GreaterRealms

Shadows of the Past, XVIII

Nimesis — Fri, 20 May 2011 20:09:47 -0700

The Place of Forgetting was the last stop for the Order's dead, assuming that they did not die on assignment somewhere else in the world. If they did, they often were burned in midden heaps or left in unmarked graves by those who had bested them, their true identities unknown. When they died and their bodies were retrieved, children and adults alike, they were taken here, carried up the long, ascending corridor burrowed out of the mountain. The door was nestled behind a rocky blind, though there were none who could have seen it anyway lest they had the power of flight. The snow-covered stone extended out a dozen paces and then stopped. Below, the living rock of the mountain tucked in, allowing for an uninterrupted drop of almost a thousand paces into a shallow valley above the snowline. There was no pass, so it could not be reached by foot. In the valley below, the human remains, pitched from the face of the cliff and left to freeze and never to decay, bore the silent witness of the deceased into a land never trod upon by a living foot. Here, where the air was clear and thin - and bitterly cold - Nimesis could find solitude when she wanted to think.

Or to hide.

Dropping her pack onto the rocky ground by the door, she walked out to the end of the stone pier and looked over the edge, the howl of the wind and the crunch of snow under her boots the only sound to be heard. The climb up to the Place of Forgetting had been long and, even for her and her physical endurance, hard. When she opened the door, the sweat glistening on her face, down the back of her neck, in her hair—froze instantly to her skin. It was like diving into a pool of needles, but the intense cold of the mountaintop numbed her an instant later, and so she simply stopped feeling the pain.

Nimesis did not know how long she stood there, looking out across the land of Amn to the south. She did not hear the door open behind her either, though that should not have been a surprise with the passing roar of mountaintop wind. She did hear the crunching of snow underfoot though, and half-turned to glance behind her. Even here, in the sanctuary of the Order, only a fool did not watch their back. As it happened, it was Perish. Nimesis turned her head to look back out over the world once more.

Perish was an enthusiastic fan of recreation, this Nimesis had known for years. What she did not know when she met her was that Perish had no particular limits when it came to what form the recreation came in. Nimesis would watch her disappear into her quarters with another woman as often as she would a man, bizarre as the idea was to her. Though much cajoling - and no small amount of wine - Perish even convinced Nimesis to join her in her debauches. Misogynistic as the Order was, few of the men could resist the idea of both women at the same time. Nimesis was content with that, though one day she found herself sharing a bed with Perish, and no man was present at all. It was strange and, ultimately, unsatisfying. Despite that, she had Perish began to recreate with each other quite often, for mutual comfort and warmth if for no other reason. In the Order's sanctuary under the mountain, it became quite cold in the heart of winter.

Nimesis felt Perish's body close behind her. Here, it was so cold that even through armor it was possible to feel the heat radiating from another living body, even if it were only the absence of cold. The next thing she felt was the woman's hand knifing into her hair. As it closed into a fist, Perish pulled her head back, closing around the side of her throat with her teeth. Hard.

"You're no vampire," Nimesis hissed against the pain.

"If I were," Perish grinned, lifting her head until her lips were near Nimesis's ear, "you would be the first I devour."

She released her hair, and Nimesis shook her head, lifting her hand to scratch at her scalp. "Why do you come here, Nimesis?" the woman asked her.

"It's quiet here."

"It's quiet in your quarters, too. And there, you have a bed," Perish's hand closed onto her armored hip and pulled her back against her, the other hand grabbing her rudely.

"Fresh air here," Nimesis added quickly, "and I appreciate the view."

"Fair does take the breath at first sight. But I would consider you to be quite the sight, too. Especially when I have you crawling like a--"

"Your sybaritic attitude is wearying, Perish," Nimesis interrupted her, her voice having an unintended touch of bite to it. Despite her words and the tone, she leaned back into the woman's body, and Perish perched her chin onto her shoulder.

"You weren't complaining three nights past. Something is troubling you."

"I'm being sent away," Nimesis replied.

"On assignment?" asked Perish. When Nimesis nodded, she continued, "Where to, then?"

"Llorkh. Far away north."

Perish's nose wrinkled, "I've been through there. A few months back. Fine city, good people. Reminds me a bit of Baldur's Gate, though with a council in charge that can't make up its mind on what to do, sometimes."

"Then I should fit right in," Nimesis tried to laugh, but the sound came out bitter even in her own ears.

"Perhaps I should come with you," Perish said, slowly, thoughtfully. Her fingers squeezed again, giving her a little tug by her belt, "I could convince the Hand, I think."

"Follow me and I'll cut your throat, Perish," she said with a predatory grin, turning her face to look at her.

"You always were too into your little knives. I wouldn't be surprised if your newest lover was that Catgutter of yours," Nimesis felt the other woman's hands circle around her waist. She felt trapped, as she always did whenever Perish tried to embrace her. Normally, she would have pulled away... but to do so now would have had her stepping off the edge of the cliff, and then she would be counted amongst those who were Forgotten.

"I should go," she said, perhaps a little too abruptly.

"Pity," Perish purred, then retracted her arms from around her and stepped back. "A word of advice about Llorkh?"

Nimesis nodded, so Perish continued, "Cultivate your eyes and ears. Design more than one identity to conceal yourself with. Some of them in that city can have an annoying habit of actually paying attention."

"Don't put all my eggs into one basket?"

Perish laughed, "Such as it is, yes."

"Goodbye, Perish."

"Goodbye, Nimesis."

When Perish left the Place of Forgetting, Nimesis turned back around to the edge, watching the world once again beneath her feet. A cold wind blew a drift of snow down the side of the valley's wall, and she could almost imagine she could see the long-abandoned corpses of centuries-old dead uncovered in their snowy graves. Most likely, it was just patterns of rocky outcroppings. Perish's parting words resonated in Nimesis's head, and she began working out how to implement her advice. Sybarite she might be, but the woman had experience that Nimesis herself did not. Clearly, her usual method of simply creating a persona wasn't going to work if it had to endure much scrutiny. She would need a full history, people who would know her without being able to identify her. It had to be someone who was real...

Nimesis stood at the Place of Forgetting for another hour before she began to trek back down into the mountain sanctuary. Then, with no more words of goodbye, she left and began the journey north.

Re: Greater Realms # 2

elf_fu — Sat, 30 Apr 2011 04:07:57 -0700

A shop mod has been successfully installed, with the first few test items already placed within.

Users earn a bonus of 100 silver for joining, silver for posting new topics, a small decimal percentage of silver per word and a small bit per topic. There is a bank and link to inventory/complete silvers amount accessable at this moment below your user icon within a post.

Edits are currently in the process to allow items to be shown in user profiles as well as silver on hand and the ability to allow members to create and manage their own shops via a special Group.

I hope that all of you will set aside your fear of new shiny things and help test the new GR board!

Visit and begin your bookmarking of this URL today!

http://www.gr.2phatgeeks.com/index.php

Quick list of new features found on the new forum already:
Custom profile fields for RP
Italics, underline, font colors, bold within profiles
Buddy lists
Calendar for members to add events to
Choose the ability to link Calendar events into the Rumors & Whispers forum (think: playables) while adding event to calendar
Posts within Rumors & Whispers (think: playables) display on the front page
Prestige: is your fellow player's character a villain or a hero? Click and decide!
Ajax chat: faster than Flash with the ability to type

[i][[/i] for italics as well as button choice
Ajax chat: 1040 character limit in submit box, ticker that counts how many characters you have typed as you type them
Ajax chat linked to forum account, have a GR user name and password? Have access to chat!
Ajax chat: no guest accessibility, registered members only
Shop mod: Register to earn first 100 silver, post to earn more
Shop Mod: Two items members can purchase in two default shops already added! One cheap, one expensive. More to be added soon!
Tiny Portal Side bar on Forum: tells you how many PM's you have, unread topics, replies, your own posts, latest comments, total time logged in
Tiny Portal Side bar on Forum index: Link to the Calendar displayed Events, Player or Character birthdays
Tiny Portal Side bar: OOC shout box. Don't want to log in and play, but want to send a shout out to your RP homies? okay to do here!
Tiny Portal Side bar: 5 most recent topics in forum
Tiny Portal Side: Patrons and Demi-God (Subscribers and supporters who donate toward cost of hosting) Uploads and Downloads. Up your art and share it!
Tiny Portal Side bar: Stats, Total Members, Latest, Total posts, total topics, Online Today, Online Ever, Date, Users online
Attachments: Ability to attach files and images to a post. Currently for Patrons, Gods & Staff only
Special Rank images for: Shop owners, Cover of Night Access, Founders, Administration, Global Moderators, Patrons and Demi-Gods
Subscriptions: Ability to donate $ directly to site owner to help pay for yearly hosting bill
AVATARS: Upload your own! Link to one you've uploaded, or choose one from the gallery!

PHEW--I think that's it so far. Guys, how's that for a start?

Re: Greater Realms # 2, chat room installed

elf_fu — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 01:27:55 -0700

The Greater Realms "beta board," (AKA: Greater Realms on SMF) has been upgraded with an integrated Ajax chat room.

This is a fresh install so there will no doubt be ticks, twitched, quirks and issues while your fearless (and clueless) admin begins to customize and work things out.

Currently the most important issue is knowing if members can log in, type, see what they chat and log out. If anyone who has an account here would be willing to visit and let me know, either as a reply here or as a PM, if they're able to access the chat and type that would be kick ass

Greater Realms 'Beta board': http://www.gr.2phatgeeks.com/index.php
Greater Realms 'beta board' chat room: http://www.gr.2phatgeeks.com/chat/index.php

Greater Realms # 2

elf_fu — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 19:56:31 -0700

Hi guys!

I thought if anyone was curious, while it's not entirely perfect--if they'd like to see it, here's the GR "beta" board on SMF: http://www.gr.2phatgeeks.com/index.php

Changes to help make GR easier to navigate and cruitial information will be happening on GR board # 2 (also known as GR "beta" board) and will not interfere with THIS forum (the green one ) at this time.

Please feel free to continue using GR, but do also check out the second one to help test things out!

Shadows of the Past, XVII

Nimesis — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 14:30:53 -0700

She was wearing her plate-and-mail. The leathers were more comfortable, but easier to pack since they could be folded. With a grunt, she stuffed the last of her belongings into the large backpack she used when on long journeys. This Llorkh was probably as far away as she had ever traveled, so that certainly qualified as a long journey. Nimesis was preoccupied thinking of the years she would miss watching her son grow. She had already missed some, as long absences was not a new thing to her, but it always amazed her with how much he had grown while she was away.

She pulled the drawstrings of her pack tight, cinching it closed, and sighed. How long would she be gone this time? Another year? Another ten? Would her son already have a name by the time she returned? She had promised him as he suckled at her breast that she would be the one to name him. How far was she willing to go to keep that promise?

Hooking the strap of her pack onto her shoulder, Nimesis decided to take a walk.

The layout of the Order's undermountain sanctuary made sense, but only a sense peculiar to the inhabitants. The great hall, where children were given their names and where punishments were carried out, was the first room one entered past the long, narrow tunnel leading to the surface. Other corridors spiraled out and away from the great hall, some lower, some higher, in no particular way that Nimesis could ever determine. Other corridors had been constructed to connect these chambers to each other, providing a circular, rather than linear, layout to the sanctuary. One tunnel lead out from the back of the great hall, though it did not connect to anything else in the sanctuary. Up and up and up it went, turning this way or that at the whim of whoever in the past had excavated it, but always up. Overhead, thrusts of rock stuck down from the ceiling like the very fangs of Bane himself, just above the height of the average human. It was a constant reminder; like teeth ready to grind up and devour the weak. It was an especially powerful form of symbolism because of where this tunnel led.

Endlessly, higher and higher, the tunnel rose through the structure of the mountain. Nimesis was fit, much more than most women in their thirties in this world, but even she was beginning to feel the weight of her armor and her travel pack. A light breeze began to be felt, and then became stronger as she continued up. The temperature began to drop, too. The interior of the sanctuary was almost always cool, downright damp in places, but this was different. This was downright cold.

After almost two hours to her reckoning she came, at last, to the end of the tunnel. Sunlight peeked through cracks in a wooden door nearly as old as the sanctuary itself was.

With her chest heaving from her exertion, she opened the door and stepped through.

Shadows of the Past, XVI

Nimesis — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 20:57:19 -0700

The chamber of the Hand was a forbidding place. Nimesis had been here a few times, though never when all of the seats were occupied.

The black granite flooring held no light at all, giving the impression that one walked through pure void. A raised dais of the same black rock was set at the center of the room, visible only because of the small gloves of magelight resting in braziers on either side of the dais. Nimesis stepped onto the dais and prepared to face her fate; pulling in a deep breath of air, she waited.

She was engulfed with light. Pale green, ghostly, the magelight flared to life above her head, illuminating her clearly while making it even harder for her to see anything else. Ahead of her, the holy symbol of Bane, a great and monstrous hand crushing rays of light in its fingers, all carved from ebony wood, swam into view. Above it, more magelight illuminated the heads of the Hand, sitting back in their chairs. The platform on which they sat was tall, forcing her to crane her head up to look at them. She had expected to see the four members of the Hand. Shockingly, only two were there. The two chairs on the left were occupied, the two on the right were not. In the middle between them was the Father's throne, an uncomfortable-looking thing of iron and bone. He wasn't there either. The fact that only two members of the Hand were present likely meant that she wasn't going to be executed.

"Summoned," she spoke in a clear, loud voice, full of the strength that the Order imposed upon her. Strength was required; the weak were devoured. There were formalities to observe, after all, "I have come. I answer the call of the Hand, and await its words. I live only to serve."

"Your diligence to duty is impressive, Nimesis," one of them said. Their faces were concealed by black hoods, precluding her from telling which one was speaking at the time, "Your reports of the Tyrian temple were accurate, and thorough. You successfully entered the court of Lord Vash'ah and replaced his medicine with poison with none being the wiser. In every task we have set before you, you have showed your skill at being an infiltrator. We have decided to give you another task, suitable to that singular talent."

"Far to the north," the other one, a woman, said, "there is a town that has become a city. Follow the Black Road into the Savage Frontier, go until you meet with the roots of the Graypeak Mountains. There, you will find the city of Llorkh."

Nimesis was familiar with it. She had been sent on a mission to assist the Zhentarim, and passed through it briefly. It was a dusty little shithole of humans and dwarves, then. Ten years was a long time, though. She had heard the Zhentarim withdrew, and the governance of the city was taken over by a group of wealthy merchants and jumped-up country lordlings. It couldn't have been much larger than she had seen it last.

"Learn this city," the first one said, "infiltrate your way into its society. There, you will observe for signs of... danger. Reports from an agent already there claim that this Peerage is corrupt, but that some elements are attempting to bring... purity."

A strange choice of words, that.

"Observe these... elements. Report to the agent there. He will make reports to us. The Church of Bane operates with a free hand in the Savage Frontier. If these wholesome elements change the dynamic of the city, then the Church of Bane will be as restricted in the southlands as they are in the north, and as they are on the Sword Coast. Know that you will be gone for a protracted period of time. You will watch and you will learn. Only act if you know none can see. These people are... important in their worlds, they have power, after a fashion. Killings in their number will be seen. Accidents, they will be noticed."

For the first time since they started to speak, she lifted her voice again, "How am I to act, then?"

"If the opportunity reveals itself, you will turn them," the man said, "a convert to the Church of Bane will be far more valuable than a martyr to their own cause."

True, though Nimesis had only the vaguest idea of how to do that. Such actions were usually undertaken by the priests. She had watched the clerics of the Order break men, men that she would never have thought capable of breaking, and force them to swear the oaths to Bane and keep those oaths even to the point of their own death. How she was supposed to manage something like this, she'd have to just figure out as she did it. Dangerous, that; like leaping over a rock without checking to see if there's ground on the other side, or the face of a cliff.

She had it to do, though. "I hear and obey," she said, bowing low. The ghostly glow of the magelight faded out, shrouding the chambers of the Hand in blackness once more. The one above her did the same a moment later. She had questions, but the Hand would only answer what and when and how they choose to, and it seems that this particular audience was at an end.

Turning, Nimesis stepped off the dais and left the chamber of the Hand. She had to pack, and to make a few social visits for a few necessities. A map, for example, was going to be very helpful.

She was barely away of the fact that her heart was racing in her chest.

Sub-Forum Request:

Nimesis — Sun, 17 Apr 2011 20:47:27 -0700

Name of Subforum:
The Savage Frontier

Name of Forum Parent:
Through the Portal

Moderators:
Nimesis, A Web Weaver

Description:
For riches, power, or the greater good, those who walk these lands never rest easy, ever-watchful for the dangers that destroy the unwise and devour the foolish.

Threads to be moved:
Shadows of the Past - [http://www.greaterrealms.2phatgeeks.com/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=420]

A Legacy of Peers - [http://www.greaterrealms.2phatgeeks.com/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=425]

Shadows of the Past, XV

Nimesis — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 17:29:39 -0700

Ten years.

Nimesis had never before been very cognizant of the passage of the time. It simply happened; the sun rose and the sun set, and every night led to a new dawn. Years had passed in Nimesis's life, and she had been no more aware of them than she had been of the worms that crawled through the deep places of the earth.

Now, watching her son grow, she was especially sensitive to the passage of time. She made it a point to befriend the Keeper who had been on watch when she slipped him into the youngest group of children - her name is Malice - so as to give her an excuse to visit the children's quarters. As he grew, she could see the similarities begin to grow in him. He had her eyes, though they were a slightly darker shade of her own vivid blue. Besides his eyes, she saw so much of Talyn in him that it made her heart ache just to look at him.

Too bad that wasn't all that made her heart ache.

As he grew older, he erred as all children did. He was also punished the same as all the children were; by Keepers, and brutally. She did not interfere of course, she could not - dare not - but it still pained her every time the lash fell. She wanted to fold him into her arms, to dry his tears and heal his hurts. Instead, she could only walk away and focus herself and all of her energies into her own tasks.

Years passed, time out of mind, and in a way she... did not grow accustomed to the masquerade of not caring for him, but more accepting of it. It did not become easy for her to endure watching the public punishments of her son, as she herself had been punished when she was his age, but it did become easier. Her being there to watch him grow up, to overcome adversity, to meet his challenges and grow stronger, was ended one day by Perish, who came into the commons to find her, and her specifically.

"Nimesis," Perish said, not pulling a chair out to join her. Her posture and tone of voice suggested formality, which instantly made Nimesis feel defensive. Perish was almost never formal, except when she absolutely had to be. Normally, she would have drawn a chair out and sat herself down in it, and likely kicked Nimesis's own boot for good measure.

"Perish," Nimesis replied in an even tone for voice. "Have a seat," she offered."

"You have been called before the Hand, Nimesis," the other woman said without even acknowledging the invitation.

Nimesis, for her part, glowered at the woman dubiously. Assignments were passed down from the Hand, of course, but usually from only one of two members. The other two did not handle assignments and missions. To be called before the whole Hand usually meant the person was to be honored in some way, to be given a special assignment, or to face the Hand's judgment. She could think of no reason she was to be honored, so it had to be one of the other two. Had she not been trained by the Order, she might have flown into a blind panic. After all these years, how could they have, only now, learned of her son? Inside, Nimesis prepared for death to be handed down to her within the hour.

"I understand," she said, lifting her chin. If Perish was to be formal, then she would be as well.

"Do not delay, Nimesis," Perish said, "it is for you to obey without question, but in all haste."

"I hear and obey, sister," Nimesis concluded the little ritual with a bow of her head. Without saying another word, Perish moved away past her, curling her fingers across her shoulder to offer her a little squeeze. It could have meant anything.

Nimesis stood to her feet and gave her leathers a quick tug to straighten them. The ritual of the summons did not happen frequently, so whenever it did happen it tended to draw the eye. Malice was in the room, though her conversation with Thorne, a fox-faced young man five years younger than Nimesis, was suspended while they both looked at her. Almost every eye in the room was on her, actually, and it made Nimesis want to grit her teeth.

Moving out of the commons, she went to answer the summons of the Hand.

Shadows of the Past, XIV

Nimesis — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 14:45:05 -0700

Never in her life had she been expecting to use the talents beaten into her by the Order, against the Order.

Of course, until almost ten months ago, she had never expected to go against the order's tenants on children either, and yet here she was with a baby carefully laid in her backpack. Not the best way to carry him, even cushioned amongst the folds of clothing as he was, but necessity dictated burning the leather harness and his linen smallclothes in her campfire the night before. She could still feel him against her back, a knot of warmth in her backpack that kicked and stirred uneasily. Or, perhaps, he was frightened. In a way, the babe being frightened was worse: It clawed at her heart to take him into her arms and comfort him.

In the past, she could walk through the halls of the Order's undermountain sanctuary and only see a handful of brothers or sisters. This time, it seemed that every other member of the Order had conspired to not only be in the halls, but to go out of their way to speak to her. Nothing long, but even short salutations multiplied over and over again amounted to a not-inconsiderable amount of time. Had she not purchased a scroll inscribed with Silence to cast on her son before going into the sanctuary, she would have already been caught. No doubt her son was enthusiastically adding cries and screams to his fussy thrashing.

"Nimesis," a male's voice rolled out to her from the darkness behind her. His voice was as low and dangerous as a serpent's hiss, and while she had only heard the man's voice once in her life, she knew exactly who it belonged to.

Immediately she turned, slipping the strap of her backpack off her shoulder. She wanted to wince as it thumped to the ground, despite knowing that her son was well-padded by her clothing.

"Father," she said, bowing her head. Once her show of respect had been held for several seconds, she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

And almost flinched again. The man's eyes were as hard and cold as ice. The rest of him was, too — balding and gray besides, his build was well-muscled, though the man could not be called stocky in the least. His hollow cheeks and sunken eyes reminded her of a corpse, but she knew his skeletal appearance belied a great strength. Weak men without mastery of themselves did not rise to the position of Father.

"Your reports were detailed and examined, Nimesis... the Church of Bane has asked to extend their gratitude to you for your service," there was an unhealthy pacing to the man's words. Level, even, and without any emotion or inflection in the least. His eyes also didn't quite meet her's; they seemed to stare at a place ahead of him, just behind her head. All in all, it was as if the Father were speaking to someone while he was distracted by something of heavy import.

Nimesis bowed her head again, this time more deeply, as was fitting when a woman received a compliment from the Father.

"You honor me, Father," she said.

"Yes," he replied, "you may go."

"I live to serve," she bowed her head once more, bending her knees to scoop her pack up before turning and moving away from the head of her Order. He moved past her, disappearing into the murk of the undermountain sanctuary. It wasn't until after he had left that she realized how fast her heart was beating.

The children's barracks was in one of the deepest caverns in the undermountain sanctuary. In here, the children would sleep and grow and learn. Four chambers were filled with each generation of the children culled during the Rite of Harvest. Fifteen year olds in the first chamber, ten year olds in the next, five year olds in the one after that, and younger children in the very last chamber. Every five years — the date wasn't exact, since it coincided with the moon in some way that only the priests truly understood — each room emptied and moved what few possessions they owned to the next, while those who received names at twenty moved into the adults' quarters, and, for the first time in their lives, into their own rooms.

The fifteen year olds and the ten year olds were absent, no doubt off in training. As she moved into the five year old's chamber, a number of eyes turned to look at her. Some of the eyes were hard, some full of hatred, others fear. Some of them looked to be near onto the point of breaking in total defeat. Some of those eyes had hungry casts to them. From this point on in their life, they would be required to steal whatever it was that they ate, and if they were poor sneaks, then they would not eat anything at all. More than one child has starved to death for lack of skill.

The sound of wailing infants greeted her as she entered the final chamber. Here, rows of cribs were laid out in ordered lines. Children writhed and wailed, some were sleeping peacefully, others just kicking and squirming, making the same little baby noises that she had often heard her own son make. A single adult woman was on the far side of the chamber, observing them as she moved down the rows. She was one of the Keepers. Like other Keepers, her duty was to monitor, to train, to discipline, and, if needed, to protect the children.

From Nimesis's point of view, she was the last obstacle between death, and life for her son.

When the Keeper took notice of her, she immediately turned to make her way through the rows to approach Nimesis. While not strictly prohibited from being here, Nimesis knew her presence would be viewed as an oddity. While vital, the role of Keeper was an unenviable task. Typically, being assigned the duty was seen as the Hand or the Father having no faith in your ability for other, more worthwhile tasks. Most, but not all, Keepers were women. Since most members of the Order viewed being assigned the task as a waste of time and skill a Keeper stays in that role for the duration of the generation they're assigned to, twenty years — very few brothers or sisters ever came to the children's quarters except out of great need. It was at this time that Nimesis regretted not having ever made friends with one of the Keepers. That would have at least given her an excuse to appear here.

"Sister," the Keeper said as she grew near, "what brings you here?" There was more than a touch of bitter accusation in her words. She was older that Nimesis was, though Nimesis could not say how much. She had a pretty face in spite of the gray wings in her hair over either ear, and her voice was light and high, suitable for singing.

"Just wanted to see the new crop," she replied coolly, scanning her eyes across the room.

"A fine one, I think," the Keeper said, "though not many girls. Of the hundred, only seventeen are female. Well, ninety-nine now. One of the boys died in their sleep. It happens, I'm told."

"When did they arrive?" she asked the Keeper as casually as she could, moving over to one of the cradles to look at the infant. A red splash of paint on the headboard marked it as a girl. The boys' cribs would be marked with black.

The Keeper moved to her side, "Over the past several months. The Harvesters had to travel far to find babes to cull, this time. The last one arrived only last week."

Perfect, Nimesis thought.

"Sister, please," the Keeper said, suddenly, lifting her hand to grasp Nimesis's arm, "Tell me you were sent to fetch me out of this hell. I am being punished, I know, but surely the Father does not intend me to waste away in this place for having 'insolent eyes.'"

So, she thought, that's why you're here. You did not show proper — or enough — respect to the Father. You should have known better.

"I am afraid not, sister," Nimesis said as gently as she could manage. Her words seemed to deflate the Keeper, who for an instant looked like a wilting flower.

"Show me the latest one," Nimesis said as she straightened her shoulders. Realizing that she could be doomed if the Keeper refused or asked why, she added, "I am curious to see what may become of her."

"Him," the Keeper corrected. That had been a calculated play on her part; if she were right about the babe's sex, then nothing could be done. If she were wrong, then the Keeper would no doubt correct her, and therefore any notion of demanding to know why might have gone out of her head in the act. The role of Keeper, unenviable as it was, vital as it was, was something that most Keepers cared about only as much as they absolutely had to. The woman shrugged, "I see no harm in it. Come, I will show him."

Nimesis breathed a sigh of relief as the Keeper turned, and followed the woman across the room. In the last crib on the second row, she looked down into the infant's face. His hair was brown, though not quite as dark as her own son's. His coloring was off too; her child was paler in complexion. As much as the Keepers paid attention, likely it wasn't something that they would notice.

"Some months younger than the other boys," the Keeper commented, unbuckling and re-buckling her belt.

"His life will be harder," Nimesis said, softly, "smaller, weaker than the rest."

The Keeper nodded, "Yes. But, if he survives, he will be stronger for it, too."

Nimesis's worry for her son clashed and fought with the pride of knowing what he could become. Now... how, exactly, was she going to do this?

"Sister," she started, preparing to weave an elaborate lie when a loud noise from the next chamber took both of their attentions. The voices of the children in the next chamber rose into a cacophony of cheers and shouts.

"A fight," the Keeper said, wearily, "most likely, anyway. I've got to go and see to this, sister, and make sure the little bastards don't kill each other."

The opportunity was there. The fates had clearly been on her side. As the Keeper left, leaving Nimesis alone in the infants' chamber, she had only to extend her hand to grant her own son a chance at life.

She did so, curling her fingers around the boy's throat. As she squeezed, her fingers dug into the chubby flesh of his neck, and the boy started to cry, spittle drooling out of his little mouth and down his cheek. So many others were crying though, so his own little voice was just one of a chorus.

"Your life will give my son his," she whispered to the wailing infant, "some cultures believe that there is no greater sacrifice."

"Thank you," she said softly, and with an abrupt twist of her wrist, she felt and heard the tiny bones in his neck snap, and he was immediately still, his cries ending as if being cut by a knife.

At the same time, the Silence spell finally wore off of her son. He was indeed wailing and screaming, completely dissatisfied with being stuffed into a backpack. Nimesis drew him out, held him close to her one last them, and then supplanted the dead infant with him. She kissed her son lightly on his head before hastily stuffing the corpse into her pack.

"Goodbye, my son," she whispered, tucking the old, small blanket down around him that the other child had been covered with. She leaned up, looked upon him one last them, and then turned away, "until again."

Now... now she only had to dispose of the body.

Shadows of the Past, XIII

Nimesis — Sat, 09 Apr 2011 19:17:07 -0700

The midwife recommended she not try to walk for a week, and to not exert herself for nearly a month. Clearly, she could abide by neither restriction. A protracted recovery period was out of the question.

Nimesis could not afford to wait too long before returning south. As it was, she was behind schedule, and the newborn did nothing but slow her down. The midwife had sensed that she knew nothing of raising a child, and so had provided her a few things that she considered necessities. As it happened, Nimesis discovered that the old crone was right. Most days, she carried the infant on her back in a padded, rawhide harness she had been given. At night, her son suckled mother's milk from her breast while Nimesis herself ate her rations. Always, it was the same: Her son was aggressive, his tiny mouth yearning to close upon her nipple, the makings of his little teeth pulling a hiss from between her's. Painful at first, yes, but then another feeling began to bloom in the intimate bond between mother and child: A certain sense of eroticism. Not the same way she became beneath Talyn's talented fingers, of course, but a subtle stirring inside of her that made the act pleasurable as her babe fed from his fill. This was repeated several times a day, every few hours at times. When it was not, her son became cranky and fussy. Her breasts hurt as well, swollen as if to bursting with milk if she neglected to feed him regularly. Of course, even if she did, the effects of his feeding left her nipples puffy and sore, forcing her once again not to question the consideration of motherhood as a curse.

Changing the babe's smallclothes was another nightly task. She had only two, and each night after bathing him in water from the river she was traveling down, she washed the diaper as well. The linen fabric was cleaned of its soilage, then carefully left as flat as she could make it by her campfire to dry it out and be used as the wrappings the next night. Inside, she knew her son deserved fresher wraps, but she simply had nothing to offer him. Secrecy demanded her not telling the midwife that she was planning a long journey. Especially since she had decided not to kill her. It was a small show of gratitude on her part for all the old woman had done for her, and the kindness she had shown her. It didn't take long before the used and reused wrappings began to chafe at his skin, and it didn't take long after that for the baby to express his displeasure in the only way he knew how: Crying.

All things considered, the journey south had been mostly pleasant and uneventful. Getting inside the sanctuary of the Order with her newborn son was going to be the hard part, and concealing his presence not least of all. If discovered, both of them would be put to death, but she had nowhere else to go but back home. She had started to formulate a plan that would allow both of these to happen, though it would mean a horror more painful than having to poison Talyn to protect the secret of their son.

"You will grow, my son," she whispered to him as he nursed the night before she expected to reach the Order's undermountain sanctuary. She stroked the fine, dark strands of his thin hair atop his tiny head, "You will become strong, powerful in both words and deeds. One day... I will give you your name myself."

She simply had no idea how she was going to accomplish this.