Scene 04: Balance and Scale

What appeared to be low hanging clouds, responsible for the drizzle, began to transform. They divided as if they were grey curtains parting to reveal a stage. This occurrence filled with mystical foreboding, interrupted the possibility for introductions between the two groups facing each other. One, large group comprised Renaissance, Baron Meliadus and others on horseback still arriving through the portal, the other party was smaller, made up of Praetor, Sala and Anubis. There was only time for the most perfunctory of acknowledgments between the groups. This was because from the cleared air between the two banks of clouds, a procession approached. Men marched in two paired columns towards Crickneck's Sheds. They wore long surcoats, adorned with heavy, golden beading. The effect in the strange light of the four hidden suns that lit the landscape was to set the beads sparkling, twin ribbons of gold trailing away over the horizon. The two columns split, marching away from each other. As they continued to move in two opposite directions, the servingmen of the beer sheds scurried to ask the marchers if they wanted anything. Their offers of "best beer and cobs", were met with indifferent silence.
On hillsides in the near distance, other smallish groups of individuals could be seen, revealed by the retreated clouds. One, a knight flew a pennant atop a lance whose device was an eight pointed star. This man bows elegantly from the waist toward you. Your mind sees, a title, a name, Prince Gaynor.
Another hillside slope affords a view of several figures dressed in blackest cloaks. Hoods hide their heads and masks their faces. Each carries a sword not easily carried in hand. For the reason they have no scabbards, they do not sheathe their blades. They defer to one in particular. Master of the Truth Engine, Lacrimose of the Seekers for Truth and Penitence.
Others on other slopes could be seen further away, certainly involved but too far away to be identified...
Now more prominent in the middle distance between two hills, a litter was carried forward. Four golden marchers across the front and back; six per side, held the litter on their shoulders. Atop the platform a series of circular steps rose in decreasing diameters. On the final level, stood a slender gold staff. It seemed to stand without support. If one was to look away from the staff, which was by no means an easy thing to do, it might be noticed that the beer sheds' servingmen had prostrated themselves.
Anubis glanced at both those he had been with for a while and the newcomers from what he had called, "the Homestead" and drily remarked, "Bother! That looks a lot like the Runestaff to me. Prepare yourselves for a lot of meaningful confusion." The rod in his right hand vanished, replaced by a small set of weigh scales. He held these balances on a finger. As the litter halted, he ANubis motioned with his scales toward the staff above you. If there is a reaction within the staff to the demigod's jape it isn't noticeable.

A voice toned both with ancient wisdom and delicate youth spoke to each person and each person heard the voice as though each was alone with it.
"I am the Runestaff. I represent the cosmic balance. I come here to prevent any uncomfortable misunderstandings. I would caution this gathering to be restrained. There will be time to deal with those you meet here. Now is not that time.
You bear a stigma of the past. A past that was stolen from you. Events created by villainous intent tore you from your appointed time, leaving you adrift on the Seas of Fate. Worse this sea had no harbour for you to make landfall on. There was none to be charted...


So you drifted helpless facing the reality of nothing but Oblivion. That was the only port available but you chose to drift rather than see yourself off. --

Drifting and denial brought you here...



Or you found your way here through acts of the Hero...



You might have found your way here by the Hand of blind Fortune...



You might instead have created your own safe harbour, awaiting there for some better time...



Then there is the possibility that you come here only through your own mind. Whether the thought that drove you was hope, desire or spite...

Now you are brought into a congress. This will be a bloody, unpleasant governance. All here will vie for only one place at the Realm beyond. To become a legend, one must chance becoming only myth. You will find the need to arrange alliance just to survive. This may make you compromise old beliefs. Or you can remain staunch in those other times' beliefs. The choice is for each of you to make.

This world is called, Warren. Without, in the realm it is part of, it is considered a somewhat unimportant world. Here a day lasts ten times longer than is customary, while a night lasts what might have been a day. The world has four suns. This makes for a hotter climate than some of you might be accustomed to. These suns are known by names; they are; Ashura of the Blues'; Magest of the Reds'; Cadavour of the Monos'; Oltos of the Others'. The stars combine to influence the weather and the people's beneath them via their colour enhancing nature.
The hot season is called, 'Demonde'. It lasts 3/4 of a Warren year. The cooler season is called, 'Arable'. It lasts 1/4 of a Warren year.
There are other worlds, ones that have attained a prominence this one has yet to. They are known as Mainstay Worlds. There are nine such at this time. Perhaps the victorious here will make of Warren a tenth? Or perhaps walk away from it to move into the realm, free to do as you wish.
For the time being, you reside on this Lunar World. Here you have the ability to make things appear from out of time. Friends, allies, fortresses, weapons and the troops to wield them. You might learn new things here. It is after all a new realm, with new power structures. You are not a ghost. You need not live within old glories.
For the victor, a position has been arranged within what here is known as the Array. Normally, proof of capability must be given. The Array is measured by three individuals akin to judges. They are known by the title of Kaleidic Arbiters. They have determined that the winner will join them as a fourth member. Those who aid you in victory will all become part of the Wide Array, some who are greatest among them will become Spires. Or you may discuss with these Arbiters, some other fate.
There will be learning both academic and practical as you vie for dominance. Those who learn well will continue and those who fail to learn will fall away into memory. Learn well."

The clouds rolled onward again. As they closed together, the figures on the hillsides were covered over and hidden. The golden soldiers did an orderly about face march away. The Runestaff glowed golden light until it got so far off that it seemed to vanish below the ground's horizon; a small golden sun setting on another age.
Anubis grinned and said sarcastically, "See? I told you."