Innverse Stats | Interlude

Name	Text
Liscor	Evening fell across the world at the same time. It was already dark in Liscor in an inn where a young woman was knocking on a table. That was because the mountains that sheltered her inn were obscuring the fading light. But far south and to the west, upon another continent, another land—the dry air was turning orange slower, blooming crimson like a great flower.
[Soldier]	Now, they were allowed to live and stumbled through their days here despite their many enemies across the world. Because—no one dared march an army through the crumbling gates. Despite the few [Soldiers] left, the impoverished streets and folk—
[Soldier]	Except that yesterday, something had happened. Something so unique that it had sent servants running through the palace and [Soldiers] dashing to defend the man in this room.
[Assassin]	Assassins. That was what the people heard, and it made them worry. It made some furious—and remember blades and wrath. An [Assassin] would be the end of all—but this place was not so broken yet, not so worn that one could kill that man so easily.
[Soldier]	…But it was not assassins after all. It had been a mistake. What, exactly, the servants did not say, nor did the [Soldiers] understand. So the city murmured then fell silent. Waiting and waiting…but what they did not know was that the intruders were still there.
[Soldier]	In that very throne room, in fact. They were alone, and the [Soldiers] at the doors occasionally glanced in to make sure they had no weapons—not that they were old or canny enough to bear them. Even the great servant, the steward, was not allowed within the throne room, to his anger. He had stormed off, but he had obeyed because it was a rare order.
[Soldier]	Boy and girl. The [Soldiers] and the steward might have objected—but the man with red-gold hair was not so weak as to be done in by two child-assassins, even if they came from Germina. Nor did these two have the look.
Germina	Boy and girl. The [Soldiers] and the steward might have objected—but the man with red-gold hair was not so weak as to be done in by two child-assassins, even if they came from Germina. Nor did these two have the look.
Baleros	If the Great Companies of Baleros could have seen him now, or the Archmages of Wistram, or the Hundred Kings and Queens of Terandria—they would have recognized a face from many burnt and defaced paintings, illustrations in history books, and descriptions of a younger man, now aged.
Terandria	If the Great Companies of Baleros could have seen him now, or the Archmages of Wistram, or the Hundred Kings and Queens of Terandria—they would have recognized a face from many burnt and defaced paintings, illustrations in history books, and descriptions of a younger man, now aged.
Chandrar	Evening was falling across his continent, Chandrar. He gazed into the distance where the greatest desert in the world lay, and he had seen it. He had seen the buried city to the south, glimpsed peaks of every nation on the land upon which he stood.
[Mage]	“And to be told that all I had accomplished in life—all the glories that empires dare to claim as their proud history—to be told that is nothing compared to the wonders of your world. Is that not intolerable? Yet, for all the strength of my armies, we cannot match a single—bomb. And though my [Mages] could labor a thousand years, they could not fly up to the twin moons in the sky and dare to land on them. Worse though…they never even dreamed of it. Land on the moons!”
[Soldier]	And he? He laughed. The King threw back his head, and the [Soldiers] started from their posts. The laughter ran down the hallways, and a servant looked up at a sound she thought was a dream. The man backed up, stumbling up the steps of the dais, and he leaned on a golden armrest of his throne for support.
[Soldier]	The laughter. The passion. It was like a spark growing on dry grass. The [Soldiers] had heard it. So too had the servants.
[Steward]	The [Steward] had felt it. But he had dreamed so often that he came back from training in private, still angry—but drawn to the smoke in the palace. And the king?
[King]	He was a [King]. He spread his arms and woke. Tears shone in his eyes. Tears, for it was done. He stood and stretched, and decades fell off him slowly. When he called out, his voice was fuller, surer, and he pointed down at the two children, who only began to realize what they’d done now.
[King]	He walked down from the dais and began striding across the throne room towards the double doors. The twins followed him, not daring to be left behind. The [King] called out.
Orthenon	“Orthenon!”
Orthenon	“Orthenon! My [Steward]! Come to me!”
[Steward]	“Orthenon! My [Steward]! Come to me!”
[King]	He wore black, almost like a servant of another time, but he too wore armor beneath cloth. What separated the two was that if the [King] was a man of passion, Orthenon’s own passions and personality were like a swinging blade. Precise—but the years had left rust on him as well.
Orthenon	He wore black, almost like a servant of another time, but he too wore armor beneath cloth. What separated the two was that if the [King] was a man of passion, Orthenon’s own passions and personality were like a swinging blade. Precise—but the years had left rust on him as well.
[King]	But he did not see what he wanted. What he saw was the [King], foot upon that chair. While that pose should have tipped him off, he had missed the moment the man sat down on the throne.
Orthenon	That feeling was filling the air, but Orthenon’s own grief and wait were too long. All he saw was the chair, not the throne. So when he bowed, it was low, but with a cold, tired anger of an exhausted man waiting with arm raised, clinging to a cliff’s edge. Waiting, hoping, for the day that might never come.
[King]	Lord. It was an insult borne of a despairing man. The [King] nodded; he saw it. Yet now, his eyes were dancing with anticipation. He was still smoldering from the inside, and the fire was growing, but his steward didn’t see it. Not yet.

Liscor

Evening fell across the world at the same time. It was already dark in Liscor in an inn where a young woman was knocking on a table. That was because the mountains that sheltered her inn were obscuring the fading light. But far south and to the west, upon another continent, another land—the dry air was turning orange slower, blooming crimson like a great flower.

[Soldier]

Now, they were allowed to live and stumbled through their days here despite their many enemies across the world. Because—no one dared march an army through the crumbling gates. Despite the few [Soldiers] left, the impoverished streets and folk—

[Soldier]

Except that yesterday, something had happened. Something so unique that it had sent servants running through the palace and [Soldiers] dashing to defend the man in this room.

[Assassin]

Assassins. That was what the people heard, and it made them worry. It made some furious—and remember blades and wrath. An [Assassin] would be the end of all—but this place was not so broken yet, not so worn that one could kill that man so easily.

[Soldier]

…But it was not assassins after all. It had been a mistake. What, exactly, the servants did not say, nor did the [Soldiers] understand. So the city murmured then fell silent. Waiting and waiting…but what they did not know was that the intruders were still there.

[Soldier]

In that very throne room, in fact. They were alone, and the [Soldiers] at the doors occasionally glanced in to make sure they had no weapons—not that they were old or canny enough to bear them. Even the great servant, the steward, was not allowed within the throne room, to his anger. He had stormed off, but he had obeyed because it was a rare order.

[Soldier]

Boy and girl. The [Soldiers] and the steward might have objected—but the man with red-gold hair was not so weak as to be done in by two child-assassins, even if they came from Germina. Nor did these two have the look.

Germina

Boy and girl. The [Soldiers] and the steward might have objected—but the man with red-gold hair was not so weak as to be done in by two child-assassins, even if they came from Germina. Nor did these two have the look.

Baleros

If the Great Companies of Baleros could have seen him now, or the Archmages of Wistram, or the Hundred Kings and Queens of Terandria—they would have recognized a face from many burnt and defaced paintings, illustrations in history books, and descriptions of a younger man, now aged.

Terandria

If the Great Companies of Baleros could have seen him now, or the Archmages of Wistram, or the Hundred Kings and Queens of Terandria—they would have recognized a face from many burnt and defaced paintings, illustrations in history books, and descriptions of a younger man, now aged.

Chandrar

Evening was falling across his continent, Chandrar. He gazed into the distance where the greatest desert in the world lay, and he had seen it. He had seen the buried city to the south, glimpsed peaks of every nation on the land upon which he stood.

[Mage]

“And to be told that all I had accomplished in life—all the glories that empires dare to claim as their proud history—to be told that is nothing compared to the wonders of your world. Is that not intolerable? Yet, for all the strength of my armies, we cannot match a single—bomb. And though my [Mages] could labor a thousand years, they could not fly up to the twin moons in the sky and dare to land on them. Worse though…they never even dreamed of it. Land on the moons!”

[Soldier]

And he? He laughed. The King threw back his head, and the [Soldiers] started from their posts. The laughter ran down the hallways, and a servant looked up at a sound she thought was a dream. The man backed up, stumbling up the steps of the dais, and he leaned on a golden armrest of his throne for support.

[Soldier]

The laughter. The passion. It was like a spark growing on dry grass. The [Soldiers] had heard it. So too had the servants.

[Steward]

The [Steward] had felt it. But he had dreamed so often that he came back from training in private, still angry—but drawn to the smoke in the palace. And the king?

[King]

He was a [King]. He spread his arms and woke. Tears shone in his eyes. Tears, for it was done. He stood and stretched, and decades fell off him slowly. When he called out, his voice was fuller, surer, and he pointed down at the two children, who only began to realize what they’d done now.

[King]

He walked down from the dais and began striding across the throne room towards the double doors. The twins followed him, not daring to be left behind. The [King] called out.

Orthenon

“Orthenon!”

Orthenon

“Orthenon! My [Steward]! Come to me!”

[Steward]

“Orthenon! My [Steward]! Come to me!”

[King]

He wore black, almost like a servant of another time, but he too wore armor beneath cloth. What separated the two was that if the [King] was a man of passion, Orthenon’s own passions and personality were like a swinging blade. Precise—but the years had left rust on him as well.

Orthenon

He wore black, almost like a servant of another time, but he too wore armor beneath cloth. What separated the two was that if the [King] was a man of passion, Orthenon’s own passions and personality were like a swinging blade. Precise—but the years had left rust on him as well.

[King]

But he did not see what he wanted. What he saw was the [King], foot upon that chair. While that pose should have tipped him off, he had missed the moment the man sat down on the throne.

Orthenon

That feeling was filling the air, but Orthenon’s own grief and wait were too long. All he saw was the chair, not the throne. So when he bowed, it was low, but with a cold, tired anger of an exhausted man waiting with arm raised, clinging to a cliff’s edge. Waiting, hoping, for the day that might never come.

[King]

Lord. It was an insult borne of a despairing man. The [King] nodded; he saw it. Yet now, his eyes were dancing with anticipation. He was still smoldering from the inside, and the fire was growing, but his steward didn’t see it. Not yet.

Interlude – King Edition

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