Camdis knew he would not be able to describe the fear that had plagued his every step since awakening within the oppressive darkness of the library archives. It was as if the shadows had come alive and were grasping at his throat, seeking to strangle the life from his veins. Though he did not know how long he had been unconscious upon the floor of the crypt-like archives, the stallion could feel the time that had passed in the stiffness of his joints, in the absence of fat and muscle - in the hollowness of his eyes.
He moved as if he were being hunted; caution and weariness etched into every breath. His breath billowed out before him in twin plumes of steam as he made his way across the stone floors and through the arched exit of the vast underground library. In the small antechamber that preceded the great archive chamber, Camdis Lohir noted the cobwebs that stretched across the fireplace where, when he had passed last, a blaze had been crackling merrily. Another blade of fear pierced the male's heart.
How long have I been unconscious?
Camdis tried to swallow but found that his mouth had gone dry as panic began to set in, silvery eyes widening until the whites flashed. "Reichenbach - Reich," came his gravelly words, voice nearly unrecognizable from disuse. Rushing forward, the Hand of the King moved as quickly as his weakened limbs allowed, his breath soon becoming labored beneath the weight of moving his malnourished frame. Where was his Sovereign? Where was his friend was he okay? What had happened?
Jolting to a stop within the hallway leading to Reichenbach's private chambers, Camdis's horned head hanging low as he gasped for air, a serpentine voice wound it's way through his mind, the feminine lilt haunting him and causing his muscles to clench painfully with terror.
Dark like the void...
Had it been her again? The figure? The maybe-Calligo? Tears pricked his eyes, threatening to spill in horrified rivulets down scarlet and chocolate stained cheeks. Clenching his jaw and taking a timid step forward Camdis struggled closer to the beautiful ebony doors of Reichenbach's apartment, his voice failing him even as he collapsed in a pitiful heap in front of the entrance. "Reii.."
His vision began to blur, whether from tears, adrenaline, or starvation, he couldn't tell. Where was Raglan? Where was his page? Where was Rostislav? Where were his friends?
Why was he alone?
"Help... Please."
@Reichenbach HEY YALL I'M BACK!!!! I'm thinking that Camdis got pulled into another ~~vision~~ but he doesn't remember it and he's been unconscious for weeks! AA ye? anyways, EVERYONE is welcome. I would love for someone to find the second in command collapsed on the floor looking all malnourished and half dead. I can't tell you how much I've missed all of you!
Denocte had been intriguing thus far, while it was a far cry from the political powerhouse his home had once been, the subtle nuances of the life had caught his interest, the people moreso. There were those who walked the shadows as well, if not even better, than himself, those who regarded the world with eyes that showed nothing. There were spies, dancers, thieves and assassins. He had seen a beguiling mare rob a poor wanderer blind, had seen a gypsy colt stealth into a gathering and remain unseen, he had even witnessed the cold ferocity of a mare that had caught him trailing her from the dark. The latter had been the most startling, for her perception in uncovering him. Truly, the raven was among his people now.
So why did he still feel the clawing pain of nothingness in his chest?
Ever since he had emerged from his slumber he had been restless, aching as if something crucial had been cut away like rotten flesh from a wound, yet still that wound did not heal closed. He felt disorientated, aimless, and within the depths of his mind he mocked himself for it. Here he was, playing socialite, living the life of someone 'normal', rather than doing what he had intended originally when entering the land of Novus. The Pretender, living the life of a commoner, of a no-body. Did that mean then... he was no longer Ammon? No longer the Hidden One if he had nothing to hide for? Why should he continue to be the Pretender if he was but a single, archaic raven among a flock of clever new crows?
It was a sour thought on his tongue as he walked through the halls of the Keep, aimlessly, pointlessly exploring the nuances of his new residence. Sour was the turning of his mind, until his keen ears caught the weakest of cries down a hallway leading to the Sovereign's rooms. Normally, he would not have given it a second thought, but this cry had not been one of pleasure, but rather of despair, and that drew the raven like moth to flame. He turned down the hallway, rounding a curve to find collapsed upon the stone earthworks a stallion. He was shriveled, skin strung tight to bone, pathetic in his clawing attempts to reach the Sovereign's door. For a moment, Ammon looked at the stallion with nothingness, feeling and expressing nothing as he watched the crowned stag take a weak step forward to the door.
Then it was as if he had been slammed back in time-
the earth choked him, stagnant air hardly filling his once mighty lungs. There was only darkness, and with each breath a darkness of a different sort pressed around him, the suffocating hand of Death itself covering his mouth and nose. He fought, he thrashed and raged with weakened limbs against the earth surrounding him, clawing so desperately until with an abyssal scream, the withered Rook hauled himself from the earth-
He moved almost without thought, shifting to press his larger bulk to the weakened stallion's, his neck bending low to carefully slide his head under the other's forelegs(wary of his antlers), and with a low grunt he heaved the other onto his back. Even emaciated, the other stag was heavy, Ammon's legs protesting the strain, but he slammed shut the corner of his mind that cried out in pain. "The Sovereign will wait." He spoke softly, baritones ringing out clear and without strain (though had he not been so controlling even then, they would have surely been strained and faint) as he began to move with slow, solid steps towards the infirmary, red insides of his nostrils flaring with each harsh breath.
Why he was helping this wretched creature was beyond him. Perhaps he was slipping into 'Vasher' too much, as he once had with 'Gracifilis' so long ago... but the thought of continuing to watch the wretch struggle towards the Sovereign's door, weakened to the point of critical danger... it sparked something in him, something he couldn't name. That same something gave him the determination to keep walking even under the bulk of a man he did not know was his Regent.
Hoofbeats echoed along the stone and marble of the hallway, reverberating off of the ebony door and Camdis felt himself sigh in relief, silvery eyes slipping closed as Reichenbach rushed toward him. Everything would be alright, everything would be back to normal as long as he could look into the stormcloud eyes of his beloved Sovereign and see that he was whole and healthy. Already, he could feel the questions he would ask his friend buzzing upon his lips, the request for his Raglan, the soothing tingle of his mint tea. Yes, the world would right itself and he would tell Reichenbach the truth about his visions, about the shadowy figure that insisted upon plaguing his dreams and turning his waking hours into nightmares.
But there was something off about the figure approaching him, something different in the scent - there was no woodsmoke, no jasmine, no heady musk of familiarity that emanated from his King of Evening Stars. Pale eyes bursting open, Camdis caught sight of the obsidian creature kneeling at his side, antlered skull lowered and skin devouring the smoky light. Panic set in once more; the shadow creature was back, Calligo's servant solidifying into his reality to wreak havoc upon his wretched soul. He tried to move, to struggle against being hoisted onto the wraith's back like so many bags of grain, but his reserves of strength were long gone and his adrenaline had been used up in his pointless struggle toward Reichenbach's chambers.
"No," He cried weakly, "No, please, you don't understand." Camdis' eyes blurred, glazing over and forcing him to blink rapidly in order to push off the encroaching darkness, "I'm the Regent... I have... I have to see Reichenbach. I need to tell him..." He trailed off, chest heaving as his breathing turned to painful gasps, "She wants us to make it dark like the void. Calligo. She... She told me... Like the Void."
Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Camdis Lohir fought to keep a grasp on his consciousness, refusing to let himself fall back into that damnable darkness, to let him fall away from his Kingdom. "Don't take me yet, tell... Tell Calligo I'll do it, I just... I need to know how..."
I step into the keep, silent except for the sound of my hooves on the stone, Damaris's clicking nails behind me. The flickering lights illuminate us, casting disturbing shadows on the walls. I've never been inside, strange as that may sound. So as I step through there's no destination that I'm headed toward, just wandering to map the place out in my mind. I feel tension from Damaris, and glance back at her. It's a strange environment... this structure. I nod in agreement. We've passed several horses, seeming to live inside the keep. I can't help but agree that it is strange for horses to live inside a stone building.
I wonder if everyone lives here. Am I supposed to live here? It's a bizarre concept, but I suppose it's expected. I snort softly, but derisively. What's the world coming to? My thoughts are quickly interrupted by sounds ahead in the hall. I can't see anything, but they're distressed sounds -- a male voice, joined by another. I speed up and turn a corner, immediately confronted by the side of some dark horse with none other than Camdis upon his back. I stop in full, ears pinning against my skull as I try to make out what's happening. Camdis looks terrible -- emaciated, weak, muscles atrophied. I swallow hard, and Damaris darts past me, barking loudly at the stranger with teeth bared.
"What are you doing?! What's wrong with him?" I jump forward, nose extended to touch the regent's bony side. "Camdis, it's Rostislav. What happened?!" He looks horrendous, and I can't help but think this has all been happening - whatever 'this' is -- while I've been imprisoned in Solterra. Another reason to be pissed. I want to scream at the ebony stallion to set my friend down, to leave us alone, but without the support I fear that Camdis would collapse. Quiet, but be on your guard. I warn Damaris, worried that the noise might cause Camdis more harm than good. I feel a frenzy building inside me, panic, but I don't know what to do first. Fuck!
What had driven him to aid the Regent, he knew not, but within a shattering heartbeat he became oh so glad he had done so. The stallion was pathetic, struggling and writhing, mewling like a newborn brat, but it was what he said in his weakened, delirious state that had Ammon's ears flicking back, his attention snagged. Make it dark like the Void. And, from his apparent Regent, no less. Such ominous words, from such an important man... The raven would mull over them later, hoard each word like precious gems. His head turned, brushing the Regent's skin in an attempt to comfort, though his eyes remained hollow and his mind speculating in apathy to the wretched man's state. "Be still, mine lord, the King shalt wait for thine health be of far more import."
Yet he had not taken but the first turn in the hall towards the infirmary before he was face-to-face with a shorter, squat stallion and some sort of hellish wolf that snarled and bared it's teeth at him. Ammon's silken ears flattened to his skull, and with a simple flick of his head he so passively reminded the wolf of what he bore on his skull, a silent warning. The shorter man, reeking of sour scents that almost made the stag gag, leapt forward, chattering rapidly in alarm, and Ammon shifted his weight, annoyance crossing his features. "Thou shalt move and let us pass, if thou wishes for thine Regent's health. It doth take a blind man to see his illness, and perhaps thou shouldst wait for thine answers and be more pressed with assuring the halls are clear for our passage." He let the faintest threads of scorn color his voice, expression finally showing something as a furrowed frown crossed his carved features.
Then he allowed his voice to soften. "I understand he doth be thine boon companion, thine friend, but thou waste time and possibly his life with thine questions. They can wait, we must make haste." With that, the ebony stag pushed past the wolf, rolling his eyes to give it one final, warning look before he moved on past, once more planting each hoof solidly, rapidly but gently, using what his ilk had been bred for to avoid jostling the Regent.
The Regent had realized that he could sense whether something was ancient.
Ever since that first contact with the Void, with the endless, bottomless creature that filled up space with nothingness... Ever since he felt his life and a thousand others rush through his veins and his marrow in a crack of agony and ecstasy, Camdis knew what timelessness felt like.
It was a weight to ones bones, as if they were being dragged through the earth itself. It was a heaviness to the lungs, as if the all encompassing existence of another was too much, was pressing the air from the world. It was a thrumming pressure in the base of his skull, a ringing in his ears, a film over his tongue; it was what he felt in the presence of Caligo’s Shade and it was what he felt as he lay across the back of her ebony servant.
Bile rose in his throat as the serpent ignored his pleas, replying in a dialect of the common tongue that hadn’t been used in an era. He had to escape the clutches of this creature, this ancient wraith dressed in the skins of mortal equine, but he was too weak - goddess be damned, how could he do Her bidding if she left him as a pile of bones jumbled inside a bag of skin? He felt a scream work it’s way into his throat, though it did not escape his lips. Indeed, there was some small sense of self preservation that clamped his mouth shut, that stopped the leaking of information that would surely label him as a madman.
Camdis could not seem weak in front of Caligo’s henchman, and it was that realization that he latched onto through the malnourished, fever-addled mess that was his mind.
If she thought him too weak, she would find another to carry out her plot - whatever it was - and she would dispose of him, this Coward King, this False Regent.
A shudder passed through his thin frame, though this time, it was more from fear than failing Health. Then, a bark and the voice of an angel - if angels could be bawdy and callous and drunk - rang down the passageway, fear lacing the words as Damaris growled. Camdis clenched his jaw as he worked to focus upon the blurred form of Rostislav, that horned head of his stretching toward Camdis’ frigid skin in a show of comfort.
“Rosti...” Came the Regent’s pathetically weak reply, “Fetch Reichenbach, fetch the Crows. I need..” He swallowed thickly; what did he need? His thoughts were interrupted by the slippery words of the wraith, imploring Rostislav to move, hollow and scornful and oh so horribly ancient. Clenching his teeth once more Camdis allowed his fear of the unknown and of this harbinger to override his judgement as he whispered “Stay... the world is not... it is not as it seems.”
And with the last bit of strength that he had slipping from him, Camdis let his crowned head droop against the wraith’s side.
The panic keeps rising in me, threatening to smother me. Like a hand tightening around my neck to choke the oxygen from my brain, my lungs. Thank the Gods my dear Camdis begins to speak, and the hand loosens its grip. Damaris stands her ground but quiets like I asked her to. I'm not sure whose hackles are raised higher - hers or mine. He croaks at me and I cringe at how weak he is, how hoarse he sounds. He recognizes me, though clearly he's out of his mind to some degree. I understand the part about "Reichenbach". But the crows? I'm not sure what birds have to do with this. Is that part of his delusion?
I'm about to protest his demand for me to leave when the... black beast speaks. His speech is practically archaic. Of course I understand him but my eyes widen in -- disbelief? Confusion? He demands I move out of the way, that Damaris moves out of the way. The hound growls, low and menacingly. 'Let him.' The wraith pushes past her. 'He's right, we need to get him help, not slow him down.' It was hard to follow my own advice. The wraith keeps moving and I follow closely behind.
Thankfully, before I can say something nasty or sharp, Camdis speaks again, asking me to stay. A pressure releases in my chest. "I'm staying. I don't know who you are, but I know Camdis. Damaris, go find Reichenbach." I nod her away. 'Please. I'll stay here and watch Camdis. Please find Reich, tell him what's happened. Damaris glances at me, cautiously, clearly worried about me staying here without her assistance. When I nod, she lets out a short, gruff bark and takes off. She'll be much quicker at finding him, and I don't want to leave Camdis with someone whose name I don't even know.
WC: 311 Tag: @Ammon @Camdis Sorry it took so long! Rosti thoughts | "Rosti speech" | Damaris mindspeak
How fortunate was he, ever in the right place at the right time? If the black stag didn't know far, far better, he might even venture as to claim an unnamed god watched over him, steering the spy in the direction he needed to go. But Ammon rebelled against such notions, for then that would mean the unnamed deity forced him to undergo suffering unknown by others in this world. The Regent upon his back had fallen silent when the brutish stallion approached (much to Ammon's irritation, after all that little tidbit had only whetted his appetite for knowledge), but finally the emaciated stud spoke, his croaking words not going unheard by the dark man who bore him, though Ammon didn't allow his ears to flick and show that he was listening. Instead he took a step forward, about to kick the demonic mongrel out of the way when it backed down seemingly of it's own accord, and without another care to the sour-scented 'Rosti', he struck out at a swift trot as the Regent's head fell back down against his side. He checked with a glance to make sure the man still breathed, though his mind mulled far more over what he had learned. The Crows.... birds? Or something else? He had a feeling the way the man had desperately called for his regent, then these crows, that they were not mere birds...
Rosti spoke, and once more annoyance flashed across Ammon's features, his ghastly eyes rolling to glance at the brutish stud. "And I know thee not. However, our ignorance doth hold no import in weight to thine Regent's state, would'st thou not agree?" His words were sharp, scolding. He turned back to his trot, moving down passages towards the infirmary, his mind wheeling. The Crows... Dark like the Void... Calligo. That last name he knew, had learned of almost immediately after his arrival. So, the Goddess of the Night wished for the world to become dark like the void? Or something else to grow dark?
Ammon mulled this over as he knelt in the infirmary, gently shifting Camdis off of his back before he rose, skull turned to Rosti. "Since he spoke of thine name, and thou art mine Warden, I trust thee to oversee him as I fetch a medic." He stepped over the Regent carefully, moving away from the pair despite his urge to stay, to listen and learn... but he had a part to play, and a concerned commoner of Denocte surely wouldn't allow his Regent to lie so sick without medical attention, and even moreso wouldn't dare to send his Warden off to find a healer.
The raven would be patient, as always, and play his part well.
