Post by Sandstrake on Apr 1, 2024 23:47:06 GMT -4
In a catacomb just outside the bustling streets of Hegathe, Eight hooded forms gathered.
Their robes seemed to shimmer with the darkest of silver, just barely flickering in the crude torchlight, making the figures of those wearing them waver indistinctly in the flame's shadows. The draping finery kept all those who looked upon the wearers uncertain of gender, height and age from a mere glance.
And at last, One figure stepped forward. Their voice was heavily altered my some means of magic or enchantment, just like the other figures gathered. Yet it seemed to speak with an austere authority all the same, beneath the horrid amalgam of scratching voices produced beneath the hood. Some sounded as sweet as caressing silk, while others had the consistency of garrote wire being plucked with malice.
"By all accounts, the Master's Plan proceeds apace."
One figure was soon joined by a Second. "Yes, the Crowns' dogmatic resistance to change has made them an effective weapon."
A Third rubbed their hands in glee. "Meanwhile, we stir Forbear sentiments among the lower classes with the smuggling of Imperial holy texts and propaganda, aiding the construction of hidden shrines, all assuring the streets are ripe with the Strife fit to nourish our Prince."
A Fourth tapped their boot impatiently beneath the robes. "Speaking of Nourishment...are there any further matters to discuss before we "slake" our respective thirsts and cravings?"
Their robes seemed to shimmer with the darkest of silver, just barely flickering in the crude torchlight, making the figures of those wearing them waver indistinctly in the flame's shadows. The draping finery kept all those who looked upon the wearers uncertain of gender, height and age from a mere glance.
And at last, One figure stepped forward. Their voice was heavily altered my some means of magic or enchantment, just like the other figures gathered. Yet it seemed to speak with an austere authority all the same, beneath the horrid amalgam of scratching voices produced beneath the hood. Some sounded as sweet as caressing silk, while others had the consistency of garrote wire being plucked with malice.
"By all accounts, the Master's Plan proceeds apace."
One figure was soon joined by a Second. "Yes, the Crowns' dogmatic resistance to change has made them an effective weapon."
A Third rubbed their hands in glee. "Meanwhile, we stir Forbear sentiments among the lower classes with the smuggling of Imperial holy texts and propaganda, aiding the construction of hidden shrines, all assuring the streets are ripe with the Strife fit to nourish our Prince."
A Fourth tapped their boot impatiently beneath the robes. "Speaking of Nourishment...are there any further matters to discuss before we "slake" our respective thirsts and cravings?"
A Fifth crossed their arms in irritation. "There is one gnat buzzing about in our ear to make mention of. The sanctimonious sea dog is still sniffing about and making inquiries."
A Sixth tossed their head back in amusement. "Ah yes, I had nearly forgotten Captain at-Vhosri. It seems shame and exile have not tempered his curiousity."
A Sixth tossed their head back in amusement. "Ah yes, I had nearly forgotten Captain at-Vhosri. It seems shame and exile have not tempered his curiousity."
The Fifth clenched their fists. "I still say we should have executed him. It would have been easier to arrange."
"You know the Master's wishes regarding his fate. He is a curious anomaly in the Skein, a potential asset to our aims. He is to live."
"Even I must admit he has shown keen perception and acumen. No wonder the Prince has taken an interest."
A disaffected Seventh brushed a strand of spiderweb from their shoulder. "He would have never suspected if our former confederate hadn't become greedy and complacent. The Master's threads in Al'kir and Bangkorai would have been foiled by those like him, thanks to that blundering nonsense with the Withered Hand and the Magus-General. Do not praise him too highly, Third."
"Yet, the threads hold fast. Our Master's work is not so easily undone. Have faith."
"Yet, the threads hold fast. Our Master's work is not so easily undone. Have faith."
"Faith?" An Eighth figure emerged from the shadows, speaking with the least authority, the least certainty of those gathered.
"How can the master ask faith of us, when we cannot even know one another's names or faces? What's more, you say there is one out there who suspects, and we are to simply...let them be?"
"How can the master ask faith of us, when we cannot even know one another's names or faces? What's more, you say there is one out there who suspects, and we are to simply...let them be?"
This questioning did not meet the approval of the other Seven figures gathered. Faint shadows squirmed to life, then dispersed in a cloudy swarm. Something skittered beneath several of the silent hoods facing this doubter.
"You are young in our fold yet, Eighth. It is understandable you would have your doubts in what the master plans for both Hegathe and Hammerfell. But this is the way it must be."
"You shall see, it's better this way. No room for betrayal. A silent, anonymous understanding. Only our Master knows our true identities. Our true vices. Some so grave they may shock even those gathered here. I'm sure it's the case for you as well, is it not? You were drawn to our Prince's side when you heard their whispers from the dark."
"You are young in our fold yet, Eighth. It is understandable you would have your doubts in what the master plans for both Hegathe and Hammerfell. But this is the way it must be."
"You shall see, it's better this way. No room for betrayal. A silent, anonymous understanding. Only our Master knows our true identities. Our true vices. Some so grave they may shock even those gathered here. I'm sure it's the case for you as well, is it not? You were drawn to our Prince's side when you heard their whispers from the dark."
"And we do not know the full extent of our master's aims, by design. Mere mortals could never hope to comprehend it. Just as we do not know what fate the Master weaves for Tamriel as a whole. We simply know our individual roles, and what the Master expects. We are but instruments. Needles to direct our Master's thread."
"Do not concern yourself for the man named Sathem at-Vhosri, either. Many of us are keeping him under observation. Our Master's eyes are myriad in the world's dark corners. For example, he was spotted in Hallin's Stand a fortnight ago. So far from our plans he could not hope to be a hindrance. I understand he was enjoying the entertainment."
"Afterwards he was spotted in Stros M'kai. Chasing more dead ends. If the Master sees no threat in him, I will stay my hand. But my eyes will be open."
"Just as well you do, Fifth. For as we all know, the Master's plans are so stable because of their adaptability. Perhaps sometime in the near future, he will be too much of a risk to let live. Did you know, for example, he turned up on Summerset quite recently? Most curious. I doubt he will hesitate to return to Tamriel's shores before long. But I don't need to remind you our Master's ignoble history with that place."
"Just as well you do, Fifth. For as we all know, the Master's plans are so stable because of their adaptability. Perhaps sometime in the near future, he will be too much of a risk to let live. Did you know, for example, he turned up on Summerset quite recently? Most curious. I doubt he will hesitate to return to Tamriel's shores before long. But I don't need to remind you our Master's ignoble history with that place."
"The point, Eighth, is that we are as in the dark as you about most things. In time, you shall see the Master has a way of ensuring we are in the right place at the right time. And should the Captain become a problem...our Prince may just let you have the honor of removing him for us. We don't know the details of course, but...we understand you are quite capable in that respect."
"Forgive my insolence. I only wish to properly serve our Master, and the goals of the Silken Stride to their fullest. It would be a pleasure to dispose of any enemies to our aims....personally."
"Reassuring to hear, Eighth. Now, we shall turn briefly to matters in Skaven, Dragonstar and Rihad before we adjourn."
Their altered voices faded into the blackened depths of the ancient tombs, bearing the hallmarks of Yokudan design and things much older and fouler. A horde of skittering shadows darted along the ceiling above them, spreading and weaving amidst the innermost chambers with spry glee, chittering echoes that sounded much like laughter drowning out those speaking until naught was heard but the howling wasteland wind.
Their altered voices faded into the blackened depths of the ancient tombs, bearing the hallmarks of Yokudan design and things much older and fouler. A horde of skittering shadows darted along the ceiling above them, spreading and weaving amidst the innermost chambers with spry glee, chittering echoes that sounded much like laughter drowning out those speaking until naught was heard but the howling wasteland wind.
Founded April 26, 2005