Thread: The Blade of Balance (Heartlesskitten)

The stone manse sat high on an outcropping of mountain overlooking a desolate valley with a thin silver stream running through it. No sheep grazed nor farmers plowed, it was rocky and only the hardiest of creatures and flora made their home there. A tumble of boulders with scorch marks on them lay at the bottom of the path that was filled with uneven gravel, the results of frost splitting stone over and over. A pebble skittered down the steep slope, kicked over by a ground squirrel scurrying to get under cover as the black shadow passed over it. The hawk hovered briefly before diving down to snatch the small critter, leaving nothing but a speckle of blood and a few bits of fur. The bird killed the squirrel quickly with it's sharp talons and flew back towards the cliff. Cyleria sat up in bed, her luxurious fur blanket thrown back, the glossy black of the bear hide folding over and slithering to the ground. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, something had woken her. A distant cry or scream, something in a dream or not she was not sure. Her dark brown hair was tousled from sleep and she groaned at the sunshine streaming through the window. It was already mid morning, she had been up late again practicing with a particularly difficult conjuring spell until she was too worn out to concentrate. Firing off a few balls of flame down the cliff in frustration, she finally crawled into her large empty bed. Her hawk had returned with it's breakfast and she noted it sitting on the balcony, tearing at some small mammal. She stood up and padded on bare feet, the cold marble floor making her curl her toes slightly. Wondering if it was Cinder's scream that had woken her, she made her way onto the open space that overlooked the valley that served as her practice grounds. Cyleria stood still and closed her bright green eyes, listening as she felt an internal tugging. Something had happened, she was sure of it and it was nothing as mundane as a cry of a bird. The wind tugged at the thin linen gown that hugged her slender frame, her nipples hardening in the cold. She ignored the discomfort, elements were something she could control as well as her reaction to them. The sorceress concentrated and it soon came to her that the sensation was one of a power awakening, a deep and turbulent sensation filled her, as if standing in a strong flowing stream as the water pushed against her. The power was old and one not seen in the world in a few generations. An image formed in her mind, of a dark hole and a glowing light, tendrils of black shadow twisting among the long green blades of grass. Something that could tear apart the seams of flesh or magic. Cyleria took a sharp breath, she was unsure of what exactly it was but it was dangerous and filled with magic. Something that needed to be in her hands and not some idiot that could not wield it and might lose control. Pebbles! she called out, turning swiftly and walking back to her bedroom to wash and change. She could hear the thunking of her servant and the stone creature poked his head around the door. She called it a he but he did not have genitals and only it's gravelly voice and hulking body gave it the appearance of being male. The golem was man sized but large, made up of stones and brought to life by a conjuring spell. Cyleria could have easily resurrected some poor dead bastard but she never liked the idea of necromancy, it was too smelly and rather in poor taste. If someone was dead, just let them be. So she had made Pebbles to assist her. Imperfect as he was, she was proud of her creation. Mistress? he gargled, his stone face carved to look human but the features indistinct, his eyes narrow and black with a spark of red within them that indicated his life. Get the horses ready, she said, packing a bag with some of her magic items. We need to leave as soon as possible. A trip! I like trips, he growled out, a tight expression on his face that might have been a smile, Where we going? Cyleria paused then ran a hand through her long hair, searching for her comb, I don't know yet, I'll figure it out but we'll be heading south. Tell the cook to pack enough food for two weeks. Pebbles needed no food but she did and he lumbered off to do her bidding. The sorceress would need to move fast, whatever put out the ripple of awareness in the magicka of the world would not just be felt by her. Certainly it was going to be felt by other powerful mages and they would not ignore it's call. Cyleria dressed for riding, tight leather pants under a split skirt of shimmering blue silk. Over her bodice loose chainmail, draped over her front, affording her some protection in case of bandits. Though they would have to be mad to go against the infamous Cyleria of the White Mountain, legendary battle mage and councilor to kings. At least it was her reputation, in the last few years she had retreated to her manse and studied the other schools of magic after growing bored with impressing lords with ice spears and arrows made of fire. Her hawk Cinder perched on the back of her horse, a bay stallion with a coat of reddish brown like dried blood and his silky black mane and tail flowed. Pebbles, for all his cumbersome ways, had a fine touch when it came to caring for horses. He did not ride but walked with a long heavy stride, untiring as he needed neither food nor rest. The other horse, a grey gelding who carried the packs was ready and she set out on the journey. Cinder spent most of the hours soaring high, bringing back whispers of movements and one word. Ale, the bird shrieked, Ale! Ale! She's thirsty! Pebbles commented. Cyleria frowned, her brow furrowing. The hawk did not drink ale but to the south there were towns with taverns, perhaps... The sorceress snapped her fingers. Ale's Gate! The tiny hamlet to the south of her vale, it was a few days journey but she had seen it on the map before leaving her fortress. A slow smile crossed her face, the rubes must have unearthed something powerful. It would be an easy thing to snap up.