The Water lily

The Water Lily Inn was situated near the centre of the old city, over a thousand years old, the weathered stone exterior still bore scars from the Great War. Black scorch marks trace strange patterns on the stone from ancient wards that protects the building. New roof tiles shine brightly in the late morning sunlight as Gen approached the entrance to the Inn. Smiling to himself as the soldiers at the door straighten at his approach, too young to know who he is yet a personal friend of the Lord Marshall must be important.

Quite conversation could be heard from inside the common room of the inn. In the corner near the kitchen sat the owner in deep conversation with the house chef. With a cursory gesture he motioned towards the spiral staircase to the left of the entrance. As it has been many a year since he last visited the Water Lily Gen idled a while in the common noticing the new improvements to the establishment. Wide, comfortable lounge chairs where placed near the two hearths with numerous heavy, dark tables discretely spaced to maximise space yet maintain the privacy of the occupants. Rich carpets from Riyot lay randomly scattered across the floor, giving the common room a casual yet luxurious feel. Remembering why he came, Gen walked up the stairs. At the top of the stairs bright sunlight enveloped him. As he entered the private sitting room, a large bay window showed a magnificent view of the gardens, with an arching bridge over the lake, filled with blooming water lilies, which gave the inn its name.

The Lord Marshall reclined in a wing backed chair, chin resting on his hands, a man with grave concerns on his mind. Gen studied his old friend; the years have been good to him. The ravages of war have been tempered by a relatively quite post, yet things were never as they appear. Knocking on the wooden arch that served as a doorway Gen entered the presence of the old man. “Lord Marshall.” Gen bowed, hands at his side, palms facing outward. He maintained the bow a few seconds longer than customary, yet few alive would understand the significance.

“Gen.”

With a languid wave of his hand Lord Marshall indicated to the chair opposite his. Gen settles gratefully into the comfortable chair with a long sigh. The man opposite him arches an eyebrow at him. Gen smiles ruefully, “Over indulgence.”

“Not as young as we use to be anymore are we Gen? That is what makes this mess even more trying; if I was a younger man I would scour the earth for this creature. Alas, now you will have to do it by yourself.” Rubbing at his forehead Marshall looked towards the towering statues. Leaning to the side he picked up a small bundle from beside his chair and tosses it onto the table next to Gen. “ A little gift from our dead friend.”

“Let me guess, wooden tiles, expertly painted…” Upending the little bag onto the table top with a loud clatter, he slowly moves them about with a lazy finger.
“Three tiles missing, would you care to tell me which ones?” Slowly Marshall turns the tiles one by one while Gen studies each intently. As he turns the final tile around Marshall looks up into the deathly pale face of the man opposite him. “I must be missing something from the bigger picture; I haven’t seen you this afraid in many years.” Marshall sits back and motions to the servant waiting at a side door. Quietly he whispers in servant’s ear that then leaves the room.

They both sit in absolute silence, the servant returns with steaming mugs of coffee for each of them. Placing the mugs with care he leaves the room, never hurrying, drawing the door closed behind him. Taking a sip of the warm coffee Gen finally looks up. “What you did not see was the pattern melded into the marble flagstones at the bottom of the statue. Combined with the missing tiles it forms a completely different story. This wasn’t a ritualistic killing, not in the normal sense anyway. This was a puppet binding, the placing of the tiles was done by the victim, through his own free will.”

“Wait, I am a bit confused. I thought this was a ritual killing, with the tile placements and the desiccation of the corpse. This was classic necromancy, with the victim’s life force fuel for the casting. If you include the tiles then you have a soul binding into a new construct.” Marshall sat back with his mug between his hands. “This would mean that we have a necromancer and a construct roaming free within city limits, and my reason for calling you.”

Gen smile at Marshall, taking a long draught of his coffee he sat forward in his chair. “Basically your observations are correct, if this was necromancy. But we both know that it cannot be, the plaza is sanctified ground and warded tighter than a maiden honour.” Gen takes another sip of coffee just to calm his jangling nerves.

“No, this was only meant to look like a ritual binding, the pattern was not soul forged, just burned into the marble. That is the part that has me afraid, the wards were bypassed."

“Impossible.”

introducing Gen

Gen starts awake to a furious pounding on his front door. Groaning he stumbles from his bed, searching for something to wear. Realising that he is fully dressed he navigates the short passage towards the door. The insistent pounding reverberates in his skull, turning the dull ache into a raging storm of pain behind his eyes. Opening the door he glares at the officious militia constable through bleary eyes.

“What, has the world ended?” Gen rubs the grit from his eyes.

Confused the militia man begins, “Sir I…”

“I asked you a question soldier.” The note of authority in Gen’s voice gave the officer a moment’s pause before answering.

“No Sir.” The officer replies, trying to keep his irritation in check.

“Then piss off.”Gen turns, closing the door behind him, only to find that it was caught on something. Without looking he tries to slam the door shut, it rebound violently as the constable strong-arms the door open.

“Gen Isihiro, you are here by ordered to appear before the Lord Marshal at once. If you do not comply we are ordered to forcibly move your person to said location, sir.” The anger in the man’s voice was clear, Gen stopped, as the implication of the officer’s statement filtered through the quite storm in his mind.

“We, forcibly move…” Turning around Gen finally notices a full squad of militia standing in front of his house.

“Fine let me just get some coffee.”

“Apologies sir, we have coffee for you, please come with us, Constable Ridley here will secure your house.”

Staring at the constable Gen sighs, “Lead the way officer, and I guess my day will only get worse, right?”

The constable gave Gen a knowing look, this was going to be a very long day. Gen and the constable wound there way through his garden towards the road, the squad forming up behind at a discreet distance. City life was starting to awake to the new dawn, street vendors were unpacking carts, shopkeepers assistants were sweeping the storefronts and young children were slowly gathering at the skyline.

As they neared the centre of town, Gen could feel a chill creep up the back of his neck. Looking to the constable, Rob, he said. “Let me guess, Plaza of the Kings?”

“That would be correct, sir. If I didn’t know better I would have called that a very lucky guess, but the Lord Marshall did inform me that you had a sense about you.”
Rob gave him a side long glance. The stories of the war were still fresh in the minds of the local people, even if most of it was hearsay. Giant flying machines, un-dead soldiers, men and women tearing soldiers and beast apart with their minds, enough to make any god fearing man think twice.

“The Lord Marshall would be correct in his observation. Magic makes my skin crawl.” Gen rubbed his arms as the thought of having to enter the chaos again. “There are a few of us left after the war, mostly we try and keep out of trouble. As always trouble has a way of finding us.”

The cordon of soldiers blocking the road into the plaza moved aside to let Gen and Officer Rob through. The squad that were escorting them peeled away to some other part of the city, their duty complete. Rob took the lead across the plaza heading straight towards the statue of the Ancient First King. As they neared the statue Rob noticed the look on Gen’s face.

“I guess your morning just got a lot worse, didn’t it.”

placing of the tiles

Dawn set the sky ablaze as a riot of colour played upon the clouds. A cool breeze stirred the leaves of the tall birch trees lining the avenue. No sound could be heard except the hurried footsteps of a rotund figure, furtively scurrying along, constantly looking behind as if he was being followed. Yet all that filled the street behind him was the sound of his own passing.

The tree lined avenue soon gave way to a great plaza, paved with giant slabs of veined white marble. All around the plaza stood statues of men, each attired in a different outfit, yet all with the distinct aura of authority. The Plaza of Kings was the burial site for the monarchs of Streza, each statue a tomb containing the cremated remains of each ruler.

The rotund man stands at the edge of the plaza as if fearful to walk into the plaza. His destination was directly across the plaza, at the foot of the first and most ancient statue. He slowly edge into the plaza, waiting after every few feet as if a bolt from the heavens were to incinerate him for this sacrilege. Nothing happens, scraping up the dredges of his courage the man stumbles quickly across the smooth marble. At the foot of the statue he removes the wooden tiles he was given. Staring at the paintings on the tiles he remembers the precise instructions.

Place the tiles face up in concentric circles at the foot of the ancient one, the three tiles at the convergence of the circles must be the construct, the henge and the burning sky. Place the rest as you please, if you fail to do this task end your life for I will not be as merciful.


He tries to quite the shaking of his hands as he builds the patterns as instructed. As the final tile is placed in position, he hears a high pitched giggle echo through the plaza. Startled the man leaped to his feet, staring around wildly trying to find the source of the giggle.

Cold-laced pain flairs in his mind, as his personality is torn asunder by the invader. Blood flows from every orifice as the man’s soul is torn from his dying body. The corpse falls to a heap at the foot of the statue, its final breath wheezes’ from the cold dead lips across the scattered pattern. As the sunlight burst onto the plaza three tiles burst into red flame, bathing the early morning plaza in the eerie sound of giggles.

The Gathering p. 4

Nox causiously walks towards the fallen body, lightly prodding it with a foot.

"Another bloody puppet."
"Lucas is starting to really starting to piss me off. How many of these bloody things have we wrecked so far?"

She turns away from the oozing mass, red mist seeping into the night sky as the body slowly dissolves.

" Did you know they are only puppets Gen?"

"No Nox, but I suspected that might be the case."

Seven. Rubbing his hands through his hair, a tiredness settles into his bones. How long have you been planning this Lucas? Have you always been the one we were looking for?

"Nox, Crow, we are wasting our time with this game. Raze this area to the ground, destroy everything, don't hold back."

"That fat bastard is not even here."