Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Isk]

---

“I understand,” Isk said with deliberate slowness, “that things are not going as expected.” The porcelain masked magnate approached a small desk in the center of his cabin which held a pair of open scrolls - letters, one from the elf Legerion from his home in Malas. Isk seated himself at the desk and began to read the elf’s angled script. Blinking the blur from his eyes and shaking his head he rolled up the missive and held it over the burning candle at the side of his table.
“Some things never change” Isk reflected to his silent guest. Crumpling the flaming paper into his incense bowl to scatter the ashes Isk continued to speak. “What is left? Discover what Rufus would have us do then dance to his tune according to our best abilities. To not act at all is to enter stasis with the rest of the Loyalists and be overtaken by this Order ideology. We are being threatened!” Moving his right hand over his mane of silvery white hair Isk lifted his voice “I just wish an end to the bickering between those ‘children’. Over half a dozen and we claw each other’s eyes out at the meetings but away from Serpent’s Hold they do nothing!”
Pausing Isk responded to his silent guest “Yes, it seems that we were blind to the threat which the Dark Order presents. Tarothin was clever enough to gain allies within the Loyalists before he made his move to become one but his ego is too large and he will make a mistake. Like a fat child he will be caught with his hand in the cookie jar and we will be the annoyed parent ready to disperse punishment.”
Chuckling lightly Isk nodded to his guest, breathing in the faint smell of drugs which still clung to the room Isk continued with a tired tone. “How perceptive you are. Order against virtue, that is what is becoming of the Regency. A schism is in the future.” Playing with the drug fog around him with his left hand Isk repeated the word “Schism.”
Reaching his hands to pick up his guest Isk spoke to the Helm of Evil. The heavy mixture of drugs and relaxants the porcelain masked Magnate ingested earlier had turned the helm into a pleasant listener.
“An ideological war. That would be catastrophic. We have spent too much energy concentrating on Martin for there to be a new threat this late in the game, let alone one from the inside.”
Exhausted Isk closed his eyes as he held the shadow iron guest to his heart. The potent drugs held his body in a relaxed grip as Isk’s head started to feel heavy, with his shoulders slouched the magnate gave into his body’s demand for rest.