grown tired of the eternal peace yet?" He said with a grin.
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Post by Marshmallow on Nov 4, 2014 22:19:44 GMT -6
Quiet clicks echoed gently through the hall, the sound of hidden talons upon the only exposed marble flooring in the room. Marchelute paced to and fro across the dais to pass the time, waiting for his honored guest to arrive. The mobads may have been accustomed to standing in silence for long periods, but the empire's cherished Eternal Flame was as restless as the element he embodied. In fact, it was by his request that the dais and the stairs leading up to it had been left bare of the carpet that filled the rest of the palace's interiors. The sound of his claws against the marble as he walked was soothing, and broke up the droning silence.
How much longer did he have to wait? Although he enjoyed the luxuries his position afforded him, the ceremonial and official duties were boring at best. Oh yes, in the early days he'd relished the amount of authority and influence he had as the empire's "god-touched" treasure. The ability to dictate the direction a man's life would take with a single gesture carried a certain thrill, though that feeling had dulled over time. More and more, he found the supposed honorable men brought before him to be unworthy and distasteful. But he couldn't well quit the job without causing a lot of trouble for his dear emperor, and the comfortable life he had in the desert paradise that was Persia was worth these little annoyances.
Finally, the guest of the occasion arrived. Marchelute halted in his restless pacing and peered toward the entrance from beneath his embroidered hood. He'd expected to see another solider, maybe a mercenary, someone to be honored for valor and performance in combat. But he was surprised to see that the guest this time was an outsider. Now that was worth paying attention to. His posture straightened, emerald eyes watching the fire-haired man intently, sizing him up. It wasn't often that an outsider rose to such distinction as to earn the honor of the Eternal Flame's Mark, so perhaps this one held some promise. It had become something of a rarity for anyone to genuinely capture the Flame's interest, and the mobad priests waited anxiously for Marchelute's decision. Their gaze followed his in silent observation. The ceremony wouldn't start until he said so.
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Post by Salandis on Nov 5, 2014 2:38:51 GMT -6
The hall remained full of murmuring as Raine and Assid spoke.
"Ah, I am not as bored as you surely are, fire headed one." Assid grinned widely. "I remember you always at the forefront of the battles, dealing death but remaining unmarked. Has your luck held?"
"No luck here, you old goat" Raine returned with a grin. "You know better than that. Luck is what kept your hide whole when that horse of yours kicked you off in a skirmish."
"Luck and your own quick action." Assid returned more soberly. "I owe you my life, outlander. I do not forget."
Raine only smiled, brushing off the response. "Enough chewing over old war stories. Are you here to be honored also, Assid?"
"Ah my old companion, I have been honored here already." Assid gave him a knowing look, raising a hand to trace a slender crescent of a scar under his right eye. "All here have been honored already, and today only bear witness."
Raine looked confused, but then glanced around the room. Sure enough, under other scars on occasion, all present wore a similar mark. Another daring look confirmed: Even the Emperor himself.
Raine turned back to Assid and the other dehgans to find them studying him solemnly. Assid raised his wineglass in a toast that the others followed, and spoke quietly for a hall so crowded. "The Emperor, Khosrou of the Immortal Soul, is sponsoring your honor. As are all of us." A wry smile crossed his features. "Tell me my friend, have you been following news from Rome?"
Raine blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Emperor Justinian seeks to reunify the Roman Empire, and sends his finest generals to the west."
"Aye" Assid nodded. "Already war covers Europe. The battle will be long, and while I do not doubt Belisarious will succeed in his emperors mission, Rome will be left a fragile nation."
Understanding bloomed. "Rome will fall." Raine stated it as fact. "Justinian will never stop, and Belisarious will likely win. But Justinian will rule a war-torn, shredded empire that will fall easy prey to its neighbors."
"And while peace with a strong neighbor is always desirable..." Assid prompted.
"Peace with a weak empire is worse than useless: it is weakness to ourselves." Raine concluded grimly.
"Indeed." Assid smiled again. "Who would have thought, my friend, that we would live to see the end of Rome? For with surety, it will break in our lifetimes."
"Emperor Khosrou of the Immortal soul will not wait, either." Raine said firmly. "It would be foolish to do so, and The Emperor of Iran and Non-Iran is no fool."
"And so you will be honored, my friend." Assid nodded. "For your prowess is known, and your skills will no doubt be called upon."
And Raine understood. Khosrou would rally the Dehgahs and trusted outsiders to his banner, win victory in battle, and then do what he had desired since his ascension: Use the newly wealthy lower nobles to break the iron hold the Shahrdar held on the levers of power in Persia, allowing men of skill to rise as far as that talent may take them.
It would also cement his hold on the Persian commons. It seemed the noble families backed him in this also, to judge by their remaining presence with the Emperor. Or perhaps they did not see the writing on the wall themselves yet.
Raine felt his eyes drawing to the group of Mobad at the dais, and the cowled figure in their center. "Tell me my friend" He spoke absently to Assid, as a sinking suspicion began to worm through his gut. "What will this honor involve?"
His only answer was another chuckling laugh. "You will see soon enough my friend. You are about to see the true heart of our empire. That is honor in itself."
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Post by Marshmallow on Nov 5, 2014 22:26:27 GMT -6
Marchelute remained still upon the dais, studying and listening intently. He was intrigued by this outlander. He carried himself well, spoke well, and seemed intelligent - at least compared to many who had come and gone before. And if what he heard of the red-head's skill and valor was true, then it was no wonder at all why so many sponsored his honor this day. By all accounts, the outlander had already proven his worth to those gathered here. Now it fell to the Eternal Flame to validate that worth.
Most idle chatter in the alcoves grew steadily quiet, and the anticipation grew to almost palpable. It seemed as if all eyes that weren't on Raine were on Marchelute. The bodyguards that had escorted Raine's arrival stood at the ready, should the Flame deny his honor. The emperor himself glanced up expectantly.
Marchelute considered his guest for one last tense moment, before turning toward his emperor. All it took was a silent nod to signal his approval. With that one simple gesture, the entire mood of the room shifted. Some men applauded, having seen enough denied to know this was a rather significant event. Even Emperor Khosrou was smiling as he stood and strode out into the room to stand before the raised dais and the mobads. He beckoned Raine forward - the time of his honor was now at hand.
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Post by Salandis on Nov 5, 2014 23:13:19 GMT -6
The mood of the room changed, an almost unfelt tension gone. A smattering of applause, and a quiet cheer from his dehgan friends, and Raine turned to see the Emperor standing with the Mobads, smiling widely and beckoning him forward.
Raine felt his own internal tension ratchet higher. All his life he had managed to avoid any kind of honor that required a permanent mark or scar, even in his own homeland. Such an honor could only fail.
But he had no choice here. His own friends formed a guard at his back, and as he walked toward the Emperor the Mobads formed around him.
He knelt before Khosrou, Persian style on both knees, and bowed deeply. The room fell into an expectant silence.
"Raine Baeg'Rua'Rian" Khosrou spoke the foreign name slowly and with care. "In the wars with Rome, before the eternal peace, and in battle since, with the barbarians of the plains, you have fought with honor and distinction." He paused, and Raine looked up to see the Emperor smile.
"You have gained much in service to Iran and Non-Iran, and risen as high as it is possible for one not of Aryn blood to rise." He continued. "At least, for one who so determined to avoid marriage." That got a small chuckle from the assembled nobles.
"You know my name." He continued, his voice taking a commanding tone. "I am the Emperor of Iran and Non-Iran, and among my titles is the Holder of the Sacred Fire." He paused. "That title, in truth, is not mine to hold. The true holder is one of our nations most closely held secrets."
He stepped forward, resting his right hand lightly on Raine's head. "Today you will be honored by the Sacred Flame. Bear his mark with pride, as today you will join a rank apart, an inner circle of our nations' finest."
Raine felt the pressure of that hand vanish as the Emperor stepped back, and then amazingly took a position at his own left.
Into the silence that followed, the Mobads began a soft chant, one in an older language that Raine did not recognize. And under that sound, Raine heard a soft clicking - sounding of all things like long nails on the bare stone - as the one wrapped in robes finally approached.
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Post by Marshmallow on Nov 6, 2014 6:26:08 GMT -6
Click Click Click
The sound as Marchelute descended the dais stairs was distinctive. It served to draw attention of the honored toward himself, as it had drawn Raine's now. He was otherwise silent in his approach, arms folded within the sleeves of his crimson robes. He came to a stop before the outlander, and now so close, the tips of long black talons could be seen beneath the golden hem of the robe - the source of the clicks.
In a grand gesture, Marchelute drew his arms from the sleeves, revealing why he'd kept hidden. No sun-darkened skin, but rather char-black scales covered every visible inch of the robed man's arms; wicked curved claws instead of fingernails. At a passing glance, it may have looked as if he'd been the victim of a great fire. Indeed, that was what the first who encountered him in the empire had thought - that his limbs had been charred black in some grand inferno. He let his guest get a good look at those scales as he raised his hands to the cowl that obscured his face. Drawing back the hood revealed another surprise. Not scales this time, but most definitely not a native of the empire either. As the hood fell away it revealed a man with pale skin and distinctly Roman features, although his hair was the color of ash. Dark horns curled up from his temples, and starkly contrasting green eyes stared down at Raine with slitted pupils.
"Look well, Raine Baeg'Rua'Rian, for you look upon the very burning heart of the Empire," Marchelute began, his voice half a growl. "I am Marchelute, the Eternal Flame, Holder of the Sacred Fire." To give truth to his titles, the scaled Roman held up his hands, palms to the ceiling. Green light glowed between the scales, heat warping the air, then catching fire in his palms. The flames, green and yellow in color, danced between his fingers and across his claws. And when he closed his fists, every open flame in the room - from table candles to the chandelier above them - briefly flared bright and hot.
"To know me is to know Honor truly, and is a privilege few have earned and few deserve. As proof of your worthiness, and of my favor, carry with you my Mark, with pride and with honor." Marchelute then held aloft his right hand. Although the flames had by now disappeared, he still radiated an intense heat. As he placed his hand over Raine's forehead, in a mimic of the emperor's previous gesture, the tip of his thumb claw actually glowed with a heat great enough to cauterize flesh. It was how he left the perfect crescent scars on each man standing in the room. One, brief touch was enough to leave a permanent scar...
On any other man. Raine, it seemed, was the exception. Marchelute couldn't explain it, but when he touched the man's skin, it felt as if his heat was being... consumed. And when Marchelute pulled his hand away to see the outlander's skin unmarred, his brows drew together and his lips became a thin line. He took a half step back. "What is this?" he asked, perplexed, looking between his claws and the kneeling red-head.
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Post by Salandis on Nov 7, 2014 16:04:41 GMT -6
Raine had first felt shock, as the nature of the robed one was shown. Scales? What manner of being... His mind lept back to stories from his youth, and the fae he had left behind in Ireland.
More confusion was added when he saw the unmistakably roman features beyond. But as the flames lept from the hands of Marchelute, he understood. In a zoroastrian nation, he would be god touched. While in rome... Memories of the christian conversion, and oppression, were all it took to gain understanding.
And a grain of hope. Marchelute was clearly a supernatural being. Perhaps at last he would be an exception to his own gift?
That hope swiftly died. When the palm hovered over his own head, he only felt the familiar sense of being close to fire. And when the thumbnail touched his flesh, it felt only warm. And Raine felt a stark certainty: Unmarked, he would be killed. His actions now would depend on if they tried now, or later.
"What is this?" Marchelute stepped away. Raine opened his eyes, a pleading look in them.
"I cannae be marked." The strain let more of Raine's Irish accent through, making his Persian difficult to grasp. He tried again in Latin. "No fire or blade can mark my skin. It is my own curse."
Unfortunately for Raine, Khosrou understood Latin quite fluently. And took quick charge of the situation. "The sacred fire spurns his flesh." He said, almost calmly, in Persian. Immediately every man in the room was fumbling for weapons they did not have, and the black-clad bodyguards were striding towards him.
Before it could entirely erupt into a brawl, Khosrou made himself heard over the noise of confusion. "HOLD!" he called. The room became silent. He gestured to Raine, who had made no other sound. "Take him below, to our underground cells. Treat him carefully, for his fate hangs by a thread."
"But surely he must die!" One of the Shahrdaran spluttered. The Dehgans, looking as stricken as anyone else, turned glares upon that one. Khosrou intervened again.
"His service to our realm and our father have been without flaw." He pronounced. "That must be weighed in his favor. But he has shown himself to be refused by flame. Were he Persian born, his life would even now be spilled on the courtyard stones. But he is not, and we must tread carefully."
Raine let himself be dragged away, and nodded to himself. Khosrou was indeed a clever man. Here he could support the dehgans, appear impartial, and still ensure Raine's own death. Well. It would not be the first dungeon he had escaped from.
As he approached the door, he looked again at Marchelute. And wondered.
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Post by Marshmallow on Nov 8, 2014 5:49:07 GMT -6
"No fire or blade can mark my skin. It is my own curse."
For the first time in a very long time, Marchelute was surprised. Never before had he met a physical being, human or otherwise, that his claws couldn't cut or his fire couldn't burn. The rest of the room and its occupants faded into white noise. He stared, bewildered and curious, at the red-haired man. He wanted to know more, he suddenly had a thousand questions.
And no opportunity to ask them.
The room came back into sharp focus suddenly, amidst arguing and heated glares. His dear emperor was wise and knew well how to handle and diffuse tension, but it stepped all over any chance Marchelute had to question the outlander. Already, the palace bodyguards were dragging him from the hall. Before he realized it, Marchelute had taken several steps, as if he meant to follow the dishonored to the prisons. It was only the resulting silence in the hall behind him that pulled him to a stop. He stood, feeling eyes around the room at his back like a touch of ice down his spine. His eyes met Raine's briefly before he was pulled out of sight. Raine's expression had been pleading, Marchelute's was almost desperate.
"Khosrou, my emperor, I must speak with you," Marchelute said without turning around. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to be clearly heard in the silent hall. Many of those assembled shared looks of confusion, but Khosrou himself seemed to have expected as much.
"Of course, adar al-maluk," replied the emperor, smooth and calm. At a gesture, all but the mobads were directed to leave. Despite their reservations, the gathered men and nobles began to disperse. Some of the Dehgans seemed reluctant to go, and when Marchelute finally turned, he found more than one gave him pleading looks - Raine's acquaintance Assid among them. Certainly this development regarding one of their comrades had them conflicted, and the faintest hint that Marchelute had an interest in Raine gave hope that perhaps... perhaps his life could somehow be spared.
Which was precisely what Marchelute intended. This was the first person he had met that could counter his fire, and he wasn't about to let him be executed, if he even could be killed, or exiled if he couldn't. To that end, he would need information. He grabbed Assid by the arm as he passed. "You. You will stay. I need to ask questions," the Flame declared. The Dehgan only stared in confused terror.
"What are you thinking, adar al-maluk?" Khosrou asked.
"Don't kill him, Khosrou. I want to know more about that man, Raine. This one... what was your name? Assid?" The warrior in his grip only nodded dumbly. "You've known him, haven't you? You will tell me. Everything you know. Now."
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Post by Salandis on Nov 8, 2014 19:08:31 GMT -6
Assid was terrified. Facing Romans or barbarians was nothing to the Sacred Fire of Persia demanding answers! He tried not to flinch from the hand on his arm, fully aware that it could incinerate him at any moment.
"I have been on campaign with him before" He said. His eyes were wide, but he managed to avoid babbling. "He is one of the greater warriors I have known. Bold, often the first to battle, but never reckless. Were he not so often calm and self controlling, I would think him a master of the battle lust, but he is like ice on the field. Tireless in combat. Noble - I have never seen him take more than rightful plunder, and he has often held our own men back from atrocity. Indeed" He stopped with a nervous laugh "He once stood between several hotheaded Dehgans and some family that had followed a barbarian warband - The father had fallen, but the wife remained with their two children. He offered to cross blades with any that would trouble them. None would."
He paused, and some of the terror faded into determination. "Once in a Roman skirmish, he gave me his own horse when mine was killed under me. The heavy cavalry was fresh, and would have run down any double riders. He remained on foot, despite the arrows flying. I was wounded, and could not resist when he threw me in his saddle and spurred the horse. I thought I would never see him again, and yet that night he finds us at camp."
He glanced quickly between Marchelute and his Emperor. "Please my kings. Do not take his life. There must be some reason that does not demand his lifeblood."
Khosrou of the Immortal Soul, King of Kings and Emperor of Iran and Non-Iran, looked at one of his oldest friends, mentors, and advisers. "It will cause ruffling of feathers among the Shahrdar if we do not take his life." He said. His voice was calm, but his eyes sparkled with interest. "That will be weighed against some obvious unrest with the Dehgans should he be killed, especially as we cannot publicly reveal the true reason." He looked back at Assid. "I will confess, I am curious to know more about him myself. I should have had suspicians before now, as I have never known a man to become so adept a warrior, without having any visible scars. Now we know perhaps he can not gain them." Assid wisely remained quiet, a flicker of hope in his eyes. Khosrou returned his gaze to Marchelute. "Adar al-maluk" He said, his tone questioning. "What can you suggest for this strange foriegner, this 'Raine'?"
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Post by Marshmallow on Nov 9, 2014 1:36:21 GMT -6
Marchelute released his hold on the Dehgan's arm, in favor of pacing while the man spoke. His claws tended to snag on the carpets, so he returned to his dais, once more filling the room with the rhythmic sound of clicking talons on marble. The sound was small comfort in light of current events, but a small comfort was better than none. Some of the mobads cautiously approached, worrying over their Sacred Fire being so perturbed. He brushed them off with a low growl, so they instead gathered in one of the alcoves to look on in silence.
For all that Assid explained of this Raine fellow's character and valor, it still left questions. 'Where did he come from?' chief among them. "So a skilled warrior with a valorous heart, loyal to his comrades and honorable even unto his enemies' people," Marchelute mused aloud. Even without his apparent supernatural ability - or curse, as he'd put it - Marchelute would never wish death on such a man. "But what is he..."
Abruptly, Marchelute came to a halt in his pacing. He met his emperor's gaze. "Khosrou, you must not kill that man. Although if what we've seen and heard is true, perhaps he cannot be killed..."
Khosrou of the Immortal Soul sighed softly. While he couldn't easily deny the will of the Flame, there was more here to consider. "As I said, the Shahrdar--"
"Damn the Shahrdar!" Marchelute spat, candles and torchflames flaring with his temper, making his emperor fall quiet and everyone else jump. "Men like Assid, men like the outlander Raine, those are more deserving of my honor alone than all the Shahrdar combined! Let them sulk, Khosrou, and if they must complain then let them do so to me."
The emperor seemed to bristle for a moment, as if to argue, but conceded instead. "And what, Adar al-maluk, should I tell them?"
"Water," he said with sudden clarity. "The one thing that cannot be harmed by blade or arrow, the one thing fire cannot touch. Water. Consider, Khosrou, if I can be so touched by Fire as I have, then it should stand that somewhere another has been touched by Water, should it not? My flame did not refuse Raine, it was... consumed, extinguished by him. I felt it. I do not think he is cursed, my emperor. We cannot allow him to be killed until I know for sure." Marchelute stepped off the dais to return to his emperor's side. "We are all but family, Khosrou. You know I would not suggest this lightly. Declare what you need to, just get that man to my temple. Sentence him to servitude, make him my apprentice, consort, anything. If he is not what I suspect he is, then... We will deal with him then." He turned to Assid then, eyeing the Dehgan over. "And you. Thank you for your answers, you may go. And I trust you will not breathe a word of this to anyone."
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Post by Salandis on Nov 9, 2014 4:25:12 GMT -6
Raine had been enjoying the brick cell. Iron bars framed the only window, the door was heavy and iron bound. Even the torch was set outside the room, leaving him sitting in shadows as the long Persian day settled into night.
His best chance at this point was that they decide to feed him, in which case he could be out of the door and free. Of course, if they opted not to feed him at all, he would have a day to try and start a fire with the silk of his clothed and straw in the cell, and hope it would be hot enough to catch the wooden door.
Abruptly the door opened, saving him from tearing up his own clothing. Two men entered the room. They were wrapped in the black cladding of the Emperors own bodyguard, and the clinking of weapons and armor followed them. Flanking the open door, the one nearest simply gestured.
Wondering if he was being set up to 'die while escaping', he followed. Four more bodyguards waited for him outside. Through the torchlit palace they guided him, through hallways left empty. Raine was sure this was intentional: Any palace swarmed with servants, the more so when their masters began to retire.
He was guided to a large chamber where The Emperor waited, with another two bodyguards but otherwise alone. Before him had been erected a large brassier, large enough to hold a man comfortably, low enough that it had clearly been removed from its stand. It was full of oil, and burning at a comfortable rate.
The Emperor studied him over the flames, the firelight adding to the intensity of his gaze. The only sound in the room for a moment was the crackle of flames. Then he gestured to the fire-pit. "Show me."
Raine sighed. But at least this was relatively benign compared to some responses. "Forgive me my lord, but let me at least take off the jewels. They are old, and I treasure them."
After a curt nod, Raine took his favorite bracelets off, and then with an afterthought the necklace of rounded gems. There was no question of the expensive white silk, of course. That was part of the demonstration.
He paused, looking at Khosrou again. His only answer was silence. With a sigh, he approached the fire-pit. The waves of heat slipped around him like an old friend, but he reigned his own gift in to the minimum needed. If the emperor wanted a show, he could at least give him one. And the absence of other visible observers meant that Khosrou intended to keep this private.
Deliberately, he stepped over the lip of the basin. He slipped slightly - who would have guess an oil filled basin to have slick footing? - and he grabbed hold of the side and threw out his other arm for balance.
His other arm worked right through the flames, and the thin silk caught fire almost instantly. The flames climbed over his arm and towards his chest, so that by the time he waded to the center of the knee-deep pool, his clothes were completely alight. He spread his arms for maximum effect, haloed by a wreath of flames. He waited, just long enough for the silk to burn away the clothing. And then released the control on his curse, and abruptly the flames in the fire-pit vanished, leaving him standing bare in congealing oil.
The Emperor was silent a time, and then spoke. "We are taught that Fire is the last element made for the world. The medium through which wisdom and purity may be gained. To be untouchable by flame may be seen as one untouchable by wisdom."
Raine was silent, and in the silence the clicking of claws announced Marchelute emerging from the darkness beyond. In the flickering shadows, Raine had not noticed the others presence.
Khosrou spoke again, and Raines eyes returned to him. "But that is not the only way one can see this. We are taught, against apparent logic, that fire is born from water." He studied Raine, standing in the oil. "From the knowledge of your comrades, you are accounted brave, and noble. perhaps even wise. And so we see another view, strange as it may seem. Flame will not touch water, from whence it came. Perhaps you embody water, as our Adar Al-maruk embodies flame."
Raine looked back, his calm in place, and shrugged. "Ah have yet tah find any explanation better than others. Ah've accepted that whatever Ah am, Ah am."
"If you forgive me, that is the sound of wisdom." Khosrou smiled, briefly, but then took a more commanding look. "Unmarked by flame, you are an outsider out of favor with our noblest classes. If I am to keep them from planting daggers in my back, I must sentence you to die."
Raine waited. He clearly wasn't hear to die, but refused to give in to the prompt. This won another smile from the young emperor. "Your lands and holdings are still going to be forfeit to the crown, of course." He said, conversationally. "Officially, you will be banished from the empire, to never enter our borders again." Raine scowled, and the emperor laughed. "Do not worry so, aban al-maruk. Your holdings eschet to the crown, who will then restore them to the Zoroastrian temples that will house you. Quietly, unfortunately, for a time. But should you decide to leave, they or their value will be returned to you"
Raine looked puzzled, but the Emperor continued. "Those who have been touched will be told a different truth, that you are indeed a personification of water. And as Water is an incomprehensible wisdom, you will be housed with our living flame." He smiled, this time a full grin. "It is up to you how the living arrangements will work, of course. The two of you, rather."
(Oh god long post is long)
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Post by Marshmallow on Nov 10, 2014 7:45:51 GMT -6
Well...
Raine's demonstration was certainly impressive, to say the least. To have extinguished a flame of such size in but an instant... It actually put a chill of excited fear down the Roman's spine to see it. He began to wonder if Raine could snuff him out just as easily? The outlander's strange gift perhaps represented the one greatest threat in this world to the Sacred Fire. For this, he was glad they had not met as enemies.
Marchelute slowly made his way across the room from the shadows to his emperor's right. Save for the clicking of his talons on the marble, he kept quiet while Raine and Khosrou of the Immortal Soul spoke. He circled the basin slowly, noting how even the air felt colder. Curiously, Marchelute sparked a flame upon one hand and dipped a claw into the oil as he walked. Flames jumped to life across the the surface of the pool, only to abruptly vanish in a blink as Raine's ability consumed them. Marchelute's lips pulled into a smirk and he did it again, marveling still at how nigh-instantaneously the flames died.
As he came around the basin to stand before Raine, Marchelute was grinning. "I have never met my opposite before," he said, unable to keep the excitement out of his tone. "I count myself lucky that we did not meet in battle, Aban al-maruk." It was now apparent that Marchelute was carrying something. Draped over one scaly arm was a fresh change of clothes, as all the palace servants had been dismissed. It was a rare honor for a mortal to be touched by the Eternal Flame, the Sacred Fire; but Marchelute freely held out his other hand to Raine, someone now his equal, in offer to help him out of the fire pit.
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Post by Salandis on Nov 12, 2014 1:48:15 GMT -6
"Aban Al-maruk" Raine tasted the term carefully, and then grinned and shrugged. "Far better than some other terms I have been called." He turned to regard Marchelute, still grinning. "I am glad we did not meet in combat either, Fiery one." He said. "I feel any other place, at any other time, we should have - as fire and water, flame and ice, opposites apart." He sobered. "But we have free will, by design. And if destiny lead us here, I would surely have us be friends."
He looked down, realizing he was still far too unclothed for such serious discussion, and made to step out of the bowl. Unfortunately for him, giant bronze basins were not normally designed for people to clamber in and out of at will. Trying to climb to the side, he instead slipped and fell hard into the still liquid oil. He threw out his hands, managing to prevent himself from falling completely back, but was still coated quite thoroughly in oil. slipping gracelessly over the lip, he pulled himself to his feet.
He steadied himself, and reached out to the robe with a grin. "Uh... I don't suppose there is a bath somewhere near here is there? Unless ya want to simply burn me off. But I would probably leave scorch marks on the tile."
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Post by Marshmallow on Nov 12, 2014 7:42:12 GMT -6
A chorus of laughter filled the room at Raine's less than dignified exit from the fire pit. Marchelute took a step back, to avoid being splashed with any oil as his new friend dropped to the floor. Not that it would really bother him any, but he liked these robes. "How lucky I am that I did not have to suffer such a display myself," the Flame said with a sharp-toothed grin. "Yes, my friend, let us get you properly taken care of, hm?"
At the suggestion, a small flame flickered into being at the tip of a claw, and Marchelute turned a glance to his emperor. Khosrou's chuckling came to a halt in an instant, and he shook his head. This had been a secret meeting, and scorches on the floor would be difficult to explain away. Seeming disappointed that he was denied another show, Marchelute put the flame out, and merely handed the newly-appointed King of Water the dry robes.
"The palace baths won't be available to us without alerting Khosrou's servants, so I'll take you to the temple instead. It's just a short walk," he explained in brief, and motioned to the doors. He turned to bid good night to the emperor, and expressed his gratitude with a curt bow. With their familiarity, it was a rare gesture and carried meaning beyond its simplicity.
Now dismissed, Marchelute turned and gestured for Raine to follow as he made to leave the hall. A set of the black-clad bodyguards fell into step beside them, presumably as a standard escort for the Sacred Fire, but potentially to make sure Raine didn't prove to be a threat. After his display of extinguishing great flames... The Sacred Fire himself appeared less than enthused by their presence, and gave a hoarse growl when they approached. Where the sound may have startled lesser men, the bodyguards merely took it as a signal and wordlessly put an extra step of distance between themselves and their Flame. Marchelute groaned and shook his head. "I tell them I do not need protection, but they insist," he complained, an edge of strain in his voice that hadn't been there before, or had been very well hidden. "I'm sure you'll have your own in due time. Ah, this way, there is a hidden corridor to the temple." They turned down a darkened, empty hall. Tucked away, behind pillars and tapestries, a hidden alcove that led to a concealed staircase, which in turn connected to a hidden corridor. "Not the most impressive way to your new home, but at least it's not a tiny room in an old dungeon, hm?"
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Post by Salandis on Nov 13, 2014 5:02:17 GMT -6
"Aye, it is" Raine commented, as he followed Marchelute into the passage. "Not the first dungeon I have been in, but I was wondering if I would get out again." He settled the robe, the unpleasant feel of the oil and fabric clinging to him making him grimace.
"Where are you from?" Marchelute asked as they walked. "Ireland" Raine replied. "It is the smaller island, west of what was Brittania." "Ah" Marchelute nodded. "I remember when that was in the empire" "Aye" Raine grinned. "You have a long memory then. When I was born, it was not yet part of the Pax Roma. Marchelute only grinned. "When I was born, Rome was still a republic." They remained in silence for a while as Raine digested that comment, realizing he had actually met someone older then him for the first time in hundreds of years. Finally they came to another set of stairs that led up, in a spiraling fashion. It ended coming out behind a tapestry in a large and well appointed bedchamber. Raine's eyebrows rose. "Yours?" He asked. When Marchelute nodded, the guards walked past them to the door.
"Where can I clean up?" He asked.
"Not here, I'm afraid" Marchelute replied. "There are no baths attached to my rooms. But there is a separate set of rooms, a suite directly across the hall from mine." A grin seemed to play over his face for a moment. "There is a private bath there, supplied by a cistern on the roof."
Raine wondered at the smile as he bade his new housemate goodnight. Out of the main room there was a large antechamber with several doors leading off of it. Private rooms for King of Fire, no doubt Raine thought, before proceeding into the indicated room.
The room he was to take was quite large, almost as large as Marchelute's own. It appeared to have been unused for a while, but kept clean and in order. The room was divided into a personal area, complete with a desk and the soft Persian style seating. In an alcove across from that was a large bed, with a veil to keep out nightgoing insects.
He followed an open doorway on the other side of the bedroom to find a bathroom, set with a recessed bath the size of a small pool. He smiled at the sight, pealing himself out of the oily robe. The water was a little too warm for the desert, but he corrected that in a fraction of a second. Undoubtedly he would catch up with the Adar Al-Maruk in the morning.
*~*
Of course, in the morning he found that he was in a new place without clothes. And, on leaving the room awkwardly in a towel, faced a tittering of feminine laughter.
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