Gyrfalcon

A song, eh? I can see the ability to sing it in there. Pretty good, Turi. =)

Ozymandias the Elder wrote, Gyrfalcon25 wrote, Gyrfalcon was *not* in a happy mood, to say the least. First, Jakob had blown up rather spectacuarly... "Jakob!" The half-elf cried, striding quickly after the old man. "A moment, please-" Jakob whirled around, fury blazing in his clear grey eyes, though now and then they showed hints of blue. "NO! Not a word out of you, young man. I will not listen to your arguments, I will not give up my secret. Continue to follow me and I shall have the Paladins escort you to the roadway, with more then a few welts for your troubles!" Gyrfalcon stepped back, as the monk strode forward, managing to loom somehow. "Trouble me no more! If I see your face again during your stay at this church, I will make sure your stay ends!" The monk snarled before whirling and stalking away. Gyrfalcon stood where he was for long minutes after the monk left, slightly stunned. Finally, he shook his head and ghosted the other direction. He'd rather not be put out of the church just yet... This led to where Gyrfalcon now walked the halls, mood darkening steadily. When they had arrived at the church, they had all had such great hopes of finding the location of the Pool and continuing their journey... instead, they now had *no* leads, with the monk adamant that he would never tell them. Gyrfalcon's eyes automatically scanned the halls for threats, though there should be none. He passed by a woman dressed in dark colors, who for a moment seemed to look at him oddly. He dismissed that thought, of course- he was starting to jump at shadows, for some reason. He tried to ignore the whispered thought sometimes you jump at shadows because the shadows will jump at you.

*Gyrfalcon applauds* Very good poetry! (sad subject... We need happy poets!)

*Gyrfalcon applauds* The only change I can suggest is this line: I am the sickness and I am the pure you used pure in the previous line, thus: I am the sickness and I am the cure *Gyr applauds*

*Gyrfalcon applauds* Very good... though I wonder, from your name, is this set in a modified Wheel of Time universe?

*Gyrfalcon echoes Peredhil and adds applause*

Gyrfalcon sat down on the old man's bed, stunned. well, *that* wasn't what I was expecting at all… he thought to himself. Without Jakob's help, though, he doubted they would be able to ascertain the location. He glanced around the room and shook his head. If the Pool had destroyed Jakob's life, he doubted the old man would keep any tomes to its location near himself, certainly not in his room. With a sigh, Gyrfalcon stood again and looked to the Dreamer and Timothy. "So, any ideas?"

*Gyrfalcon claps* Cool! =) Is that all of the book? *Gyrfalcon thinks a much longer one would be to start with that one, then all the children's rhymes that this came from*

*Gyrfalcon applauds* Poor Myth.... at least being a hero has job security, if you make it to old age.

*Gyr begins reading, blinks, then says "YAY!" as hours disappear to good reading. =)*

*Gyr applauds and chuckles as Peredhil turns bright red* Heya, Cheyenne. =)

Gyrfalcon smiled disarmingly "We heard that Jakob had knowledge of some old stories. My friend here, Timothy, is a historian, and wishes to talk to Jakob to see if those stories might link to some histories he has unearthed. Its something of an acceptance project he is involved in for a major library in New Muriska." "And why are you two with him?" The man looked at the odd pair- the armored half-elf and the robed and heavily scarred human. "He brought me along for protection- we are friends, after all, and the roads between New Muriska and this wonderful cathedral are long and dangerous. As for the Dreamer, he likewise has an interest in these stories, and we decided to journey together for mutual protection. The monk studied the Dreamer quizzically. "Why is he called 'the Dreamer'?" Gyrfalcon smiled slightly and stepped forward, bringing the monk's attention to him, away from the color changes in the Dreamer's eyes. "What better name for a writes of new epics and stories?" Gyrfalcon asked with a crooked smile. "Now that we have said who we are and why we have come, can we meet this Jakob?" The monk studied the three and looked uncertain "I should go ask… wait here." He strode away swiftly, and Gyrfalcon drew the other two back away from the monks to talk quietly. "Why didn't you tell them the truth?" The Dreamer asked in an emotionless voice. He was simply asking- not approving, nor accusing, just desiring the information. "Because," Gyrfalcon said with a small grimace, "I prefer not to spread our quest to all ears… if people knew that Jakob had some knowledge of what we seek…" he trailed off, letting the two form their own conclusions about how long Jakob would survive if some of the searchers get their hands on him. "Anyway, Timothy, New Muriska is a city I know. You lived in a small, nameless village on the outskirts of the kingdom- they're all the same, so if you've been in one, you've been in them all. I convinced you to apply to the Library there, and they sent you on this quest. You've never been to Muriska if they ask what its like." Timothy nodded. "Dreamer, you can fend for yourself most likely. Just try not to show off your powers too much…" The Dreamer looked at him expressionlessly, but his eyes slowly shifted from color to color before he nodded assent. The monk returned a few moments later, and gathered them together. "Well…" he began.

*Gyrfalcon laughs and claps* Teachers usually don't grade those well, but nice try anyway. =)

Gyrfalcon looked at the bartender and shook his head at the same time as the Dreamer. "I do not have any need of such things." The Dreamer commented, his reply merging with Gyrfalcon's "I prefer not to drink." The bartender scowled at the two of them, and if it were not for the chance that they would buy a meal, would have asked them to leave his inn immediately. Times were bad enough without customers not wanting drinks. Timothy, however, asked for an ale, and the scowl was replaced with a smile as that ale lead to a meal for the half-elf and Timothy, though the Dreamer merely shook his head, almost in exasperation at the needs of their frail bodies, and wandered back up to his room. The meal passed silently between Timothy and Gyrfalcon. They eyed each other when the other was not looking, wary, as if they were facing a strange, foreign creature for the first time… Timothy, who believed that no one ever did anything simply for the cause of good. Gyrfalcon, who would bleed and die for a complete stranger if he thought that would serve the greatest good. Finally, the meal ended, Timothy sipped from his nearly empty mug of ale as Gyrfalcon finished his glass of water. Compelled by the brooding silence, the half-elf looked to Timothy and finally spoke in a soft whisper that did not carry to the bartender, leaning against the bar and looking bored out of his mind. "While the food was good, I can't say much about the service." Gyrfalcon inclined his head slightly, towards where the bartender yawned and shook his head to stay awake. Timothy froze with the mug of ale in front of his face, but Gyrfalcon could see by the way his eyes narrowed and the glint of warmth in there, as well as the way Timothy's shoulders shook, that he was silently laughing in agreement. The two stood and turned upstairs to finish getting ready for the road before collecting their belongings, Gyrfalcon generously lending Timothy a dark brown cloak to wear until they could buy one for him. They knocked on the door of the Dreamer's room, and after a few moments they heard movement inside and he opened the door and stepped past them, not even asking who it was or what they wanted. Gyrfalcon and Timothy exchanged glances and the half-elf shrugged before they trailed after the Dreamer. A few minutes later, they rode out into the street…

*Gyrfalcon applauds the excellent poem* (or should this sort of thing go to the feedback forum now?)

Gyrfalcon frowned and responded. "My namesake?" He asked, wondering what the young man meant. "You know… Gyrfalcon, that famous half-elven archmage." The response came, Timothy's tone making it obvious that surely this Gyrfalcon had to know of his namesake. At the same time, there was a slight tone of scorn… Gyrfalcon forced down a chuckle "You don't seem to belive in helping others, Timothy." "Better that people help themselves then someone else prop them up." Timothy answered quickly. "But when those people are unable to help themselves, and you can, it is your duty to help them." "Is it? Why should I go out of my way to help people who have never done anything for me?" Timothy responded. Gyrfalcon shrugged and sighed before answering "It is to each person to decide what they want to do for their people. I choose to do everything within my power to save them." Gyrfalcon turned to the Dreamer and nodded "Ready to go?"

Wyvern has a lot of stuff going on, so applications take a long time to process. You've only waited two days... be patient. =)

Gyrfalcon hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and now this impertinent young fool was making demands of him. To put it tactfully, Gyr wasn't in the best of moods. The young man didn't seem to pick up on Gyr's darkening expression as he contemplated undoing the Dreamer's work from last night. Finally, Gyrfalcon forced down his anger and tried to answer the questions. "This is the Felleros Cathedral. You are in the guest quarters thereof. My name is Gyrfalcon. Now, since it is just after dawn and its been a *long* night, I'm returning to bed." Gyrfalcon stifled a massive yawn and pointed down the corridor. "Go that direction and you'll find some monks who can no doubt guide you where you want to go… I wouldn't go outside yet if I were you, though, its still not safe out there…" Gyrfalcon nodded his head sleepily and closed the door. Timothy could hear the bed groan in unison with the half-elf as he collapsed on it.

Ouch! I'm sorry to hear how your day went... I'm probably lucky nothing as bad has happened to me... *Gyr hands Cerulean a towel, a pixy stik, and takes the camera away from her ex. =P* but you aren't incompetent, though I'll give you unlucky. =)

Gyrfalcon shook his head in wonder. With a few words and a simple touch, the Dreamer has cast a pair of spells that had left even the good Father Derick and Brother Yorick speechless, even as they were the two most accomplished healers in the cathedral. Gyrfalcon was awestruck as well. Not by the amount of healing the Dreamer had managed- he had seen an archbishop do much the same, but with great effort, and more then one spell. More to the point, Gyrfalcon had assumed that the Dreamer was a pure mage, and he didn't think any mage could heal like that… With a sigh, Gyrfalcon shook his head and motioned for a monk to help him as he lifted the now deeply sleeping young man by his shoulders. One monk held up his legs as another two picked up the woman. "Father Derick? Where would you like them to be placed?" Gyrfalcon called out. Father Derick shook his head in wonder and then stopped looking at the door the Dreamer had left through. "Oh… yes, yes… I think the guest quarters next to yours are free, aren't they? Put them there… No need to put them in the infirmary, I think that strange man just healed them fully… with what looked like a simple spell." Father Derick shook his head and motioned one of the milling monks to guide the Gyrfalcon and the three monks with their burdens. After installing the young man in the empty guest room, Gyrfalcon shook his head and returned to his own. Somehow, he sensed, their journey would be very interesting in the future if this sort of thing was becoming common in the area.

Go Signe! =)

Gyrfalcon looked at the Dreamer, but he stared at Father Darick hard, his eyes slowly going from one color to another. With a shake of his head, Gyrfalcon next looked at the Avian woman, who blushed slightly and clutched a book she had taken with her out of the library more tightly, as if seeking protection. "Well, I guess that I will start off. Since the good lady asked who I was before, I will start there. I am Gyrfalcon. I have no surname." Gyrfalcon said flatly, the words statements of fact. "I rule over a small kingdom far, far to the north. I've come to the South-" the Avian chuckled softly and Gyrfalcon raised an eyebrow. She shook her head and motioned him to continue. Gyrfalcon shrugged and did so, not knowing that the Avian's home was even farther beyond his kingdom. "I've come to the South to search for more information on the Pool of Eternal Reflection, as I've discreetly found everything I could near my kingdom. There was not much to find." Gyrfalcon looked worried for a second, wondering if perhaps the Well did not exist. "I search for the Well for a moment of wisdom. I've discovered that several of the seals of Armageddon have been broken. The breakings are happening slowly, decades between each one. Yet they are happening. When the last one breaks…" Gyrfalcon trailed off, and no one had to ask for the finish of the sentence. Armageddon. The end of the world. Father Derick leaned forward slightly. "But one of the seal-breakers has been found and will be dealt with." Gyrfalcon nodded. "Dealt with, yes, and the seals will be repaired. For how long? Eventually, some group will succeed and Armageddon will happen. I search for that wisdom to find out if there is some way to save my people from Armageddon… or more specifically, the horrors that come before the end. I've found accounts from the last Armageddon, the pages splashed with old, old blood. Humans turn into monsters and visit atrocities that not even a demon could think of on their own people, in many kingdoms, on their own families. More often, it is on those kingdoms around them, even kingdoms that were strong allies before the Great War." Gyrfalcon looked sad and a faraway look entered his eyes for a second. "I've lived through such a horror, I do not wish my people to suffer the atrocities." Gyrfalcon sat back and waited for the Dreamer or the Avian to speak next.

Gyrfalcon looked at the Dreamer, who shrugged. Neither of them had any idea where the basement of the church would be located. Gyrfalcon thought to ask the priestess, but she had disappeared around a corner. With his own shrug, he followed after the Dreamer, who seemed to choose a door at random. Fifteen minutes later, Gyrfalcon and the dreamer had covered about half of the sprawling church's ground floor, having inspected the kitchen, monk's cells, and the chapel, all with no luck. That hadn't even found anyone to ask directions from. Gyrfalcon was starting to become slightly unnerved. Surely a major church like this one would *someone* somewhere. The echoing silence made that seem unlikely. Finally, with a lot of muttered curses, the two of them found that the stairway down to the lower levels. They quickly made their ways down two more staircases and came to a dark corridor, the torches set in the wall sconces unlit. Gyrfalcon took one of the torches from its holder and quietly invoked the words of a minor spell, which caused a warm glow to appear, centered on the tip of the torch. The Dreamer gave Gyrfalcon an inquiring look and Gyrfalcon smiled as he responded. "Normally I would just light the torch and be very careful in the library, but the possibility of burning his church's most holy works would put Father Derick in a bad mood. Thus, A magical light that I can carry with us. The Dreamer nodded and the two set off down the corridor. Guided by the glow of the magical light, they quickly found their way to the end of the corridor, and a sturdy wooden door. Gyrfalcon knocked twice on it, and waited for a response. When none came, he knocked twice more. "I wonder if fell asleep or if the library is just too big for Father Derick to hear the knocking?" Gyrfalcon asked rhetorically as he opened the door to the library and stepped inside…

The three men came to a halt, one behind the Dreamer, one to Gyrfalcon's side and edging towards his back, and Reyn in front, a greedy look on his greasy face. The Dreamer's features tightened as he put down his glass, obviously understanding the implied threat as the third man slipped around behind Gyrfalcon. Gyrfalcon sighed and dropped the pretense, straightening to his full height and staring Reyn straight in the eye. The last time he had done this, Reyn had turned pale and nearly run away. This time, he gulped once, then glanced at his companions, who were situated behind the Dreamer and Gyrfalcon and a rat-like smile slipped onto his face. "Hellloooo, pointy-earssss." He grinned, showing broken, yellow teeth. Gyrfalcon's eyes narrowed as he restrained his anger and tried not to fantasize about killing the man. Reyn's grin slipped a little, but then he reinforced it and spoke on, hissing slightly on the 's'es. "Sooooo… my friendsss thought it would behoof you to tell them about what you are ssseeking…" Gyrfalcon felt a knife press against his back, and from the way the Dreamer's face tightened further, Gyrfalcon suspected the same had happened to him. The man behind him whispered into the half-elf's ear, his voice… bland… no changes in tone, no emotion. "It would be best if you answered our questions about the Well of Souls." Gyrfalcon stiffened slightly, shocked. The 'Well of Souls' was another name for the Pool of Eternal Reflection. Gyrfalcon had discovered this through extensive research of the old legends of Terra, and too many details rang the same between the two old, old, and nearly forgotten stories. "Who sent you?" Gyrfalcon whispered back, and the knife pressed harder against Gyrfalcon's back. "None of your business, half-elf, and if you don't start answering questions, your end will be long and painful." Gyrfalcon grimaced slightly. The man had said nothing about letting the Dreamer and Gyrfalcon go, and Gyrfalcon suspected that would not be the case if he submitted to their questions. Gyrfalcon caught the Dreamer's eye, and he nodded slightly. Gyrfalcon had no idea what he planned to do, but he suspected the man could more then care for himself against the assassin behind him. "Reyn… the word is behoove… not that I expected a wererat like you to know that." As Reyn's face darkened with blood, he clawed for his sword with a growl of rage. Gyrfalcon idly wondered how good Reyn would be with the weapon. However, that didn't stop him from remembering to utter a magical word. " Silexcorium" The man behind Gyrfalcon plunged the dagger home, the blade parting through Gyrfalcon's cloak, the mithril of his field plate (confirming the weapon's magical enchantment) and the clothing under the armor, to strike Gyrfalcon's skin… and stop. Gyrfalcon whirled away from the man and Reyn, drawing two daggers as he did so, his skin still glowing faintly blue as he stopped his spin to face Reyn and the assassin.

Gyrfalcon raised the sword again, and stepped away from his mount, who stood quietly. "Why we are both here? And what would you know of my quest, stranger? For I have never seen you before." He was fascinated by the scars that covered the man's face and hands, and from how they extended down his neck and up his arms, quite possibly a large portion of his body. He was either very unlucky, or there was more to him that meets the eye. Gyrfalcon clutched his hands around his katana harder and considered his limited repertoire of spells should this man be an assassin. Gyrfalcon didn't discount that possibility- one of the most deadly assassins he had ever seen had been a small, nearly featureless man that could possess the bodies of others and use them to slay his target. For a heavily scarred man in a robe to be one was not so great a stretch. Gyrfalcon had long since learned that to underestimate someone was a good way to die. The man raised his hands to show they were empty, but Gyrfalcon was little comforted. There was something about the man… about his eyes in particular that unnerved the half-elf. They weren't normal, by any stretch of the meaning. For the first time in his life, Gyrfalcon considered the fact that he might stand before someone who could extinguish his life with barely a thought. Gyrfalcon waited for answers from the stranger, his knuckles white from the grip he held on the hilt of his katana.