Irrakam Infiltration – Vyrabron’s Tale

[Herald of the Tempest]

“Ah, master Kareem!”

An Elderly man lifted his robed hand upwards in greeting, waving it side to side gently as the folds revealed his weathered, wrinkled skin. He continued to do this for a few moments until the man he spoke to had arrived at the base of the steps of Suravani’s temple. Karkeem was a solid warrior, a man who worked to build his own destiny and his body reflected that. He was courageous of heart, quick thinking, and many people within the provinces of the Glassworks knew of the mighty Karkeem. So when Faruq had explained that Karkeem was done with a fighter’s life, seeking the blessings and knowledge of Suravani, many had been surprised.

Of course, the events that happened in the Glassworks last caravan raid would scar even a hearty warrior. Several members of the Glassworks team had died on that trip, and some say the return of Karkeem and Faruq was just another form of death. Neither man had acted the same since that encounter. And while Faruq tried to move on in a manner best known to him, Karheem merely took the vow of silence after declaring he would join the priesthood.

So, with sun shining overhead in the midday heat, Karheem rested at the stone steps to the temple with a look of wonder and great curiosity. A steady beat drummed along his bare chest, his fingers dancing in anticipation. It was a nervous tick he picked up after the encounter in the desert sands, but the priest paid it no mind. He had a grand vision from Suravani in a dream before this day. A great darkness was coming over the land soon, and Karheem would be the warrior to see them through to the light.

He beckoned the man to his arms, patting his back gently with enthusiasm as he smiled turning into the building and grinning. He had a good feeling about all this. He observed Karheem looking upon the walls of Suravnai’s teachings, reading them and drumming his fingers, before soon long he stepped deeper in. With a nod the priest followed him, and took a moment to look at the man as he gazed at something in a glass container. It was only a brief moment, and the priest assured himself he was just seeing things as Karheem looked back to him and nodded.

No, Karheem did not have glowing green eyes, the priest reminded himself.

[Herald of the Tempest]

“I am Jaffa,” the priest said in a half whisper as he led the warrior down the halls of the temple. “I am in charge of Suravani’s home here, and I will take you by the hand and guide you through her teachings. I understand you took a vow of silence?” Karheem nodded as the priest gave him an off glance. “I see. That is a great feat of loyalty to our goddess. I will do my best as your teacher to ask you questions that respect your vow until you are ready to speak again with the truth of Suravani’s with your lips.”

They turned a corner, the stained windows lining the wall facing the sun cast a brilliant effect upon the stone floor, the carpet littered with different pictures and colors from the effect. Jaffa had enjoyed this strip of the temple the most, for it was always colorful no matter what time of day it was. He marveled at the pictures of Suravani blessing the land with her radiance, and he looked to see Karheem’s silent reactions. He too gazed to them, but with a detached air of uncaring emotion. The priest frowned at this revelation, but reminded himself that Karheem’s background as a warrior may have hardened him to the delicacies of life. In fact, if nothing else, this was merely a manmade tribute to the goddess, but not a way to serve her further.

There, in the first five minutes the old priest smiled, having learned a silent lesson from Suravani via this man! Praise would be given to her when he had the proper time to give her his full attention, but first he had to start Karheem’s journey.

“Life itself is beauty, given to us by Suravani,” Jaffa said lightly. “So does the Glassworks create these images, it is so in the manner Suravani creates us. She takes the harsh sand that we live upon, and with the right pressure and heat creates us into beautiful shapes and sizes and colors!” the priest whimsically pointed to the glass ceiling, spinning in place to show all of Suravani with passion. Yet when he lowered his arm, he looked to see Karheem glancing at the storm clouds outside. “Even the darkness is but a facet of Suravani’s blessings,” Jaffa said solemnly as he placed a hand on Karheem’s shoulder. The warrior gave him a look, as if confused as to what to do in this situation, but instead placed a friendly hand on the priests, gripping it with trust.

Jaffa looked into Karheem’s eyes, and knew that much lingered in his soul, a foul darkness. It would take time, but he vowed to make sure that he saved this soul from the horrors he had witnessed. He gripped his hand in a silent pledge to do so.

“You seem tired, Karheem, let us walk to your chambers and let you rest. Tomorrow, I wish to show you something truly amazing…”

[Herald of the Tempest]

Jaffa walked in the morning with a cup of tea and morning dates held upon the tray that jiggled in testament to his aging bones. He approached the door to Karheem, and with a soft knock, he entered, twisting the handle while the other hand shook with the tray upon it. He backed into the room, and felt a presence behind him knowing instantly who it was. The empty room had but a bed, a desk, and an oil lamp upon a stand by the bed. So to guess what else it could be was silly a game to play.

“Good morning my friend,” he said softly. A powerful hand lifted over and grabbed the tray, before lifting it and setting it upon the desk in a somewhat annoyed manner. The papers on Karheem’s desk were quickly shuffled, and shoved into the drawer. He looked to the priest with a snarl, and the old man smiled to calm his agitated spirit. “I do apologize for the intrusion, perhaps I should have waited until you were ready to answer. I will remember to be more respectful of your privacy.” Karheem nodded his head but once, before turning to the tray.

With slow steps the priest stepped forwards, a smile upon his face as he waited for the man to eat his breakfast. He watched as Karheem lifted the date, gave it a good look, and plopped it into his mouth. Amazingly, he ate it all in one bite, swallowing it whole. The priest’s mouth gaped a bit at the sight, and he felt the man’s eyes look to him in the corner. With the second date, he chewed, before he swallowed again. He lifted the tea, tilted the cup into his mouth, and poured the liquid so that it all dripped inwards, but the priest noticed the smallest of dribbling as the green tinted liquid poured out the sides of his lips.

“My gracious,” Jaffa said at last. “You must learn to take your time! Enjoy these things, there is no rush!” Jaffa laughed as Karheem lowered the cup and looked to it. It was almost as if the man had no idea how to properly eat! How silly would that be? As accomplished a warrior as Karheem was, and not knowing the finer graces of dining? Jaffa smiled as he waited, watching Karheem gently stack the cup on the plate and shoving the tray to the side of his desk. The two looked to each other for a long moment, and Jaffa felt a bit of his choler rise when he heard no thanks from Karheem.

Yet with a silly laugh the old man backed away, turning to the door with a chuckle. Of course he would not be thanked! Karheem vowed never to speak. Still a sign of appreciation would have been nice. Yet another teaching of Suravani came to his mind; a lesson in humility and doing good out of the kindness of your heart. Twice now Karheem humbled the old priest, and he turned to him holding the door open. “Come with me,” the elder said with a mischievous grin. I did promise you a treat this morning!” Karheem rose and followed the man towards the back of the temple, and he decided now was as good a time as ever to teach him about the ways of the temple.

“In your stay here, you must learn to be open hearted. We shall cast no man outside so long as they wish for Suravani’s grace and mercy. We will feed them, shelter them, and in some cases teach them as they stay, until they find the will to leave the temple in Suravani’s eyes. We do not hide criminals though, and we must ever be vigilant to steer clear of their ilk. But we must not be harsh, for all of us can be seduced by the tempting of the darkness within our souls. We are teachers, Karheem. Teacher’s of the great mercy and joy of our goddess’ blessings!”

Karheem seemed not to be listening as he continued to look around. Jaffa led him deeper into the temple before they stopped at a set of double doors made of a black wood. Jaffa turned to his pupil and spoke in a hushed whisper, “Many are worshipping now, but this is the adjacent walkway to the altar of Suravani. Here is where I walk through before beginning a mass. There is non scheduled today, but as you can see, that does not mean we stop working. Come.” He curled his finger, begging his student to follow him as they walked through a small bend in a narrow passage, before walking into the brightness of the temple proper. They were upon a raised section, wall to wall covered where several wooden fences kept the general populace away. There was lecture podium, a table, and a rug where one could pray. Upon the podium though was what Jaffa wanted Karheem to see.

“This is the great surprise,” Jaffa said in a low tone, a deep solemn respect to even be discussing the subject in question. He led Karheem to the podium, and patted with gentle, aged fingers the holy tome of all of Suravani’s blessings. Faded golden leaf was etched on the edges in such a manner to give it a real feeling of time, the words upon the cover also made of a copper colored leaf that proclaimed the word of the goddess. Karheem looked to it intently, before lowering his hand to touch it. Jaffa’s eyes widened as his hand struck the warrior’s aside. Karheem gave an indignant look, but Jaffa would not let his ignorance slid this time.

“You, who have not been ordained, have no right to touch this holy book! Each temple has but one, one book given to it, for each one was hand written by the ones who listened to Suravani’s teachings first hand. Many years of practiced faith go into the right to look upon it, and you, Karheem, have yet to hit that point.” With an apologetic nod of understanding, Karheem dipped his body low. Jaffa nodded to himself as he patted the man’s shoulder.

“It is okay, Karheem. A strict hand is sometimes needed to guide the wayward. Besides,” Jaffa chuckled, lifting the book up gently, so Karheem could peer inside. “The book is chained to the altar. You wouldn’t get very far unless you could cut the chain, or unlock it with the key. But do not let the temptation of curiosity guide you. That key was lost for years when the previous priest broke it. No, I find it fitting that no matter what, this book remain where it is now. It gives hope to the hopeless, a sort of beacon to look to .” Karheem only looked to the book in wonder, and Jaffa smiled. He could see his faith starting to build. Now it was time to show him a blessing of Suravani in action. “Come,” the priest said with anticipation.

[Herald of the Tempest]

Jaffa had grabbed a pitcher filled with water, bringing it shakily with him as he led the warrior down the halls of the temple towards the end. There was a small chamber that held a mystical wonder, a joy all unto itself that proved Suravani’s mercy was in all things. Karheem merely wandered behind, his eyes looking to the different tapestries and walls, his eyes always darting left and right as if processing everything. When they hit the bend Jaffa pulled out a key around his neck.

“This is a very sacred place, Karheem, but I will let you enter it. Please do your best to watch your footing, and tread as if you did upon the ashes of old friends.” The warrior nodded to his request, and Jaffa beamed with pride and anticipation. His fingers lodged the key, and with a soft click the door groaned open. Karheem looked inside, before he took a closer look, as if confused, and his eyes widened, his steps gently stepping to the edge of the portal.

Jaffa walked carefully forwards, his eyes filled with a glint of joy as he began to softly water the plants that had been growing for many years. Though Fallien was indeed a desert land, Suravani had blessed the temple with a small, walk in closet sized chamber filled with dirt imported from Corone. There were all manners of flowers that bloomed inside, plants growing upon pots hung to the ceiling where a solitary window that curved into the roof and the wall allowed the light of the sun to peer in. Karheem stepped forwards, feeling the dirt beneath his feet and knelt down to run the brown and black substance through his fingers. He let the grains drift through his pinched fingers and knew the worth of such a place.

Jaffa smiled as he turned to Karheem, touching the petals of a nearby rose affectionately. “Even in the wasteland of this desert continent, Suravani finds a way to tend the garden of life. You see, if there is a will, young one,” Jaffa laughed, exposing his arms to all the plants in a wide gesture, cackling. “There is a way!” Karheem stepped further in, looking at the plants in the ground and laying his hands against the floor. His eyes narrowed before he looked up to the temple hallway and narrowed his eyes. He dug a bit feeling the dirt gather beneath his fingernails, and he pulled them back, filling the hole.

“In this garden, many priests have found a peace and solace that no harem can ever offer. Here we take the truly wayward, and show them beauty of light. But beauty also comes from the darkness,” The man pointed out a few Black roses in the shade blooming, as well as viola flowers. “No matter what darkness one harbors, there is always the chance to make the best of it.” He taught his pupil as he watered the last plant. Karheem looked to them all, before he looked back to the temple hallway. With a bow, he gestured to the door.

“Oh, you wish to leave?” The warrior nodded. “Very well, you can take today off and think on the few lessons you learned.” To that, Karheem bowed twice, lowly. Jaffa nodded in understanding and he stood, gripping the man’s muscular arm. “I know you will do great things, Karheem. I have no intention to rush you at all. I shall meet with you tomorrow.”

Karheem’s face smiled to him, warmly, before nodding. Yet something in the smile was not genuine, and wholly upsetting as Jaffa watched him go.

[Herald of the Tempest]

A couple days had passed, and Jaffa had taught Karheem much of his works in Suravani’s blessings. The two worked together to improve parts of the temple that the elder priest was too old to do, and made sure to teach Karheem how to water the plants. Though he remained as silent as ever, he could tell the man processed everything hungrily, always wishing for more. He took to bringing scrolls and tabards of Suravani’s glory, parables and stories written by worshippers as well as trinkets and gifts to explain how every man, no matter who, gave thanks in their own ways. Only by the generosity of Suravani’s people did the temple have the resources it did to remain functional, and all they asked in return was her blessings.

The ill omen in the sky had not stopped even in the time that passed. The storm clouds continued to gather, but never did they move, unlike the white clouds floating in the sky. It seemed no matter what, wind had no impact upon the grey doom that lurked deeper in the desert. Happy it stayed there, and made no indication to come to him, the priest left the fate of it all to Suravani’s web, and washed his hands of it.

The priest dressed in a fine white robe with red stitching along the edges, preparing to celebrate another day with Suravani with a prayer meeting. He invited Karheem, but the man opened his door, looking bloodshot in the eyes as if he stayed up all night, and the priest let the man rest, reminding him that even the pious need sleep. The warrior bowed, before promptly shutting his door. Jaffa would talk later with him about his strange behaviors, but let it pass for now. It was time for him to pray, and he walked towards the narrow corridor. The priest felt each step ache in his knees, but he moved with pious intentions, at last walking upon the dais that held the sacred priests lecture stage.

He approached the podium, looking to the turnout. It wasn’t bad today, a sum of around thirty or so faithful. A bit more than usual and no doubt because of the ill omens he had been hearing. There were deaths in Irrakam that had been plaguing the land within the guilds. Faruq, highly respected caravan leader of the Glassworks had committed suicide. There were two murders in a rival company of the Glassworks, and the desert travesty that had caused Karheem’s sudden kindling interest in faith all were dark signs indeed. He would calm these people with the words of Suravani, and bless them with her mercy.

He approached the podium and prepared to rest his hands on the book when he noticed something amiss. The podium looked broken, and Jaffa’s eyes widened into two small coins as he realized the book of Suravani was missing! In its stead was naught but a cut chain, the lock looked as if someone had taken a dagger and tried to pick it to no avail. Scratch marks similar to that of a lion littered the wood and the chains. Jaffa spoke words of shock and awe, stepping back as he grabbed his heart. Such a sacred item, stolen? The people looked to Jaffa, and he turned away from them, rushing back to his pupil.

[Herald of the Tempest]

“Karheem, Karheem!” Jaffa shouted as he moved in a hurry, his knees scraping the wool of his robe as he stretched it far. “Karheem! Come my son, I need you, our sacred book, it’s stolen!” He reached down to Karheem’s doorknob and wrenched it open, entering as his heart raced. “Karheem, the book of Suravani is…”

Karheem stood, his chair tipping over and collapsing upon the floor with a loud clap, his eyes narrowing in anger as he looked ready to swipe his face off with his clawed hand. He lowered it, gently and Jaffa looked to him, before he looked to the table. There upon the wood was a dusty, aged riddled tome with papers next to it and marking all over the book in a dialect that the priest had never seen.

“You!” Karheem said, dumbfounded as he pointed an accusing finger to the damning evidence. “You, Karheem? You took the sacred book, the object I told you that you could not touch, and brought it here like a thief in the night! This, this is blasphemy!”

The warrior said nothing, standing his ground as Jaffa stepped into the room, shutting the door and looking to the warrior’s bloodshot eyes. In them he could see no remorse, no emotion for what he had done. Instead, they peered to Jaffa with keen interest, and to be under their scrutiny gave the old man a chill down his aching spine. “Why,” Jaffa asked gently. The man ignored him, looking back to his papers and shuffling them. He looked to the notes, that dialect and scripture writing he was so unknowing of. Yet as he looked to them he felt something within his mind stir.

“This…” He stepped and took one page, looking over the symbols as he read them. He did not magically understand them, nor did he pretend to. He was as confused as ever before, but a new confusion did wash over him. He had seen these symbols before. But where he saw him, the way he was introduced, there was no way Karheem could have ever seen these symbols in his life, let alone write them with a mysterious understanding of them. He looked back to Karheem and studied him carefully.

“Could you be the one?” the priest thought aloud, his mind in a fog. So many emotions came over him that he felt his heart beating against his withered chest, but that was soon replaced by excitement. A youthful excitement. Of course! Karheem had taught him many things these past days, lessons and phrases without speaking and then he writes in the ancient ways; ways known only to Suravani! It was o obvious now! The man in his dreams, the chosen one Suravani wished for him to bare witness to was now before his eyes!

“Karheem, I know not what is going on, but you must follow me right this instant, and bring your papers and the book. What I am about to show you is critical to the coming darkness I have been dreaming of.” Karheem looked to him oddly, as if contemplating whether he would do the man’s request, but with a nod he gathered the things requested of him, shoving the papers in the book. He gestured for the priest to lead on.

[Herald of the Tempest]

They walked in silence as the priest took the warrior towards the garden. He waited a moment, looking back as if in thought, but one look to Karheem’s eyes and he felt an other-worldy presence behind them now. Yes, this is definitely a direct servant of Suravani, an angel perhaps! The more he looked to Karheem, the more the boys destiny was assured. He headed towards the door where the garden was, and pulled the key out. He placed it in the handle, and turned it counter clockwise, and waited until the key was stuck in the locked position.

“We have a deep secret in this temple, Karheem, a secret we have kept to just the priests who take over. The book if you please.” Karheem gave him the book, and studied him curiously. Jaffa ran his hand down the spine, before stopping on a leaf and picking at it. Within moments he found the fold and began to tear at it until the spine was ripped open, the pages loosening. With careful fingers he gripped the cold iron, and pulled releasing a hidden key from the book. Karheem’s eyes widened at the hiding spot of the key, before the priest smiled.

“I always had the key to the book, it’s the same one that opens this garden door. The book is so sacred to us for another reason. In its history we have always rebound the spine of the pages, aging the book with magic to keep the appearance the same, and ensuring the key remains hidden.” Jaffa took the key out of the door in its locked position, placing the new iron key in and finishing the rotation. The ground shook as the door opened, and Karheem stepped in line with Jaffa as they entered the garden again. On the right wall, where the shadows dwelt and the viola’s bloomed a hole emerged. It was a circular hole, like sewer entrance and Jaffa walked towards it, stepping in and using the ladder to gently lower himself.

Karheem kept pace as he greedily looked around, face snarled in wonder as he glanced to the images on the wall. They were of Suravani’s teachings, but the there was something different. Jaffa lifted a lamp off the ground, and with a few clicks the light turned on, the oil still fresh after all these years. Many amounts of gold went into this place, for it was after all one of Suravani’s greatest treasures. Jaffa led the stranger down the tunnel for at least twenty minutes, and the warrior said nothing.

Jaffa ran his hand along the wall, until he gripped a knife hidden within it. Soundlessly the weapon was grabbed and in his hand, where he thought about the first time he came down. He too was also in his own vow of silence at the age of nineteen. This was the final test of Suravani’s wisdom. Those who truly wish to embrace her wisdom, and not for greed but for prosperity would remain true to their faith. A greedy soul would instantly drop whatever vows were spoken and act foolish. Those that did were killed, for the magnitude of this artifact was so immense. Yet Karheem said nothing, his face still masking most of the emotions he would have expected. There was no hunger, no desire, no curiosity besides that of a passing nature. Karheem was emotionless of this great blessing. But Jaffa knew why. He was summoned by Suravani to do this, and none of this glory was new to him.

It was only when they approached the door to Suravani’s room did Karheem’s first true emotion show in the form of a startled grunt.

[Herald of the Tempest]

The two looked upon the doorway that led into one final chamber, but why Karheem looked to the portal with sudden wonder that lasted for more than a fleeting second was because the symbols, unlike those on the walls, matched the ones he had penned earlier. Like a child learning the world for the first time, Karheem’s hands lifted and he stepped forwards. Jaffa stood back, for he knew how to enter the chamber, but knew that it was time to witness the miracle of Suravani.

Gingerly the man’s fingers tapped his thigh, his chest, his shoulder as he moved and studied everything. He seemed to be moving rapidly, but his face looked to the door as if he was suddenly onto something. He peered to it, studying it before he began to tap on the wall, touching the symbols in a series of set patterns. When he pushed in the symbol of the bird in the clouds the door opened with a long, metallic groan, a dust filling the air causing Jaffa to cover his face. Jaffa stood and waited to see if the light of Suravani would let him pass. The all knowing eye of Suravani opened and a green translucent light washed over Karheem.

To Jaffa’s astonishment, Karheem’s eyes glowed in the same green light that washed over him. In a moment the light flickere doff, before a series of gears began to rotate deep underground. Jaffa approached behind Karheem, and the two entered. When Jaffa had entered, there was nothing in the room save the symbols of power ancient gods, creating the land. He had always known these to be explanations of the way Suravani had formed the land, as the pictures showed a lush, fertile land that would soon be known as Fallien. Yet now, a circular panel in the flower opened like a shutter, the desert musk filtering into the air as a large, obsidian structure slowly rose upwards.

Jaffa had never seen that before, and instantly dropped to his knees. It looked like something out of a nightmare, an instrument of some device, or an incubator or holding cell. The more Jaffa thought about it, the more he pieced the information together. This was the room where Suravani was born into the world…This was her womb!

Jaffa fell to his knees and bowed, muttering sweet prayers as quickly as he could, thanking her for allowing him the opportunity to see this great holy relic. Karheem gave him an annoyed look, before he approached it. There was a large metal handle, and Karheem shoved it open with all his might. It groaned, as if this hadn’t been done in years. When it was opened enough he dug his hand in, pulling out a glass orb filled with a shadowy fog. He shook it in his hand like a bulb, before shrugging shoving it back in. There he waited, his eyes glowing again as did his chest, but nothing seemed to happen. With a heave he shut the door he had opened, and the warrior turned to him with a dark look.

His fingers began to beat his chest again in a steady rhythm, a pitter patter like mice moving across the ground. He knelt before Jaffa, and grabbed his jaw forcing the man to look to him. He saw within his eyes that power, the eldritch magic flowing through them, but something about them was wrong. They held none of the mercy he would expect from Suravani’s angels. He looked to the walls again, studying them and Jaffa did as he did, following his gaze. Karheem’s lips passed into a grin full of mischief, like a parent who knew his son worshipped false idols.

The pictures on the wall, they never did look like Suravani, they looked like someone else. The sky cracked and rolled in each image, like a mighty tempest. No, these images were not full of life and creation…it was of death and how life was destroyed! It was not the promise of the golden paradise that awaited the faithful, but the paradise stripped away! Jaffa’s jaw ached as he tried to look away, but Karheem kept his grip upon him, making him finish the tour of his newly discovered hell. The images went on, and this thing he had mistaken for Suravani’s womb was actually feeding a life force that resonated with the storm clouds, and soon he knew it was a device the destroyer.

Karheem stood, stepping back, a solemn look on his face. Jaffa witnessed the flesh begain to softly peel downwards, the green eyes never leaving his as that emotionless face looked to him. With a wet noise the skin began to drift and collapse in pools, as a skeletal frame stepped forwards with glowing green chest and eyes, fingers growing into long talons. With a shrug like one dusting themselves off after a shower the last bits of flesh were upon the ground, and Jaffa looked to the horror in front of him.

“Suravani’s blessing! You are no angel! “ The creature advanced slowly as it shook its head “You are a demon, be gone, leave this holy place!” It pointed to the priest in return, a mocking sort of way. He looked to the walls and realized he was keeping a false deity a secret all these years. He stood resolute, lifting his knife in hand and rushing forwards. “In the name of Suravani, I sentence you to-“ The demon’s talon opened extending a single finger, stabbing the priest in the heart.

“Death…” he gasped with a spittle of blood.

[Herald of the Tempest]

Vyrabron, once Karheem, moved with the darkness as his new skin. There was something about his skin walking that did not feel right. Perhaps it was the added difficulty he had in having to work without a voice, the years of the desert rock cutting into his throat during the great sleep ruining a swift recovery like many of his brothers. Yet Vyrabron did not mind; he couldn’t. He had very little free will of his own, and opinions such as personal satisfaction were meaningless. He was to observe the world around him and study it for his Lord the Storm Herald.

He moved like a spider on the wall, ducking past guards as they discussed the oddity at the temple earlier in the day. He watched them turn down a walkway, and with a swoosh the warrior dropped to the ground and rushed forwards. While in his skeletal body Vyrabron felt most active. It was easier for him to maneuver he had thought. Some of the infiltrators had a knack for Skin walking, while others were more suited to subterfuge and actual sneaking. This was perhaps why they were assigned in teams of two, one to perform the roll the other couldn’t. That was highly logical, and advantageous.

Slipping into the shadows, the warrior waited, his eyes shutting as he waited. For these days Vaahnzerekh and Vyrabron split up, studying the city of Irrkaram to report back to their superior, the venerable Khotemi, Bearer of Lightning, Ascendant Scion of the Fifteenth Circle of Tyr'Erekoh, and Inheritor of our mutual lord the Storm Herald, Supreme Master of the lands of Tyr, Lord of the Firmament and the Fundament, and rightful ruler of all lands the sky touches, long may his reign be.

Vyrabron studied the religions and faith that people draped themselves around in an attempt to understand the human society better. Suravani, an ancient name that had much meaning to the Storm Herald, but none to the lowly infiltrator, had much sway in the people’s life. He wanted to see how that worked but all he got was parables and insufferable, gross conclusion jumping stories that always ended with Suravani being seen in some positive light. Annoyed with Jaffa instantly, he allowed himself to taught, until he mentioned that book had significance. He looked to it, learning about the rules the faith governed and finding several contradictions that could perhaps be used to counter preach in the coming battles and shake and destroy the faith in the people.

As for what Vyrabron saw in that underground tomb was indeed a small facet of the Storm Herald’s glory. Yet what the priests of Suravani had guarded for millennia as the supposed Womb of Suravani was in fact an actual Kron’Tyr artifact that had a specific roll in the great plan. If Vyrabron had the ability to, he would have laughed loudly at the absurdity of it all. They had thought that place a sacred holy realm. A place of greatness and wonder all in the name of their goddess.

What Vyrabron saw was a giant Kron’Tyr waste receptacle that had gone offline in the long sleep, its power core dysfunctional and un-repairable.

Footsteps broke him out of his notes as he prepared his report for his partner, seeing a man walk in the darkness with no care in the world. His body looked nothing like the one that Vaahnzerekh had used, but then again the body he had used committed suicide. He approached cautiously, keeping his movements silent as he lifted one talon up to impale the creature in the back of the head, but before he put the weapon in he heard soft pitter patter. It registered instantly in his mind as Kron’Tyr morse code, the same thing Vyrabron used to communicate with Vaahnzerekh. The man turned to see Vyrabron gently lower his hand.

“You always were a little stealthier than I, Vyrabron.” Vaahzerkh’s face could have been fashioned from stone for all the emotion that it showed. Vyrabron’s talon retracted, flowing back into his hand. “I trust that your week was profitable.” Vaahnzerekh nodded in time with the rhythm that Vyrabron drummed on his chest. “Excellent,” he said after the Kron’tyr had finished. “I too have much to report to Khotemi. But first I must tell you what we will do next.”

Vyrabron listened to the report, and eagerly awaited to get started, following Vaahzerkh’s body into the darkness.

[Duffy]

Irrakam Infiltration - Vyrabron's Tale Judgement
By Herald of the Tempest

Plot Construction ~ 16/30

Story ~ 6/10 -
Strategy ~ 5/10 -
Setting ~ 5/10 -

Characterisation ~ 20/30

Continuity ~ 6/10 -
Interaction ~ 7/10 -
Character ~ 7/10 -

Writing Style ~ 20/30

Creativity ~ 6/10 -
Mechanics ~ 6/10 -
Clarity ~ 7/10 -

Wildcard: 5/10

Total ~ 60/100

Spoils:

Herald of the Tempest 558 gains xp and 200 gold.