Thar Shaddin

Misumi Ayako was named as such by her romantic poets of a mother and father. Aside from being hopeless romantics, both parents were also scribes. An Ayako had been a scribe since the time of the Great Exodus; family legend said "even before" with pride.

Her name was taken from an ancient tongue. For those who understood the language in which her mother had chosen to name her or cared to try and translate it, the name meant “beautiful silk girl of pure beauty;” a meaning which had embarrassed Misumi to no end for most of her life. For although Misumi could probably be called beautiful, she certainly did not think that she was as her name described. Misumi did not see herself as an outsider must. For an outsider, the silk would be the black silk of her hair and the silky gray/violet/blue of her eyes which were surrounded by smoky, thick dark lashes (providing one chose to look past the spectacles Misumi wore).

Misumi was a junior scribe in the Hall of Records and her tasks involved two things. The first was to transcribe current events into large, magically enhanced books intended to keep record of the important and not so important happenings in the realm. Her second task, the one she preferred most, was to carefully copy over old, crumbling tomes into the newer, protected vellum pages. In this way, the history of the realm would be kept.

Due to the age and nature of many of the books, her master had started with the oldest tomes first. It was not an easy task. Magic could be used to copy the works, but only to a certain degree. Scribes had the ability to read aloud what is written and have his or her pen write diligently through magical means. Some of the older works were from the times, though, when the land had been established. These were imbued with a magic of their own. These had to be copied by hand.

There is a certain dedication to being a scholar such as this. As one ages, one’s back typically becomes bowed by the constant curve of hunching over. One’s fingers become calloused from the stylus and ink absorbed through the fingers slowly poisons the system. One’s eyes, too, suffer in attempts to translate words written in ancient tongues in small, spidery, elegant script from an age long past. Misumi is young, though, so aside from her eyes and the calluses upon her fingers, she is still physically fit. Her body is small and slender, well suited to slipping in between thick, heavy stacks of books and shimmying up tall shelves with ease. Like all scribes, a certain amount of magic was known to Misumi, predominantly that which would help support her chosen and inherited occupation.

Misumi was working diligently as she always did. She was more comfortable among the historical pages of long dead people, than being among the boisterous crowds of people which populated the main part of the kingdom. Matters were not helped by the fact that today was a celebration. Servants bustled to and fro; cleaning, decorating, and preparing a great feast of foods. Outside merchants set up stalls, games were planned, and all would make merry. Well, most would make merry. Unless she was forced to leave her reading, Misumi would stay hidden among the stacks reading with fascination. She had found one book that was like no other she had opened so far.

Misumi read the words silently at first. A scholar is trained from an early age to assess the content before speaking it aloud. Many a foul or chance thing has happened to a scholar who is not cautious! As she read, she found this to be a book of someone’s memoirs. Memoirs were always a favorite of hers. To learn about the things people thought about, worried about, and dreamt about was something that Misumi truly enjoyed. Through these personal accounts, she felt as if there was a link between the past, present, and future.

Many of the accounts Misumi had come across were of scholars and scribes such as she. A scribe is encouraged to keep a journal or diary by virtue of the work they do. In this way, future scribes will be able to determine whether a past scribe had a bias towards one or more people in the documents they reproduced or events they recorded. In this way, scribes were kept as honest and impartial as humanly or Elvishly possible. But this account seemed to be of someone of a different caliber entirely; indeed, Misumi felt as if she were a part of the memory not just a reader of it. Misumi suddenly felt a bit off as her eyes skimmed over the page. Unable to help herself, her lips moved as she breathed the words quietly.


"I can't believe we are leaving behind our beautiful home. As I sit here, riding in the back of a cart, I watch our home being devoured by flames. I will never forget this sight! Flames dance and lick at the delicate, scrolling structures of our homes like the foul, perverse creatures that set them. How could .... do this to us? Betray us? The betrayal is like a bitter root on my tongue. V'nah'ha emeriall na'aha! I will never forget!"

Misumi shivered. She could imagine the way the author felt. As another waver of light-headedness drifted over her, Misumi lifted a hand to her forehead. Why... ? Misumi suddenly realized she had found one of the famed Memory Books. These books were from the time of the great Exodus! She did not have enough time to be excited by her find as she was suddenly drawn into the magic that made the books so precious. Misumi was suddenly a part of the memory...

Flames and black smoke roiled on the horizon as the cart made way towards the harbor as quickly as was possible. Misumi not Misumi laid a steadying hand on a stack of books - her charges for the journey - as her other hand splayed across the open page where she was recording her memories on. Moments like this needed to be remembered and should never be forgotten...

Misumi not Misumi forced herself to watch as her beautiful home was consumed. Her left hand clenched in the fabric of her pants leg and tears welled in her eyes.

So many souls.... May the 12 achieve their purpose and contain this Darkness!

"I humbly beseech thee, Lady Mother, give respite to weary souls." The canker that ate at the heart of her home was palpable. She could see the blackness as it roiled up amorphously and fell back down in upon itself.

Somehow Misumi drew herself from the book, loosed its hold upon her. Closing her eyes she shook her head. Opening her eyes, she slid back from the table. Placing her hands on her back and hips, she arched backwards to release the tension that had stolen into her during the readings. Looking down at the table, Misumi stroked the cover of the journal then lifted quill in hand to begin cataloging the books. Duty to Knowledge came first. She would read more once she had done as she ought. As she wrote, though, the writer Salovuje's feelings stirred in her. Who was it Salovuje would never forgive? What had been done? What was that ... blackness?

Hours later, meals forgotten, Misumi finished cataloging the manuscripts, memory books, and other scribed entries. Habit ingrained into ritual led her to go through the entire library extinguishing light sources and enabling the wards. Protecting the knowledge within was her duty and her right, she would not fail to do so.

Misumi finished her tour, ending back at her desk. The only light source now was Misumi's own based on a magic spell. The orb of light floated above Misumi, casting out a cheery globe in which gold leaf shone dully. The scent of books lay heavy in the air. Misumi looked around one more time and nodded. Taking up Salovuje's journal, she slid it into her pocket. Misumi had already decided to read for as long as she was able, intent on finding out what it was that Salovuje had witnessed.

At the door of the library, before exiting, Misumi spoke the final words of the ward. The doors opened softly, giving an almost sibilant sound. Misumi stepped through and the doors closed automatically behind her.

"Good night, my friends," she said as she made her way through the castle and back to her room.

Misumi's room was simple, but thankfully, within the castle itself. A perk granted to royal scribes, a room in the castle meant maids provided clean bedding on a regular basis. The room housed a single bed, a writing desk, a window, a fireplace, and, of course, books.

Taking off the official robes of her office, Misumi hung them carefully in the wardrobe. Beneath the robe, her clothing was also simple. A shirt, cross buttoned, fit snugly across her chest and moved easily with her, slim fitting pants encased her legs, and petite, black slippers fit neatly on petite feet that made little sound as she walked. Misumi laid Salovuje's journal on the bedside table, then thought better of it. Slipping the volume into the pocket of her shirt, Misumi left the room carrying a change of clothes, thick towels, and a little bucket filled with bathing items.

Servants used a bath-house, versus being given baths in their rooms. Misumi didn't mind except for when her glasses fogged up or when the bath house was full of others. Thick steam kept the co-ed pool reasonably private, but she would still prefer not being seen. She had yet to figure out why certain people approached her there.

Thankfully, many had already bathed, choosing to participate in the festivities. Bathing was perfunctionary. Misumi wanted to get back to reading once more. Her daily routines were chafing at her impatience, but finally Misumi made it to her room. She only had to avoid a few revelers wanting to drag her along.

Once in her room, a pot of tea, some meat buns, and the book made for a perfect evening. Everything was arranged neatly on to the bedside table and Misumi slipped into her nightgown. Silken, black hair was released and let to fall around her shoulders. Pulling up only a sheet, because the night air was warm and close, Misumi absent-mindedly poured tea as she flipped open the book.

As she read, Misumi kept rubbing at her eyes. It seemed the words blurred more often the longer she read. Taking off her glasses, Misumi held the book close and couldn't read it. Misumi blinked and held it a little further away, until she realized ... her eyes had somehow gotten... better? What magic is this?? But the thought did not linger long, the words and feelings called to her. Misumi read the book from cover to cover, savoring every word, every detail, trying to understand.

Was it ignorance or greed? Perhaps it was both. Certainly more than a little arrogance. How could they believe they could tamper with such things and not have to face consequence? How could they! I... I must calm myself and be the scribe I was meant to be. It is hard, though, to be an observer to this and be impartial.

Since it is always best to begin at the beginning, so I shall. We are the Amrun'quessir, the people of Numen. How we came to this beautiful land is unknown.

Some say that another great exodus occurred as we searched for the lands of the Father and the Mother. Some say the Father and the Mother created the land and the People all at one time. Both are just hear-say, though, as our origins are shrouded in the mists of time before time. What is known is that the Land is our Land, our Numen. None know hunger here, nor sickness, or at least they did not, but I get ahead of this recording to say as much.

I hope, should my words be read one day, my readers will understand that this is my personal journal. To keep my feelings from it I would have to be dead. I beg your forgiveness, future readers, and your indulgence in my high emotions.

Our Numen... no more perfect place could have existed! We are the blessed children of our Mother and Father... or we once were... Arts, all of them, are encouraged and practiced here. Above all, our beloved Father and Mother have given us free-will. The things we can do!

Some of our people excel in the Green arts. Beneath their fingers crops and herbs grow, encouraged by the love in their hearts. Others excel in the Totem Arts. These folk are blessed with the ability to shape-shift their forms so that we understand the world around us and those that share it with us. Earth arts, Water arts, arts of the Air, arts of the Fire, arts of the Word.. these were ours to learn, to understand, to manipulate. We aged slowly, allowing us time to accumulate wisdom, so that we would be respectful of the gift the Father and the Mother had given.

Truly, Numen was our paradise.... and now it is lost to us. The great Gem of the Sun was removed so that we could understand the shape of shadows, for we knew that without light there is no shadow and without shadow no light.. oh we knew, but we thought to investigate the truths.

Driven by knowledge, we unleashed desolation until now nothing remains. Our great, shining city - gleaming white under the Father's sun - has been cast into darkness for the Father has turned his back on his children... disappointed in our fickleness. The Mother, benevolent Mother, leads her children away from the darkness knowing that the Father will not be angry forever. We have brought the Chalice with us in hopes that we will be able to create another great Gem or at least find the one that has been lost in the darkness. I fear many years will pass before we will once again follow the paths of Numen to regain the Gem of Tarion. May the darkness be kept at bay until then...

The darkness seemed to well up into Misumi's view. A soft sound left her throat. Overtaking her, the darkness swept Misumi under blocking out the light. The light...

Misumi awoke hours later, just as the setting sun left streaks like blood across the horizon. Perhaps it was the foreboding tone of the words or the dreams she had had, but she did not find the loss of the sunlight reassuring. She wanted to crawl under the covers of her bed and stay there, hidden like a child with night terrors, waiting for the dawn. She knew, though, she would not be able to wait. The memories that had once been hers had resurrected a need. She would have to go out into the world. Misumi hugged herself. She would need help. In the book, she knew she had the means now to pay for a hired sword and other things. She had some magic to her, she could improve. A boat and crew to sail it would be needed. Provisions would be needed. First, though, she needed a hero...

Misumi moved to her desk and began to compose a notice. She would post the notice on the tavern board and begin interviewing this very evening, providing there were any who would take her up on the ..."adventure." Mousy Misumi... who would have ever thought she would be charged with such a task as this?

Write-up finished, Mismui looked down at her handiwork.

"Travel, exploration... Hero wanted. See Misumi Ayako within."

Not a particularly promising write-up... Misumi sighed and moved to pull on her clothes. A brush ran through silken, black locks making them gleam in the lamplight. A tavern.. Mismumi did not drink, this would be a new experience. The journal, a notebook, a pen, ink, her coin purse, and the notice were all tucked into her bag. Pushing her spectacles up on the bridge of her nose, she blinked again as she realized that some magic had been wrought and she no longer needed them... but for how long? The glasses were removed and tucked away in a safe carrying case. Better safe than sorry... Soft steps led Misumi to the Tavern. Raucuous laughter and music slipped out into the evening as the door opened and closed. First, she tacked the notice up. Then, she went to the bar. Giving the tender a coin, she said, "I am Misumi Ayako. Should any inquire after me, I will be seated .. there."

Misumi looked for and found a small table. Not, unfortunately in some protected corner, it would seem all those nice cozy snugs had been taken. "And, may I please have a pot of tea?" The Tavern keep stared at her a moment and then nodded.

"I'll have Mary come see you inna minute." Misumi nodded. "Thank you."

Turning, she surveyed the assembled group. Truth be told, they all looked like ruffians to her... oh well. Misumi made her way to the little table and took a seat. Opening her notebook, she began to make notes for herself. A list of what she thought her hero needed, supplies, and other things.

Four months prior

Deep green colored eyes , in which golden flecks danced, narrowed as Elémírë Oránraë peered into the shadowy distance. The Land was not well and the Lady was displeased. Something was amiss and Elémírë had been sent to investigate it. Oakenwyld was the oldest and largest forested region in the land. If she could not find answers here, Elémírë suspected she would have to leave Oakenwyld to get to the truth of the matter.

Elémírë knelt with one knee upon the ground and placed a hand at the base of the old Oak. Closing her eyes, her brows furrowed as she sought a link to the essence within the Oak. At first, there was only a flutter. As she concentrated, though, she felt the ebb and flow of Life as it moved through the tree and linked it to the other trees within the woods. She kept still, slowing her breathing and clearing her mind.

Time was different for the Oakenwyld than it was for her and others. Elves were long lived, true, but trees lived longer still. Time was measured in the seasons - periods of external dormancy and inner growth, to full-out growth; storms that cracked limbs; and animals and other creatures that threatened the safety of the Wood.

Her eyes opened wide and she gasped, jerking her hand back from the tree trunk. Disgust roiled in her gut and nearly made her vomit. A cankerous something gnawed and eroded, slipping in from the very leylines of the world. Whatever it was, had begun to erode the natural sanctity of the wood. Whatever it was, it was not natural and that was something Elémírë could not abide. At the far edges of the Oakenwyld, where the wood changed and moved toward the sea; there she would have to go for her answers. Armed with her gear, a word and a name, Elémírë set out to the City by the Sea.

current time

Elémírë adjusted the straps on her pack, to ensure things did not go missing while she moved through the city. Heading for the tavern and inn, to which she had been directed, she wrinkled her nose. The smells and scents of a city did not agree with her, no matter how clean the city might be. Stepping within the tavern, she moved to the bar. Unlike many of the revelers who were here celebrating the festivities, Elémírë was dressed in her armor. The bartender/inn keep gave her a look.

"You're in luck. We've a few rooms left, but they're small."

"That is fine."

Transaction completed and key retrieved, Elémírë sought one more piece of information. "Can you direct me to the Hall of Records? I seek a scribe by the name of Salovuje."

The festival day had been good to Yyan. He had perused the grounds early, chosen his spot well, played his heart and spirit to the revelers’ delight, and was rewarded with a purse so heavy he thought the old and fraying seams would snap. It would last for quite a while if he used it wisely, but now that the principle festivities were over he thought he deserved a bit of leisure to toast his good fortune.

Tucking his lute underneath his patchwork jacket, Yyan made for the nearest tavern. Upon entering the harsh, bawdy cacophony assaulted his tender hearing, and he winced, trying to get his bearings in the sea of noise. At the bar he spotted Rainer, looking harried as he dropped tankard and pint, one after the other, before the demanding patrons. The sight elicited a chuckle deep in Yyan’s throat. He gave a sharp whistle, then a wave when Rainer looked his way. The middle-aged barkeep grinned and waved him over.

Yyan managed to squeeze out a space for himself at the crowded bar, being mindful of the instrument at his back. Rainer reached over and shook his hand firmly, content to ignore the unruly demands of the other patrons for a moment. “Yyan, ya rascal, where ya been keepin’ yerself?” he demanded. “Seems like ages past when I last saw ya in here! Do well for yourself this year?”

With a broad grin Yyan nodded, then looked past Rainer to examine the barshelves. He shut one eye in an exaggerated expression of concentration, moving one finger back and forth, until he pointed squarely at the largest keg on display.

Rainer laughed. “Never one to experiment, ya? Always the same bloody ale every time?”

Yyan shrugged. In life, when so few things were certain, he held onto the things he could count on to treat him well. To make the point, he reached into his purse and slapped down two coins.

“All right, all right, half a moment.” Rainer plucked the coins from the counter and turned away. When he returned, he offered Yyan a foamy tankard. “The brew this year ain’t half bad, actually. Enjoy yourself, lad.”

With a friendly slap on Yyan’s shoulder, Rainer turned back to the other customers he’d been neglecting. Yyan toasted the barkeep’s back, and set the tankard back on the counter. He closed his eyes, letting the noise drift away like shreds of morning clouds, and took a deep breath. The sharp, tingling odor of the ale tickled the inside of his nose. He savored that first taste in his lungs, before taking a long drink and holding it in the sphere of his mouth. The edges of what remained of his tongue picked up teasing pricks of flavor, and when the coolness melted he swallowed carefully, a little at a time.

Wrapped in an insulating blanket of pleasure, Yyan turned back around, his gaze roving across the smoky common room. He leaned back against the counter, letting his hand dangle over the side, and his fingertips brushed against something. Looking down, he noticed for the first time the hand-written notice pinned on the bar counter.

Travel, exploration... Hero wanted. See Misumi Ayako within.

Yyan took the sheet of thick paper between his fingers. A flick of his wrist removed it from the wood. Travel? Exploration? Those words always appealed to him. Hero...? He guessed that meant wherever this Misumi Ayako wanted to travel and whatever they wanted to explore, a degree of peril was to be expected.

Taking another swallow of ale, Yyan considered. Times were good for him right now. He had kept his head down and his nose clean for the last few years. No one bothered him anymore. He doubted anyone was still looking. There weren’t too many mutes with his brand of talents running around; if they still wanted him, it wouldn’t be hard to find him.

And he wasn’t strapped for money. That made the thought of travel, peril included, even more appealing.

He whistled for Rainer again. The barkeep turned from the beer barrel he was pouring from, and Yyan held up the notice with one eyebrow raised. With a chuckle, Rainer pointed a small table. “Lass with black hair and teapot. Fancy yourself a hero now, do ya?” Yyan gave an affected shrug. He picked up the tankard and waved a thank-you to Rainer, then weaved his way over to the table.

Yyan was a little surprised that he hadn’t noticed her before. Misumi Ayako hardly looked like she belonged in such a raucous setting. She was writing studiously in a notebook on the table, occasionally sipping from a cup of tea. Something occurred to Yyan, and he paused just shy of the halfway point between her table and the bar, his heart drumming weirdly against his ribs.

It had been a long time since he had talked to anyone.

With a faint growl, he shook off the nervousness. He had made a promise years ago to never be ashamed of who he was, or what he could do. He strolled up the last few steps to Misumi’s table, focusing solely on her downturned, studious face. Excuse me, miss. I would like to speak to you about your notice.

The voice would be clear, as though he spoke directly into her ear. Yyan knew from experience that the sound could be disconcerting the first time, and he hoped that he had spoken before she had a chance to look up from her book and see that his lips had not moved.

But more than that, he hoped that she would not immediately be put off by his appearance. Rainer was right to laugh: he hardly resembled any sort of hero in a bard's song. While he was tall, a little over six feet, his frame tended towards the lean side instead of muscular. He looked younger than his age of 26, with rounded features and large pale-blue eyes. Currently his dark blond hair was tied back, but several chin-length strands had worked their way loose to frame his face. With his travel-stained, well-worn clothes, battered boots and second-hand lute tucked at his back, Yyan knew he looked more like the vagrant he had become than any hero.


(Edited because I realized I had neglected to put in any character description *facepalm*. Just as a note, this is a very different version of Yyan's character, older, a little less careworn.)

(OOC: no worries, Xeis, this isn't canon so you could feasibly introduce any character. Some folks use the AR thread to 'get to know' their characters before introducing them into the canon setting.)

Turning, she surveyed the assembled group. Truth be told, they all looked like ruffians to her... oh well. Misumi made her way to the little table and took a seat. Opening her notebook, she began to make notes for herself. A list of what she thought her hero needed, supplies, and other things.

Misumi frowned a little in concentration. Out of habit she lifted her hand to adjust the frame of her spectacles on more than one occasion. Drawing a circle on the page, she wrote the word hero. Around the circle she wrote:

-Honorable
-Dependable
-Proficient with weapons
-Connections
-Courageous
-Tracker
-Intelligent
-Strong
-Archer
-Magic?
- Equestrian

From there, she drew lines to each of the words from the main word: hero. Another circle was drawn around the word "connections." She then wrote:

-Ship and crew
-Horses
-Provisions and supplies

Horses... Misumi had never ridden a horse, so whoever her hero turned out to be, they would need to help her learn. MIsumi circled the word horses and drew a line off of it with the word 'learn' as the end point. From provisions and supplies she wrote the basics - food, water, shelter, clothing, notebook, pencils, magic book(s?)... until she had run out of ideas. Her last thought was to add the word "leader" to her list for her hero. She needed someone who could take the lead, get what needed to be done, done and do what needed to be done. Misumi sighed. This, she thought, is hopeless.

Reaching for her cup of tea, she sipped it and stared at the page. Just as she placed the cup down on the table once more, a soft voice spoke. At first, the sound tickled, but soon that sensation died, leaving only the words.

Excuse me, miss. I would like to speak to you about your notice.

Misumi looked up to find a tall, blonde haired man looking down at her. He was dressed raggedly and a little on the thin side, but the voice was fine and cultured. His eyes had an earnestness about them, that made Misumi want to trust him.

"Thank you, please will you sit down?" MIsumi gestured to the chair opposite her, indicating the young man should sit down. At least his approach hadn't included a proposition... yet.

The tender was overly busy and did not hear her question, moving off to see yet another. A game patron volunteered up a little information.

"The Hall of Records will be in the Library. Visiting hours for that is only during the day. Don't know any scribes by the name of Salovuje, but that girl over there might have an idea. She seems kinda bookish, if you know what I mean." The man grinned at Elémírë. She was very fit, willowy, and taller than the average human woman. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face by a clasp, leaving the back hanging down to her shoulder blades in glossy mahogany. The graceful curve of her ears and her build gave her race away with unmistakable ease. Elémírë was a pure-blooded elf, through and through.

Elémírë gave a slight bow. "I thank you," she replied as her gaze traveled to look for the young woman. She saw the woman just as the young, blonde man moved to speak with her. The man who had offered up the information had continued to grin at her. "You could stay and have a drink with me... if you'd like." Elémírë turned her gaze back to the man.

"Were I not here for business, I might accept your offer." A polite smile was given as she dipped her fingers into her belt and produced enough coin to buy the man another drink. "Since I cannot, I will at least buy you another drink for the information you gave me." Inclining her head to the man as she took her leave, Elémírë moved away from the man and down the bar until she could watch the two of them.

Yyan nodded in thanks and put his tankard down. He unslung the lute from his shoulder and set it down carefully before taking the offered seat. Under the guise of reading over the notice again, he studied his potential employer. Misumi Ayako seemed young, perhaps around his age, or a few years younger… it was hard to discern from her delicate features. She had a patient, intelligent demeanor, the air of a scholar more than an adventurer, which made her advertisement for a “hero” all the more curious to him.

Setting the paper on the table, Yyan met the woman’s gaze. In the smoky lamplight, he couldn’t tell exactly what color her eyes were. She seemed to regard him with professional curiosity; he decided that the best approach was to respond in kind.

I must beg your indulgence for my unusual method of communication. If it bothers you, I can write down questions and answers instead. It makes talking take a bit longer, though.

After sixteen years as a mute, Yyan had developed an expressive face and body language to supplement his communication. Even as he spoke to Misumi directly, his expression shifted in subtle ways: an apologetic smile, a nod to the notebook in front of her, shifts in the eyebrows. It had become so natural that he had practically lost the ability to lie. Each thought and emotion automatically showed in his face.

Yyan picked up Misumi’s notice again, read it, then looked back at her. This doesn’t sound like a spontaneous need for excitement to spice up a dull life. Travel… exploration… Yyan’s brow creased in thought. What is it that you seek?

MIsumi smiled at the young man politely while he looked over the notice. When he met her gaze, she kept it. Like Yyan, Misumi did not know how to be politic or circumspect. Her gaze was open and curious, wondering how he might fit the bill. Misumi's eyes widened when the sound of his voice came, but his lips did not move. She shook her head quickly, to indicate she didn't mind. She was just inexperienced with the concept. She wondered if she were supposed to remain mute and think her words as well. Yyan's next words, however, cast a haunted expression across her eyes.

"No, this is not a need for excitement." There was a slight tone in her voice - slightly rueful, slightly incredulous; certainly indicating a need but not necessarily a choice. Misumi gave a little, self-conscious smile. "I rather liked my dull life." She looked down at the notice as it lay on the table. How many people should she seek?

"May I be completely honest? I am clueless in how to begin. I... " Misumi heaved a soft sigh and her hand lifted yet again to adjust glasses that were not there. Catching herself in the act, she shook her head slightly. "Begin at the beginning, that is always the best place to begin... no?" Misumi gave Yyan another little smile.

"I am Misumi Ayako, Royal Scribe. I work in the library, cataloging and restoring old manuscripts and books." Misumi leaned forward a little, scooting the chair closer to the table and lowering her voice - granted the revelers were loud enough, someone would have to have excellent hearing and be focused upon them to hear her words now, but she wanted to make sure that someone who might be tainted by the darkness she'd felt did not intercept her before her task could be completed. MIsumi felt foolishly paranoid, but she could not shake the feeling that there would be those who would not want her to succeed. For the briefest of moments, Yyan became suspect. He could be one of them... Misumi stared at him, searching his gaze for some sign that he might not be the hero she needed; searching for a sign that indicated he might be one who would want to stop her.

"I found a memory book, a journal of a scribe by the name of Salovuje from the time of the Great Exodus." The Great Exodus was a legend and history, one must have lived under a rock for the whole of their lives to not know it. Misumi let the knowledge of what she had found sink in. Despite herself, the excitement of such a find shone in her eyes. She nodded, yes. Then, she finished, "I need to find the land from which we came. I need help getting there. From what I have read, there is something there that needs to be repaired..." An earnest desire now showed on her features, "... for all our sakes." Misumi watched Yyan, wondering if perhaps her delivery was too melodramatic or too cryptic. How in the world did you say to someone, we need to save the world and not sound like a madman?

From her position at the bar, Elemire stilled. A memory book? Those were famed and composed from ancient magic. Memory books were most effective to those whose souls were the reborn version of the original author. Others could be drawn into the story, but the real purpose of a memory book was to unlock forgotten memories. Salovuje, the name she had been given, was the name of the original scribe.

Elemire studied the dark-haired young woman who called herself Misumi Ayako. She was human, not elf; yet, it would seem this Misumi was the one she sought. Elemire paused, allowing the young man time to respond. She would approach after she determined whether he would help or if she needed to dispatch him.

The young woman’s gaze transfixed Yyan, and he listened without interruption. He gave a nod when Misumi told of her profession; it fit with his initial impressions. She spoke of her discovery of the memory book, about its origins dating back to the Great Exodus, and though Yyan was no great student of history, Misumi’s words carried such reverence and scholarly excitement that he found himself swept up in her enthusiasm. Then she spoke of the journey she intended to make, and his eyes grew wider with every word. Misumi Ayako meant to return.

Yyan remembered the stories of his childhood, about the people whose grief and longing for their ancient home drove them to seek out those hidden lands. Those that left never returned. Had they come to a bad end, as soon many of his people believed, or had they found what they sought?

But this was not a reclaiming that Misumi was suggesting. This was…something else. Something needing repair? Yyan did not understand, and he suspected that Misumi herself did not either, at least not fully. But he recognized the conviction in her eyes. Whatever needed to be done, she believed that it was important.

When she finished, Yyan sat back in his chair. His gaze lingered on her for a long moment, but his thoughts stretched from past through future, and for the first time since he had walked into the tavern his face became unreadable.

At last he stirred and leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands folded, a gesture of secrecy. I will have many questions regarding the details, but those will come later, and only if you decide to take me on. You may indeed need a hero for such an expedition as this, and I don’t know if I fit that order. But I can see that you will need help, so let me start with the things that I can do.

He reached for the long-forgotten tankard and took a drink, organizing his thoughts. My name is Yyan Ilinari. I’ve been a musician by trade for the last five years, but I’ve been a traveler all of my life. I know logistics, map reading, riding, how to move in most terrain, and how to keep my mouth shut. The last was said with a wry half-grin, an attempt to lighten the tense mood. You’ve probably figured out that I’ve had some education. I can read and write in a few different languages, and I know enough mathematics to keep track of funds. I can plan, organize, even if you ultimately decide not to take me along.

Yyan paused for another drink. As far as pay, this expedition is likely to be expensive just in terms of mounts, hiring fees, supplies and whatever else may come. I can help make sure you don’t get filched in the markets, and if you’re able and willing to pay for expenses, then I can earn my own keep while on the road.

He picked up the tankard and sat back in the chair, allowing Misumi to think about his offer.

Misumi waited while Yyan seemed to consider her words. She thought he understood, but for a moment his expression was closed. Worry pricked at Misumi. She had sounded like a madwoman. The idea was foolish. But, then he leaned toward her. Misumi leaned forward as well, as if he were going to whisper softly to her.

I will have many questions regarding the details, but those will come later, and only if you decide to take me on. You may indeed need a hero for such an expedition as this, and I don’t know if I fit that order. But I can see that you will need help, so let me start with the things that I can do.
Misumi nodded, she knew she needed help. That was why she was here.

Yyan Ilinari ... Misumi said the name to herself in her head and listened as he described himself. He was right, even if he wasn't the "hero" she needed he certainly could do so much more than she. Logisitics... at his self-deprecating joke, she just shook her head, as if chiding him a little for it. Educated.. yes... another nod was given. HIs muteness made Misumi feel as if she should be quiet and mute as well. Knowing that his reading and writing extended to other languages was a bonus. Perhaps... Misumi considered the young man. Perhaps, should something happen to her she had been sent someone who could take up where she left off.

With each skill he listed, the look of relief and hope shone in her eyes. There was nothing to think about as far as Misumi was concerned. "I would be grateful for your participation, Yyan Ilinari. I have lived the whole of my life in the Library. I am sure there is much I haven't begun to fathom, but if you can do even half of what you say I know that I need you. "

Elemire's brows drew together as she watched the pair. There was obviously some form of communication going between them, but she could not hear it. Nor, did the man's lips move other than to smile. Elemire felt it was time to make her presence known to the scribe.



"Your pardon for interrupting, but I believe you are the one I seek." This was spoken to Misumi. "I am Elemire Oranrae of Oakenwyld." Her name was given to both of them, along with a slight bow.

Elemire stood slim and tall. Snug, well-made elven armor fit her body to allow her the most flexibility and protection possible. A sword hung at one side. A dagger was strapped to the opposite thigh. Across her back a quiver and bow were neatly crossed. The armor was an unusual hue, as if the colors blended together, offsetting the light somewhat and made of what appeared to be a combination of well-oiled leather and metal. One could imagine in a forested setting, she would not be easy to see immediately.

A simple, leather clasp kept the hair back from her face while allowing it to hang down behind her shoulders. Her eyes were almond-shaped, her cheekbones high, and her ears ended in delicate points. Her expression was reserved and a little aloof, but that would not be unusual for an elf at a first meeting.

"I will accompany you and help you in this. Perhaps, it would be best to find a less busy place to continue this discussion?"

"...but if you can do even half of what you say I know that I need you."

Yyan gave Misumi his biggest smile yet. He finished the remainder of his ale and set the tankard back down with a satisfied thunk. A warm glow of excitement settled in his stomach, and it suddenly occurred to him just how long it had been since he had done anything like this. Five, maybe six years, many spent living cautiously, with a nagging fear of discovery that he had done his best to ignore, lest it rob him of his enjoyment of life. He took strength in his belief that he was now safe and free to enjoy the adventure that Misumi had offered him.

"Your pardon for interrupting, but I believe you are the one I seek."

…the one I seek. For one awful moment those words touched the hollow in his core where he kept his fear, and Yyan went still. His perception shifted, the noise around him vanished, and the world slowed as if awash in thick syrup. Within those extended instants he prepared his defences. He had trained himself for this, and anyone who was foolish to think him easy prey would have an ugly fight on their hands.

But when Yyan turned, his sheer surprise broke his concentration. The newcomer was an elf, a female, and her attention was focused squarely on Misumi.

Yyan felt foolish and reassured at the same time. His honed instincts had responded to training exactly as intended, but he hoped that his momentary change in demeanour had gone unnoticed. Ah well…noticed or not, it was past and therefore out of his control. Instead of wasting time fretting, he turned his attention to the elf.

She introduced herself as Elemire Oranrae of Oakenwyld and offered a polite bow. Yyan thought he had never seen a more battle-ready appearance, which was sure to draw attention, if it hadn’t already. In response to her suggestion of privacy to further the discussion, Yyan got up from his chair and gestured for her and Misumi to follow. He chose not to speak directly until he sorted out exactly what Elemire had to do with Misumi’s expedition, so he led them silently through the crowded common room and up a flight of steps to the second landing, where he knew the more private tables were situated.

Misumi returned Yyan's wide smile in a quiet moment of bonhomie. It was here that another voice spoke. Misumi turned her head and looked up. Her smile faltered a little. The elf warrior woman was impressive. Misumi's mouth dropped open slightly. Misumi blinked.

Elemire glanced at the young man from the corner of her eye only for a moment. He had given a slight movement visible in her periphery, but looking at him found he was still. The girl spoke, though, drawing Elemire's attention once more.

"I - I am? You will?" Misumi could only nod and blink. "Yes, alright." Whether Misumi was agreeing to Elemire joining and helping or just moving to another table was unclear.

"Yes, I will." A hint of a smile played around Elemire's lips as she replied. She found it amusing to repeat herself. The man stood then and gestured to and then headed for the stairs. Elemire looked around the room as she waited for Misumi to follow.

Misumi looked from Yyan to Elemire. They seemed to tower above her suddenly. Taking up her books, Misumi stood and followed after Yyan. Upstairs, private parties filled and over filled little snugs in which more private tables were situated. Fortunately, the trio found one empty snug, big enough to seat four. Misumi glanced again between the two and then slipped into a chair.

Elemire let Misumi take a seat closest to the wall, away from the open door of the snug. Then, she waited for Yyan to take a seat before finally sitting down. Elemire would prefer to be seated where she could react the quickest.

Yyan positioned himself next to Misumi and across from Elemire, taking a moment to examine the turn of events and making no secret of his curiosity. He had some experience with elves, and Elemire’s sudden appearance and travel apparel spoke of matters that were indeed larger than they seemed.

His mounting excitement was balanced with a renewed sense of caution, and he put a hand on Misumi’s shoulder. Right now, only you can hear me. Events have taken a strange turn, and I think we need more information. Why not ask her why she has been seeking you and what she knows of your book?

The gesture was more out of reassurance for Misumi than anything. Yyan could spoke to a group or particular individuals as he chose, but he had agreed to assist her, and by extension protect her.

Misumi glanced to Yyan when he placed a hand on her shoulder. She nodded and then turned to face Elemire.

"Would you please explain why you were looking for me?"

Elemire looked out of the snug, then focused her attention on the pair across from her. She pulled her left glove off and held up her hand. Upon her palm was the mark of the goddess,Baresi. Pulling the glove back on, Elemire began to speak.

"I am a Daughter of Baresi. Approximately six months ago, we noticed unusual changes occuring within Oakenwyld. I was sent to investigate a cause for these changes and if it is possible, put an end to it. During my investigations, I consulted with one of the oldest in Oakenwyld and sought direction from our Lady. I saw what appeared to be a moving mass of darkness snaking out along the ways of the world, leaving a chaos in its wake - a corruption to the natural order of things. To help me, our Lady gave me two things - a name and an image of a sky at night."

Elemire's mouth curved in a small smile, "That name was an elvish name - Salovuje. The night sky view is the view over the city at this time of year. It was fortunate that you mentioned that name or I would not have known to speak with you. I said I would accompany you and help you in this because I have been tasked by my Lady to stop the changes. Now," and here Elemire actually gave a proper smile. Even a hint of amusement showed in her gaze. "Speaking of names... have you names by which I should call you?"

Misumi had the grace to blush. Red splotches appeared brightly on her cheeks. "Oh, yes.. I am sorry. My name is Misumi Ayako." Misumi looked to Yyan, wondering if he wanted to say his name or if she should.

Yyan caught Misumi’s questioning glance. For a few additional moments he looked at Elemire, then gave a gentle smile. He focused on her eyes, opening his mind to include her in the thoughts he shared with Misumi. I am called Yyan Ilinari. Your pardon for the suspicion, Lady Elemire, but if this matter is as urgent as you say, then we may have need to be cautious.

He put his elbows on the table. The two of you, he said, gesturing between Misumi and Elemire, seem to understand better than I where we will need to go and what we will face. In order to prepare, I’ll need to know all that you know: what Salovuje wrote in her book, what this darkness is and where it comes from, and more importantly… He paused to look at Misumi. Where we will find the lands of the ancestors, because I haven’t a clue! Yyan chuckled, the sound of his true voice supporting his mental tone of amusement.

Misumi looked to the young man, which caused Elemire to give him her full attention as well. Her eyebrows raised as he stared at her with an unassuming smile. She continued to look at him. As she looked at him there was a buzz of sound and a tickling feeling in her head. Elemire's eyes narrowed and her brows drew together. He used his mind, not words to communicate.

"Ahhh, you are a psionisist. This explains why I could not hear you. " Elemire allowed Yyan to project his words into her mind. Unlike many others, she knew the value of keeping her thoughts and her mind to herself. His words, already projected, took a moment to get through her filters, but through they eventually came.

"I agree, we should be cautious." Elemire continued to listen. She nodded in agreement.

"The memory book has some information. It is up to Misumi should she wish to share its content. As for the Lands of the Ancestors, I do have a clue or at least, an idea of where we will have to go first in order to find a clue." Answering amusement showed in Elemire's gaze and in the curve of her mouth.

Misumi nodded. "Of course I will share. Yyan, perhaps... " Misumi looked at him. He seemed comfortable enough with his abilities, "... perhaps, since you can speak so softly you could read it out loud to Elemire?"

Misumi produced the book and placed it on the table.