While time continued to pass around the murky roads of Normadia, there were other places where it had come to a complete stop. Dark, hidden and forbidden places, nested so far away from the action packed lands of the north and yet, so strangely relevant to it all. The figures hiding in the shadows were convinced of it: they were relevant to many, many things in the world, much to the dismay of the church. They were the torchbearers of a new era, a new Age of Magic that would soon arrive to Jericho.
Or they would be, if these meetings stopped being necessary.
Twenty cloaked figures stood near a round table, on a hexagonal room dimly lit only by the effort of a few blue candles. Their faces were completely concealed, covered with veils, all so their only recognizable features were their right hands, or more specifically the beautiful silver rings in the hands of some of their hands, each showing a different pattern of black dots surrounding the likeness of a burning torch. A symbol of the order of the Demiurge.
There were, however, seven hands without a ring. Two of them didn’t even have a finger! They had to identify themselves with a signed scroll now hanging from their hands, a most shameful display but one necessary to keep the safety of their guild in place.
“She follows wherever we reach!” Said one of the fingerless cloaks. “I’ve tried everything but the Champion of the church is ruthless, ruthless I tell you! It is best if we leave our things and go back into hiding.”
“Are you out of your mind!? I have made some interesting advances with my studies and I will not stop now that I am so close to a breakthrough.” One of the ringed hands shook. “Not everyone has been cast with a worthless rune.”
“You better take that back!”
“We must take this threat seriously, I agree to that.” A ringless hand tried to play it safe. “But we can’t be hasty, maybe these are just unlucky days. My study has been hindered by some redheaded snot, and you don’t see me panicking.”
“You as well!?” Another finger with no ring shook. “That’s the third time a witch comes into play, what is going on with that?”
“We do not know.” A ringed hand with a deeper voice imposed itself in the conversation. “But we have reasons to believe it’s the same one who put an end to Enrico, six years ago.”
There was a moment of silence in the room, out of respect for a well-regarded, if a little insane comrade.
“He got runedrunk, trying to systematize the work like that!” A bold fingerless hand shook. “His methods should have killed him long before the Witch.”
“We are not talking about Enrico or his research anymore. We are still trying to recover what we can from that whole debacle.” The strongly voiced ringed hand tried to establish order again. “Seven rings have been lost, then, two of them completely destroyed.”
“If I didn’t activate that spell I would have died!” A fingerless hand demanded some empathy.
“You are not being condemned for it. It is much preferable for the rings to be destroyed than to leave them in the hands of the church.”
“Now what is that supposed to mean!?” A ringless hand slammed the table. “I don’t know what circumstances the others were in, but my ring is presumably in the hands of a profane woman. She will probably sell it in some fish market and there it will be much easier to track.”
“I tossed mine in the river after using the Flash rune. Better lost that way than anything.” Another naked hand added.
“Enough. I am not here to listen to your excuses!” The strong voice shook the whole room with its angry shouts. “This meeting is only to see which ones of you are in position to participate in the Great Work.”
Two of the thirteen-ringed hands rose in agreement and then, there was a moment of silence. The ashamed, humiliated ones remained silent, nervously tapping the table or fidgeting with their hands.
“We need Three volunteers.”
Tradition and general decency demanded that one of the disgraced ones joined the Great Work, mostly to try and revindicate the others, but none wanted the responsibility. Until one of the fingerless finally rose up.
Someone in the meeting sighed in relief.
“Good. Then you are set to meet in Caen’s Cathedral, and I will be there as well to direct your activities. This will be our riskiest operation yet, but if we are to recover the trust of our Founder, then it must be done.”
The mention of the elusive Founder elicited some more nervous fidgeting from various members of the congregation. The man who had started it all, the first Demiurge to inspire the rest: the man of Stone himself.
“He has refused our calls for long enough, this time he will see that we are still deserving of his wisdom and guidance!”
“Amen.” Chanted the room.
“May the Will of the Gods guide all of your efforts, brothers. The return of the great Golden Age is nigh, and only fools and blind men can’t see it!”
“They shall all open their eyes soon.” Chanted the room.
“No matter how nefarious our acts become, it is all in the name of the great Return of Magic!”
“There will be reconciliation for our efforts.” Chanted the room.
“May the Will of the Gods imbue us all with purpose and determination, and may the light of our discoveries shed away this wretched Age of Silence!”
The lights in the room were snuffed all at once, and time returned to its usual pace. The world once again spun, put to motion by the room’s last parting words:
“Amen”.
While time continued to pass around the murky roads of Normadia, there were other places where it had come to a complete stop. Dark, hidden and forbidden places, nested so far away from the action packed lands of the north and yet, so strangely relevant to it all. The figures hiding in the shadows were convinced of it: they were relevant to many, many things in the world, much to the dismay of the church. They were the torchbearers of a new era, a new Age of Magic that would soon arrive to Jericho.
Or they would be, if these meetings stopped being necessary.
Twenty cloaked figures stood near a round table, on a hexagonal room dimly lit only by the effort of a few blue candles. Their faces were completely concealed, covered with veils, all so their only recognizable features were their right hands, or more specifically the beautiful silver rings in the hands of some of their hands, each showing a different pattern of black dots surrounding the likeness of a burning torch. A symbol of the order of the Demiurge.
There were, however, seven hands without a ring. Two of them didn’t even have a finger! They had to identify themselves with a signed scroll now hanging from their hands, a most shameful display but one necessary to keep the safety of their guild in place.
“She follows wherever we reach!” Said one of the fingerless cloaks. “I’ve tried everything but the Champion of the church is ruthless, ruthless I tell you! It is best if we leave our things and go back into hiding.”
“Are you out of your mind!? I have made some interesting advances with my studies and I will not stop now that I am so close to a breakthrough.” One of the ringed hands shook. “Not everyone has been cast with a worthless rune.”
“You better take that back!”
“We must take this threat seriously, I agree to that.” A ringless hand tried to play it safe. “But we can’t be hasty, maybe these are just unlucky days. My study has been hindered by some redheaded snot, and you don’t see me panicking.”
“You as well!?” Another finger with no ring shook. “That’s the third time a witch comes into play, what is going on with that?”
“We do not know.” A ringed hand with a deeper voice imposed itself in the conversation. “But we have reasons to believe it’s the same one who put an end to Enrico, six years ago.”
There was a moment of silence in the room, out of respect for a well-regarded, if a little insane comrade.
“He got runedrunk, trying to systematize the work like that!” A bold fingerless hand shook. “His methods should have killed him long before the Witch.”
“We are not talking about Enrico or his research anymore. We are still trying to recover what we can from that whole debacle.” The strongly voiced ringed hand tried to establish order again. “Seven rings have been lost, then, two of them completely destroyed.”
“If I didn’t activate that spell I would have died!” A fingerless hand demanded some empathy.
“You are not being condemned for it. It is much preferable for the rings to be destroyed than to leave them in the hands of the church.”
“Now what is that supposed to mean!?” A ringless hand slammed the table. “I don’t know what circumstances the others were in, but my ring is presumably in the hands of a profane woman. She will probably sell it in some fish market and there it will be much easier to track.”
“I tossed mine in the river after using the Flash rune. Better lost that way than anything.” Another naked hand added.
“Enough. I am not here to listen to your excuses!” The strong voice shook the whole room with its angry shouts. “This meeting is only to see which ones of you are in position to participate in the Great Work.”
Two of the thirteen-ringed hands rose in agreement and then, there was a moment of silence. The ashamed, humiliated ones remained silent, nervously tapping the table or fidgeting with their hands.
“We need Three volunteers.”
Tradition and general decency demanded that one of the disgraced ones joined the Great Work, mostly to try and revindicate the others, but none wanted the responsibility. Until one of the fingerless finally rose up.
Someone in the meeting sighed in relief.
“Good. Then you are set to meet in Caen’s Cathedral, and I will be there as well to direct your activities. This will be our riskiest operation yet, but if we are to recover the trust of our Founder, then it must be done.”
The mention of the elusive Founder elicited some more nervous fidgeting from various members of the congregation. The man who had started it all, the first Demiurge to inspire the rest: the man of Stone himself.
“He has refused our calls for long enough, this time he will see that we are still deserving of his wisdom and guidance!”
“Amen.” Chanted the room.
“May the Will of the Gods guide all of your efforts, brothers. The return of the great Golden Age is nigh, and only fools and blind men can’t see it!”
“They shall all open their eyes soon.” Chanted the room.
“No matter how nefarious our acts become, it is all in the name of the great Return of Magic!”
“There will be reconciliation for our efforts.” Chanted the room.
“May the Will of the Gods imbue us all with purpose and determination, and may the light of our discoveries shed away this wretched Age of Silence!”
The lights in the room were snuffed all at once, and time returned to its usual pace. The world once again spun, put to motion by the room’s last parting words:
“Amen”.
