A sad day for Time

[Xaious, Master of Time]

Slowly and carefully, mournfully even, a creaky old carriage pulled by three black horses struggled along a mud-filled path to the Keep of the Pen on a stormy day like had not been seen in months. Few Pennites who ahd looked out of the windows would have seen the ancient hearse, and even fewer would have recognized the significance of it. Slowly it trudged up the path until it came up to those large wooden gates that had welcomed many, but now seemed wont to discourage travelers. Nevertheless, the figure what drove the carriage pulled himself down from the seat, and walked up to the door. Cold and deathly was the manner in which he rapped on the door with his bony knuckles, and patiently as death waited he for the gates to open. Slowly they creaked open, and into the courtyard he led the horses. Some had gathered to witness this even, but little could be told by merely looking at the parade of gloom. It was an ancient black carriage of wood with silken black curtains hiding it's occupant and large, mud-covered wheels that creaked almost saddenly, being pulled by two black horses that had once been strong and healthy creatures, but were now little more than skeletally gaunt harbingers of despair. Leading this vehicle of death was a figure cloaked in a fading black robe, cowled and hooded so that all any could see were faintly glowing yellow eyes set into a pale and shrunken face. On the wind came the scent of death, and the man's rasping voice failed to be pleasant.

"Good evening,' He jested to those gathered 'And my sincerest apologies for not arriving in better conditions."

"Now, before you start inquiring about this little debacle, allow me to somewhat introduce myself. My name is Nickoli, and I am pleased to be here, though certainly the circumstances could be better. A great friend of mine recently came to me and told me it was time that I head over here and make your acquaintances." The cloaked man emphasized the word 'Time'.

"I knew the man by the of Lucius Meliamne, but he tells me you all knew him as Xaious." At this point he hung his head, and spoke a few words too soft for others to hear.

"I'm afraid I bring news of a less than pleasant nature on this evening. In this carriage rests a coffin. In that coffin rests..." The man broke off, and stood silent for what seemed like ages.

 

"I'm sorry folks, I wish I could have done better than this. I wish I could have brought him here sooner, I wish this could be different." He raised his head to the sky, raised his arms and screamed agony and despair into the night sky, his voice raspy like the voice of death itself.

----------(please continue)--------

(also, on second thought, probly the wrong forum...Feel free to move it to the RP'd section....)

Edited February 8, 2007 by Xaious, Master of Time

[Wyvern]

Wyvern observes Nickoli and his gloomy posse from the comfort of the Cabaret Room, sipping on a warm Bruteweiser Boston Party Tea and shivering at the sound of the pattering rain. The lizard flicks his tail back and forth as he slants his snout closer to the window, squinting at the three Almost Dragonic Brand Second-hand Sturdy Steed™ look-alikes. He scratches his chin as the words of Nickoli trail in the back of his mind, partially lost to the crackle of the fire and the contemplation that the old cart might be a marketable antique.

 

"Hmph." Wyvern shuts his eyes and slowly sips from his mug, trying to block an association from his mind. "Well, I hope thisss Nickoli fellow ain't related to Madame Quixoti-"

 

Wyvern jumps in his seat and drops his Boston Party Tea as Nickoli's agonizing scream echoes throughout the Courtyard and quarters of the Pen, loud enough to wake the dead. Wyvern curses wildly once the cry has died down, brushing down his sensitive scales and sweeping part of his shattered mug with his tail. The overgrown lizard stomps his foot on the ground and shakes a fist, shouting through the closed window pane.

 

"Can you turn down the mourning volume a bit?! Geeze!" Wyvern throws his claws in the air, then turns in a huff to find himself another drink. "What a reptilian schemer wouldn't give for a little peaceful drinking time around here..."

 

Wyvern shakes his head as he walks into the hall in search of booze, only to pause as his slow-moving brain begins to piece Nickoli's words together. A sad day for Time. Wyvern stands still, frozen in the hall as a chill passes down his spine. an ancient black carriage of wood with silken black curtains. Wyvern's wings droop in a near-stupefied state. A great friend of mine recently came to me... he tells me you all knew him as Xaious. Wyvern's eyes go wide and glassy. I'm afraid I bring news of a less than pleasant nature on this evening. In this carriage rests a coffin.

 

"Oh dear God..." Wyvern speaks before the scream is repeated in his head, raising a claw to his mouth as he sheds a crocodile tear. "No... no, it can't be true. It's not possible, not now, not so late after... Yet somehow, I feel it. I sense it, in the air. It mussst be."

 

Wyvern leans against the wall and lets out a single sob, slamming a claw and shredding the wallpaper a bit.

 

"Oh GOD, I knew I should have buried my Office's first Godfather Clock when it got destroyed... it was bound to be picked up by some grief-stricken Mahogoni Closet fanatic and brought back here. Oh why, WHY didn't I cremate it like Woody told me too?!" Wyvern sniffles, then snaps a claw. "Go figure that Xaious should be the one to tell this Nickoli guy about it, that Time Master owes me one! Next time I see'im, I gonna tell him to go back in time and bury that dang clock after it gets wrecked. Hrmph!"

[Xaious, Master of Time]

Leaving the carriage under the watchful eyes of the frail equestrians, Nickoli searched his way through the Keep to Xaious's old closet, a map in his old mind that had been memorized from the tales of his friend. Down to the deepest recesses of the Keep he went until he came to the creaky old door, and slowly pushed it open. Unwashed clothing and broken technology lay strewn about the place, and on the not-so-far far wall runes had been carved, runes informing of the portal's purpose, a trip to the Renaissance of the True Plane. Slowly he searched through the items what had been on the floor so long, Until he had found the one thing that would fit most suitably for display in front the tombstone: A pair of black, hard leather boots, steel toed with buckles up the sides. Though they had been the old magus's most favored pair, they wre the least worn for always being lost. Grabbing these and a free-range bottle of vodka from the room, Nickoli made his way back to the grounds and the carriage, where many pennites were still standing in confusion. Nickoli drew forth from the shadows of the entrance and walked clear and forward to a point in a corner, near a tree, where he planted the boots. Turning towards the crowd again, hje walked forth to the carriage and drew out a cleanly carved tombstone, carved from an enormous grey pearl. Carved into the front of it was a simple phrase:

"Live in the here, Live in the now,

You'll meet such a fate, anyhow."

Nickoli set this gently beneath the tree, and placed the boots on either side, framing the peculiar headstone.

As he walked back to the carriage, people were better noticing things about this person they did not know. His back had a fairly pronounced hunch, and no matter how heavy the stone had been, he did not seem to strain with it. His frame seemed frail beyond reckoning, and yet he showed a greater ability than would be expected.

Nickoli pulled forth from atop the carriage a stash of sticks and oil, and began the setting of a pyre. He worked in silence, intent on following the orders of his old friend to the best of his ability. Then he turned to the crowd, and asked a simple favor in a raspy voice.

"Can anyone giev me a hand with this next bit? That coffin's kinda heavy."

[Xaious, Master of Time]

By the time Nickoli had completed his tasks, he had erected a sizable mass of timbers and fuel for a rather sizable pyre. In the middle of the courtyard, away from trees and other flammable objects stood the small hill of combustibles, and upon that lay the still form of a figure familiar to all.

Cloak, hood, and cowl still covering any details of this messenger from everyone, he began his discourse once the majority of the members of the keep were there.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and Wyvern. As I have said before, I bring to you news of a less than pleasant nature. As you have by now discerned, on the pyre behind me rests our beloved Master of Time, Xaious. As I'm sure it has to you, his death was a shock to me, and it wasn't until I arrived here that I was able to understand why he passed away.

"Lucius never told me everything about his life, and even less of how he came to be what he was in the first place. He never explained many things, but he told me many stories. He told me of how many ages he had lived, how many revelations and revolutions of the multiverse he had seen. He told me many things even about you folks here. No, Wyvern, I will not be buying from you without first checking any and all papers and legalese at least four times. On the day he came to me for the last time, he told me only one thing.

"He said to me, 'I feel so...old...'

"The next morning, I found him laying against a tree in the front of my....ramshackle little home. The life was gone from him, but he had a small note clasped in his hand. I have followed the directions on that note, and here we are.

"If anyone has any words to speak about our friend who is with us no more, please, come and speak them now. He has asked that the pyre be lit at the precise moment that the ancient godfather's clock in that carriage chimes for seven at night. Approximately four hours from now.

"Thank you."

 

With that, Nickoli stepped aside from where he had been to allow others to come forward. But first, he carted the ancient clock from the carriage and placed it off-center right in front of the pyre, so that it would burn too.

--------------------------------------------

(Alright guys. I know this may be kinda odd, but....Work with it. I know you are well capable of pulling something out of your heads. I know I have left the details on Nickoli vague, You'll find out more in time about him. The pyre gets lit Friday night, where it's currently Monday night as I post this. Interested in seeing what you have to say.)

[Quincunx]

Tzimfemme leaned over the head of the pyre. . .well, about half a lean's worth of leaning, since the stack wasn't too much shorter than she was. She took a deep sniff of the scent of--dead.

 

"DAMMIT! Now who am I gonna rent a time travel off of? . . .of course, since he is a time traveler, or was, or will be, it might still happen. . .argh, the grammar makes my head ache. . ."

 

The naked mage slunk away from the pyre, mumbling to herself, but roused herself enough to tell Nickolai, "If you see a gnome heading this way, light 'er up quickly!"

[Quincunx]

The pyre and the earth around it quivered. Tzimfemme's step, aiming for where the ground had been and not so much where it was, ended with her nearly doing a split. She recovered and double-timed it out of there before an aftershock hit. Below ground, the gnomish tunneling sphere picked up the rock over which it had stumbled in one claw, brought it up to a windshield for inspection, then tossed it over its curve into the already-roofed portion of tunnel. The sphere halted directly under Xaious's funeral pyre, a hatch opened like a camera aperture, a pneumatic safety slide billowed out of the aperture, and Minta slid down before it had fully unfurled.

 

"Don't got the spot where he went splat," Minta sighed, "but I guess it'll work okok. . ." She crossed her arms and looked upwards at the roofing tiles (solid slabs of rock candy), then down at the undressed earth and spat blood without the usual precision. The evil loogie soaked into the soil and dragged the grains down with it, opening up a slender sinkhole. A few seconds later, Minta began dancing from foot to foot, mumbling, "Awww, not another almost-dud hellhole. . .Stupid Pen wards! I want another neato spell-casting lich!"

[Xaious, Master of Time]

After everyone had said what they had to say, the final event in the book of the Master of Time's life began.

 

As everyone stood around the pyre, waiting for the clock to chime, the sky steadily grew dark, slow at first, then faster until it was a deep royal purple and then pitch. The clock chimed once.

At least fifty faintly glowing lights appeared around the soon to be lit fire.

The clock chimed again., and the figures began to come into focus.

On the third chime, some of the figures began to look vaguely familiar, and on the fourth, they became recognizable as the man of the evening himself.

On the fifth chime, these fifty Xaiouses (would it be Xaiousi?) drew forth unlit torches.

On chime six, they raised the torches, and the torches caught fire instantaneously.

On the seventh chime, they lit the pyre.

Quickly and smoothly, the wood caught fire, and the courtyard was lit bright as day by the pyre. Al around, these fifty Xaiousi kneeled. These fifty Xaiousi were not all just the one before his death, but in fact were from fifty points in his life, through his younger years to his final.

As the pyre burned on, they continued to kneel, but slowly began to fade out of sight. From youngest to oldest, they vanished, and as they did, so too did the fire burn out, more and more with each vanishing Xai. When the last was gone, so too was the pyre burnt-out, nothing left but ashes in a concspicuously neat little pile.

Throughout the spectacle, Nickoli kneeled and watched, and when all was gone but the ashes, he got to his feet and walked to the ashes. As he reached them, he pulled an old and worn ceramic vase from his cloak.

Kneeling down once again, he swept the ashes into the vase, and then stood to face the crowd.

"On behalf of Lucius, Xaious, I wish to thank you all for your attendance. The event meant much to him, as we all saw, and I don't think it could have gone any better. Thank you."

Slowly then he walked over to the stone that had been set beneath the tree, and dug a small hole. In this hole he placed the vase and then filled in the rest of the hole. Curiously enough, the opening of the vase was left above the ground, uncovered. Nickoli then walked back to the carriage, and returned with a small bag of dirt and some seeds.

Nickoli placed the ground gently in the open vase, and equally kindly placed the seeds in the dirt. Producing a small flask of what appeared to be water, he poured it into the vase.

Within three blinks, a small plant grew forth and a lovely purple lotus bloomed, and Nickoli kneeled once more.

"This lotus will never die by natural means, and was secretly one of his favorites."

"God rest ye, Friend."