SUMMER

Angkar: Wet season. Precipitation is common during the late afternoon and evening hours. Vegetation grows significantly during the summer, but flooding is a danger due to the monsoons that ravage the country. The rainforest sees evenly distributed rainfall throughout the season.

Ashoka: Desert: Extremely hot and dry. Violent, heavy downpours following long dryspells. Jungle: Hot and humid with frequent, violent rainstorms.

Morrim: Relatively hot and dry, but with a chance of thunderstorms from time to time. The heat may cause forest fires.

Soto: Hot and humid, tree cover is dense while ground growth is restricted. Thunderstorms see the most amount of rainfall during the season, and it can be very windy. On occasion, there are flash floods that can destroy homes and farms built on flood plains.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

March 30th, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has changed hands and is now under new management! If you have any questions, please direct them to DaringRaven! As for the rest of the announcements, including a season change, you can find them over here at the following link!

January 16, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has a new skin, all thanks to Mel! Don't forget to check out the new OTMs as well!

December 2, 2017 Winter has settled on Elenlond, bringing sleep for some and new life for others.

September 26, 2017 With the belated arrival of autumn come some interesting developments: new OTMs, a Town Crier and the release of the Elly Awards winners!

July 14, 2017 After a bit of forum clean-up, Elly Awards season has arrived! Head on over to make your nominations!

May 31, 2017 Summer has arrived and so has activity check! That's not all though – we also have some new OTMs for you and some staff changes!


WHAT IS ELENLOND?

Elenlond is an original free-form medieval fantasy RPG set on the continent of Soare and the Scattered Isles, which are located to the south in the Sea of Diverging Waters. The four chief nations of the western side of the world—Ashoka in northern Soare, Soto in western Soare, Morrim in eastern Soare, and Angkar, the largest of the Scattered Isles—continue to experience growth and prosperity since the fall of the Mianorite gods, although power struggles within the countries—or outside of them—continue to ensue.


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    Hello Darkness, My Old Friend; for Isra~
    Topic Started: Oct 30 2011, 09:04 PM (416 Views)
    Andromalius
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    "...Isra..." a hauntingly familiar voice whispered in the dead of night, on the edge of morning, calling softly. "Isra..." it beckoned again. Many voices all in the same tone chimed into the background here and there. It was impossibly dark - the kind of pitch which sends one's sense of direction reeling - but only for a moment. A light in the distance bobbed as it drew near. It was a hovering lantern, coming to shed some illumination and chase away the voices. Ah, but wait! There was, indeed, a hand attached to the top. This hand disappeared at the wrist beneath folds of dark fabric, but the light drew closer still. Eventually, a distorted figure manifested from the perpetual darkness. A tall stranger shrouded in black appeared, their head concealed by a hood and their face behind its shadows. Now, there was a small wooden table which the lantern was set upon. The stranger stooped to give the flame more fuel, and with a brilliant flash, all of the darkness was vanquished.

    The sky was a deep purple with several living, writhing streaks of green and blue. Stars were sprinkled all about with a magnitude never able to seen in reality. Were they stars? Or was it stardust, thrown by a sloppy hand? Two walls of wooden planks had been placed to make a corner, in which the table, the light, and the stranger resided. Both walls wore a single paneless window, which was quickly being covered over with bright green ivy. On the other side, a wide path blazed a trail through an alien landscape, bursting at the seems with cosmic floral arrangements. Bio-luminescent blossoms further aided in resisting the threatening darkness, all delicate-looking and fragile, as though made of thin crystal.

    "...Ah. That's better, isn't it? Now we can see each other." The stranger drew their hood down. Long white locks spilled out from confinement, falling to his waist and playing with an untouchable breeze. He turned his head up to rid himself of all shade, and casually pushed his cloak open, over both shoulders with a brief thumbing. Beneath, he wore a white leather suit of armor. Silver plated grieves and gauntlets accented the suit. Even his cloak had undergone a transformation, turning into an elegant thing of thin, trimmed silk. Crimson stained it at the bottom and raced up until the black was entirely consumed.

    He used his finely-tuned skill to draw out a visual representation of the owner whose mind he'd invaded. With experience, this process was quick. Instead of the abstract vantage points most experienced when they dreamed, he would push her to focus on seeing from a level first-person perspective. If she was able to catch on quickly, though, or often possessed lucid dreams, she would likely be able to defy him and do as she pleased.

    Of course he hadn't forgotten about the little empress. When word reached him of her condition, he'd been surprised. Then, he was wickedly curious. He'd never had the pleasure of knowing another Banshee. So many questions... Could she possess other people, like he could? Did she have nightmares of her past, too? What had she thought of the death realm? Why did she return? Was she forced by Sphynx? ...Did Sphynx control her now? Would she even talk to him after all he'd done to her, her country, and her people?

    Perhaps it would be best for her to think he's just a figment of her imagination for now...

    "So... How does it feel to be dead?" He crossed the small half-room shelter towards where he saw her begin to manifest. While his eyes remained as feral and intense as a hungry wolf's, there was a controlled restraint in them which had previously been absent. Something else, as well: they were blue. Last time she'd seen him, they'd been as black as his soul. "How are you coming along with the withdrawal? Or are you even feeling it? Ahh..." he dipped his head a little with some embarrassment, "...So many questions. I should start by asking how you are, mm?"
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    Isra Amiel
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    Empress of Morrim

    "...Isra..." She heard the name almost like a calling. A faint whisper that seemed to echo in her mind.

    She lay in bed, sheets and blankets thrown aside. No longer was she trying to sleep as she had tried those many hours ago. Instead she lay there, staring up at the ceiling as she thought. Thought about what had happened, what could happen. All too often she would see it in her dreams. That long, white hair. Pale ghostly skin. All too often she saw him in her dreams. In her memories. When becoming part of the undead, she almost believed she would be free of the dreaming, of the night terrors that so often plagued her. And yet, no matter how much she wished for them to leave, they wouldn't stop. The Empress had spent so many sleepless nights praying, pleading for them to leave her. Still they haunted her.

    "Isra..." The voice was almost a lullaby. The word, just her name, made her eyelids lower. Slowly, helplessly, she was pulled into the sleep that for so long alluded her.

    Darkness filled her vision before she was pulled into a body just like her own. And yet, her eyes scanned her surroundings even before her body had finished appearing. The eyes fell first upon the walls and table, then to the lantern that illuminated the area. Her eyes lifted to the seemingly endless sky, reflections of the streaks of green and blue as they swerved through the purple night shining in her eyes. Golden hair fell down her shoulders, wavy and as she had it when she had tried to sleep. The long flowing skirts she wore on a daily basis hung loosely around her legs. The tight corset clung to her thin and small frame and connected the skirts up to the top of the dress and the sleeves that reached down to her wrists, the fabric laying lightly over part of her hands. A shawl of velvet wrapped around her to keep her bare shoulders warm.

    The voice from earlier had reached ears, but she had at first ignored it. His was a voice she had heard all too frequently. And as he started speaking, her blue eyes moved from the sky down to that white hair. That pale skin. But this was not like any dream she had ever had before. Not like her memories that haunted her. His voice traveled to her again as he started making his way toward her. Turning her body, she moved to face him fully. Unlike him, one man and completely solid, the woman he sought stood before him not in one form, but with two others floating in and around her, transparent visions of what she was cursed with when the decision was made for her to return and rule her country. Her pink lips turned to a small smile as she watched the man before her bow his head slightly to her.

    "Andromalius. Here I was thinking I wouldn't see you again." Her hands moved to her front, fingers loosely entwining as she tilted her head to the side a bit with that same smile on her lips. "I suppose I am well enough, considering the circumstances. Getting reacquainted with my country and all the damage it suffered is harder than I expected." Her voice held a touch of accusation in it. It had, after all, been his fault it had happened in the first place.

    "But what of you? Did you catch wind of my return and condition and couldn't help the intrigue to come visit?"
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    Andromalius
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    “I am sorry to disappoint my lady,” he grinned like a fox at the empress' prospect of never seeing him again. Regardless, she was shockingly calm, having to meet with the man that ruined all she'd been. His expression turned solemn when she mentioned Morrim – all the work to be done. As a nervous young boy might, he played his boot to the ground idly and looked away, suddenly at a loss of what to do with his hands.

    “Clever girl,” his attention came round again. “You're right: this isn't just a dream.” She'd been addressing him as if he were real, which was very accurate. Then again, if someone had done the same to him eleven years ago, he too would know because his dreams had also been repeated memories.

    Andromalius turned his shoulder to Isra, then nodded subtly at the dreamscape – a signal to walk with him. He would have bent his arm to her, were it not for the fact she probably didn't want to touch him.

    “Intrigue is a part of it. You will be hard-pressed to find others like us on the surface of Soare, those who have been there and back... I'd really love to pick your brain one day, because there appear to be some peculiar differences.” His blue eyes slid up and down her representational image, and he couldn't help but notice the shades of two others overlapping her original body. Maybe it only happened to females. Maybe it was something else entirely.

    “We don't have time, though. Not now. I wish to come visit you in Kinaldi, but only with your consent. Then we may speak of leisurely things.” The phantom stopped and turned towards her again, dipping his head to highlight the sincerity of his words. “...Morrim is my home,” he told her slowly. “During the conquest, after the rest of the world was in ruin, I was going to rebuild it as a place of unparallelled power. Alas, things seldom see to the end the way the original design was created. Then, between your death and now, [/i]much[/i] has happened. I'm no longer a raving lunatic. A subdued lunatic, yes, but there is plenty to work with...”

    The walking continued, and the sorcerer took on a lighter demeanor. “Isra, I'm tired. I'm tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of having to be on my guard every moment of every day from the people who will see me permanently dead or die trying. I seek redemption. More-so, I seek a peaceful and legitimate lifestyle amongst the people I've learned to cherish. You understand very well how capable I can be with politics and national resources. You understand my power as a user of magic. Let me work for you to earn my keep, and I will do everything I can to see Morrim fully recovered. Better than it was, even.”

    He turned his head to observe her reaction. Andromalius was far from the end of his pitch, though. She would probably inquire as to how they were supposed to keep an eye on him, and why in the world he deserved any inch of her trust. Yes, he had answers for all of it.
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    Isra Amiel
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    Empress of Morrim

    Her eyes watched him and his movements, traveling down to his boot as he moved it in the dirt. A nervous habit, perhaps? Or could it be his bashfulness getting the better of him? Isra could never imagine the great Andromalius with any sort of embarrassment. Without blinking they moved back up to his face as he spoke again. Her brow raised at his words. "How could it be a dream? In all of mine, you stand by watching me die."

    As he turned to walk, she followed beside him, her hands moving behind her back as they made their way down that path. Down that path through the crystal flowers. Despite the pace he would try and have them walk at, Isra took on a more leisurely pace, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. It was a pace she normally took when in her palace, walking with her ladies or with her advisers.

    She listened to his words without saying anything. Of course she knew what he had meant when he walked about there. She had seen it. She had visited it. And were it her choice, she would never go there again. But the fates had a mind of their own, and not always could she choose which way they would favor. When he spoke of the differences, she turned her head and looked at him. It was obvious what he spoke of. Even she had noticed it when arriving in this dreamscape. While they were both of the same race, both banshee, only she had the three forms. Unlike he who only had the one.

    More words from Andromalius' mouth broke her from her thoughts and she turned her head to look at him beside her. Isra's brows furrowed and as his feet stopped, so did hers. "Visit me? Here at the palace?" She turned faster than he did, shocked that he would suggest a thing. When he dipped his head she turned hers down a little, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Still she listened, not interrupting him. He spoke of the changes he endured and she dropped her head very slightly, watching as he turned and continued walking only to turn and continue to walk beside him.

    As he finished his words the empress turned to him. She stopped walking as she slowly started speaking. "You say you want to work for me." A small pause and Isra's words came out slightly faster, though at more a normal speed. "I cannot imagine you working for anyone but yourself, Andromalius. There must be more to it than just helping Morrim. By working for me, you fall under the protection of my guard. No one can harm you. You wouldn't have to run anymore from those that would rather you dead."

    She took a breath and turned, starting once again to walk down the winding path. Her skirts swept back and forth at her feet, the edges of them kissing the crystal flowers at the path's edge. "I do know your powers, your strength with magic. I understand how well you can run a nation But how am I to know you won't lead Morrim to the greatness you want, not the Morrim that would be best? After what you did to me, how am I supposed to believe that you won't betray me."

    Isra stopped again, turning to face him fully as her eyes gazed at him. "What reason do you have that I should give you any of my trust?"
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    Andromalius
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    There it was: the trust question. From where he stood, the world didn't really have a choice if it wanted to live in harmony with this ghost, who refused to stay gone. There were two ways events could unwind from here, and he seriously doubted anyone, other than Mirix, wanted to see what would happen if his submission was refused. Then, he'd be the one without options. He'd have to blow the world up to achieve the solitude he desired, and it would be the conquest all over again.

    “Oh, well... If I were you, I'd want to keep me as close as possible, where I can be watched. Gods know what I do behind your back, right? Why give me the chance to run amok for the rest of forever, or until you die and I bewitch the next ruler?” He grinned pleasantly. “You'd best put a muzzle on me now, while I won't bite.”

    The phantom turned towards the moon, lifting a hand to net a fistful of moonbeams. When he tugged on the light, it stretched like a sweater being pulled, glowing brightly after so many chords had been crushed together. It made a bridge, one which Andromalius now stepped upon, turning to offer Isra his hand for assistance where the incline began. He doubted she would take it, but he would rather know instead of wonder.

    “But really, you know I have no more reason to give you to trust me than anyone else in the world. To place one's faith in someone is just that. We are all capable of becoming monsters, given the proper circumstances, including those you think of as your closest friends. You don't know me. We shared a few shallow and empty conversations before Sphynx ripped your heart out with more gusto than I would've mustered. Beyond that, you saw only what I wanted you to see, and I wanted you to see a devil.”

    “I am capable of great evil, yes, but also goodness. To what extent? I don't know. I haven’t been given the chance to find out. For that journey, I'd need help. Left to my own devices, I don't know what will happen...” The Banshee sighed heavily, then allowed his attention to rise into the bejeweled sky. There was a definite softness in his face which bordered on sadness. “...If not you, then who? Whether you believe any of this or not, I need to find a place in Soare. I'm like stray dog. I'm lost, and to tell the truth,” his cerulean gaze shifted slowly to their corners at her, “...I frighten myself.”

    Did she understand any of that? Something told him she might, observing one of the transparent overlying forms with haggard, hateful features. “So, I think to myself, what's to be done about that? I'm not going anywhere. The past can't be changed. I can take my tower back. You can try to evict me and I'll obliterate the remnants of your forces, then go after you to ensure my own survival, but I'd rather none of that happened. I'd rather I bought myself a new place in the city, then continue to seek validation in my existence through the enrichment of others, not their decimation. But to do that, I need to get out of what I've been doing and away from this way of life. To do that, I need you to give me a second chance... I have to be somebody's citizen, and my gifts should be yours, the one I stole everything from. I mean this sincerely, more then you imagine I am capable.”

    She didn't know, but she would. This was only the first step. Regardless of her ultimate decision, he would haunt the empire until amends were made. There was nothing left to do. In the time he will visit her dreams and show up as a shadow on her bedroom wall, she would then know him. At least, she would learn of his infinite patience and his atrocious sense of humor.

    “I've already been working on ideas to enhance efforts of reconstruction. Education for the military to promote enlistment, new farming and irrigation methods that are less costly, diplomatic strategies to regain good relations with the neighboring countries, new production jobs and exports to promote trade with Soto and Angkar, even how to repopulate. I'm only interested in having a direct hand in the military issues, but you can have the rest for free or bid me do as you please. In addition, I am willing to impart with you my knowledge of sorcery. I can teach you how to draw strength from death and control your passive racial abilities. I can teach you how to manipulate raw energy and summon reinforcements to defend your people. All that and more. Isra.”Andromalius tilted his head, his voice smoothing over into a quiet, soothing melody after becoming quite excited with all the thoughts pouring out.

    “Isra...” Her name in his breath was like a divine chant, half in worship, half in innocent affection, and measured like a hymn. He could be her warrior angel, now that he'd been her arch demon, and while good and evil were both widely achievable, trust and forgiveness were not. He had no idea whether or not she'd tell him to piss off still. He could ensure himself a victory with usual under-handed tactics, disguises, and political sabotage, but the 'not knowing' was part of being a good man. Good men didn't force control. They asked for it. This was about as nicely as he could.

    “Let me come see you. Ask me more questions. If you can't forgive, at least try to understand.”


    (( O_O THAT was difficult. ))
    Edited by Andromalius, Nov 9 2011, 11:52 AM.
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    Isra Amiel
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    Empress of Morrim

    A small chuckle escaped the Empress' mouth. "Perhaps a muzzle would be a good thing? It may suit you better." The grin on her lips didn't fade right away as she watched him grab the light to make a bridge before them. When he turned to her and offered her his hand, she raised an eyebrow for a moment. For a brief second she wondered if she should take it, but almost without hesitation she lightly grasped his hand. With her other hand she took hold of her skirts, lifting them up only enough to uncover her feet so that she may step upward with no problem. Isra stepped up beside the banshee and looked at him as he spoke.

    What he said was all true. When trusting someone a person places all surety, all loyalty, in that one person, not knowing how they are going to use it. They could abuse it, tear it to the ground. Or they could use that trust to aid in some way. Her head turned to look to the side as he once again mentioned the kidnapping and her death. But she supposed what he said was true. Maybe she didn't know him like she thought she did. Perhaps there was more to this man than what he had shown her back then, especially since he had kidnapped her. The Empress' eyes turned to look back at the other banshee as he spoke of goodness. It made sense that he would need help to find out what kind of good he posessed. After all, it seemed like most of his life he had traveled on the path of evil, so to switch over to see what goodness he had in him, it was understandable that he'd need help. Someone to guide him, make sure he stayed on the path he was supposed to.

    Then he made the comment about frightening himself. Isra knew that feeling all too well. Her head hung ever so slightly as she recalled the very few times she had scared herself. Most recently was against some of her tending physicians. I frighten myself too... She wanted to admit aloud, but couldn't find the strength to say the words. It was good to know she wasn't the only one afraid of herself and the things she was capable of. To know that she wasn't alone.

    Her chin lifted slightly as he continued his speech. The banshee talked about his ideas for the country. There was no reason that she couldn't listen to him as he spoke to her of his ideas. As for his offers of help to her, well she couldn't very well turn that down. Especially because he was what she was. He knew what it was like being an undead. The more she listened, the more her thoughts turned positive. He could be a great asset to her nation, even more so if he worked with her rather than against her. Between the two of them, their Morrim would turn out to be a country worth something, a country people wouldn't look down upon. He spoke her name and Isra's thoughts turned back to focus on him. The one word almost sent a chill down her spine. Not often had she heard him speak in such a tone, and for a moment the Empress thought it a ploy to seduce her to help his chances. But it was more than that.

    Everything he spoke of doing was admirable, and unlike the person that Isra had come to know. Though, as he had so clearly stated, the Empress didn't know this man at all. The one thing she did know about him, however, was that he needed help. And only she could provide it for him. No doubt her advisors, and probably Nero, would think her crazy for taking this man under her wing and allowing her to assist him in daily life. As they rightly should. After all of the things he had done to her, Isra wouldn't blame anyone for thinking her a fool. But she had never been one to take the easy road, nor was she one to give up on a challenge. And a challenge this would be. With a small breath, she slowly let out a soft sigh before turning her shoulder to him, looking off to his side at nothing.

    "Most people in my position would not even hesitate to say no. To banish you from the country under penalty of death." She stopped and turned her head to look over at him, her blue eyes almost smiling. "But it seems you have appealed to my more sensitive side. Perhaps it was when you compared yourself to a dog. I could definitely get used to calling you a mutt." Her lips had curled up into a small grin before she turned her body to face him again. "I will allow you to come visit me at the palace. There we can talk about it more, perhaps discuss where you are to be living and what your role will be. I may not be able to forgive right away, but understanding I can spare. After all, it could benefit the both of us to be around each other. It will be good to have another of our kind around, I'm sure."
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    Andromalius
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    The dead duo laughed together at the idea of a muzzle. He wouldn't find it so amusing if he hadn't suggested it first. Yet, being called a dog was better than being called a slimy snake in the eyes of many. Dogs were honorable creatures. They were strong, courageous, and loyal. Snakes were ...snakes. Myths and legends painted them as evil, cunning little things, about as unworthy of another's trust as one could be.

    Mild surprise on his face surfaced, by his raised brows, that she accepted his phantom touch. The sensation of physical contact in a dream was bizarre – both there and not there at the same time. The brain understood it, but the body really didn't. His energy is what she felt, and it remained as cold as he would have been in the waking world. Yet, he was very gentle. His hands compared to her's were big and re-assuring, like a father's or a strong lover's. Andromalius certainly had a natural talent for manipulation, and he ended up using it when he didn't realize.

    Like a proper gentleman, the sorcerer led her up onto the cosmic bridge, and walked beside her at the pace of her choosing. His right arm had bent, and he delicately led her hand to loop through it as if he were handling fine china. A moment passed in which he held his breath, and then the Empress began. He'd been studying her for a while now, and when she turned to meet his eyes, they'd begun to harden. He was preparing himself for outright dismissal. Imagine his astonishment.

    “Only if it's just you calling me a mutt. If so, I think I'll take it as a compliment,” he grinned so wide and so happily that his teeth showed, then winked playfully. “Nero doesn't get that pleasure, mmmkay?” It wasn't until she finished completely and gave him her blessing to visit that he dove down upon Isra's astral form as a bolt of white lightening. The petite woman was encircled at her waist, then lifted high like a ballerina as Andromalius twirled her 'round and 'round. Her flowing skirts would make the illusion of a levitating ring around the both of them.

    He expressed his joy to her, and how unfathomable she was as an individual. He showered her with words like stunning, benevolent, and goddess. If it had been a mystery to Isra just how much he yearned for this chance, it was obvious now. After a few elated turns in the air, he set the empress back down, and unraveled himself. Still beaming, there wasn't a hint of shame or regret for handling Her Highness in such a disgracefully casual way.

    Tearing his attention away to the sky, he ran a hand back, idly, through his perfect mane as he attempted to calm himself. What would this new life be like? Could he possibly succeed? The simple challenge of the magnificent notion was absolutely exhilarating. He would have... comrades! He would have a home. Most importantly, he would have purpose! Even if it was to serve this lady, he would wander as a lost soul no longer. Isra was lucky about that...

    “Ah. Anyway... Thank you. Sincerely.” His smile faded some, and the sorcerer bowed his head to her respectfully. “I agree. You and I are about as close as blood kin now. I've lived for three-hundred and sixty-one years and I've never found another. The fact I helped to make you is incredibly ironic.”

    Isra would learn quickly how numb to polite sentiments this man was when he wasn't trying to be anything else. He still spoke about her death as though it were something to be studied, considered, and maybe even made into humor. If she planned on saying anything about it, then she should wait three centuries, come back, and try to talk. If he had a coin for every death he'd been a part of, then Morrim would have no problems in rebuilding its treasury now. Unfortunately, Andromalius was a pauper, considering himself to be above the economic system.

    “I'm in Madrid now, but we will be leaving at dawn. I have to attend to some personal matters in the north, then in Angkar, but I won't be long. I need to see who this new king is. ...Trust him about as much as his namesake...” His eyes drifted off again. “So, it will be a week from now. Under the cover of night. No receptions, please, and only inform your most trusted. If word gets out, you will have a riot on your hands in the palace courtyard. I'm sure I didn't have to tell you that.”
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    Isra Amiel
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    Empress of Morrim

    It was strange. Andromalius came at her with his arms wide and had Isra been really standing in front of this man, she probably would have flinched. But now she stood tall as she watched him come down on her. It wasn't until his arms circled around her waist instead of her shoulders that she let out a small surprised gasp as he lifted her up and spun her around. Her small hands moved to his shoulders and she looked down at him. Part of her wanted to smile, even laugh, at the sensation. That same part of her thought that was even... fun. When the words of affection reached her ears, only then the smile appeared on her lips. She definitely understood now how much he wanted this opportunity. When he sat her down, she moved her hands back to her skirts, smoothing them down a little bit as she looked up at him.

    How could this man want something this bad, especially when it went against his previous nature. He had for so long done bad, how could someone switch so fast? The comment Andromalius made about him helping make her what she was Isra let roll over her shoulders. She didn't want to think about it anymore than she had to. And him bringing it up definitely wasn't a step in the right direction.

    "It matters not when you decide to visit. The palace doors are open whenever you decide to drop by. But know that only one visit will be permitted to begin with. Unless we decide on something and Nero agrees. Which I'm sure he will, considering you are persuasive enough.

    "But I will have the doors open a week from now. I will only inform those I need to. Though some kind of warning that you are on your way would make things much easier. That way I can guarantee that you won't be attacked on your way in. With all of your abilities, I'm sure you can reach me somehow. You did, after all, lull me into a sleep to meet me here."

    Isra's eyes turned up to look at the sky. "I'm actually looking forward to your visit. Perhaps we can actually get along this time." Her lips curled into a small smile as she turned the blue eyes down to look at him. "I do hope you don't try killing me again. That was so last century."
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    Andromalius
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    What would the future hold now? When it took half a second to change a life, how could anything at all be trusted? The Empress would need to meditate long and hard about her invitation. A set of events have been put into motion. Of that, you could be certain. Andromalius was a magnet for destruction – no, a time bomb - and he was even stronger now than she would remember. Unfortunately, there was no permanent cure for his sanity (a valid possibility as to how he came to such a sudden change of heart). Whether or not he would submit to his vile instinct in the near future was the correct question. As an immortal, his sense of time was incredibly warped. If he could hold on for several years, Morrim could yet make use of him so that they gained more than they lost.

    Oh, but if he drew Isra in, like he did to so many people, then she would be making herself even more vulnerable than she had been in the beginning of the conquest. He sought land, titles, political power, and eventually he would ask for military command. If she gave it to him... It could take years, but again, the dead had endless patience for the mere passing of seasons. The next several conversations with the Banshee sorcerer would need to be handled with care. Surely, he will be taking similar defensive maneuvers, as well as hidden offensive ones. Great gifts, such as his loyalty and the use of his incredible power, came with a high price.

    “I am nothing if not persuasive,” he said through his smile and raised a brow at her smugly. “Truly, though, I can't say for certain if it was my genius or your benevolence this time. Considering I predicted a violent refusal, I'd wage the latter. We'll see about your Nero.”

    He let his humorous demeanor fade, switching back to the topic of business. “Yes. I can send my voice across the wind to you, but I thought a dreamscape might be more comforting this time. I will announce my arrival directly before-hand.”

    His grin couldn't stay away for long. Andromalius chuckled warmly at the comedy she made of her own demise, because death was hilarious. You spend your whole life being terrified of the unknown, but when it happens, it's disappointingly anti-climactic. The only logical thing to fear is the pain which precedes death. Sometimes he thought that was funny too, though...

    “Hah. You really don't have to worry about that. Your soul is no longer fit to fuel an artifact of mass destruction.” He nodded his head at one of the faded, over-lapping Isras. The eldest. “Likely that one's fault. Ahaha! Ahh... Alright. Alright. I should go. I do want to get some sleep tonight, myself.”

    “Thank you, again, for listening. And I'm sorry for scaring you, now or ever.” His feet turned so that he faced her as he took a few casual steps backwards, down the bridge of light. “I'll see you soon.”

    From the soles of his boots, a shimmering blue like the visual essence of magic lit up and ate away his ankles and shins. It rose until it left nothing, then collapsed in on itself beautifully. The sorcerer was gone.

    When Isra woke, she would remember everything, down to the solid feeling of his hands and the arm she'd hung from for but a moment. His voice would likely linger on in the back of her mind for the following day, and she would have to look forward to the night he would come to visit for days longer.
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