The gold flecks in Akacen's eyes seemed to shine ever so slightly at the sight of his old friend, Brother Brightwood. It was he, after all, that had been his first and longest companion and friend since leaving the Scholia Arcana in Tierm all those years ago.
Though, of course, that was a mere blink of an eye to someone as long-lived as an elf.
True to form, the both of them had hardly changed since they last saw one another. Even so, Akacen took a moment to take in the sight of Brightwood as he was. "Brother Brightwood," he started with a smile both on his face and in his voice. He didn't say anything more, as it was to be an unspoken conversation of sorts that the two would share.
While there was a joy in seeing his old friend again, there was clear, at least to Brightwood, conflict and worry. The Headmaster might do his best to cover that up, and succeed in the eyes of most people, Brightwood was not so easily fooled.
Even so, there was not all that much time to dwell on this as the echoes of several feet soon wafted up to their ears. Isshyim, in her endless grace and beauty, extended an arm to offer a seat to the serious, if not brooding, human. The long cuff of her sleeve fell over a foot from her wrist, the gold border, along with the pure white of the bulk of the robes she wore, did not shine; rather, they glowed in the sunlight that pierced the space.
She said nothing, nor did Awoan. It so happened that the three of them were quite aware of recent conversations.
Following behind Master Brightwood was Captain Caelynn with Lieutenants Kephalos and Tumise in tow. While Caelynn kept most of her same outward appearance, Kephalos and Tumise had changed quite a bit since they were last seen. Kephalos, for his part, had aged only somewhat, it would seem. Perhaps it was his now-bald head and purple tattoo on his face, with a matching one on his bare left arm. Always heavily armed, the Greatsword and Glaive he carried, along with a shortbow and quiver, would overcome most any other man. While shorter than Brightwood, he was perhaps stockier and carried the equipment over his scale armor that shone - no, glowed - with seeming ease.
Tumise, on the other hand, had matured quite a bit since he was first recruited from Jocarol. All the new responsibilities seemed to have settled on capable, if not still mischievous, shoulders. Wielding daggers, a rapier, and a crossbow, it was clear that the smaller human favored maneuverability and stealth over raw power. More than anything, though, it seemed that he "filled out", as they say.
Akacen would nod and offer back a hello in kind, but it seemed to be Isshyim's time to speak this time. She, too, nodded in greeting to the wood elf and offered, "It is good to be back. Of course, I learned much..." And that was it; she would offer no more at this point. Sure, she offered the slightest of smiles in return, but it left much to be desired - as she typically did whenever she spoke. Instead, she would again extend an arm to each couch, offering all three of them a seat on the long couches, able to each fit five individuals comfortably.
As the three of them sat down, both Kephalos and Tumise having to adjust their weapons in order to do so without damaging anything, Akacen commented, "You all look good." It was a meager compliment, but the intent and feeling behind it revealed so much more than the words. While reserved, Akacen was not necessarily lacking in emotion.
"Still... one more... she is nearly here," Isshyim mentioned, as though it were common knowledge. Typical for her, of course, but still off-putting to those who weren't so used to it.
Isshyim nodded first, as she was the first one addressed. Akacen followed suit, of course, and ended up being the one to speak. "Yes, Priestess. You look... wonderful." He seemed to have some trouble with that particular compliment, but it was clear that his lessons were starting to stick.
"Please... sit..." Isshyim offered the couch that had the fewer seats taken and waited for her to sit down. Akacen, for his part, gazed at this reunion. His mind raced with this and that thought, his eyes trying to take everything in before they got into all of this.
"Saviors of the Eastern Reaches," Isshyim started with only a touch of grandiosity. "I trust you remember the request you received from Zariel's minions?" She would wait a beat before continuing. "She plans to force your hand. You must go to the ruins of the Yuan-Ti temple to prevent the destruction of Theodthyrth." She spoke with such assurance that it was sometimes difficult to realize that she spoke in possible futures that she had witnessed only through her font, currently stationed directly behind her in the middle of one of the great windows facing west.
Akacen's face distorted in displeasure and unease. It had always been in the back of his mind, but it was too soon. However, it would have always been too soon, he figured. "Yes, of course," he started with a shallow nod. "I will go alone..."
"You will take your companions here with you," Isshyim interrupted just as he uttered the word alone. Her timing was impeccable, as always. "Otherwise, you will be bound to her service, and all of existence will be undone."
The look on the moon elf's face suggested that he didn't quite believe that the threat this "Zariel" posed could be any greater than summoning the Elder God of Infinite Destruction to the Material Plane. Or, perhaps he was merely incredulous in the inference that he alone could start a tip in the balance that would result in this cataclysm. He, of course, knew better than to argue with Isshyim's directives. Too many times had they proven true, and she had not said or done anything that would call her predictions into question.
"You will leave in the morning." The statement was just that - a declarative that would be followed without question. "Rest and prepare. Awoan, please give them anything they might need."
"Yes, Headmistress," Awoan responded dutifully behind her charge.
At this point Isshyim waved them all off without a word. Not contesting this, Akacen stood and bowed to the Headmistress and turned to leave. The hardened soles of this otherwise soft shoes produced dull claps against the stone floor, once off the rug. While the cape hung heavy on the Headmaster's slim shoulders, the white robes he wore rippled in the still air as water. The silver staff clapped in resolution against the stone, muffling each other step fall.
Down on the second floor, the Gathering Hall and Library, Akacen would wait for his comrades to join him. Several students looked on with curious gazes, though Mumed was there to usher them to their tasks, duties, or studies soon enough so as to leave them with at least some privacy.
Though, of course, that was a mere blink of an eye to someone as long-lived as an elf.
True to form, the both of them had hardly changed since they last saw one another. Even so, Akacen took a moment to take in the sight of Brightwood as he was. "Brother Brightwood," he started with a smile both on his face and in his voice. He didn't say anything more, as it was to be an unspoken conversation of sorts that the two would share.
While there was a joy in seeing his old friend again, there was clear, at least to Brightwood, conflict and worry. The Headmaster might do his best to cover that up, and succeed in the eyes of most people, Brightwood was not so easily fooled.
Even so, there was not all that much time to dwell on this as the echoes of several feet soon wafted up to their ears. Isshyim, in her endless grace and beauty, extended an arm to offer a seat to the serious, if not brooding, human. The long cuff of her sleeve fell over a foot from her wrist, the gold border, along with the pure white of the bulk of the robes she wore, did not shine; rather, they glowed in the sunlight that pierced the space.
She said nothing, nor did Awoan. It so happened that the three of them were quite aware of recent conversations.
Following behind Master Brightwood was Captain Caelynn with Lieutenants Kephalos and Tumise in tow. While Caelynn kept most of her same outward appearance, Kephalos and Tumise had changed quite a bit since they were last seen. Kephalos, for his part, had aged only somewhat, it would seem. Perhaps it was his now-bald head and purple tattoo on his face, with a matching one on his bare left arm. Always heavily armed, the Greatsword and Glaive he carried, along with a shortbow and quiver, would overcome most any other man. While shorter than Brightwood, he was perhaps stockier and carried the equipment over his scale armor that shone - no, glowed - with seeming ease.
Tumise, on the other hand, had matured quite a bit since he was first recruited from Jocarol. All the new responsibilities seemed to have settled on capable, if not still mischievous, shoulders. Wielding daggers, a rapier, and a crossbow, it was clear that the smaller human favored maneuverability and stealth over raw power. More than anything, though, it seemed that he "filled out", as they say.
Akacen would nod and offer back a hello in kind, but it seemed to be Isshyim's time to speak this time. She, too, nodded in greeting to the wood elf and offered, "It is good to be back. Of course, I learned much..." And that was it; she would offer no more at this point. Sure, she offered the slightest of smiles in return, but it left much to be desired - as she typically did whenever she spoke. Instead, she would again extend an arm to each couch, offering all three of them a seat on the long couches, able to each fit five individuals comfortably.
As the three of them sat down, both Kephalos and Tumise having to adjust their weapons in order to do so without damaging anything, Akacen commented, "You all look good." It was a meager compliment, but the intent and feeling behind it revealed so much more than the words. While reserved, Akacen was not necessarily lacking in emotion.
"Still... one more... she is nearly here," Isshyim mentioned, as though it were common knowledge. Typical for her, of course, but still off-putting to those who weren't so used to it.
Isshyim nodded first, as she was the first one addressed. Akacen followed suit, of course, and ended up being the one to speak. "Yes, Priestess. You look... wonderful." He seemed to have some trouble with that particular compliment, but it was clear that his lessons were starting to stick.
"Please... sit..." Isshyim offered the couch that had the fewer seats taken and waited for her to sit down. Akacen, for his part, gazed at this reunion. His mind raced with this and that thought, his eyes trying to take everything in before they got into all of this.
"Saviors of the Eastern Reaches," Isshyim started with only a touch of grandiosity. "I trust you remember the request you received from Zariel's minions?" She would wait a beat before continuing. "She plans to force your hand. You must go to the ruins of the Yuan-Ti temple to prevent the destruction of Theodthyrth." She spoke with such assurance that it was sometimes difficult to realize that she spoke in possible futures that she had witnessed only through her font, currently stationed directly behind her in the middle of one of the great windows facing west.
Akacen's face distorted in displeasure and unease. It had always been in the back of his mind, but it was too soon. However, it would have always been too soon, he figured. "Yes, of course," he started with a shallow nod. "I will go alone..."
"You will take your companions here with you," Isshyim interrupted just as he uttered the word alone. Her timing was impeccable, as always. "Otherwise, you will be bound to her service, and all of existence will be undone."
The look on the moon elf's face suggested that he didn't quite believe that the threat this "Zariel" posed could be any greater than summoning the Elder God of Infinite Destruction to the Material Plane. Or, perhaps he was merely incredulous in the inference that he alone could start a tip in the balance that would result in this cataclysm. He, of course, knew better than to argue with Isshyim's directives. Too many times had they proven true, and she had not said or done anything that would call her predictions into question.
"You will leave in the morning." The statement was just that - a declarative that would be followed without question. "Rest and prepare. Awoan, please give them anything they might need."
"Yes, Headmistress," Awoan responded dutifully behind her charge.
At this point Isshyim waved them all off without a word. Not contesting this, Akacen stood and bowed to the Headmistress and turned to leave. The hardened soles of this otherwise soft shoes produced dull claps against the stone floor, once off the rug. While the cape hung heavy on the Headmaster's slim shoulders, the white robes he wore rippled in the still air as water. The silver staff clapped in resolution against the stone, muffling each other step fall.
Down on the second floor, the Gathering Hall and Library, Akacen would wait for his comrades to join him. Several students looked on with curious gazes, though Mumed was there to usher them to their tasks, duties, or studies soon enough so as to leave them with at least some privacy.
