Author: maffleet, Posted: Tue Apr 12, 2016 3:40 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

Jake was now standing in a very precarious spot, that is between two groups of people who weren't getting along. As while the bard had been able to stop the first few soldiers more and more were showing up. Things were definitely escalating and standing between the protesters and the guards was probably not the best plan. But it was Jake's plan after all, someone had to try and mediate the two groups. Failing that he could at least try and stop them from attacking each other. By this point Jake had become rather distracted of what the people he was walking with were up to. They appeared to be talking about a deadzone? In Wyllmochvar? Hmm well that would explain why the seemingly magical barrier just disappeared, however Jake had other problems.

The first of which is that two groups of increasingly disgruntled people were seemingly less and less interested in listening to some bard. Another would be that while he was sure most of the protesters didn't want bloodshed; frustration over not making progress could make some of the less rational among them do something stupid. It was around this time that someone shouted at Jake telling him that he shouldn't be doing this as he wasn't from Wyllmochvar. As if that made any difference to the bard, he simply didn't want people to attack each other. Killing after all was a rather nasty business that should be best avoided.

Before Jake could voice any of these thoughts with the crowd a rock hit him in the head. The bard then fell to the ground as getting hit in the head hard by a rock does not tend to help motor function. When he managed to stand back up he did notice that he was rather dizzy. Also that his vision was being worsened by the blood coming from his head onto his eyes. So Jake now stood in an infinitely worse place than before. As not only had the crowd thrown a rock at him, that led to the guards getting scared and they began once again pointing weapons at the crowd. Also while Jake did not realize it he had a concussion and thus was rather impaired in doing a lot of things that he would need to do.

Author: Century, Posted: Sun Mar 27, 2016 8:41 AM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

[OOC: I have returned!]

The warp and weft of fate was unravelling. For every obstacle there was deliberate countermeasure. Someone had planned all of this. He could feel the strands of order and circumstance tightening around them all, constraining the scope of possibilities. As he looked around himself, pushing against the weave in an attempt to gain some sort of purchase, he could see the crowds unifying, gathering, solidifying. Each faction clinging to its own. What had once been a free-flowing alliance of convenience now seemed to be breaking down. And almost no one was aware of it.


He laid out the broken fragments in his mind. A protest march, apparently led by those who had followed the writings of Mendean's late father in one of his mortal guises. The council of mages overreacting in their typical manner. A dead zone. Protestors. Guards. Conspiracy? Yes, sticky web threads connected the pieces, trying to become real. No. Don't go there, mendean reminded himself. That way lies madness. Stick to the facts.


Fact: someone had brought a dead zone into the city, probably in the form of a crystal. That meant it had to be smuggled in without detection. Clearly through the less magical slum areas where the magical elite feared to tread. No, that was theory. Stick to the facts. Whomever was responsible, expected the mages to use their abilities to obstruct the protestors. But they were sending a message too. This was going to escalate, whether they wanted it to or not.


But the day was far from over. To be brandishing such a dangerous artefact could be seen as an act of war, or an act of terror. Certainly aggression. The council, being the council, would respond harshly.


Jake was calming down some of the crowd. Mendean smiled. How like a bard to exercise his skills publicly. And a good thing too. He looked at his sister, who seemed as disturbed as he was, although likely not for the same reasons. Again he cast his eye across the crowd, searching for the source of the dead zone, but it was difficult under the present circumstances.


The god glowered. He was not powerless, for divine power was not as badly affected as arcane power within a dead zone. But the psychic fog that usually protected him was weaker here. He did not dare reveal himself in this location, lest it start a major incident. The Mage Council would love to uncover evidence of divine involvement in this protest. Such a thing would give them free licence to commit terrible atrocities under an official mandate. If things weren't bad enough, he did not wish to make them much worse.


“We have to find the source of this dead zone. The Mage Council will use it as an excuse to send in the military and people will die.” Mendean trailed off, a new posibility arising. What if the Mage council were responsible? After all, who else would be capable of smuggling in a dead zone crystal so easily?

Author: September, Posted: Sun Feb 28, 2016 5:34 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

She blinked, taken aback by her brother's… what essentially was a lecture.  She had only thought to break down the council's wall, to show the old men and women in their building they were not invulnerable and infallible.  "Perhaps a little, but it runs in the family, no?  And I only meant it as a means to break the siege as it were.  I never really was one for seeing consequences," she said with a shrug.  But her brother did have a point, especially if the oppressed failed to make their own.  September still thought that the mages that ruled needed to be taught a lesson… but perhaps that could come later.

"Hmm, true.  It would be nice to see something happ… en," September said, the hitch in her words coming as the deadzone fell over the area.  The daemonspawn avoided those on purpose, as she tended to rely quite a bit on magic.  Glancing to Mendean, she wondered if he had any idea as to just what had happened.  Everyone seemed to sense the shield having fallen, but September was watching the people.  Their reactions had her curious.  In a place like this, the situation showed how important those with martial skills were in a city of mages.  It was why September kept up with her archery skills. 

Then the impossible seemed to happen.  The little bard moved through the crowd, using his words.  Now that was truly interesting.  At least he was keeping things from escalating.  That would serve no purpose.  At least not right now.  There was something else at hand that needed addressed.  "I am not so sure about no one being killed…  Brother mine, we should go looking for whatever caused that disturbance.  It might be useful.  Or disastrous," she said, her voice a low whisper.  September had no idea who might be watching.

Author: maffleet, Posted: Thu Feb 18, 2016 6:10 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

Jake was enjoying just sitting and playing music. After all he'd spent most of the day standing. Though his respite was interrupted when a strange cloud came overhead.  A strange sensation came to Jake, this wasn't gonna be rain. In fact it wasn't, suddenly the invisible barrier he had been using as a backrest disappeared. After pulling himself up with no short amount of grumbling. The gravity of the situation became very apparent. With the barrier gone the protesters wished to move forward. Meanwhile the guards who had been calm while the barrier was protecting them from the ocean of people were now panicking.

The situation need to be diffused, unlike magic barriers though Jake knew people. Jake moved towards the guards at a slower pace; while holding his hands out to show he had no weapons. Managing to get over to them the bard immediately tried to calm the guards down. "Come now gentlemen there's no need for violence, no good will come from attacking your fellow citizens.". The guards still held their weapons out but started to pay more attention to Jake. "Acting with violence will only create more violence. Right now the protest is peaceful. Do you wish to be remembered as the men who turned a peaceful protest into a bloody riot.". They were starting to calm down this was good.

Though one wrong step and things could erupt into violence and disaster. This protest was balancing on a knife edge, one wrong step and the people enter open revolt. After a moment of thinking Jake said one last thing to the guards. "How about after all this protest business is over we all go out and get drinks, I'm buying". This seemed to finally return the soldiers to some sense of calm. When everything is crazy sometimes what people really need is some normalcy. What's more normal than going out for drinks with friends. Jake turned to Zjayk "Well I just about had a heart attack but at least people aren't going to be killed". With that last comment came a laugh, while it hardly seemed the situation for laughter Jake couldn't help himself.

Author: Century, Posted: Fri Feb 5, 2016 2:07 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

While the idea intrigued the young god, he looked at his sister with a start, a glimmer of anger, motivated by horror flashed within his eyes. When he spoke, it was in a harsh whisper. “Are you insane? If we start adding magic to magic, we will be encouraging an arms race and eventually there will be warfare. This whole movement will turn into a resistance force. Those in power will use this as an excuse to tighten their laws and institute ever more draconian measures in response. Men, women and children will die. Civil war could ensue as those who see an opportunity to grab more power for themselves will exploit the situation on both sides and even if the people here are victorious, they will be battle-hardened veterans, likely to be as violent and oppressive as their predecessors. Is that what you want for these people? More death? More order? More rules? I am a thing of Chaos, my sister. I can see the patterns in the weave, trace the fractured paths of possibility. When Chaos reigns, it is often rapidly and brutally suppressed. That is the pattern. That is the way hu-the way people are. For Chaos to survive, it must be insidious. It must work within systems, corrupting and contaminating them with itself. Chaos is the disorder within a system. Within all systems. The element of chance, the whims of the gods.”

He cracked an ironic smile at his own final words, then turned to the bubble. “If the people breech the barrier, what then? Do they storm the council chambers and take over? Do they cause untold damage that will be paid for through raised taxes? Will this fledgling movement of street traders, students, housewives and minstrels suddenly gain military and administrative skills and create a better world?”

Approaching the event horizon, Mendean lifted a hand and held it out in front of his face, turning away so that he could see it without the distraction of vision. He turned awkwardly, trying not to stumble over an old woman in the process, then stepped away once he had somewhere to stand. “Perhaps it is better to let the barrier stay. Today is the day of the movement's first protest. Just because they cannot reach a building with some old men in it, does not mean in any way, that they have failed. This is the start of something, not the conclusion. There will be bloodshed and violence, but maybe not today. Maybe not…”

A sensation in the air, as though rainclouds had suddenly leapt in front of the sun. Looking up, it was still as clear as it had been a minute earlier. But the downward-dragging sensation continued. Mendean felt his hands tremble. Looking around, he saw others reacting similarly to himself, although most of the crowd seemed to be hardly affected at all. For several long moments the god found he had to reacclimatise to the world. He soon realised what had happened, when he attempted to cast his senses out beyond himself, only to find it more difficult than before.

A dead zone had come into effect, big enough to cover a large section of the crowd, as well as cancelling the protective barrier around the council palace. No doubt a protestor was responsible, but how had they managed to get it here? And what was causing it? Whatever was generating the dead zone, it was powerful. Powerful enough to become a weapon in the right hands.

He stared first at his sister, then at Jake, eyes searching for an answer. Before he had time to say anything, a cheer rose up from the crowd and they surged forward. He could see soldiers, panic in their eyes as they raised their weapons, readying a response that would serve only to escalate the situation.

“Sh*t,” Mendean muttered under his breath.

Author: September, Posted: Wed Jan 27, 2016 12:57 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

It didn't surprise her too much when Mendean did not want to ignite trouble, but she had other ideas.  The young woman nodded, scanning the crowds.  "Fair enough.  Perhaps we could prevent some?  Those mages would not hesitate to harm any of these people if things become even slightly dangerous I think," she whispered back.  Mendean was still family, and that was still very important to September.  The crowd slowed, and September found herself rather annoyed.  Just when things were getting interesting of course.

She nodded when Mendean suggested they move closer, and mentally prepared a few things that would be useful.  But there was a lot of energy being spent on maintaining those shielding spells, and the young woman was sure that it would take more than a few people to break them down.  "Hmm… invisible barriers.  Perhaps.  Oh, I have a thought, brother mine.  What if we were to strengthen them a bit… and very quickly?  In a surge of sorts, something to overload the senses of those maintaining them.  Do you think that might work?" she asked her brother.  It was certain to cause more than a bit of chaos, both in the protesters and the mages.  Plus it would be fun to teach the protesters some new tricks they could later use, and to teach the mages they couldn't just rest on their laurels. 

Author: maffleet, Posted: Sat Jan 23, 2016 1:42 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

(sorry about the late reply midterms have been kicking my ass)

Jake by this point was coming to the conclusion that the wizards probably weren't gonna give up their power, they were trying to remain peaceful for now. Though how long that would last would be hard to tell. Still though it never hurts to remain positive "Indeed lets hope it's a song about peace and freedom and not death and slaughter". As it stood the crowd was mostly made up of guild members and disgruntled citizens, if things did get violent and the guards remained loyal to the council things would not go well for the protesters. Well all of that could be considered after they got rid of what was halting the crowd. The bard began pushing his way through the crowd trying to get to whatever was blocking the way.

After a lot of pushing and a fair bit of cursing he managed to get to the front of the crowd. Though what he found left him rather unhappy "barricades you can destroy, men you can bribe or persuade, but how are we supposed to get around an invisible barrier"! Jake's knowledge of magic was, minimal he knew the most basic aspects but not how to counter already cast magic. Not having any better ideas he just sort of kicked the invisible wall. he looked over to the other two "I hope you guys understand magic better than I do as I'll be of no use here". The bard proceeded to sit down and lean up against the invisible barrier and lacking anything better to do began playing his lute.

Author: Century, Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 10:03 AM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

The crowd was now firmly split into two columns on either side of the canal. Mendean glanced down and saw men and women riding the barges, some doggedly ignoring the throng of land lubbers, while others waved and smiled. Many of the protestors were doing the same. So far the feelings of camaraderie were buoying everyone along with positive feeling, but the lord of chaos knew it would take one small spark to ignite the fire of anger in such a large group of people.

By now they had made their way halfway down the broad bisected thoroughfare. He sensed the presence of the authorities, tasted the tension in their mental states. But they were under orders to stay back for now. The mages who controlled Wyllmochvar were powerful, but they were in no mood to test the limits of their power unless it was absolutely necessary.

Raising an eyebrow at the minstrel, Mendean realised his attempt at speaking the man's name had caused confusion. Now he believed Mendean's name was 'Zjayk'. The god suppressed a laugh at the misunderstanding, but in all fairness he had not ventured his own name. It was an easy mistake to make. For a moment he considered correcting the man, but decided against it. It was as good a name as any other. Besides, Jake would forget all about Mendean once this was over. The mental fog surrounding the god would see to that.

The familiar tang of protective magics alerted Mendean that something had changed. His sister was talking about fighting, but he knew it would serve little purpose. Setting herself against the combined might of the mages of Wyllmochvar was a bad idea at any time. Besides, there were women and children in this crowd. Whole families. He could not guarantee that none of them would be harmed, should conflict ensue.

“I would like to avoid bloodshed if possible, dear sister. This town has had its share of tragedy in recent years. Besides, I don't want my father's legacy to be blood-soaked, even though he might not have had a problem with that,” Mendean whispered to September. He looked at the arm of a fellow protestor emblazoned with the key and the eye of the kljutsotsu. How strange that something so familiar to him had become a significant part of the lives of others. Divinity, yes, but politics? His feelings were mixed about this latest development.

Three quarters of the way down Josipo concourse, he sensed a disturbance in the minds of those at the front of the crowd. They had met with an invisible force, preventing them from getting any closer. He noticed a number of barges had stopped also. The mages had drawn the line. The people were unhappy. It was only a matter of time before those in the crowd who were of a magical bent began to assault the shield wall with counterspells of their own. He turned to Jake.

“Something's halting the crowd. We had better get in closer to see what's happening. You may get your song material after all.”

And then he turned to September. “The situation is escalating. I know you feel it too. Come, let's quicken our pace and see what we can do to help.”

Author: September, Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2015 6:50 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

Watching them shake hands was interesting, no matter the time and place September had never really known her little brother to be one for physical contact.  But he had a part to play here it seemed, and it would serve them both to blend in.  At least for now.  She only nodded when the young man introduced himself.  "Pleasure.  Brother mine, I do hope this is history.  It seems this city could use a bit of shaking up, and not just by some monster trying to devour the mages," she said, looking to the crowds.  There was a power in these mortals, whether they realized it or not.  But at least in this case, they seemed to realize that they did have the power.

When the shopkeepers showed their support, September smiled.  Even for all their power, and their lofty positions, the mages and those on the council were still dependent on those in the streets and those supporting them.  It was already costly to import goods into the city, and the merchants knew it.  "I think the mages need to know certain truths they have avoided.  Like that they cannot function without the people under them," she said.  Things were about to get interesting, and September's purple eyes focused on the council building for a moment.  She would have given just about anything to have ears inside that building. 

There was a very faint shimmer for a moment around the building, and September knew that the mages were preparing for a fight.  Given the number of people in the crowd versus the council members, she knew it was likely to be a slaughter.  At least, that's what they would expect.  September however was more than willing to tip the scales in favor of chaos.  "Little brother, I have an idea…  Though I do not think you will like it very much.  But it will help these people with their goals," she said, nodding her head towards the building.  Even though she did not have her bow, there were still spells she could call upon.  And anything to unsettle those in power held a great appeal to her.

Author: maffleet, Posted: Mon Dec 14, 2015 1:04 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

As Jake shook shook Zjayk's hand he noticed it was somewhat cold to the touch, though that wasn't totally abnormal. "It's very interesting to see this many people fired up about this." He looked around just sort of taking in the sea of people making their way down the street. "This will go down in the history books, either as the beginning of meaningful reforms for Wyllmochvar." He then did a quick scan of the outskirts of the crowd looking for guard or people carrying weapons "Or knowing how the few love to hold power over the many, this could become a day of massacre and open revolt." Jake then looked over to the Zjayk had introduced as his sister, though how the two were related was beyond him as they looked almost nothing alike. While Zjayk looked pretty normal September seemed strange and foreign. Though at that point in his life Jake had seen plenty of strange and foreign things and had long since stopped seeing such things as anything other than a quick mental acknowledgement. "It's a pleasure to meet you September" he did a quick bow towards the woman "I'm all for the people demanding more representation in the government, it'll give me something to write a song about" He said with a big toothy grin on his face.

Author: Century, Posted: Mon Dec 14, 2015 4:41 AM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

“Zjayk.” Mendean tested the sound of the foreign name in his mouth, as though tasting an unfamiliar sweatmeat. He looked at the hand for a second, almost taken aback. Physical contact was something he was unused to, but he understood the conventions of greeting. He smiled, showing a thin line of teeth, taking the bard's hand and shaking it. The man's hand was warmer than his own and he could feel his pulse through the palm. “So,” Mendean said, allowing his hand to slip away. residual warmth fading from his fingers. He had to shout to be heard, over the chanting and drumming. “Think we are witnessing history in the making? Or is this another flash in the tava?”

The march had been initially slowed when the masses had been bottlenecked during their exit from Crvenarib square. Even now, a quarter of the way down Josipo, what had begun as a determined march was already slowing into a meandering shuffle. The mood, however, was as jubilant as it had been at the start, albeit with a growing nervousness as the crowds drew nearer the council building.

A cheer rose up. Something had happened nearer the front. Most of those who were cheering were doing so without knowing what had happened, but as he skimmed surface thoughts, he saw the image of shopkeepers coming out of their stores and applauding the marchers. Any gesture of camaraderie from outside was sure to boost the morale of the crowd. It was the residual pack mentality of mortals. A fascinating and potentially deadly tool, he had observed.

While looking around the sea of bobbing heads, Mendean took a moment to surreptitiously spy on his sister. She had changed since last they had met. She seemed older, more tense than he was used to. As though something weighed heavily on her mind and that it was tearing her apart from the inside. She was not the same woman he had seen several years before. He did not react to this change. There would be time for that later.

“Sister, I would like you to meet Jjjake,” he said, still getting used to the odd pronunciation. “Jake is a traveller, like yourself.” He was quickly gaining confidence with the unusual name. “Jake, my sister, September. Like myself, she is interested in revolutions and changing the status quo. It's time the mages recognised they are not the only citizens of Wyllmochvar, eh?”

Author: September, Posted: Sat Dec 12, 2015 7:17 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

[Apologies for the delay.]

Choosing to speak the same language as her brother, the young woman nodded when he raised the finger to his lips.  Even if they likely did not see eye to eye… he was still blood.  She smiled a little when he mentioned their meeting place, it did not seem so strange to her.  "Perhaps so, but I do rather like it here.  And I think Father would have as well," she said, a forlorn note in her voice for a few moments.  Then there was a stab of pain that contorted her face for a few moments.  In this reality, she had fled their home once their father had died.  But there?  The other September had stayed with her brother, to try and help him find his way after that loss.  And those two were at odds.  But both of them had cared for their father.

But the pain cleared after a moment, and September only smiled.  "Not lost, only seeking out someone… and I just found you, little brother.  I… I need your help," she said, a grudging note in her voice.  It was something very difficult to admit.  But the switches between memories were getting more difficult, and if anyone could help her, it would be Mendean.  And for now, she would keep her brother's secret.  Watching the crowds for just a moment, her purple eyes took in the stranger.  A part of her wondered how his flesh would taste. 

Her head tilted a little as he stuck his hand out towards Mendean.  She was quite aware that this was a means of greeting in some places, though she wondered how her little brother would react.  Still matching her pace with Mendean, she waited to see what he would do before responding.  The crowd kept surging around them, and September kept her eyes open.  Any chance to cause a bit of chaos was just what she wanted.

Author: maffleet, Posted: Thu Dec 3, 2015 11:57 AM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

As the march continued Jake had become rather oblivious of the goings on, that is until he almost bumped into a young guy. Jake quickly apologized to the man before turning to him to get a better look, he had brown hair other than that he looked normal, if not having a slightly strange air about him. Though after hearing what the man said Jake responded "A stranger way you'd have trouble finding. Though I remember hearing a story, it was about two brothers who lost each other and one became a cunning thief and another a rich merchant. They reunited when the thief stole the merchants wares. I don't quite remember the ending to that one though. Of course that's just a story but stranger things have happened so who knows it." Jake cut himself off, rambling was a bad habit he'd taken to in the past couple months that he was trying to rid himself of. Though by this point the man had moved into step with a rather odd looking woman. Jake shrugged and stuck out his hand to the man who he'd just rambled at and said "The names Jake pleased to make your acquaintance.". Deciding if nothing else he would at least give the man a proper hello before they were separated in the torrent of people surrounding them.

Author: Century, Posted: Wed Dec 2, 2015 2:52 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

The crowd bottlenecked at the edge of Crvenarib while the steady flow of people began to filter onto Josipo concourse, separating into two columns. For the main thoroughfare was bisected by a canal that ran the length of the great road, all the way up to the very centre of Wyllmochvar. Each of the four roads sported a canal and all four met somewhere beneath the onion-domed council building, behind great doors on each side. Mendean imagined that without those great metal skirts, the structure would look like some great beast on stilts.

He moved along with the crowd. Already out on the concourse, the young deity blended inconspicuously for the most-part, remaining at the edges. Citizens emerged from their homes and applauded, while others leaned out of their windows, bellowing obscenities at the massed throng. Most of the crowd ignored such naysayers, a few responded in kind, but their voices were mostly lost in the rising sound of music, drums and a rhythmic chant.

'Oblast je pris nas, Ljudska! Oblast je pri nas Ljudska! 'Authority here belongs to the people!' A new idea in a land such as this, and one that had spread across the city, particularly over the past year. Mendean gave passers-by a wry smile, then in a cat-like move he matched their steps and joined them, almost bumping into a young man who seemed to be moving to a different beat from the rest. A spy perhaps? He knew there would be a number of those here. It was inevitable. But as he opened his mouth to ask the man, a familiar voice distracted him. He turned around to see one of his many, many sisters. This one was September.

A barrage of memories hit him. Two different sets of memories. One of the Septembers he was closer to than the other, but which one this was, he was unsure. Perhaps she was both? Mendean blinked. It would take some time to fully integrate his two selves. But he was getting used to the frequent bouts of confusion.

He glanced back at the man, more as a way of focussing his thoughts than anything else. “Čudno mjesto za obiteljsko okupljanje, eh?” He said with a shrug as he fell into a matching step while his sister approached. He spoke in the language of Wyllmochvar, assuming the man was a local and would understand him. Strange place to have a family reunion, eh? A chuckle followed, but it was lost in the rising chant of the crowd. 'Ljudska! Ljudska!'

When September made the comment, Mendean reflexively raised a finger to his lips, making a quick pantomime of glancing from side to side with eyebrows raised. Gods were not popular in these lands and he did not wish to attract any undue attention from any secret police who might catch wind of his true nature. Editing the memories of so many people, in a place where his divine gifts were diminished, was a tiresome exercise that he did not wish to perform unless absolutely necessary.

“Sestra, što ti radiš ovdje? Ste izgubili?” Sister, what are you doing here? Are you lost?”

Author: September, Posted: Sat Nov 28, 2015 1:54 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

It was a lovely crisp morning, common to Wyllmochvar in the autumn, and September found herself in a fine mood.  It wasn't actually because of the weather, but the people within the city.  They were rebelling against those who considered themselves to be better, marching through the streets, and being a general disruption to the usual calm of the city.  It was the anniversary of an attack on the city as well, and the death of a well known professor from the Academy.  No one was really entirely sure as to how the professor had died, but he had most certainly become a martyr to the cause of the common people.  And September found herself quite amused. 

Standing on the sidelines and watching while munching on an apple, September almost missed the young man with his dark, unkempt hair.  But that was simply part of who her little brother was.  If she was not related to him, the young woman was quite sure that she would not have even noticed him within the crowd.  But it had been quite some time since she had seen Mendean, and she had been out wandering the world.  She had been learning to hone her talent for arcane magics, and from the elves in how to add that magic to her arrows.  Perhaps it was time to reacquaint herself with him.  And it was most certainly time to see if he had been affected by the strange phenomena of their copies crossing over from another world. 

Slipping into the crowd of marchers, it took a few moments to find her brother again.  "Well, hello again little brother.  It's been quite some time, now hasn't it?" she asked in a murmur meant only for him.  It had been… perhaps two years?  Something about the time of their world was strange, something that September had never quite been able to put a finger on.  It could be two months for her brother, and two years for herself, and it was quite strange.  But perhaps Mendean would have an answer for that.  "I hope you've been well, and that you haven't been splitting yourself too much between too many places," she said, a mischievous smile on her face.  Would he understand that hint?  More than likely, Mendean was quite perceptive when it came to just about any area he had an interest in.

Author: maffleet, Posted: Thu Nov 26, 2015 9:53 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

Jake had come to Crvenarib Square mainly to mingle on that morning, it could hardly be said that he had any interest in what they were protesting about. No he was there to converse with the various vendors set up and try and acquire any information he could find. Rumors spreading around, where to get good deals, and more importantly to him work. Yes while Jake would have loved to avoid the square he was broke and decided that if he wanted to find work he should go to where the most people were. Though while most sellers of goods know much they're only interested in one thing getting your cash, which Jake had none to give. So there he was standing on a tightrope acting just interested enough in some random necklace or whatever the dealer was peddling to be able to converse with the man behind the counter but not interested enough so that they tried to rush him to closing the sale. Though such tactics are of dwindling effectiveness as people notice you just want information and not random baubles, and of course information is the most expensive good of all. Not to say that no information of value was acquired, any piece of information was useful if used correctly, it simply wasn't what he needed.

So after managing to "borrow" a loaf of bread from a distracted vendor he entered the crowd moving to and from different groups of people. Playing a game he knew well listening for a pause or gap in their various conversations to enter talk with the people exchange niceties, acting interested in their conversation while subtly pulling it towards the information that he wanted. Which albeit was easier said than done, but he slowly made his way through being noticeable enough to take decent part in the conversation but not enough that he'd be remembered long after he left.

By the time the crowd had started it's march he was far too deep in to make a hasty escape. Jake then decided to go along for the ride humming a tune he had come up with several days earlier to himself, while snapping his fingers. He also began swaying from side to side in a rhythmic sort of half dance as the crowd marched along.

Author: Century, Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 4:38 PM, Post Subject: Art of the possible [OPEN]

A crisp clear morning revealed as the sun emerged from behind a mountain. Crvenarib square, a popular meeting ground for students, artists, political radicals, dissidents and many other counter-cultural types, was packed with people. Many of them were from the groups typically found here, but there were others too. Workers, guild representatives, even a number of street vendors had gathered, although that was mainly to peddle their wares to a captive audience.

Several hundred individuals from different walks of life had gathered in Crvenarib, many displaying red armbands with a black key and an eye embroidered into the fabric. A familiar symbol to citizens of Wyllmochvar, and an irritation to many of those who walked the corridors of power and influence in the city.

The Kljutsotsu, as it was known to the people of Wyllmochvar, was used as a symbol to represent the interests of a political movement that had grown in recent years. Originating as a thought experiment by a particularly radical professor from the mage academy, the Kljutsotsu had spread notions of wealth redistribution, equality for women, an expansion of the role of guilds, and a council that represented the people of the city, instead of being primarily an old wizard's network.

The professor responsible for this radical thesis had mysteriously disappeared a few years ago, during the attack of the screaming mouth. The official story was that he had been killed in the chaos that followed, but the lack of a body caused many to speculate that the attack was used as an opportunity for certain magi to remove him from play. It was denied of course, but the general opinion among certain sections of society was that this was exactly the kind of thing the authorities would say. It only served to martyr professor Giudice's name in the memories of his supporters.

Today was the anniversary of the attack, but in the minds of most who milled about the square, the tragedy of that day mingled in their minds with the loss of a man who many had idealised as a figure representing their freedom and oppression at the hands of an uncaring mage class.

Someone began banging a drum, others took up other instruments and joined in, playing a loose marching tune while the crowds assembled themselves into an orderly procession. Banners were raised and as one, they began exiting Crvenarib to make their way onto Josipo concourse, one of four broad arteries of Wyllmochvar that led to the onion dome-vaulted towers of the council building.

A young man with dark, unkempt hair, watched with interest as the crowds marched by. A protest march. Oh father, you would be so proud of these mortals, he thought with the smallest of smiles. Electing to follow the crowd, the man continued alongside the throng, paying close attention as the protestors made their way towards the centre of power. Not everyone here was following the same agenda. Indeed, some of those present were certainly against this radical movement. It would be interesting to see how it all played-out. At least, it would be interesting for this particular chaos lord.