Session 04: Prologue -- Maldon Hears a Horse

The Spectral Array stopped in its endless transition for the smallest perceptible moment. Its cycling through countless colour variations paused only fractionally, yet in that impossibly thin gap of time, those who could do things that this opportunity afforded them, leapt at the chance to do so.

Thirty-two Ykalse, Green hued casters coordinated their movements to produce a new type of destructive tree. It was coniferous and looked like any other but for its habit of dropping exploding cones...
Elsewhere, a solitary portrayer stood away from his caste-easel in satisfaction at the painting he’d completed, timed to coincide with the brief stoppage. His work was a landscape that he could see was changing through the five seasons his subject experienced in reality, except within the painting the seasons were now out of sequence...
On Chenaga, Gabito and Loscinya smiled at each other as happy new parents should. In Loscinya’s arms rested their new born. Gabito moved quickly to cover the infant’s face and head with a soft blanket. The couple had been told by the young savant to expect the Spectral delay and to try for the birth to happen at that moment. Happily, they had succeeded, due mostly to Loscinya’s effort. As Gabito and Loscinya were not of the same type of Were, it had been the only chance that their child might survive...

On a grassy and flat peninsula, several beings depart a solemn discussion as to the dispersal of lands and deployment of troops. Near the middle of this small group, Maldon of House Sax-Syrynx, looks toward Lake Skade. There is no real purposefulness in his glance. It simply marks the moment in his time when the Spectral Array pauses. The members of his group are stilled as he views his private vision of shadowy apparitions. He notes their stillness only cursorily. For the son of Syrynx the momentary shift in reality might be most like a thin gauze being passed before his eyes. A fleeting change. Perception is all any being has to understand their world and for Maldon his perception is drastically altered in this smallest of moments...
His focus is not so much distracted from his surroundings¸ as it is attracted to view the odd images he is able to witness.
As he’s experienced before, he perceives things and especially figures, that are seen only by him.
As before, he sees all this only in a monotone of Grey, interspersed with occasional occurrences of Colour.
As before, Maldon expects that Ipnacre may be behind this.
As before, he is not entirely sure why he is granted these sights.
As before, the oblivious members of his group are stilled and silent as he looks upon these shadowy apparitions. There are three images that are either more important or more distinct than whatever else he might be tempted to concentrate on.
The first is Praetor, Maldon knows he is re-named. Furius, now that he is held in the Array. Furius has taken the Steel. Furius is a name chosen by Praetor, as far as anyone can tell. It lays him bare. Not a name to be taken lightly, not by others and most assuredly not by himself. He is cloaked blackly. Furius is half-blind, one eye covered over, which seems equitable as he does not allow himself to be seen in his entirety, draped in shade as he is. Steel is his Colour and has coloured his spirit for most of his long life --- swordmetal Steel. With Steel he is armed. Maldon knows this man’s nature well. It's Steel too. The metal can, however, be alloyed. Mixed with other materials. As Maldon watches, Furius’s image seems to flow into an unseen mold. Still human but not quite the form of the man Maldon has come to know.

The figure formed from this amalgamation is definitely different. Maldon is in no doubt about this. While the person is certainly a man, He is altogether more imposing than the previous one. That strikes Maldon as strange. Furius is not easily dismissed as being a lesser type and yet Maldon senses that even Furius would accede to this ranking. The new man is an unusual dichotomy. He is both swathed in a similar amount of darkness as Furius but at the same time, covered in a sheen. This illumination accounts for half this one’s form and yet it seems ascendant. Perhaps it is because the man also wears a fair amount of gold. This could sway those looking to feel the man is more light than dark. Maldon wants this one’s name and from the swirling shadows all around the image, somehow it comes to him ,,, Tuan Zi, the Generational. Maldon notes this well. The weight of the title makes him want to. He also is allowed to sense that this one, Furius and others are all part of one another. In this, Tuan Zi is paramount. Zi is the hub from which those like Furius radiate outward. In the surrounding Shadow, Maldon can discern some of these others, Shapes mostly, as Shadow does not cast light, neither literally nor figuratively.
One is distinctly Ah Peku. The Saursan’s outline cannot be any other’s. There is no need to peer longer to confirm this.
Off to the left, he sees a flash of deep red satin. Just managing to extend beyond the Shadow, there may be the edge of a broad-brimmed hat. If forced to make a guess, Maldon would say it must be Osric. What this connection to this Zi fellow might mean, Maldon would need to uncover.
There are others most likely. Maldon isn’t given the chance to look well enough to mark these. The Shadows close over all but Tuan Zi. He might even see Maldon for a moment, his gaze seems to lock with Maldon’s own. Shadow swallows Zi. The potential contact is lost in the deeptangle.
Shadow lifts, much like a curtain rising, creating a theatrical anticipation. No audience applauds, there’s only Maldon. As the blackness lifts, a powerful set of legs is first revealed. Another man perhaps. Certainly, male. Certainly as darkly presented as the first two men he had been shown. Perhaps then, this one is related to these others. The unveiling continues. Athletic waist, Legs and waist clothed in typical style. Nothing too noteworthy. Apart from the overall athleticism that is potentially housed in the body of what has been revealed so far, Maldon has no reason to be intrigued by this individual. He watches because his previous visions have proved useful. Dark, shaded fog laps about the neck and shoulders of the figure. The sight grows calm. The fog barely moves. It touches the figure as water does a jetty post on a pleasant, windless day.

Like a magician’s Flourish, the fog lifts and the head of the figure is exposed. In his desire to see what has been hidden, Maldon barely registers that the fog seems to move toward him. It is of lesser interest than what the person may look like.
This is not a member of any race of the New Realm. That is instantly obvious. Atop its shoulders, the being has what looks to be a horse’s head. It may be that his person is singular or it may be that he is representative of a group of creatures, creations, or possibly a demi-race.
There are the usual features; long face, mane cropped and stiff, large and wide-spaced eyes, flared nostrils, mobile ears -- usual for the head of a black horse. Not at all what Maldon has been expecting. He notes that the figure has piercings that run from his mouth to his left ear. Various chains and ringed metal pieces are attached. Somewhat barbaaric it had to be thought. The ‘horse’ turns it’s head toward him. This is evidently as mobile as any regular horse’s head, as the figure had been standing facing three quarters away from Maldon but it needn't alter its stance to look directly at him. Its eyes look into Maldon’s own. Any precautionary preparations Maldon might have made are not required. The figure only looks in his direction, he doesn't see him. Ipnacre's visions of people and places have no real connection to Maldon’s own place. What he sees is similar to walking among a gallery’s artworks. He might admire or dislike a thing he sees and then move on to the next, recalling only those he finds particularly important, later. It’s this that catches him out.
The fog that had moved toward Maldon at the figure’s head being revealed, turns from normal enough sinuous manner into ramrod-stiff bars that extend directly from Maldon to the other figure. The fog ‘extensions’ stop at the figure’s hands, now made into fists that hold the fog firmly. The horse headed figure moves the extensions up and down twice. After a pause, he does so again and with some forcefulness caused by impatience. Maldon can assume that time passing is a factor in the other’s behaviour. The figure shrugs its shoulders. A gesture that can be taken several ways. The figure then speaks briefly but no sound is heard. Could that be a resigned grin on the face of this ‘horse-man’? Maldon thought that it could well be. Being Profane, he had encountered many oddly built Fiends. The 'horse-man' might simply be another, albeit more significant, example. There might be little concern in humouring the fellow. Maldon decided to grab on to the fog extensions hovering near his waist. Maldon's ears could now discern the sounds of the place the 'horse-man' stands in...
This will initiate: Axildusk Session 04 -- 'The Mane Man' or 'Igniting the Cold Fire'