Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Nasazura's Rest: Barracks

Tiko

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Tiko

As Shelby led the gathered group inside from the courtyard they would find that the place held a rustic atmosphere to it with the stone walls, fire-pit, and militaristic decor. The furniture consisted only of a large oaken trestle table and several worn oak benches. Some thick furs had been strewn about the the firepit and atop the benches to offer some element of comfort and warmth.

Where the temple had been stunningly awe inspiring, the barracks were hard and utilitarian. The word that best encompassed the building was strength. Weapons hung from displays on the walls, and lit cressets held dancing flames to flicker and cast their warm glow over the otherwise cold building.

A large soup pot hung suspended over the fire pit and several individuals were already seated at the table, helping themselves to a warm stew.

Despite the ventillation in the ceiling above the firepit to guide the excess heat to the upper floors - and the smoke clear of the building - the smell of burning wood added a smoky odor to mingle with that of the stew.

Several exits were available from the room. A stone stairway descended downwards to the armory and to the east and west stood open doorways that spilled into two large rooms that were both lined with cots. Leading to the upper floor was a second stone stairway that led to an open room that stood bare save for the cots that lined the walls. A single pillar of stone with vents etched into it rose from the center of the floor and disappeared into the ceiling overhead.

"The second floor is where you will be residing," Shelby told them. "I will leave you to get settled for now."
 
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as written by Script

Kallis felt immediately at home in the barracks. It reminded him of the halls in which he'd been raised: austere and unembellished. He bowed his head respectfully to Shelby as she announced her departure. "Thank you for showing us around, ma'am," he said.

Once the knight had departed, he turned his attention to the room.

Amongst those already seated at the tables was Trys, the green-skinned youth from earlier. He was lounging with his feet up on one of the benches, an already-emptied bowl of soup on the table before him. He waved a hand at the group of new arrivals, grinning.

"Yo, newbies. Your shit's all up there," he gestured up the stairs. "No idea whose bags were whose, so they're all just in the middle of the room. Hope you brought extra pillows, because I'm pretty sure these guys don't know the meaning of the phrase creature comforts. I've had comfier nights in prison."

Kallis raised an eyebrow at the mention of prison, but chose not to comment. Instead, he stepped away and towards the stairs, heading up to the room in order to begin separating his bags and unpacking what he needed to.
 
as written by glmstr

Priscilla continued without a word to the second floor, not even paying mind to what the other recruits were doing. Upon entering the shared bedroom, she picked a bed that wasn't quite in the middle of one of the rows, but was much closer to that than the edges. After all, Arianne insisted that she'd try to socialize as much as possible, and for the young lady to not be as reclusive as her mother.

She set her bags down on and around the cot she claimed and leaned her saber (in scabbard) up against the wall, and sat down on it with one of her satchels in hand. From within it the young witch produced a strange device which looked like a mailbox, as well as several reams of obviously-enchanted paper and several pens. With them, she began to write in Lutetian.

Dear mother,
I have arrived at my destination. It appears that I have been called by the Elysian Vanguard, as their headquarters is where I now stay. I am glad you had me bring the extra bedding, as they did not provide much for us in that regard. I will send more letters with updates as things begin to happen.
Love,
Priscilla​

Finished with a flourishing signature, Priscilla carefully folded the letter. She snapped her fingers to produce a very small flame emanating from her thumb, with which she ignited the paper. It quickly caught fire, bluish-green flames devouring the letter but leaving no ash, instead a wispy haze rose from what used to be the paper. The wispy essence zoomed out of the room and exited Nasazura's rest, making a beeline for Issunar. Within a few days, the letter would materialize in a device identical to Priscilla's 'mailbox' in Arianne's home.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Hendrik would look about with held breath. This was somewhat...less than what he'd expected. He'd been told he was joining a prestigious mystical order. He'd expected something...more...And while yes, the Temple had been grand, at least what he'd been shown, but it all seemed so...ancient. Which he supposed it was. It was supposed to be. Perhaps growing up constantly surrounded by cutting edge laboratories had spoiled him, gotten the young doctor accustomed to finer, more modern settings. This feeling was only starting to sink in, and for the first time, the blonde youth felt regret.

And then hearing his bags were mixed in with the others. "Nonononoathousandtimesno!"

And with that, the lanky man with a ridiculously high long coat and almost absurdly heavy sounding boots would dart away from the group and up the stairs, falling to his knees before the luggage pile. He felt a dark stab of wrath, an idea of a suitable punishment flashing through his head for whoever had lackadaisically laid the bags and suitcases down in such an unorganized fashion. Didn't they realize some of these were extremely volatile?! What if what of the containment tubes had cracked? What if a sample was contaminated, lost forever? Half of these could not be replaced without months of travel and hundreds of thousands of dollars he no longer had access to?!

A few seconds of heavy breathing, hands clenching his knees. The anger had been brief but...very intense. The episodes were getting worse. With a disgruntled sigh, he found all four of his packs and metal lined cases and lugged them to whatever would be the closest thing that would pass for a reasonably sterilized desk or table.
 
as written by birdee10

Jake had not let his own bag out of his sight. It was not that he didn't trust these people, or that he had any thing valuable, but he did have things he didn't want others to see, secrets too keep. That, and on the streets, you don't leave your things with others or unattended. So, unlike others, he didn't go rushing off to the upper floor. Instead, the young mage fell back, skirting the eadges of the room as he examined the building itself and the people in it.
He felt uncomfortable about the curious eyes that followed his progress around the room, looking at the weaponry. He poked his head into rooms filled with rows apon rows of cotts.
How many people live here? he wondered, curious.
 
as written by Tiko

Jake's examination of the weapons revelead that they looked authentic. But it would be difficult to determine for certain without physically picking them up and putting them to the test. The two rooms filled with cotts were looking pretty sparce, and from his cursory glance over them he could guess that there were only maybe a half dozen that had seen recent use. Large storage chests were situated at the foot of those ones. Despite the size of the barracks, it remained lightly used. Perhaps the arrival of him and the othes would soon change that.

____

Meanwhile upstairs, Hendrick would find the large open room largely devoid of any furniture at the moment. The best he could locate were the unnused cotts. It seemed likely that the room hadn't seen much use since it was constructed.
 
as written by Script

"An interesting application of magic," Kallis remarked, having observed Priscilla creating her letter as he was unpacking his meager belongings by one of the corner beds furthest from the door. "Do you employ many such charms?"

For his part, what Kallis unpacked largely consisted of a few changes of clothes that he set at the foot of his bed - making a mental note to inquire as to the availability of a simple chest for his belongings - and a few leather-bound books that looked very well-used. He kept his twin blades - a saber and arming sword of simple make - strapped at his sides for the time being.

The last item to emerge from his bag was a woven cloth mat of some description, that he laid down beside his bed. It was woven with four Caldonian symbols - intertwining and symmetrical - across it. To one familiar with Caldonian symbolism, the icons represented the four classical elements core to a number of ancient belief systems in the country.
 
as written by glmstr

"Hm?" Priscilla glanced towards the direction of the voice, seeing one of the multiple others that traveled here in the party. "Yeah. Mother's a witch, so she insisted on packing all sorts of silly gadgets, and she'll probably send more at some point."

The Lutetian pulled one of her suitcases into her lap, looking for a label to get an idea of what was even inside it. A faint jostling and rattling sound from inside combined with the Caution: Living Thing sticker plastered onto the side gave her an idea of what it might (unfortunately) be. She tentatively flipped open the clasps, and raised the lid, when the voice of a middle aged man suddenly spoke up.

"My word, it's Miss Priscilla!"

Out from the case leapt the source of the voice. A tiny stone construct, around ten inches tall, roughly humanoid in shape with a painted-on tuxedo, and a little granite hat atop his head. Yet, before Priscilla could grab the golem or say anything, he jumped down to the floor and ran elegantly around the room with a soft tac tac tac, inspecting and examining everything in the room.

Eventually, the little stone man saw Kallis. He clicked and clacked across the floor to get a closer look.

"And who is this fine young lad? A comrade of yours, Miss Priscilla?" He eyed the stranger up and down, his gaze eventually lowering to the mat just laid beside the cot.

"My, that mat! Are you a Caldonian? Lady Arianne and Miss Priscilla and I have visited there a great many times, scouring for forgotten ruins and ancient knowledge! It isn't often that I meet a Caldonian in the flesh! Wait, you don't look like you were born there, did you move there? When did you move? How long have you lived there?"

Priscilla could only look on in horror as the obnoxiously amiable stone man rattled on endlessly about Caldonia, his admiration of the landscape and people, as well as spouting anecdotes about his own experiences there, just like he would with anyone from somewhere outside Lutetia and their respective homeland.

She cursed Arianne for sending Docsworth along. Her mother had just unleashed a (tiny) monster upon the Elysian Vanguard.
 
as written by Script

Kallis raised an eyebrow at the small golem, another seemingly frivolous application of magic. He reminded himself inwardly that he was a long way from the monastery now, and such things were commonplace amongst outsiders. The same had been true even in the parts of Caldonia that he'd seen after leaving the Monastery. He had since just about come to terms with the fact that the lifestyle of the Harmonians was the exception, not the rule.

"In order: I am, and I did not," he answered curtly but honestly. "I was raised from birth in Caldonia, though I am not Caldonian by blood."

As the golem continued to prattle, he determined that it was not just the animate doll that he'd presumed, and rather its own being. Perhaps not so frivolous, then, but still ... odd.

Its blathering was growing tiresome quickly, however, and so he cut across the construct's current anecdote. "If I might be granted a moment, I would like to attend to my evening meditation."

Focusing on anything of the sort would no doubt be difficult in a room full of people meeting each other, but he would have to get used to performing his meditations without the luxury of privacy eventually. At least doing so now would give him an excuse to avoid any further questions into his birth.
 
as written by birdee10

Noting the lack of use besides the quantity of beds, Jake finally moved towards the center of the room, still keeping to the fringes, but finding himself a place to sit, alone. At least I’ll have a hot meal He thought, watching the ones who had been there awhile. They seemed to move with the practiced ease of companionship and something that went deeper than just being friends. It was something the young mage had never really had, a family.
 
as written by glmstr

"That is truly fascinating!" The little stone man nodded, while Priscilla scrambled towards him in a mad dash. "Ah yes I understand, meditation is very important for the Cal-" He was quickly silenced with a loud thud as the witchling dove onto the automaton.

"I'm, er, very sorry about that. He was a companion of sorts when I was a child, and as such he's a little too friendly," Fabre's explanation bordered on frantic as she scooped up the silenced gentleman and plopped him back by her cot, quickly exchanging a few words with him in a hushed tone.
 
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as written by Script

Shrugging his shoulders, Kallis knelt down upon the mat, resting his hands upon his knees and steadying his breathing. "It's fine. Just make sure it doesn't interrupt me any further, if you could."

With that, it seemed that from his point of view, the conversation was over - or at least suspended, while he meditated.
 
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as written by glmstr

"I guess," Priscilla shrugged back in response. She shooed the pint-sized companion back towards her cot with her foot, walking after him a few seconds later. The little stone man skillfully unpacked the witchling's clothes and other supplies, even without any thumbs or other discernible digits. A possibly unforeseen benefit to this particular servant managing her clothing, evidently, attributed to the material of his make, as his folding skills were unmatched in both crispness and lack of wrinkles by using his own body to flatten the articles in question.

While many others in the barracks sought after food or socialization, at the moment Priscilla only wanted rest. The journey proved exhausting and the tour similarly draining, and even being around people left her emotionally tired. Without much incident or bombast, she rolled onto her cot and pulled the furs over herself, and gazed lazily at the wall until she was tired enough to nap. Docsworth, once finished with his more mundane duties, plopped himself on the ground beside his mistress to keep watch, with a miniscule book of some sort sitting next to him.

Gone were the visions of Nasazura's rest atop its frigid peaks in her dreams, instead a new subject came into view. She found herself amidst landscapes, if one could even call them such, vastly different from anything she had ever seen before. An endless expanse of cracked earth, fantastical landforms writhing through the valleys and hills as if carved by beings of incredible stature, and the skies providing a dazzling swirl of colors as far as the eye could see. She could see what must be some sort of creature in the distance, but little more than a moving speck was clearly defined. She expected the land to chill her feet due to the seeming lack of sun, yet nothing felt entirely hot nor cold. The ambiguity and uncertainty of such a minute detail, the temperature of the ground and air around her, sent a chill down her spine. The place began to feel alien and desolate, clearly nowhere she'd ever heard of on Valore.

Yet, this foreign land's surreal conditions did not inspire the most dread within Priscilla. Instead, that fell upon the realization that this dreamscape, while she had never recalled a vision in any way similar to this, was familiar.
 
Azzam surveyed the room slowly after entering, his eyes darting to the myriad weapons displayed on racks and the various cots. While others went about what they viewed as important, he felt a desire to relax in one of the few manners he'd grown accustomed to. He could meditate, as Kallis did, or he could choose sleep like Priscilla. He had no desire to rush to find his pack, within which he would find only his basic comforts of other silks, some simple soap, and another thick blanket. None of that was what he wanted though.

He wanted to feel like the wind was dancing with him.

With confident strides, the Caldonian walked to one of the weapons arrays and lifted a rapier-like blade from it. It was wider in the blade, and heavier than a traditional rapier, but still lighter than those he'd worked with for years in his younger days. That, and it was straight, unlike the curved blades he was more acquainted with. He picked up another blade in his off hand, this one a dirk of simplistic design. The weight was dead on, the balance finer than any he'd held before. It struck him as odd, how comfortable they felt in his hands, considering he hadn't used a blade in combat for over a year, but the comfort he felt spread through him like a wildfire, easing his mind free of the convolutions it had been through recently.

He walked himself to the most open and devoid portion of the room, paused, then left, finding an empty room nearby to practice in. He didn't wish to be seen as a showoff, as this was simply something for him: almost religious in how personal he desired to keep it. Once alone, he fell into a basic stance, his whole form tucked tight against itself in a preparatory design. He stayed like that for a breath, two breaths.

And then he stuck forward, thrusting the long blade out then twirling into a quick swipe of the dirk. The motion banished all thought, only training and instinct remaining, before he snapped into a different ready position at the movement's end. Another swish of silk and he flowed, not like water around a stone, but as air through the grasses of the plains. He swept around the room, this way and that, a series of motions obscured by the billowing silks on his body, but none out of place. None wrong. Each motion was precise and assured, yet the inherent grace he had while in motion was undeniably above that of the normal person's skill.

As he moved, he shut his eyes. They would not help him. The silk he wore confounded his opponents, as designed, but it would draw his eyes as well if he was not careful. With his eyes closed, they could not distract him from his motions, which he sped up to get as close to his best form as possible. The air rushed past his ears, and he began to hear the softest of melodies as he moved about. The sweat that formed on his skin was dried rapidly by the wind he made, keeping him cool, but not cold. his feet stepped in time with a melody only he could hear. Blades shot back and forth, seemingly peerless in motion.

He danced with the wind, and he gave her his all.

But the dance ended, he stopped after a final motion, long blade puncturing forward while dirk poised the defense, and a gust of wind shot off his body, dissipating against the far wall. He pulled himself back and bowed to the wind for the dance. Though he had stopped, whispers of the melody, growing ever fainter, sounded in his ears. When the last sound had faded, he walked back into the main room of the barracks and returned the weapons to where he'd taken them from, then seated himself beside the fire, drinking in its warmth.

"This place is truly marvelous, and I am glad to have been given this opportunity. I should very much like to find myself among your ranks and camaraderie." His voice was soft, the cadence of it off from what most Terrans would use, only proving he was Caldonian by birth and upbringing instead of from anyplace else. He looked around briefly, and though he had not truly met these people in a way he felt assured by, the temple itself and his exertion had relaxed him and sent his worries from him for now.

"My name is Azzam El-Amin, though you may call me Mir'Ahj, if you prefer. Would you mind if I had some stew?"
 
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"Y'know you can get off your podium now," Trys replied to Azzam with a lazy smirk in his direction. The greenskinned boy hadn't moved from his sprawled-out position on the bench since the new recruits arrived, and seemed to have little intention of doing so any time soon. "They don't have a test for brown-nosing, 'far as I'm aware."

With an over-exaggerated grunt of effort, he pushed himself into an upright position and yawned, stretching luxuriously. "And Mirage? What, are you some sorta desert superhero? Traded your dignity in for a punny name? Nah, I'll stick to Azzam. Or Azzy. Yeah, Azzy's good."

He gave a toothy grin and stuck out his hand. "Name's Trys. Been here a month, since my house got dragon'd and I got my ass saved by a girl-scout that turned into a unicorn. How'd you end up here?"
 
Azzam looked at Trys for a moment, one eyebrow raising. "Podium or not, I was not lying. And you think Mir'Ahj is bad? Your name sounds like an affair gone wrong." The comment was meant as playful ribbing, but could be taken as worse depending on the person.

"As for how I got the name, I was given it after winning a tournament without being struck in the final match. You can call me Az, if you feel the desire to shorten my name, though. I can't say it bothers me much." He shrugged and shook the boy's hand without hesitation, glad that there was some kind of ease to everyone who was already here. Only a month ahead of him, though? It looked like this kid could walk the halls blindfolded and probably still not get lost, if his relaxed posture and attitude were anything to go from. He paused for a moment before responding to the final question.

"I suspect much the same as everyone else, unless they bring some in by the sky. That mountain path is something else, though." He chuckled warmly and continued. "In truth, it was unexpected. I had recently returned to my family in the sands of Caldonia when I began to have dreams of this place. After thinking they were simply some recurring nightmare, I eventually followed what slight directions they offered, and now I'm here. Not too much different from most, I would imagine." He shrugged again and doled some stew out for himself, finally allowing his hunger to get the better of him.

"What about you? You say you had issues with a dragon, and then dealt with a unicorn, but where are you from, Trys? Seems like someplace almost beyond the realm of normal men."
 
"My name? Dude, my face looks like an affair gone wrong." Trys snorted with laughter. Indeed, any attempts to place Trys's race would doubtless prove difficult, given his bizarre combination of features: olive-green skin, pointed ears, somewhat elfin features, yellow eyes and the barest hint of tusks. "Az, Azzy, it's whatever. I'm sure I'll pick a new nickname for you before long, just like girl-scout."

He grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean, you could say that. Westeria isn't exactly the realm of 'normal men'. The dragon was step one of the whole 'everything went to shit' episode a month or so back, right before the Aschen attack. The unicorn is just girl-scout, though. Dunno if you've met him yet. He's the pretty blonde boy in red I was talking with on the steps. Good kid, followed him back here after he saved my life a couple times." He paused, and smirked knowingly. "Well, for that, and some other reasons. Anyways, after that, I figured I'd sign up for this whole saving the world shit, 'cause why the hell not, right?"
 
"I must have missed him during the tour. But why do you...You know, I think perhaps I might ask that later. Or perhaps I'll ask him instead." He smirked ever so slightly. "So, what is it you do here, Trys? Just hired muscle, or perhaps you're one who trained in the Arcane. Personally, you don't quite look like so much for finesse, but I suspect you'd be pretty handy with a club or maul."

Azzam's smirk grew into a warm smile and he shook his head. "I apologize. I...I tend to over-analyze others physically, having trained in swordplay from a young age. A bad habit when one is meeting new people." He looked up to the second story where others had begun to set themselves up to end their day. The Caldonian debated joining them, but figured he'd give Trys the chance to ask any last questions before doing so.

"Please, if you wish to know more about me, feel free to ask. I may not answer everything, but what I do answer will be as much as I can truthfully tell."
 
"I punch things, they break," Trys answered, shrugging. "Stuff hits me, I only break temporarily. That's about the gist of me. So yeah, pretty much hired muscle. Except they aren't paying me. I could be making bank right now as some high profile gangster's bodyguard, but out of the goodness of my heart, I'm here instead. Go figure."

He smirked, then, letting his eyes run up and down the Caldonian man. "Hey, it's no biggie. I like to analyse people physically as well, if ya know what I mean." He winked playfully, then went back to his 'assessment'. "Solid seven outta ten, I'd say," he concluded after a moment. "Pushing an eight for the exotic factor, if you're into that. I mean, not exotic for Westeria, but 'round here everyone's pale as fuck so you gotta score some points for standing out. As for questions? Nah, I'll be honest with you, I don't much care for whatever lengthy backstory led you here. I'm more of an 'in the moment' guy, you get me?"
 
"You only break temporarily, hmm? Perhaps we shall see in the future. I hope, for the sake of our job, that such remains true." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. After a moment's quiet contemplation, he stood and dusted himself off out of habit, the silks of his clothing billowing slightly.

"I appreciate the compliment, Trys. It is kind of you to give it, though I do not desire any in such a manner." His grin widened and he quirked a thin eyebrow, his tawny skin smooth in the firelight. "However, I believe I should be retiring. The day was rather long for me, and I do not desire to start tomorrow weary. Take care, Trys. May the night bring you rest."

Having said his piece, Azzam nodded his head slightly then turned and walked to the stairs. With even motions, he climbed them to the second level and appropriated himself an empty bed. He seated himself on the bed for meditations of his own, taking only a few minutes at most to go through them, before laying himself down. He lay on his back, eyes closed, without covering himself further. He was not asleep yet, but would be soon.
 
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