The Manipulator Game

[Ashla]

Closed to Odium and my alternate accounts (BlackGhostofSeaside, BloodandBlades). Takes place before war.

Ashla stood still in front of the large globe-like object. It was the Mundus. The Mundus was the object which was used for communication over long distances between power forces here in the cold, mountain country Eiskalt. She had just gotten off from talking to her cousin and the king of this small country, Fulgur II Icebreaker. She sighed, he was sure getting desperate... In desperate times, desperate measures must be taken. Fulgur was just about ready to pull a bunch of peasants together to form a new constitution! Of course, Ashla didn't mind this idea for the peoples' ranks, but she didn't like the idea of mindless fools joining in on the country's council. It had been close to a month since Fulgur II, Julius Tabor, and herself had taken over Eiskalt, and it was still difficult to sustain order in the upside down, messed up country. Ashla sighed as she turned to leave the stone room of the Stahl Keep, located inside the mountain surrounding the Stahl Gate. She was stopped though when a messenger came racing into the room calling, "My lady, we've seen a suspect outside the walls!"

Ashla blinked, One person? One person alone outside? She sighed and told the man to tell the hundreds of archers guarding the gate not to shoot yet. The man raced out, almost dropping his helm. Ashla crossed her arms and took a look around the room. This was the communications room, where the Mundus and other communication devices were held. Maps of the country, lists of other outposts and keeps, and much more were kept in here. The entire keep was made of humongous bricks made of hard, grey stone. She sighed, the moment of silence here was too short...

And now I go into chaos... "Will this dumb guarding duty ever end??"

[Odium]

Obtaining passage to Eiskalt had not been the simplest endeavor. Tirel, the port city on Salvar's eastern edge, was a city host to a thousand cultures and mother to men of more races than you could come up with slurs for. Despite - or perhaps because of - the great many people which dwelt in the town, it was difficult to find any privy to a place where no one really went. It was difficult to find someone that could take you to a place no one would ever bother to look for... it was difficult, Constantine concluded, to find someone that could take you to Eiskalt. It was barely a smudge in the cold sea it sat upon, a historical anecdote brushed over in the greatest chronicles of history available to men.

He sought it specifically for its subtlety. How many nations had there been which rise and fell without so much as being uttered on the lips of others? Few, or perhaps many, but if so they eluded Constantine and he did not have time to hunt them down. His desire to flee Salvar was terribly urgent, as the shackles of fate seemed to bind his wrists and arrest his movements ever more with each passing day. In his dreams he was faced by the people from his past - his mother, his father, lovers and friends, and they all demanded from him an answer to the question... What is the power of a dream? And he had nothing to say.

Eventually he had found a man who conducted a great deal of trade with the island, ferrying over supplies and certain exotic commodities in exchange for others. For a measure of gold the erstwhile drunk offered Constantine passage on his ship. The gray-eyed Radasanthian had accepted all too eagerly, and although the journey to Eiskalt had been brief it had been fraught with hardship. Storms beset them, and the vessel threatened to capsize on more than one occasion. Constantine's sleep became less troubled however, and for this he was deeply thankful. When the man had deposited him on the island and charged him with passing through the Stahl Gate while he languished a few days onboard, he wondered how he would pass, however.

The fortress commanded the horizon, a veritable citadel impenetrable to all but the most foolish. Turrets lined the walls, no doubt home to archers. Eventually, Constantine wandered up to its gates, and... waited. After all, someone would attend to him eventually.

[Ashla]

Ashla walked down the steel plank. It was small against the heavy fortress walls, the small doorway out was a smidge compared to the giant structure. The small door was attached to the larger gate, also made of steel, and blended in quite well.

Two guards trailed behind the young Icebreaker, her face covered by a hood. The black cape she wore flapped in the wind as if it was a flag. It was rather windy today, this only added to the blistering cold! Goosebumps popped up everywhere on Ashla's skin, and she only desired to get back inside ... and into the fort ... and to huddle up by a nice, warm fireplace. Snow dotted the brown landscape, making it look like a blanket with white holes inside... Oh, how Ashla desired a blanket right now. She felt like she was going to die from the cold! I hate this job...

Ashla approached the gentleman in front of her as he squirmed in attempts to warm his body with movement. Ashla scoffed, a warm smile spreading across her face with a heavy wave of sympathy. "Sorry," she spoke, "But it will take a lot more than that to keep warm out here today." She briefly watched her own breath escape from her mouth then looked up at the awkward man standing in front of her again.

"Now," Her expression grew serious again, "What business do you have in Eiskalt?"