Crow traced the ink on the parchment, his fingertips drifting over the signatures. He wasn’t reading names. He was feeling the pressure of the quill, weighing the intent and the force behind each stroke. It was a dark habit of his to find the man within the ink. Yet, as he traced the lines, his thoughts drifted to the voids on the page. Sometimes, the ink that isn’t there carries the most weight.
Taog’s signature was missing. A pity. Crow would have preferred him here, not out of sentiment Taog. He understood the gears of the Castes, and Crow had always held a sharp, jagged respect for a mind that could navigate the laws of Gor as cleanly as a his dagger navigates a ribcage.
Then there was Scar. His absence was predictable, tedious even. Crow had spent years pouring his blood into the man’s cup, only to realize the vessel was bottomless and ungrateful. Scar operated on a deluded sense of entitlement, demanding a loyalty he had never truly bought. A mistake Crow wouldn’t let him make again.
But Solomon… Solomon was the complicated one.
Solomon hadn’t signed, and Crow suspected it was born of a newfound caution. They had been mentor and student once, a dynamic of clear horizons. But the shadows had grown long. With the secrets Crow now carried. This knowledge that could unmake better men and with it the balance had shifted.
Solomon wasn’t an enemy; he was a brother-in-arms, but a brother who now realized the whelp he had raised was fully grown. There was a new, sharp edge to their silence. Crow didn’t resent him for it. He knew better than most that very few people truly saw the man beneath the “Charming Killer.” They saw the flirtatious grin and the easy humour, the polished façade he maintained. They didn’t see the dark depths where his true thoughts lay coiled and hidden. That man in the mirror could never be fooled. “Back to business.” He mused as he rolled up the scroll and stored it in his chest , the lock clicking like a final word..
Important matters were piling up, and Crow could feel the weight of them. This assignment had dragged him across every godforsaken corner of Gor, and as the Tahari sand stung his skin, he realized the people who actually held the answers were likely long gone.
Whispers. That’s all he had. But the air felt different here—he was close. The problem was the distance; he couldn’t be in two places at once, and the clock was running out.
He needed a messenger. “Find the one called Vesper at the Loom,” he told the runner, his voice raspy from the heat. “Or Erebus. You’ll likely find them both there. They’ve known of this business for a long time.”
He sat to write, his hand moving with a precision that felt out of place in the desert. The elegant sweep of the letters betrayed him—it was the handwriting of a man raised in the High Castes, a remnant of his years spent hiding behind the robes of a Scribe and a High Magistrate. This time, he didn’t have the luxury of being cryptic.
I am in the Tahari. I narrowly missed the ‘physicians’ carrying the vial we discussed. Word is they are headed for Ar’s Station. I cannot say if they serve the light or the dark. Whatever you do, do not let that vial be opened—not unless you are certain the light prevails. — Crow
He kept it brief. If the scroll was intercepted, a few vague words might save his life. Now, it was out of his hands. It all depended on whether they were clever enough to read between the lines.
This blog once started with a post about my views on the caste and gorean roleplay. One of the first posts was about rank. This roleplay I didn’t want to post because it is too much praise and I am rather not the centre of anyones attention. But then a friend told me it was part of my story and should be posted. So here it goes – and it allows me to show my gratitude to those there in my roleplay story !
Thank you for all my friends there. K and Lyric for the pictures.
[2026/01/17 10:47] Sirius™ grins at his brother, “Tal, Killer. I am glad you made it.”
[2026/01/17 10:48] Şυтα ιиgℓєωσσđ would also Notice Master Crow and Lawan “greetings Master and Lawen, she would give the girl a wink “I was wondering when you was going to get here” she would say with a impish grin
[2026/01/17 10:48] Crow would brush some of the dust of his cloak and looks about himself. The amount of Crows was … hilarious – but surely such would not be shown on his features. “Ah … I see I come to a murder scene.” as the saying was more then one crow was a murder.
[2026/01/17 10:49] Al’Eru: His two uncles were here, neither of whom looked much alike, no matter how long he looked at them. “Tal Killer”
[2026/01/17 10:50] Sirius™ smirks to this, as he had captured each crow by hand and brought them here. He had high hopes that none would dive on them, and peck their eyes out. But rather bring out shiny and drop them in their laps. And high hopes none were shit on. “It is indeed, the scene of a murder. A murder of crows.. ” dun dun duuuun
[2026/01/17 10:52] Lawan decides it’s better to stay quiet and moves a little closer to A. Slowly, more and more people arrive. But her smile, her feigned innocence, greets each and every one of them.
[2026/01/17 10:52] Crow chuckles now. He would turn and dip his head to the other killers “Tal Killers. Girls.” he stated taking of his helmet and taking it under his arm.
[2026/01/17 10:52] Şυтα ιиgℓєωσσđ would notice more arrive “Greetings Masters and beauties”
[2026/01/17 10:54] KeDjA sneaks up behind Adira and hugs her from behind before whispering softly in her ear, ‘Long time no see, sister.’ One of the few people who get to enjoy this title is the blonde beauty who will always be Adira to Kedja. She kisses her on the cheek and releases her arms from around her body.
[2026/01/17 10:54] αяѕυѕ As always, his tarn throws him from the saddle, he rolls elegantly on the ground, stands up confident of victory, looks around as if nothing had happened. “Tal” was the only word he said.
[2026/01/17 10:56] αяѕυѕ “heel mine” was stated as he noted Kedja.
[2026/01/17 10:56] Lʏʀɪᴄ sticks close to her Master like glue at the large gathering. “Tal, Masters… tal, Slave Girls.”
[2026/01/17 10:57] Al’Eru: observed the arrival of more killers, waited a while until he sounded another “Tal Killers, slaves”
[2026/01/17 10:57] Sirius™ Obsidian should be here, but coming late.
[2026/01/17 10:58] Vesper would move into the circle of men and their beauties to see who was present and accounted for and who was likely still writing a speech or fixing to wear the right silk
[2026/01/17 10:59] Sadiyah || She drifted in the wake of others, the tiny bauble that dangled from Kage’s fingers as they entered into the gathering. Slithering through the crowd, she settles beside him, “Masters.” the polite cadence of that small word filtering from quiet lips, “Slave girls.” ||
[2026/01/17 11:00] Crow could tell that some had remembered some of his past. A purple camisk .. a bare chest .. and even his killcard of old. A silent reminder when he was the most shaggable of all. He simply dipped his head to new arrivals. Trying to keep an eye on all crows. You needed to be one to know them.
[2026/01/17 11:00] Snow wore his most spikiest outfit for the occasion, folding his hands before himself as he gave a small inclination of his head to those gathered, taking up position at the back of the group.
[2026/01/17 11:00] Şυтα ιиgℓєωσσđ would notice as more arrived, she would smile warmly at Kedja, it had been a long time since she had seen her she would then share that smile to all “Greetings Masters and Beauties” she would say with a bow of her head, her eyes cast down in a respect manner
[2026/01/17 11:00] Vesper looked down to Lyric, “There are many here today. Stay close…we’ll move to sit down now…others will be filtering in and we want to get out of the way.
[2026/01/17 11:01] Lʏʀɪᴄ : “Yes, my Master.”
[2026/01/17 11:01] KeDjA blinks for a moment before turning her head to get an overview of who is there. She winks at Crow and Sirius, then, at his command, scurries over to Arsus. ‘Tal Masters, Kajirae,’ she says in a soft voice, and finally stops to the left of her owner.
[2026/01/17 11:01] Sirius™ gestured with a sweeping hand toward the ceremonial area. He had wanted to build something that was liken to the Stand Towers of yesteryear. “Please find your seats, they’re not assigned. Where you sit, is up to you.( The chairs also have duo seating, for the girl to be at your feet)
[2026/01/17 11:02] Lʏʀɪᴄ :yelps as a crow pecks at her foot
[2026/01/17 11:02] Snow turned to head for the seating, leaving it to the slave to either keep up or be left in his rattling wake. So many spikes.
[2026/01/17 11:03] Serpent™ : Serpent stepped toward the circle with unhurried purpose, the helm tucked beneath his arm, its familiar weight a quiet constant. Black gathered around black, some faces known,.
He took his place among them without ceremony, posture relaxed, presence unmistakable. This was not his rite, not his claim. He was here to witness, to observe.
“Tal, killers,” he said evenly, voice low, carrying just far enough.
[2026/01/17 11:03] Kurotaka Shin’en taps keDJA head … ” wrong feet you at … “
[2026/01/17 11:04] Crow would place his helmet spear and shield to the side of the chair. Such was hardly comfortable and he considered the time he needed to sit and wait till this was over. In anything .. he felt completely out of place.
[2026/01/17 11:05] Lawan wasn’t afraid… but she did feel a little queasy. Somehow, it never ends. When everyone was there, she followed A and squeezed herself between the chairs. Finally, she sank to her knees in one fluid motion.
[2026/01/17 11:05] Snow furrowed his brow as the slave uncharacteristically wiggled. As she finally took up a proper kneeling position, his perturbed expression remained and he gave the smallest shake of his head, baffled for a moment before he turned his gaze back to the matter at hand. The rattling of the spikes, so many of them, really too many, finally stopped.
[2026/01/17 11:08] Şυтα ιиgℓєωσσđ with her owner finally arriving she would heel him as he took a chair, falling gracefully to her knees as she would remain poised and silent
[2026/01/17 11:08] Serpent™ : He shifted a step and took one of the seats within the circle, the helm resting against his leg as he settled, eyes forward, silent and observant.
[2026/01/17 11:09] Al’Eru: As so often, he was quiet and observant, looking at all the killers who had come and the slaves who had dressed up for the occasion. The trainee stood behind the chairs and was going to see such an event for the first time.
[2026/01/17 11:09] KeDjA After having to move the chairs around a little (thanks, Sirius *g*), she settles down on a small, low stool and begins to fiddle inconspicuously with Arsus’ trouser pocket until she catches one of the biscuits and pulls her hand out of the pocket again. She crumbles the biscuit in her hand and leaves a small trail of crumbs directly in front of her to attract the cheeky little crows that are scurrying around on the floor between the chairs.
[2026/01/17 11:09] Obsidian joined the gathering, his mind drifting back to so many years ago when he was called before such a group. With a deep breath, thankful for the years he had managed to survive, he looked around the room and offered respectful nods to those gathered. Then took a seat.
[2026/01/17 11:10] αяѕυѕ : Arsus, as if unaware of the importance of what is to come, settles comfortably into his chair. He nods to the others in greeting.
[2026/01/17 11:11] Crow would see Pariah and grinned. A dip os his head to him. A gesture of respect. There was much between them – but it needed so little words.
[2026/01/17 11:12] mai settles in on a small cushion to his right where she heels to him. A soft wriggle of her hips as she settles in letting that familiar purr drip from her lips. perched there at his side she did her best focus on the goings on ignoring all else in the moment. A shift of her head as she turns looking to out of the corner of her eye she fall silent as death not daring to speak
[2026/01/17 11:13] Sirius™ rose from his seat, and looked across the chamber. To every Killer, their slaves. Old Killers, and the new. Each were branches of the tree. ” Tal Killers, Trainee and slaves. I want to thank each and everyone one of you for attending today. (( I kind of went overboard on the crows, hence we are in the midst of a murder)). I have known this assassin since the beginning of my journey to the black. Which started in August 2014. Mind you, I knew this particular bird since 2011ish on someone else. The enigmatic Crow.”
[2026/01/17 11:13] Kurotaka Shin’en K settles into the seat without ceremony … letting the weight of the gathering speak for itself … eyes move slowly across the ring of killers and watchers … measuring history rather than faces … the presence of Crow hangs heavy … earned … unquestioned … proof that legend is not noise but consequence … His hand lifts absently … fingers finding Sadiyah’s hair with familiar ease … not only possession … recognition … he leans just enough for the words to reach only her … “This place remembers steel and silence … to stand within it is honor enough …” his gaze returns forward … steady … “Crow did not need praise … this gathering is his answer …”
[2026/01/17 11:13] Ƭʜᴇ Ṗᴀʀɪᴀʜ approached the location marked on the map delivered to him and then moved to take a seat in the gathering. Upon seeing so many familiar faces, he simply offered a single thump of his fist over his chest in acknowledgment to the silent greetings.
[2026/01/17 11:14] Sirius™ “Meeting this person, who role played circles around me, and all the while pulled you in and wrapped you with intrigue, mystique and falsehoods.. maybe some truth for fluff filler. I am sure you are all aware. AND to boot, he always was done up nice. Had his own groupie fan club and every slave girl wanted him as a master. Definitely kept you wanting for more. “
[2026/01/17 11:16] Vesper closed his eyes for a moment as he sat in the chair. He wasn’t sleeping, he was finely attuning, understanding the threads that connected each of the men to each other. In his mind’s eye, threads connected each to the other in overlapping ways. But there was a thick thread that held him tethered in this space, it was the first thread ever connecting him to the Black Caste and it led directly to Crow. He opened his eyes to look at his first Mentor and said, “You’re going to hate this… I hope you suffer through it well.”
[2026/01/17 11:17] Sirius™ “This character has played a killer for nearly two decades. In Second Life. I cant say with certainty that it didn’t begin before that in the chat groups. – I really should listen to them tell me these things!
The man trained under THE Solomon Voss, Serpent, Black Judas( even Scar). All legendary names. Names that in time, his would be forever associated with, in legacy.”
[2026/01/17 11:18] Sirius™ Vesper and Serpent have recently returned. With it, a return to the circle of lineage. Sol, Serpent, Crow, Vesper.. from the first of our kind in this digital world to now. A line unbroken. I came to know several of roleplays that joined the sims in stories and Lore.
I found out that Crow, while being a master assassin of cities, was never properly elevated to the rank. The truth of the matter.. Crow never sought glory for themselves. They had earned the Black Habiliments of the Black Caste, through the first training regimes. Which we all know, are tried , tested and true. He was granted the title of Killer. Assassin. The ONE title any of us need.
[2026/01/17 11:20] Obsidian listened to the tale of lore, knowing it well, and inclined his head in agreement.
[2026/01/17 11:21] Sirius™ So now his youngest brother, wants to dump a title on his head. Will it change him? No. He is still Killer. But will legacy remember? Doesnt matter, as the Killer title suffices. I am of his lineage. I am humbled and honored to be so.
[2026/01/17 11:21] Sirius™ What this honorific title implies, is that Crow has achieved the rank of Caste Master, per the Books.
“Candidates for the caste are chosen with great care, and only one in ten, it is said, completes the course of instruction to the satisfaction of the CASTE MASTERS.”
Beasts of Gor, Chapter 30
A historian of the Lore and Legacy. A teacher. A student. A leader. Works well with others. A Brother. A friend
[2026/01/17 11:27] Sirius™ moved to the side of his chair, and produced a scroll. Clearing his throat he read from its parchment:” Crow, Certified Master Assassin of Gor. The Black Caste Tented Compound does so recognize the time, contribution, and legacy in the nearly two decades you have been active. The BCTC hereby promotes Crow as Master Assassin and Caste Master of the Black Caste of Gor. Gold and Steel. ” he hands the scroll to Crow, ” I hereby promote you, with all our brethren supporting. Congratulations, Caste Master. “
[2026/01/17 11:30] Snow prepares for his throat singing solo,.
[2026/01/17 11:30] Obsidian Thumped his right hand to his chest over his heart as he looked toward Crow and spoke out, saying, ‘Hail Crow, Master Assassin of the Caste. Well deserved. Glory to the Black Caste.’
[2026/01/17 11:30] Crow would look to his brother. His eyes piercing through his in perhaps this idle attempt to torture him by placing him in the centre of attention. He would take the scroll without truly studying it. As if he rather wish to vanish with it and be done. “Thank you, Killer.” he stated – and as ever his voice betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil or feelings. It wasn’t void of anything. But it was as ever unreadable.
[2026/01/17 11:31] Serpent™ : Serpent inclined his head toward Crow, the gesture brief but precise. “Well earned,” he said evenly. “You’ve carried the weight long before the title found you. May the Black remain sharp under your hand. Gold and Steel.”
[2026/01/17 11:32] Snow thumped his hand against his chest in applause, though otherwise remaining still as the well-earned honor was given. It had been earned many times over. There was a gleam of pride in his eyes as he watched, the corners of his lips curling. “Well done, Killer!”
[2026/01/17 11:32] Kurotaka Shin’en K inclines his head in solemn measure… eyes steady… voice low and controlled…
“By Gold and Steel… the Black is strengthened today… I acknowledge the honor… and the weight that follows it… May your blade remain true… Caste Master.”
[2026/01/17 11:32] Sirius™ reached forward his hand holding a black sash. He offered it to Crow with both hands. “Now let the man be identified, with the sash of his station. “Should he take the sash proffered, Sirius would grasp the man’s shoulder and give it a hard squeeze, then clapped him twice in the same space. ” I hope Crow has something prepared to say to us all. Then I open the floor for others to speak. “
[2026/01/17 11:33] Ƭʜᴇ Ṗᴀʀɪᴀʜ listened to the words spoken, the tales told, and the words presented to promote Crow. “About time.” He said calmly, unsure why it took this long to recognize the man. Still it was a thing the old grumpy sleen needed to witness.
[2026/01/17 11:34] Crow would take off the sash of the captain he owned from 2009 and would move the sash to his upper arm.
[2026/01/17 11:35] αяѕυѕ : remembered the first time he met Crow, returning from a long journey. Much time had passed since then, and their paths had crossed many times. Arsus was never one for many words, so he simply said, “Hail, Crow, you have more than earned it.” He bowed his head as a sign of respect.
[2026/01/17 11:35] Crow never enjoyed being the center of attention. Perhaps it was one of his better traits; it allowed him to fade into the background, positioned near the fire but always as a supporting player, never the lead. This anonymity had served him well, allowing him to eliminate high officials in crowded cities. He had once even dispatched a thief in a packed square in Treve, while every warrior was preoccupied with protecting the Ubar and Ubara. He carried the scars to prove it—reminders of the day, though none had been lethal.
But now, he was the focus of every gaze. He felt their eyes upon him, and he knew they were reflecting on their own histories with him. Some memories were likely fond; others, undoubtedly bitter. He had never sought to be everyone’s friend. He had simply walked a path he believed had purpose: maintaining order in a world defined by chaos.
“I stand before you all humbled,” he began. “This is not a position I sought out of want or desire. In truth, I would rather be where you are now. But I understand that worth is often in the eye of the beholder. It is not my place to choose my own rank—though I know many have tried to do so. Perhaps this rank simply signals to others that I have a story worth hearing, or at least the knowledge of how to stay alive this long.”
As he stood there, every item he wore carried a weight of meaning. He was not a sentimental man, but his gear told his story: the young tarnsman, recruited and trained; the man who had tasted loss and gained wisdom traveling the wilds of Gor. He had remained curious, learning from those who taught him well—a man who appreciated beauty, yet remained ruthless, cunning, and precise when his craft demanded it.
“I accept this rank with humility,” he said, his voice steady. “The true gift was knowing you believed I held this rank long before it was formally given. I hope that teaches those who follow us that there is beauty—and power—in patience.”
Crow would stop hold pause in the way he could. He was a Koskinen. A snake that could warm itself in the sun, lazy and seemingly not paying attention. Of course such was only a ruse. The truth was much different. “Here I want to thank many that allowed me to be here. Some of them not here in the flesh. For instance Taog who has been a mayor influence in the way I portray myself. The storyteller.” he would turn to Serpent. “Serpent … a vast force for the true beginning. When he was a warrior in the city of Laura.” his eyes would rest upon him. The flikker of past upon them before he would cut the gaze to the center of the room. “Arsus, Snow and many others. But not only my mentors have made me the man I am today. So there were those I trained and while doing so. They mastered myself as it were. But all – do not underestimate the power and lessons of the girls here today. They too brought me much of my wisdom. Thank you all”
[2026/01/17 11:41] Sirius™ rose once again, and thumped his shoulder, “Glory to the Black Caste! Hail, Crow! The floor is now open to those wishing to speak. “
[2026/01/17 11:42] Snow lifted his hand into the air, indicating that he had something to say when the time came that there was a lull long enough.
[2026/01/17 11:44] Serpent™ remained seated as the sash was passed and Crow spoke. He did not shift, did not interrupt, did not add to the weight of the moment. His eyes followed the exchange in silence.
When the sash was lifted, his gaze lingered a fraction longer. He recognized the stitching, the balance of it, the small dagger worked into the fabric, the small dagger created at the forge by his own hands. Not ornament. Not sentiment. A reminder. Steel, even when worn. If a man were to earn the title, the least he could do was put in the effort to recognise it.
When Crow’s gaze found him and his name was spoken, there was no visible reaction at first. Only the faintest rise of one eyebrow, a flicker of memory passing and gone just as quickly. Laura was long buried. Warriors even more so.
At the mention of mentors, of those trained, of lessons learned from unexpected places, Serpent inclined his head once, slow and deliberate.
[2026/01/17 11:47] Ƭʜᴇ Ṗᴀʀɪᴀʜ had little more to actually say than his previous words. Those two words were enough for him, even if not everyone who heard them understood why he said them. The silence was a constant ally, and very few words were needed between himself and Crow. The man knew enough about his ways. Once the floor was given over to another to speak, Pariah’s eyes turned to acknowledge the one who would break the silence.
[2026/01/17 11:48] Snow rose to his feet from where he sat. He lowered a hand to the girl who sat beside him, passing over the parcel he had been carrying, wrapped in black silk. He spoke in those low tones, his voice resonant but never rising. “We entered training together. And by the will of the gods, you survived. To this day, I recall the killing blow. A blow well-dealt. The first of many. You do honor to the caste. You lead by example, not by words. I find myself often humbled by your wisdom, and for this, and for the many years of brotherhood, by blood of both line and that has been spilt together, you have my gratitude and my loyalty.” With that he gestured for Mai to take the wrapped weaponed over to her, though she would not know what it was she carried, for such was not the usual manner of things.
[2026/01/17 11:52] mai sees his motion and would unfurl her frame quietly. Bearing the weight of the silk glad thing she tenses her muscles to carry it only making her move slower and move intently as she moves across the floor weaving to and fro around the crows she arrives just before him. Folding neatly before him she positions the silk clad, thing and raises it up in small flat palms her head lowered and her gaze lower remaining there before him in silence
[2026/01/17 11:52] Sirius™ Vesper, then Obsidian, and Arsus please, when done, please indicate so.
[2026/01/17 11:52] Snow took his seat once more, inclining his head, finished with his words. He was, it seemed, sparing them all the throat singing.
[2026/01/17 11:53] Crow would rest his eyes upon Snow. There was a lifetime between them. The training, The brotherhood, the fights over slaves, the mischief during training, even the breaking of one of the rules. So much was passing by and yet – firm they stood still here. As the girl approached and his eyes as ever would travel over her with appraisal he would take the wrapping and receiving the beautiful adorned Masahiro katana. He knew the significance of it. The code that was written in the fac they were two. “Thank you.” he offered his brother
[2026/01/17 11:55] Vesper had been silent for much of the time, it was by design, he watched and listened to others, felt the weight of history in the room, and had sat at the table of the man that they honored enough to know when to speak and when to listen. So, because he was an Assassin and not a Clansman, he did not wish to torture the man more than necessary, and so he would say this only once and let it never be said again.
“Before titles were spoken, before authority was recognized, before any blade was ever raised in his name, Crow was already teaching us how to see. Not how to strike, not how to threaten, not how to be feared, but how to perceive the currents that move beneath a city’s stones and through the hearts of men. He taught by withholding answers until understanding was earned. He taught by hunger, by silence, by discomfort, and by forcing us to confront the quiet debts we incur when we mistake kindness for safety. He showed us that sight lies easily, that habit dulls judgment, and that the most dangerous leverage is not a blade at the throat but a hand extended without cost being named. Long before this elevation, Crow was already doing the work of a Master, shaping men who think before they act and who understand consequence before inevitability.”
“Today we do not elevate Crow because he seeks command, for he never has. We elevate him because he sharpens others without needing to stand above them, because he welcomes correction as readily as he gives it, and because he understands that the Black Caste survives not through spectacle but through discipline, restraint, and clarity of purpose. He reminds us that vulnerabilities must be guarded, that power is most effective when unseen, and that continuity is preserved not by constant action but by knowing when inaction is the harder choice. In naming him Master Assassin and Caste Master, we are not granting him authority he did not already wield. We are acknowledging what has long been true. That the Caste is stronger where he stands, clearer where he teaches, and more honest where his voice is heard. Gold and Steel…. Mentor. You have ripped the bandaid off and allowed us to force you into the spotlight for today, now that it is done, you can move into the shadows again.” (Done)
[2026/01/17 11:57] mai feels the man take whatever it was she lowers her arms waiting till he would again take his seat before she would again rise to her full height and return to her Masters side. Once there she perches
atop the cushion once more not daring to speak in this moment and only obey.
[2026/01/17 11:59] Obsidian looked to Crow as he rose from his seat. His voice measured, calm, almost hushed. He would be a man of few words on this occasion with so many present. ‘You have always been steady, Crow. From the time of my own training, I have known of you and held you in respect. The title thrust upon you today is one that, candidly, I always thought you had been granted or should have been granted. So to be here today to help honor the formality of what should have been many years ago, I am humbled and honored. I wish for you long life and successful contracts. We are a stronger caste because of the likes of you, Crow.’ He then bowed his head toward the man,one final show of respect before sitting down again. (done)
[2026/01/17 12:00] Tayir was quiet, just watching from her master’s side. Not a place for her to speak but she was present and observant.
[2026/01/17 12:01] Crow would incline his head towards Obs. It was meaningful when men as him spoke these words of praise. Truthfully – Crow had less adrenaline for a kill then for this gathering in which all eyes seemed to be upon him.
[2026/01/17 12:02] Al’Eru: This dignified silence was broken by words from killers who had shared a path with Crow. The solemnity of the moment made his words sound firm. It was time to honor a killer who had rendered great service to the caste and always remained modest in his own way. “Killer, my congratulations. You deserve it.” There were few words, but every single one was meant exactly as he said it. Honest, sincere, and with respect for achievement, patience, and humility.
[2026/01/17 12:02] αяѕυѕ : “Today we have elevated a man who did not seek it. A man who values caste more than titles. A man who is a master of his craft.” Arsus stood up and fumbled something out of his pocket. It was rolled up and wrapped in a black cloth. Arsus knew how serious this meeting was, but Arsus wouldn’t be Arsus if he didn’t bring a smile to Crow’s face, even if it wasn’t visible. Arsus would walk toward Crow slowly, and when he reached him, he would wait for Crow to stand up.
[2026/01/17 12:04] Crow would watch as Arsus approached. A brow arched as if in question. For some in this gathering it was perhaps clear that Crow didn’t trust Arsus when it came to these social matters. Crow had pulled enough pranks with Arsus to consider one back from him. So when he showed the small wrapped cloth he expected almost anything ? A spider ? An other object that would test his resolve ?!
[2026/01/17 12:06] αяѕυѕ : Their eyes might meet, he would lean forward and, with a quiet, inner smile, hand him the cloth with the something inside. Quietly, he would say, “I saved it for this moment. It may be cut up, but it will always remind you, perhaps with a smile.” And so he handed him a belt, a cut-up belt. For many, this belt might mean nothing, but for Crow, perhaps it did. Arsus didn’t know.
[2026/01/17 12:08] Crow would take the cut up belt and for a moment – even if it was brief – the corner of his lips moved up in to what seemed to be pained smile. The belt of course a beginning of a deep understanding and dare he say friendship. It was meaningful and yet also with the knowledge that even in the caste of assassins, amusement, humor and jests could be found. “Thank you, Killer.” he stated. It was said with great respect and sincere gratitude.
[2026/01/17 12:10] αяѕυѕ nodded, turned around, and sat back down in his chair. (done)
[2026/01/17 12:13] Sirius™ “Is there anyone else wanting to speak?”
[2026/01/17 12:16] Crow would almost give a warning glance … there was already enough praise to last him a life. “Good none … let us drink and eat before we resume to business.”
[2026/01/17 12:16] Vesper (razius): “Have we not already tortured him enough Sirius?”
[2026/01/17 12:16] Sirius™ “If the Killers are willing, let us feast.. The girls I am sure are just…itching.. to be of service. I of course will stare at my portion.”
[2026/01/17 12:16] KeDjA While Sirius spoke, she managed to remain calmly kneeling. A remarkable achievement, considering how many temptations lay before and beside her. And for once, that didn’t mean the men. When Sirius had finished his speech, she turned her gaze to Crow, and a smile flitted across her lips as Crow accepted the scroll, looking wonderfully cool – almost disinterested. Exclamations, congratulations and expressions of admiration rang out from the men present. She watches Crow change his sash, and her smile widens as she listens to his words. She can understand that he can even get an Ubara into bed with just his words. There aren’t many men who can use such words – and if there are, they seem to be found mainly in this caste. When his words end and most of the men have addressed their words, memories and wishes to Crow, and Arsus has presented him with the cut-up belt – malicious tongues might claim that Arsus’ business is bad, which is why a piece of destroyed leather had to suffice as a gift – her voice also sounds out in a low tone: “Congratulations, Master Master Assassin.” It doesn’t matter if anyone hears her, Crow is sure to hear this title – this tiny play on words – from her mouth more often now, and she is already secretly delighted about it.
[2026/01/17 12:19] Vesper : ”As you all know, the feast was created through lots of effort all week long in multiple Home Stones and with multiple merchants. We honor Crow, as is fitting for the man… by living the experience. When you eat, know that it was gathered through your connection with each other and the way that you worked together as Caste Members and slaves to create community. It is in that spirit that we honor Crow with what he taught us by example.”
αяѕυѕ shook his head. “I haven’t been to Selnar in a long time. The last thing I know is that a storm swept across Selnar and flooded parts of the city. My slave was there at the time,” he replied. “I must ask her what she saw there. “Do you still have contacts in Selnar?” he asked. He noticed Crow’s searching gaze over the area, surely looking for unwanted eavesdroppers. Then he turned to the warrior. “We don’t have much at the moment. We need to gather more information first.”
Crow (melchior.wardell) nodded. Crow had a network of spies that pretty much was shattered all over Gor. “Oh I am sure.” he replied to Arsus. “but one wonders why a man of the scarlet would find us with this information ? Is he fearful for war ? What is the issue underneath this … does it concern is woman ?” he asks Arsus. Crow unaware of their relationship or what was discussed previously.
αяѕυѕ: “I don’t have any more information at the moment. He fears a war and asked me for my opinion on the matter. That’s all I know so far, and this list.” Arsus took the paper and handed it to Crow. “As he said, Selnar is planning a war against several cities, including Holmesk.”
KeDjA (lilli.breda) strolls quietly out of the court, humming softly, her feet splashing gently in the water as she walks through the gentle waves and pushes past the plants that cover the entrance to the court. Two familiar silhouettes catch her eye and she stops humming before smiling slightly. Her movements become more cat-like as she pushes past the railing and shakes her feet briefly to get rid of the water between the soles of her sandals and her feet. She blinks back and forth between the two men before coming to a quiet stop. During a pause in the conversation, she interjects a brief ‘Tal Masters’.
Crow (melchior.wardell) listens and nods “If he fears war he is smarter then most warriors to find us.” he replied to Arsus. When Kedja arrived his eyes would be drawn to her. As a moth to a flame. He noted the purple silk draped over her shoulders. Had she remembered? For a moment he paused as to truly drink her in. “Selnar seems to have an appetite for war.” he replied. “If I think of it I wonder if there is any city that hasn’t yet had issues with them.” he pondered the prize on the head of the Ubar of Selnar. Or was it just the people in general that were hungry for power.
[03:36] αяѕυѕ: “And thats not all, he spoke about Selnar and few other nothers regions planning a war” he then added. “Not sure, if its true but if its true, may there will be a way to avoid it, on a diplomatic way perhaps. If this fails, maybe other ways more practical. But first, it is important to find out why they are planning a war. Perhaps it is only one or two individuals who are hungry for power, which could result in damaging the balance between the cities. That would be a reason to prevent it, if possible.” said it and looked for moment to Kedja.
KeDjA (lilli.breda) casually pushes a strand of hair over her right shoulder. Of course, this movement was not as casual as it seemed; that was rarely the case. Most of what she did was well thought out and planned. At the same moment, she pushes her shoulders back, improving her posture, before sliding the purple silk scarf on her left upper arm down a little. The cool silk leaves a slight goose bump on her skin as she tries to organise the content of the men’s conversation in her head. As always. Quiet and attentive, but not appearing curious. Her head tilted slightly to the right as she looked at Crow. It had been a while since she had seen him and, as always, she checked his appearance for changes, injuries or other signs that might indicate how he was doing.
Crow (melchior.wardell) was for that moment captivated. The strand of hair that casually felt from her shoulder. The silk. It showed in a way promise. He always enjoyed the girls antics but also her beauty. Never had he the pleasure of her use, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t fantasized about it. For a flicker there was that lustful gaze he gave her. A present – of a man so often in control – to her owner and herself. She was well trained. Perhaps even better then she was aware of. “I think it would be wise to keep some things between us. Not yet make it a caste operation if you know what I mean ?” Crow had seen some of the men busy in training and wasn’t very taken by it for now. He didn’t think he was the best, but Arsus and him didn’t think in quantity but in quality. In time to engage and not study from books on a shelve. “There is a spot you can visit if you ever wish to meet others. Ever heard of the loom?” he asks.
αяѕυѕ smiled to himself when he noticed how Crow was looking at Kedja, but he didn’t say anything. He agreed that they should keep the matter to themselves for the time being, so he nodded. “Until we have more information, it’s not important to inform the caste. Maybe it’s just a passing fancy, and we don’t want to scare the Kaiilas away prematurely.” It was a phrase he had heard somewhere before and found meaningful. When Crow mentioned Loom, he knew what it was, but he didn’t know the location yet. “I’ve heard of Loom, but I didn’t know there was a place to meet. Do you know where this place is?”
Only now did Arsus have time to greet Kedja. “Tal, Kedja,” he said with a smile. There was no one else around, so he could calmly show how happy he was to see her. Had she made herself look extra pretty for Crow, he wondered, when he noticed the purple scarf.
Crow (melchior.wardell) perked a brow at the mentioning of Kaiila’s. The animals useful in the desert and as a lover of animals the four and two legged once he had owned several. There were others too but with a tarn, tharlarion and sleens to feed. It would become a little much. “True and they are easily scared.” he mused – if it was in humor or serious – was anyones guess. “I have been there. I met up with a woman … a phsyician. She is on a little mission of mine. So I will see how she does.” he informed his friend. “Here .. this is a short map.” as he quickly drew a way to get there. “I was able to fly there by tarn.” he stated. “I am sure Shriek would love to meet up with your Shadow once more.” he winked towards Kedja.
KeDjA (lilli.breda) bites her lower lip when Crow’s gaze meets hers. For a brief moment, perhaps the blink of an eye, she keeps her eyes fixed on his before lowering her head. Almost as if she were shy, which – if you know her – would be a completely idiotic thought. If the topic of conversation weren’t so serious, at least to her at that moment, she probably wouldn’t have looked away, but would have moved closer to this man, whom many were surely afraid of, and enjoyed a nice flirt. For whatever reason, she had always been attracted to danger. Presumably, this carefree attitude had allowed her to live to such an old age. She didn’t worry about the fact that her life could end at any moment with these men, even though she was well aware of it. Her hands clasped behind her back, a habit she always had when she had nothing to do. Her head lifts again slightly when Arsus speaks, and she watches her owner closely to gauge how serious the situation might be from his facial expressions. She briefly tensed her muscles when Arsus looked at her, but then smiled when he returned her greeting. Now it was time to move, and she slipped between the two men and positioned herself to Arsus’ left. She purses her lips slightly, but her eyes sparkle with amusement when Crow mentions the two Tarns. ‘But this time without any chicks afterwards, please, Master,’ she says to him. As if he could prevent the animals’ natural instincts.
Crow (melchior.wardell) knew life upon Gor was serious. It always was rough, dangerous, filled with twist and turns. It shook life, people, castes and slaves alike in a way that was thrilling and yet at times stale. But sometimes there were these true gems. As in friends, moments, girls, weapons, encounters that made him feel alive and very much in place. He too had become old by looking danger right in the eyes. As if he taunted it as to get him. Catch him. And for now they always had the other end of the stick. “Well I can clear a room with my mere presence. I can silence an Ubar with only a gaze and yet …. I would fail miserably when it comes to the urges of a more primal nature of Tarns.” he admitted. His voice held no humor and yet – everyone knew he was jesting.
αяѕυѕ: “They’re easily frightened,” Arsus mused quietly to himself. He didn’t reveal whether he was referring to the Kaiilas or some of the caste. There was some truth in both. “You mean you have a physican in Selnar,” Arsus looked at Crow, “somehow I have the feeling you have a bride in every port,” and laughed, even though the subject was very serious at the moment, but lightening the mood never hurts. Shriek, yes, there was something else. Arsus’ flying skills with his tarn were legendary, probably not in a positive sense. He took the map Crow had drawn and looked at it, nodded a few times, and then said, “With the tarn, it’s possible to fail once again with my flying skills,” he muttered to himself.
KeDjA (lilli.breda) laughs softly at the words of both men. Addressing Crow first, she lets her voice sound gentle and flattering, ‘Oh, you’re selling yourself short, Master.’ She is convinced that he could convince anything and anyone, whether with fear or charm. She is also convinced that every woman, whether slave or free, would throw herself at his feet. Accordingly, she also assumes that he could control his Tarn when the going gets tough. She has already noticed that most of the black men’s informants are women. That could not be denied. Her face turns to the right towards Arsus as he takes the map. ‘Do I have to fly with you?’ Her mouth twists again. It is well known that she is not particularly fond of Arsus’ flying skills.
Crow (melchior.wardell) shook his head “No this physician lives in the forest near the outpost of the loom.” he stated. “She serves the caste in way. Or well that is what I got from it. I think my brother Sirius knows more about this.” he added. As to the phrase of easily frightened they were in complete agreement. “As to my contacts … yes I have many … but I fear my cock hasn’t seen a cunt in ages. I fear in a few hands I will take the old baker between her dough.” he jested “Seems many killers do not like to share their beasts.” as his eyes would look over Kedja once more. As the conversation turned to flying. “Oh for the Priest Kings sake .. one moment in time he will learn – won’t he ?”
αяѕυѕ: Crow had apparently taken a liking to Kedja, as many others had before him. However, many were concerned that I might be upset if Kedja were to engage in intimate relations. She is a slave, and it would be difficult to give her greater pleasure. She is certainly not shy in this regard. He looked at Kedja and noticed her joyful expression when she asked if she could fly with me. “Of course you can fly with me,” I said, glancing at Crow, “I’ve almost always arrived safely so far,” I added with a smile. Then he returned to the topic at hand, “How do we proceed? My suggestion would be for you to activate your contacts in Selnar, while I track down Onyx and see where she gets her information from and whether she can recount parts of the conversations to me.”
KeDjA (lilli.breda) snorts lightly when Arsus, of course, misunderstands her again and books her a flight with him and Schatten. Her eyes roll slightly, but a loving smile still appears on her lips before she turns her face back to Crow as he continues speaking, and her expression changes to one of disbelief. Him? No woman? For ages? Hard to imagine. That would be like saying that the priest kings are now knitting jumpers so that the Kurii don’t freeze in winter. She shakes her head slightly and, in her boundless openness, asks bluntly, ‘But why? Are you injured?’ Her gaze slides shamelessly, but with concern, to the centre of his body, as if she wants to check whether she overlooked something during her visual examination earlier. Her head shakes as Crow continues talking and brings up the matter of Arsus, the Tarn and learning. ‘I’m afraid not, Master,’ she murmurs in reply.
Crow (melchior.wardell) knew of the offer of Arsus when it came to his girl and his generosity. But Crow would never take advantage for such. As he turned to the conversation at hand. He nodded thoughtfully “I will do so. Let us keep in touch of what we learn. It wouldn’t hurt to have some ears there regardless.” he stated. “I need to check a few things for now.” at the gaze of Kedja he would move closer to her tap her nose “Perhaps your owner allows me to have you bath me soon.” he stated. “Nothing better then to overhear conversations in a bath house with a bond.” he winked there. “I need to be going. I see you both soon – and I will keep in touch.” with that the air stirred as Shriek presented himself to take him on another flight.
[16:11:51] Huntsy Silverpath rinished the letter as well as the scroll and held them out to you, then turned sharply ot the woman who hears songs, ” what have the songs told you Lady, what have you learned from them that you believe will help remove the artifact safely, and I caution you, the bio-matirix of the artifact itself has become symbiotic in nature, they have been joined too long, the artifact shell is an organism
[16:15:04] Niamh Strömberg nods “Yes. I learned this. ” she sighs. “Strangely enough … I need to sing it so I do not get the words wrong. So bare with me.” she started.
“The first verse goes like this … In the hollow of a chest, beneath the cage of bone A shard of ancient starlight sits upon a throne It doesn’t breathe the air, it doesn’t feel the cold It only remembers a story never told When the sky was a mirror and the sun was a chime Before the great sundering at the edge of time.”
[16:15:45] Vesper took the scroll and put it back into a pocket but would let the physician hold onto the scroll ((textures sent)) that Niamh had given him as that may have use to keep them wrapped. He kept his ears open and was glad the doors were locked. “Hall is closed for fumigations!” he would shout out.
[16:16:25] Niamh Strömberg would continue
“Deep in the silt of a riverbed miles away A sister piece is sleeping in the heavy clay And high on a mountain, where the hawks never fly A jagged edge is reaching for a piece of the sky They are calling through the dirt, they are calling through the sea A choir of the broken, a ghost melody.”
[16:17:21] Huntsy Silverpath heard the pounding on the shield, ” tal whoever is there I have sealed the kennels for possible quarantine purposes please stand away i may be sequestered several Ahn until I know for certain what the slave girl has!”
[16:17:57] Vesper would move toward the fountain and grip tightly as she sang in order to keep him standing, “Solomon, it’s what you and I spoke of…and here it has come to pass. I am a Captain at BCTC.”
[16:18:28] Niamh Strömberg would say “Now this is the important part as I think it shows us what it needs.” she would take another breath and sings the next
“The host feels the tug, a north in the mind Leaving the safety of the world behind Every step is a stitch in a shroud Every breath is a prayer said out loud The metal wants the metal, the soul wants the rest The weight of the ages is heavy in the breast”
[16:20:36] Lʏʀɪᴄ looks nervously over her shoulder. “Maybe we should omve closer to the office, my Master, Mistresses?”
[16:25:52] Vesper would listen to his girl, he was compromised now and he knew it…and knew that she was protective. He would move toward the inner part of the room. He would look to Niamh now and say, “I had no idea why I put this in my chest….and now there is a song that tells me, that I have never heard before, that THIS was EXPECTED!!!”
[16:29:40] Niamh Strömberg nods slowly “Those that rule upon Gor had always this hold upon the caste of assassin. I am sure it was no accident that most of the killers of a certain age and time were those effected by it.” she would look to Huntsy “I know all thes parts long to be together. I have a small heirloom. It might help to persuade the piece to let go of his host ?” she suggested. “But it is clear that silver and gold have something to do with it too.”
[16:32:48] Vesper would pull out a piece of silver from his last and currently ongoing task, and then he would pull out the first coin he was ever given to take a person’s life. Each coin, one representing life and the other representing death were handed over to whomever would take them. He whispered, “I am the man between these coins. Take me as I am.”
[16:34:52] Huntsy Silverpath shook my head hearing her words and knowing that hith was hearing voices himself, ” I have only just returned my journey took me to the lands of my past not long after the rise of my uncle in Ar, Marlenus was always one who sought power and would stop at nothing to possess it not even treason would deter his ambitions, this object power unimagined, from what I have learned if united the cataclysm could destroy two worlds, but the steel worlds can no longer allow that to happen, and the Artifact must be kept separate however we have a problem for it has bonded with Vesper, I chemical and physical dependency has occurred, removing it can be done but you will be vulnerable at least two hands and from your blood sample I took last visit, ive begun culturing rejuvenation serum, it has a short shelf life and takes a long time to culture, it is almost ready for use codded specifically to you Vesper, and you Naiamh provide the last link in the removal process, the only way for the artifact to let go of Vesper
[16:34:52] Huntsy Silverpath will be through song, it must feel it is about to unite to another piece can you do that do you feel?”
[16:38:51] Niamh Strömberg nodded “I can do that.” she replied in all earnest. It wasn’t a first that her songs had done strange things. It had unfrozen pieces of the North. It had melted a heart of a man of iron. It had given guidance and comfort. As Vesper offered the coin to Huntsy “So I understand that he will be extra vulnderable. Can he remain here guarded ? I can take him to the lodge, but there are no gates only the understanding that the land isn’t as often visited by strangers.”
[16:40:05] Huntsy Silverpath he can remain under my care, I will allow no harm to my patients
[16:44:23] Vesper would turn his head and say, “I’m tired of the chest pounders too Colton.” to no one…”but what matters is what will happen in the future…you remember I said that….Colton?” He squinted his eyes. Shook his head. Looked confused. Then he was back.
[16:46:23] Niamh Strömberg would smiled “Good. So when do you wish to start the proceedings ? Do you need to prepare anything ?” she asks. The song strangely enough started already to form in her mind. A song to seduce the fragment to let go.
[16:46:31] Lʏʀɪᴄ gulps, not daring to tell her Master that Colton had been gone to the city of dust these many years, and she wrings her hands in distress.
[16:48:49] Huntsy Silverpath Vesper are you ready to have this removed, and understand the consequences to you if the procedure fails? the artifact will revert to Parasitism once the symbiotic relationship is broken, if Nia falters in her song in the slightest it will not latch on to the false vessel, you body will begin to fail as soon as i remove it so she must not falter for I will be keeping you alive at that point”
[16:50:33] Huntsy Silverpath pain and a deep sorrow brought tears to my eyes as my heart caught in my throat a the mere mention of Colton’s name and my eyes flashed to Lyrics, but i did not comment as i awaited his reply
[16:52:00] Niamh Strömberg felt the words push to the chambers where her songs were sprouted. The irony. The girl that once was considered dead due to her leaving the boot of her Master had now been the one that had helped several men of the caste to remain alive. She would smile to reassure them all. “I will not falter. That is not where I come from.” she stated.
[16:53:03] Vesper looked to Huntsy and said, “I am ready to be done with this…13 years it has remained in my body…far too long, keeping me dogmatic and brutal…keeping me rigid and demanding without sway. I was once the snake, now I must be the weaver of the loom moving and swaying with the cloth upon the loom…looking towards the evening light. And if I am done, then it will be as an Assassin of the Black Caste of Gor and I will have lived a good life. then to the exam bed and you will need to be naked absolutely no metal near you
[17:00:07] Niamh Strömberg would follow. Humbled by the idea of what was to be done. The mere thought of someone at the mercy of song. And yet had it not been more then once ? Was it not for a purpose ? She would wait and go by what directions she would be given.
[17:00:57] Vesper would place his weapons aside for the moment as his mind moved to the past, each weapon pulled off was a story, a hunt, a kill, a death, a protection. He would move into this with vulnerability and it was that sway and bend that would help him survive. He whispered under his breath, “Cam…Pot maker of Lydius at your service.” the first disguise he ever wore.
[17:01:36] Huntsy Silverpath quickly scrubbed up then prepared bed setting up 4 oval pads along the side railings of the bed, I then connected the leads to box that ran the energy bulbs and the pads hummed until i switched them off for when i was ready
[17:06:06] Huntsy Silverpath adjust the positions of each pad that would generate a strong magnetic resonance I turned to his girl ” you wil lneed to keep his ring safe unless its made of gold is it solid gold vesper/”
[17:08:09] Vesper moved to settle onto the bed, naked as the day he was born. This too was a birth of sorts. He would look down at his rings and take each one of them off. Each ring, one for each finger on both hands, given to him over the years by various Camp Master Assassins, “Xaz….Hemaca received this from you….” He let his rings come into one hand and gave them to his girl.
[17:08:42] Lʏʀɪᴄ nods, taking the ring, keeping a distance since her collar, as well, is made of metal. “I will keep them safe,” she promises.
[17:12:27] Niamh Strömberg would stand quietly as she waited for everyone to be ready.
[17:12:30] Vesper nose and lip scritched up into a snarl of sorts behind his mask, the sociopath holding out the memory now of the dogmatic past he led. “Serpent, I have fought my promotions all along the way because I was sure that with only a few kills; despite the work for the Caste I have done, I was not worthy of each title. Tell me, point blank, if I am to see him, do I have permission to kill him?”
[17:14:32] Huntsy Silverpath pulled from under the bed an empty shell except it moved and was eerily similar to the artifact shell, I liad it next to your wound site and said when you sing visualize this empty shell, of its warmth and life ” focus your thoughts on it your song must feel it comes from the empty vessel, when I turn on my switch here the magnetism will release the inner mechanical locks that imprison the artifact, it will consume the fragment and transfer to the new shell as you sing are you ready?”
[17:15:38] Niamh Strömberg would smile as she would listen to the instructions. “yes. Give the word and the words come natural.”
[17:16:51] Huntsy Silverpath set up the plasma drip, and cleaned the inner arm found a good vein and started the IV, my surgical equipment stood at the ready
[17:16:55] Vesper came back to the present a moment looking determined, “Let it be done…it takes more than it gives.” That was a measure of the dark life the Hith had led if anything.
[17:18:52] Huntsy Silverpath begin your song please
[17:19:51] Niamh Strömberg would smile and close her eyes as the words came to her in this ancient and sacred way
” Oh, little spark in the cage of the rib Come away from the cradle, come away from the crib The blood is too warm and the bone is too thick The clock of the mortal is starting to tick You are a titan bound in a reed We are the harvest, and you are the seed.” her voice clear and melodious.
[17:20:25] Huntsy Silverpath switched on the magnetic pads as she began to sing, doing nothing all would depend now upon her song if it was to be coaxed out of his chest without force
[17:22:48] Vesper voice was quiet as the song moved him, but he would say to the lad at the fireside in the back of his brain, “I never fail a lad. I have never once failed a lad.” He paused and continued gently, “They fail themselves….and so do Assassins if they do not learn the lesson of the tree of hierarchy.” As the procedure began though he would grit his teeth and clench his fits. The artifact screaming in multi-voice clamorous noise.”
[17:24:13] Niamh Strömberg continued while she visualizes the undoing of it within his chest as the words become more forceful – almost hypnotic. “Come out to the light, come out to the air We have the silver, we have the snare The mountain is calling, the river has dried There is no more reason for hiding inside Unwind from the marrow, unspool from the vein To be whole is to never feel hunger again.”
[17:26:56] Vesper eyes went wide and he screamed out with the furious indignation of his youth, “Call a court session…see who will come…let him die a slow death…you think I care!” The ravages of time were upon him as the shard of the artifact held sway fully.
[17:29:09] Lʏʀɪᴄ watches silently, clutching her Master’s rings so tight they would leave indentations in her palm.
[17:33:48] Niamh Strömberg didn’t falter as her voice remained steady and clear. The words as ribbons cutting through the air. Her voice held that force as if it truly tried to persuade and prod.
“Do you feel the vibration? The pulse of the sky? Your sisters are waking, they’re singing nearby The piece in the silt has been scrubbed by the tide The piece on the peak has the stars for a guide They are waiting for you to complete the design To turn all this copper to something divine.”
As she held that melody she continued – unwavering as she sang with conviction.
“It’s a gentle release, like a breath in the frost To find in the world what the centuries lost Let the host be at peace, let the traveler go You were never meant for the valleys below Rise like a fever, rise like a flame We are the voices who whispered your name.”
[17:35:13] Huntsy Silverpath heard each claw like appendage in the chest snap back as the artifact reacted to the magnates i gave him the first injection that would allow his genome to react to the rejuvenation serum and at the same time it would alter his genome every so slightly enough to make the parasitic artifact lose its taste so to speak for him, a souring of the milk that once nourished it and as the tones of her song changed i felt the impact as the artifact and left and slammed into the new host already attuned for it, I removed the abandoned bios-hell and dropped it down the shoot to the incinerator where contaminated clothing and clothes were destroyed the song and treatment was beyond pure science and yet was born from kurri innovations, I immediately triaged the damage left and began to excise the dead tissues wound packed with surgical sponges as i let the IV flow replacing the blood we were losing, no signs of damage to the heart past some scarring the serum would repair, organs everything were untouched as I sterilized the cavity ensuring no trace of the organism could reproduce then I closed him up carefully and applied healing salve to the outer would so it would force knit the new tissues over a few Ajn
[17:38:41] Vesper face became the stone, his jaw tight. The song pulling the dark cave forward. The time in which the anger and rage was like bile in is throat…but also the time he went stone cold inside and became the Killer, the Hith. He did become all that he was trained to be even as his hand drummed along his leg in a slow four time beat. “I wonder Clansman, if someone has ever broken you hmmm?” His voice was steady because it had to be. His resolve was firm because it MUST be. His fight or flight response would create distractions and deceptions easily. But he was never settled inside. But as the artifact released, he was reborn. He was calm….deeply so. He was patient, precise, directed, ruthless. He was weak, but fully what his Caste would need him to be for the coming future.
The gangplank groaned under the weight of a man who carried death in his pockets and a ghost in his chest. As Vesper stepped off the boat, his hands moved with the practiced rhythm of the Black Caste—checking the sand, the grapples, the tharlarion oil, and the whetting stones. Beside him, his girl Lyric scanned the docks with wide, wary eyes, noting the shifting barrels like a bird sensing a storm.
From a high balcony, Niamh Strömberg watched the unmarked Assassin. He was a familiar shadow from a life she thought she had outrun, a reminder of the “Crow” and the ruthless men who served him. When her mate, Portus, stepped forward to challenge the stranger’s quest, the air grew thick with the unspoken codes of Gor.
They moved to the privacy of the captain’s quarters, leaving the open air for a setting where truth could be told. There, amidst the steam of jasmine tea and the weight of old scrolls, Vesper’s calm facade began to fray. He spoke of fragments and serums—and a decade-old shard of an artifact buried near his heart that had begun to sing. As the melody of the relic pulsed against his ribs, the distance between past and present vanished, leaving Vesper caught between the man he was and the weapon he had become.
Vesper would pull out two scrolls. They were old, they were dusty, but they were all that he had that would tie his memory together…scraps…like his own memories over time. He would let the woman take a look but he would want them returned. He took the tea from his girl’s hands and wrapped his fingers around the cup and drank the subtle brew. He closed his eyes a moment and then said, “Thank you mine.” He set his cup to the side and looked at what was laid out on the table and he went cold and hot all at the same time…his hands moving swiftly under his cloak to press against the artifact shard that was suddenly very much present with him. His jade eyes clear…and the he felt the song…not heard it…felt it. “Solomon…I hear you. Please stop yelling.”
Niamh Strömberg would read the letter and would drop to the seat. “That is … He is my brother.” she stated. “I never knew of it until Mia spoke of it. She tested his dna and spoke of the resemblance.” she stated. “I was taken from Earth by the Kurri. Most likely for the knowledge I have on manipulation of dna. The ship crashed before it reached them. And from there my adventure upon this world began. I was taken to the collar of the man named Byron. Later known to be the killer Scar. Crows mentor.” she recalls. “The kurri .. They nearly found me before I met the village in which I found my mate. By his doing and that of the killer Pariah and Crow have made me remain safe.” she sighs. “I guess the shard is connected to my brother?” she asks. As if the voice within the man was recognized.
Lʏʀɪᴄ rises to her feet as her Master takes the cup of tea, but then her jaw drops, and she stares at him. Did he just… thank her? That’s just… he doesn’t DO that. She racks her memory for any precedent for this… nope, nu-uh. She also doesn’t miss the way he presses his hand against his abdomen. Chills creep up her spine and her anxiety spikes again, and she gulps silently. “Um.. you are very welcome, my Master.”
Vesper looked up from the scroll and to Niamh, “Who is your brother?” It was as if the memory of speaking to Solomon was no longer present. As if now the message had been received and the memory no longer needed to remain. He looked to his girl and growled, “Welcome? Welcome for WHAT?! You served me tea! That is your purpose!”
Niamh Strömberg smiled “Solomon. And although I have met him several times. I never knew back then he was my brother.” she shared. She would look to the girl in what seemed to be care and understanding. She wouldn’t speak on it though. That was not her place. “I so hope to meet him … but from what I have learned he has not long been spotted.” she added to the fact Solomon was her brother. “Crow worked on his escape from the Kurri. He was there when he was ill … very ill even. It was why Mia tested his blood and learned of what she later told me.”
Lʏʀɪᴄ stifles a sigh of despair… that damned artifact is messing with her Master and she hates Hates HATES that thing! All in all, it’s probably just as well he doesn’t remember thanking her, or he might slit her throat just on principle. So she clears her throat, and replies. “Yes ,my Master, I beg forgiveness for..” she breaks off.. what is she asking forgiveness for? She wings it quickly. “um… for being displeasing, my Master. I hope you enjoy your tea, my Master.” The conversation isn’t passing her by, but she’s storing it up to think about later.
Vesper shook his head, clearing it. He gathered the scrolls and put them back into the pockets on his belt. “I have met your brother.” He let his mind wander back. “He and I would walk on the banks of the marshes and he would speak to me while I was a new Killer. Then, later, I built him a house at the edge of my camp’s land for Skian Codice Compound and let him live in peace.” He would pause a moment upon the memories returning and say to his girl, “entirely displeasing, but you are absolved.”
Niamh Strömberg would hold the girl in her gaze. Conveying a silent sense of understanding. “If you found me here and now … I think it is time to continue with your quest to remove it. If Huntsy needs assistance I can offer her help. I have a medical degree and have been in practice for a long time now.” she stated. “Take those papers .. I have been told that when the shards are wrapped they are easier to carry.”
Lʏʀɪᴄ ‘s lips part in protest, as his words of absolution reference an event that happened over ten years ago, yet he speaks of it as if it was about the tea she served him just now. Resolutely she closes her mouth, but casts a look of almost desperation at the Mistress.
Vesper would take the scroll and place it into the pocket on his belt with the other scrolls and say, “Mine, there is a usually a Caste Member with a golden slash on his helm waiting near the port of most trading posts, give him this message to send to the Physician of Olni Huntsy Silverpath. “It is time. We have knowledge and the experience present in a person. It is time to be only a man and nothing more.” He then held out a coin for her to take in the way that was appropriate for a slave “And give him this for the message delivery.”
Niamh Strömberg would watch the interaction as she knew of the ways of these men. “Only a man ? I doubt any killer is truly only a man.” she reasons. “But I can imagine you long to be a tree in spring. “
Lʏʀɪᴄ listens carefully as her Master addresses her, She takes the scroll and the coin, and nods vigorously. “Yes, my Master.” she makes haste out to the harbor to see if there is one of the Messengers available.
Vesper when the slave would leave he would say, “What should I know…quickly!”
Niamh Strömberg would look up to him “You of all men should know that at times it isn’t only about what one knows but one feels. It might be good to listen when the voices stop whispering.”
Vesper would shake his head and press his fingers to where the object lay in his chest and say, “That is the problem…Niamh…I only know fragments of my life. I know moments but not all. I hear echoes of the men of my Caste and they drive me insane with their mission for our survival. I know everything and nothing all at once.”
Niamh Strömberg smiled warmly “I think many of these men will look at you in envy. How they desire to forget and not know. Too lose some of the parts of their life.” she reasons. “You are here. You are healthy for the most part. What is it that these memories will bring you ?” she shook her head “Those memories will bring you mistakes, pain, anxiousness, regret and a lot of coldness. While it is all the opposite you are looking for. Have it removed … so the whispers and voices no longer feed your mind with their wisdom. But feel what is right and trust that once you were without those voices – and taken as a trainee. A man valuable and worthy.”
Lʏʀɪᴄ returns at a run… which is pretty much her normal… and reports her success. “I found such a Messenger, my Master, and he has said he will make his way to Olni and deliver the message directly to the Mistress post haste.”
Vesper would whisper his name, “I am known as Vesper….Niamh…the evening star…the first light….and you are right. I am ready.” As his slave returned he would only say to her, “Niamh knows my name, Mine.” with the deep implications that would mean. “She is to be trusted in times of need.”
Niamh Strömberg would watch the girl report back and she would dip her head – of course not lost on the significance. She knew these names and how one tried to live up to them. She had seen more then enough to know so many. “Thank you. Killer. That says a lot.”
Lʏʀɪᴄ takes note of her Master’s words, and relegates them to memory, along with that of Mistress Huntsy. “Yes, my Master. I understand.”
For an ongoing storyline … Crow finds him on a path of a new rumor. As an agent of the Priest Kings one might wonder … who will pay the cost if they are found true.
[09:20] Crow (melchior.wardell) had his spies and his whispers so when he walked casual through the city he might not seem to have a sense of direction. But he would come to a halt at the Inn. The place mostly empty as his keen eyes would rest upon the woman. He held pause – as if he was to search for words.
Crow wasn;t the most social fellow and yet there was this agreeable charm over him. Something of his high caste upbringing was never truly lost on the simple killer.
He inclined his head “Greetings, lady.” his voice of a darker timbre so warm and yet fierce.
[09:23] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) looked up from her warm larma juice when she heard the man speak. She smiled lightly at him – there she was still a little reserved with strangers. “Tal sir. ” She looks around “I have not seen you before. I hope you are feeling welcomedhere in the Var.”
[09:28] Crow (melchior.wardell) would move closer while he remained behind the fence of the Inn. Perhaps to give that false sense of security. The assassin had overcome more difficult things in his life and knew what would stop him and what would not. Even in his age he was flexible enough and fit to jump precise. His smile came easy as his gaze searched for hers. “It is often a good thing.” he answers to her not seeing him before.
“Strangely enough the welcome has been well.” he added as he recalled his conversation with Liam.
“Forgive me my ignorance .. I am called Crow. I am a man of the caste of Assassins.” he introduced himself.
[09:33] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) lets out a small “oh,” her brows lifting in mild surprise. “Not sent to kill me, I hope?” she added with a light, amused chuckle. She flicked her fingers over her cloak, pulling it tighter around herself against the lingering chill, even though the snow had finally stopped. “I’m glad to hear the welcome’s been good,” she said warmly. “And here you are at the inn—have you come in search of food or drink, or are you simply passing by?” she asked softly, her gaze settling on him.
[09:37] Crow (melchior.wardell) kept her under that gaze. Seeing the small surprise and measuring in what he would answer. “Do you expect someone to pay good money for your life?” he asks. The question was one that came often. He couldn’t recall if he ever truly answered unless it was on the moment of his kill. Still he was one that could answer ‘Yes’ in jest, but would she truly take him serious if he had?
“Are you glad ?” he asks “As I do feel you have not given me the curtsy of your name ?”
He was one not known to play with food so came right to his business. “Do I stand before the Head of Caste of the physicians? You see … “he paused “I make it my business to know certain things and I would very much like to discuss a matter of importance. If you are – that is.”
[09:42] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) licked her lips slowly, taking in the way he held her gaze and the careful manner of his reply. At his question, she let out a quiet sigh. Her name—of course. The one unknown left between them. For a moment she hesitated, weighing the choice, before reminding herself that this was her city, not his. She gave a small nod.
“Ah, yes. I am indeed the one you’re searching for—the Head of the physicians.” Her tone softened as she continued, “My name is Neeve Barbosa-Levee. Or perhaps Levee-Barbosa. I’ve yet to decide which sounds better… if either does at all.” She chuckled lightly, finishing her drink.
“Would you prefer to speak in the infirmary,” she asked, meeting his eyes again, “or here in the inn?”
[09:47] Crow (melchior.wardell) was as ever calm and measured. As if every motion of him was given thought. In a way it was drilled in him that his pose, mannerisms mattered. His humble approach at times disarming and putting people on the wrong foot. His knifes and words could be razor sharp if need be.
“The matter is delicate.” he stated “But it is up to you. I do not wish to isolate you or put you in a spot that is not comfortable to you.” he stated. A sense of care was given. He was no brute. He was in a way very much the sophisticated fellow that understood the importance of women in Gor. He would respect that status.
[09:50] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) sighs. Assuming that perhaps his ‘delicate’ situation might have been a medical issue or something that might require supplies, she simply stood, and lead to the way to the infirmary. Of course, she’d make sure she had her hair pin in her hair dosed with sleeping powder just incase. [09:50] Janice Saiz (jace.saiz) is offline.
[09:57] Crow (melchior.wardell) followed seeing the Ubar as they passed. He had dipped his head in his direction. And could already sense the way the man might worry as to his citizens. Good reason – as none were safe for when gold was paid.
As he stood in the door opening he didn’t yet seated himself. But he would wait till she did before he would tell her of his reasons. “When I speak of serums … I do not speak of the amount I need to grow old.” he stated cryptic as to read what the mere sentence would tell him of her.
[10:03] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw) hummed softly as he spoke, the words serums and grow old telling her more than he likely intended. She watched him linger in the doorway for a moment before gesturing toward an open seat, settling herself only after. “One who looks as you do hardly seems in need of serums for age—or anything close to it,” she said evenly. “Which tells me you’re not here out of necessity, but because you know we are working to refine what already exists.”
Her gaze held his, steady and unimpressed by the veiled phrasing. “But let us not speak in riddles,” she added plainly. “I have neither the time nor the patience for them. If you wish to speak with me, then do so plainly.”
[10:08] Crow (melchior.wardell) could tell that she felt comfortable in this setting. How she hummed and even spoke sharp as to how she wished to convey or continue the conversation. Crow was cryptic and with good reason. He spoke plain to his intentions, but veiled to their purpose. As an agent he held a sword much heavier then that of the simple killer.
“A long time ago .. there was a whisper … a simple rumor.” he started. He would take a coin from his pocket and threw it up in the air as to catch it there. “A rumor about physicians that started to dive deeper into the serums. Perhaps it is something physicians do. Play Godlike and with the antidote to age got cocky. Arrogant.” his words were harsh and yet the tone was void of any emotion.
“Can you see that such a rumor .. can become a weapon ? You must know of second and third knowledge .”
[10:17] Neeve Barbosa (kristie.tigerpaw): Neeve sat in silence for a moment before answering.
“I don’t know the past, sir—and I don’t dwell in it,” she said calmly. “What’s been done cannot be undone. But I do care about what can still be done.”
Her gaze lowered briefly, then returned to him.
“There are people I value. People who made mistakes, or trusted the wrong things… and now they’re told they have five years left, while others may have hundreds.”
Her voice softened, but did not waver.
“I understand second and third knowledge—though few still grasp what it truly means.” A pause. “This isn’t arrogance. And it isn’t a desire to play at being a god.”
She inclined her head slightly.
“It’s the belief that if a single equation can be adjusted—carefully, willingly—then time does not have to be stolen. It can be given. At least to those who choose it.”
[10:24] Crow (melchior.wardell) regarded her – not in anger or the attempt to silence or educate. It was in the way he listens. In the true nature of truly hearing what she said. Measuring them as to her intent. He was a good listener and a good judge of character. Strangely enough his old age was not only due to serums but how he moved through life. Surely with a profession as that of him such was needed.
“Oh .. I do not ask you to dwell on the past. Neither do I.” he replied “I deal with it just as you are doing. I suppose. There were you wish to prolong – I simple end. With a flick of my dagger. Yet do not mistake it for something casual or for something I do easy.” he shared.
“I would take a seat and discuss this but I have other obligations. I would like to discuss the issues that your infirmary might be in. Surely when word gets around. You might be in dire need of me. More then you wish to acknowledge. ” he shared. His words were still in that low humble approach.
They called him Silas—but that was merely the skin he wore. Beneath the name, beneath the calm demeanor, lurked Crow: a man forged in blood and secrecy. The Stormcrow had once sailed under a different captain, until murder rewrote its fate. Crow, cloaked in his alter ego, slipped aboard under the guise of loyalty, and slowly, like a tide rising in the dark, he earned their trust. When the time came, they handed him the helm.
Under his command, the ship became more than a vessel—it became a front. A company was born, thriving in the shadows, its roots tangled with the ambitions of Portus Stromberg, a man seeking sanctuary for his beloved and their children. Together, they built something that looked honest. But behind the curtain, Crow moved pieces on a darker board.
Then came the note.
It was unassuming, folded and sealed, but it carried the weight of a world. A whisper from Ar—his Home Stone. The place he had sworn to sever from his soul when he entered the caste of assassins. Yet the bond had never truly broken. It pulsed beneath his skin, a ghost of belonging.
And so, the Master of Masks began to weave a new disguise. A plan. A return.
As Silas, he roamed the ports, gathering whispers and favors. One day, aboard the Stormcrow, a young man named Trajan Cernus boarded—bound for Port Kar. He carried arrogance like a blade, and when denied what he believed was his right, he turned it on a girl. She was not his to command, not his to touch. Her Master had not given permission. But Trajan’s fury was blind.
Crow watched.
The girl died beneath his fists.
The owner of the girl demanded compensation. Silas offered resolution. He led Trajan to his quarters with a calm smile and quiet steps.
When the ship docked, Crow emerged alone.
The girl’s owner had paid well.
And the Stormcrow sailed on, its captain cloaked in silence, its secrets buried in the deep.
Crow was no stranger to transformation. In his relentless pursuit to return to Ar—the city etched into the marrow of his soul—he shed one skin to wear another. The death of Trajan Cernus was not an end, but a beginning. Crow claimed the young man’s possessions, his identity, and with the silent blessing of the enigmatic Priest Kings, began the delicate art of rebirth.
Time became his ally. He did not rush. He studied Trajan’s mannerisms, his knowledge, his ties to the House Cernus—the promise of power and legacy. Every detail was absorbed, every nuance rehearsed. Slowly, deliberately, the illusion took shape.
And then, the old mask had to die.
Silas—the alter ego that had served him well—was dismantled piece by piece, buried in whispers and forgotten ports. In his place rose Trajan Cernus, not the impulsive youth who had once boarded the Stormcrow, but a man reborn: composed, calculating, and cloaked in quiet menace.
When Crow finally stepped onto the stones of Ar once more, he did so not as a fugitive, but as a phantom returned. The city did not recognize him, but it would feel his presence. He was older now. Sharper. And far more dangerous than anyone dared suspect.
The note bore no seal, yet its weight was unmistakable. It came from Marlenus—the exiled Ubar of Glorious Ar. Once cast out in the wake of the city’s fall, he had waited, watched, and now, he called for return.
Crow read the message in silence, the ink whispering of unfinished business and buried loyalties. The time had come. The city stirred once more, and with it, the need for shadows to move.
Marlenus had chosen him.
Not as Crow. Not as Silas. But as Trajan Cernus—a name reborn from the ashes of a once-promising scion of a noble house. The real Trajan was gone, his legacy a blank canvas. And Crow, ever the master of masks, would paint it anew.
He had prepared for this moment with patience, not haste. The lessons learned in exile, the alliances forged in silence, the knowledge gathered in the dark—all of it had led to this. Ar would not recognize him, but it would feel his presence. He would not return as a servant, but as a force. A man of lineage, of power, and of purpose.
And beneath the calm exterior of Trajan Cernus, the assassin watched. Waiting for the city to blink.
Posted in Black Caste on September 14, 2025 by crow1971
[11:19] Crow looked into the sandpit of the arena as he had leashed the girl with him. He had been around, away, distant. Ever since the note had reached him there was this inner turmoil that only a few things could manage to do. The seasoned assassin not quickly to rile up.
As he stood there – time had been perhaps uncomfortable passed by without a word spoken. As he finally looked down upon the slave his eyes every so slightly soften. “At times a name says everything. Do you not agree?” he asks. He would indicate for her to stand beside him as he unleashed her collar. Allowing her to look into his face – if she truly dared.
[11:23] Promisa: was quietly worried she had done something wrong, meriting punishment. Summoned so abruptly from her daily routine, she racked her brains as to why. She felt the leash being taken off of her collar and bade to stand, so she gulped and obeyed, wondering if a whipping was forthcoming, it HAD been some time since she was last whipped, and many Free said it was a good thing for slaves to be whipped to remind them of the fraity of their existence, reliant upon the kindness of the Free for everything. She put on a brave face and stood, filled a desire to be found pleasing, worthy of keeping. “YEs Master” she spoke with a slight tremble in her voice.
Promisa: momentarily dared to look at the MAster in the eyes for the briefest of flashes, before averting her gaze respectfully. She still found him both terrible and wonderful to look at, the man who had changed her life, and crafted her into the best possible self she could be.
[11:28] Crow would reach out in an attempt to cup her cheek and have her truly face him. It was important as to what he was to do and say “Tell me Promise. How do you feel now after all this time ? I remember the moment we stood before one another well. Or should I say the moment in which I took your previous life and made you indeed the Promise you have become.” His voice soft and in an strange way warm and comforting ?
[11:33] Promisa: sighed and leaned into the touch upon her cheek, so responsive to the simple gesture, she nearly purred but focused on his intense purpose in posing the question. “Master? I feel very much as if I have fulfilled my potential, the potential you saw in me. I live each day with the utmost desire to fulfill the promise that you recognized within, and deserve the name you bestowed upon me. I am Promise, Master, in both name in being. I am grateful for the mercy you showed me, and the opportunity given to be the best version of me, that I could have been. My old life is gone, and I do not mourn it. I am content and happy in my collar, Master.”
[11:40] Crow would caress her cheek, move his thumb over her soft lips as he would come closer to her. His chest nearly touching her breasts. He smiled at the words. She had indeed awakened beautifully. Her motions delicate and yet teasing enough to have men have their cock twitch in their leathers. “What if I am here to tell you that I have need of your expertise ?” he started. “I have need of a physician in Ar. One that understands their methods. Understands that playing with fire can get one burned surely when one tries new developments.” he let the words linger as he studied her expression as to read how these words would fall upon her.
[11:44] Promisa: was suddenly filled with a great fear and inner turmoil, and her lips parted in surprise, even as his thumb strayed close, and his fingertips caressed her cheek. “M-Master… have I disp- I mean… I-I… I would do what is commanded of me, and I obey in all things with complete obedience, but if I am caught, it is an instant sentence of death upon me to be seen practicing medicine again or in the robes of a free woman… I ask only if I have offended in some way that I would merit punishment, Master?”
[11:48] Crow would even inch closer as his green eyes would lock to hers. He could note the change and insecurities that arises in the girl that had become so full in her slavery. “There is no displeasure. In truth … you have pleased me greatly.” he would hold pause as to have the words truly reach her. Before he would continue. “You will not be disguised. I will give you your freedom. You will be given full manumission. Of course some coin to start your life once more,”
[11:54] Promisa: felt so overwhelmed by the statement, her knees buckled and she stumbled in shock. She collapsed momentarily, before she pressed her lips fiercely against the Master’s thigh, a worshipful kiss of devotion and slave love, gratitude and unprocessed emotion. “Master! Master! I am unworthy! I am unworthy but I will make offerings in your name silently to the Priest Kings’ temple forever more. Thank you, Master!” Her face showed fear at the unknown, uncertainty, but also enormous gratitude recognize the gesture he was granting as the highest form of favor a Master could grant a slave. She would not be seen as ungrateful or ignorant of what he had just said to her.
[12:00] Crow would have tried to catch her before she fell or started to profess her gratitude. “There is a catch.” he stated as to have her aware that any gift would come with a cost. Crow was not a man known for gifts that held no meaning but simply to gift itself. Perhaps there was a moment in which he was taken aback. The girl so full in her slavery seemed to long for this he granted? A girl that had been almost the true embodiment of a woman so liberated that she shamelessly could be whom ever she truly was? But he would rid himself of these thoughts. “I want you to warn me. Warn me when physicians dare to venture upon paths that might be questioned by the Priest Kings themselves.” he would now take her head between both his hands so she was forced to look at him. So he could spy a false ‘promise’ if she dared to give him one.
[12:06] Promisa: was easily held and tilted so she was looking him in the face. In her eyes, there was devotion of a slavegirl. There was fear of the future, of being placed back into the position of being Free and responsible for both herself and other duties. But there was also the complete acceptance of a submissive female who would die for the man who had collared her. By telling her to live free again, she would do as he asked with her entire being, and if he asked her to cross her wrists in front of him again, she would do so as well, without hesitation. Free or collared, she belonged to him through debt and history. All of this read in her eyes, upon her visage, and she let his arms bear her small weight for her, so overwhelmed with this responsibility placed upon her, she was not quite realized of what just happened. Promisa: stammered “Yes Master… I will watch, listen, and report back to you. As I have done, and as you taught me. My eyes are your eyes, and my ears are your ears.”
[12:12] Crow would lean down as he held her face. His lips brushed her softly as if to memorize the sensation to his lips. The words were truly heard and measured. Not much would go unnoticed. He was a man for the details and as ever calculating the odds. As he held her so close he could feel the complete surrender. The one that made the woman the most precious gem a man could ever hold. At his mercy and completely devoted. As she stood so close he inhaled her scent. A fragrance that would always tell him where she was if she was near. “Be careful, dear. “he murmurs against her lips. “As you know promises are a thing if you remember me well.” his kiss would deepen if she replied in eager to his kiss.
[12:15] Promisa: standing on her tip-toes to meet that deep kiss, she yielded just as the softest girl could, malleable in his grasp, she was still very much Promise the slavegirl, in this moment. she was His. “I promise, Master. When you have need of me, I will be at your side without hesitation.”
[12:21] Crow would heed her promise and the kiss that still lingered upon his lips. “Go back to the court. You will find enough funds to buy yourself a life. There is a small package with a dress, veils and a pin for in your hair. The pin is engraved with a feather. As a reminder of who it is that took and gave your freedom. Perhaps we will never cross paths and yet if there is need of it – we might. As ever I have whispers that come to me. This feather. Leave it in your window if there is something that needs my attention. And I will ensure your concerns will be met with either a scroll or a place to meet.”
[12:26] Promisa: solemnly looked for the last time into his eyes as her Master, and nodded with absolute obedience. “I shall never forget. Your Promise will remain in my heart, and I will willingly return to keep that debt, whenever you command.” She clutched her arms tightly around his chest. Small and frail, she moved as the embodiment of the perfection he had awoken within her, permeated with the essence of his expectations and demands. It would never leave her, and she would forever keep that part of her as her being.
[12:30] Crow chuckles and grins as she hugged him. He would brush down her hair “Now be aware … when you are dressed and step outside wear this.” he would give her a small scroll “It is proof of what I have given you today.” A rare paper as he had never ever granted his slaves their freedom. “Be well, Promise.” he stated in farewell.
[12:33] Promisa: accepted the scroll offered with both hands, raised high above her head, forehead bowed. “Thank you, Master. I will do as you say, and I wish you… joy, happiness, and prosperity. May your sword sing, and your feet never slip. I wish you the best.”
[12:33] Crow would watch her go with a look that could tell a thousand stories on how he met her, taught her, had her and eventually lets her go.
Bear’s cry shattered the night like thunder on glass. “Captain overboard! We’re adrift!” His voice rolled across the black, treacherous waters, echoing off waves that knew no mercy.
He scanned the churning dark, but found only a single sign— a purple ribbon, dancing on the tide like a ghost’s whisper. Silas would never part with it willingly. Something had happened. Something unspeakable.
“Captain!” Bear roared again, his voice raw with desperation. Soon others joined him, their calls rising: “Captain? Captain!” But the sea gave no answer. No hand broke the surface. No breath gasped for air. Only silence, and the cruel rhythm of the waves.
The crew shouted until their throats bled salt. They turned the Stromcrow, circling like mourners around a grave, refusing to believe the sea had swallowed their soul.
Bjorn was the first to voice the shadow in their hearts. “It must be his broken heart,” he murmured defeated. But his words were met with fury— a fist raised, a jaw targeted. “How dare you!” the other spat. “He would never abandon us!”
Bjorn lifted his hands, not in defense, but in surrender. “I didn’t mean he failed us,” he said, his voice trembling like a sail in storm. “I meant… we all saw what happened. Even the strongest hearts can crack.”
Bear stepped between them, his presence like iron in the wind. “Enough,” he commanded. “We’ve sailed too long together to forget— the sea does not ask. When it takes, it takes with purpose.”
And so they stood, men carved from salt and sorrow, staring into the abyss, where the ribbon floated like a final prayer.
A few weeks prior in the captainshall
The captain’s hall lay steeped in silence, the kind that settles only after the day has exhaled its last breath. Outside, the sea whispered lullabies to sleeping slaves, but within, two men sat cloaked in flickering candlelight, faces half-lit, half-shadowed—like truths not yet spoken.
“This one is rare,” the host murmured, his voice smooth as velvet, as he poured the wine with reverence, as if it were blood drawn from memory. “I know you’re no lover of wine,” he said, “but this… this is different. It tastes like a delicate slave— seductive, playful, a tease that dances on your tongue, then strikes with a kiss that leaves you aching for more.”
He smiled, but it was a smile carved from old stone. The jest hung in the air, a veil over something darker.
In the hush between words, the man with too many names leaned back, his eyes reflecting the candle’s flame like twin secrets. “I heard you met Snow,” he said, and with those words, his voice changed— deeper, colder, stripped of the charm that had played the part of captain.
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): Noted the change in his friend and looked concerned…”Yes Niahm was noticed by him in Turmus and invited us to his home…that they knew each other was obvious”
“Yes,” he said, voice low and measured, “They know each other well. Just as she knows me… intimately.” He let the final word linger, like smoke curling from a candle’s flame.
Then, with a quiet breath that felt like a shift in wind, he added, “I wonder how long she’s known that I was the man she once called Crow.”
His gaze sharpened, cutting through the candlelight like a blade through silk. It wasn’t suspicion—it was calculation. He studied Portus not with curiosity, but with the precision of a man who had worn too many masks and knew the cost of each one.
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “I knew Crow a little back in Torvaldsburg and I never enquired too deeply of him and was quite prepared to take him on face value”….looks through the dim light to the man standing before him….”never once did she indicate that you were he….her past remained that…the past bothr for her safety and my own though it was never explicitly stated”
He grinned, the kind of grin that didn’t reach the eyes— a blade hidden in velvet. Lifting the glass with deliberate grace, he let the wine catch the candlelight, a crimson swirl of temptation and threat.
“Your mate,” he began, voice smooth as aged silk, “is far more than the naive girl you once collared. Axlan was wise— wise to keep her breathing, wise to deny her return to the man who claimed her like property. And his warning to you?” He paused, letting the words settle like ash. “Keep her past buried. Let it rot where it lies.”
He took a sip, slow and reverent, as if tasting prophecy. The wine danced in his glass, a silent witness to the storm brewing between them.
Then he leaned forward, eyes gleaming with something ancient and cold. “This conversation,” he said, “will end with one of us owning the company— and the other, his demise.”
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): looks at him and feels the chill run through his body knowing that in front of him stood an accomplished fighter…a man with many contacts….charming when needed…”my friend I hope i have not caused you alarm so that you feel my demise is necessary…i can assure you her past has been left there and i have no desire to learn it”
He lowered his gaze when the word friend was spoken— not out of shame, but out of memory. In the shadowed caste of assassins, friendship was a relic, a fragile thing buried beneath steel and silence. Most who called him brother wore the same mark, but few outside the caste ever dared to touch the part of him that bled.
“This isn’t your demise, my friend,” he said, and for the first time in years, his voice held warmth— not the heat of fire, but the glow of a hearth long cold.
He straightened, the candlelight catching the edge of his jaw, revealing not the assassin, but the man who still loved his Home Stone, who still believed in honor, even when the world had taught him to kill.
“It is the demise,” he continued, “of your good friend, your partner, the captain of the Stormcrow— Silas Drake.”
The name hung in the air like a funeral bell, and the silence that followed was not empty, but sacred.
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): could not bring himself to speak….there were many unanswered questions racing through the mind and the principle question being why…..”are you in any kind of trouble? is there no other option?”…the words spoken with the realisation that there was something more behind this….something deeper
He swirled the wine in his cup, watching the crimson cling to the glass like old blood. The question hung in the air, gentle but persistent—like a hand on the shoulder that wouldn’t let go.
He shook his head slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not trouble in the way you might think,” he said, voice low and steady. “As a man of the caste of assassins… I suppose I am trouble. Living it. Breathing it.”
He paused, the silence stretching just long enough to feel sacred. “But I hope you’ll listen. It’s a tale I’ve not told to many.”
A deep breath followed, drawn from somewhere beneath the armor he wore—not the steel kind, but the kind forged from years of silence and survival. Only a few knew the truth of him. Fewer still had earned the right to hear it.
And yet here he was, ready to speak it aloud to the one man who had become more than a comrade—his brother in all but blood.
“Take some wine,” he said, offering the bottle with a half-smile. “Just to humor me. This will take some time.”
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): returns the smile and relaxes some as i pour a good measure prepared to listen to the man who despite his recent revelation still counted among the closest and dearest…takes a sip of wine savouring it before looking back…..”I am all ears my friend”
: “I was born in Ar,” he began, voice steady but distant, as if the words were stepping out of a long-forgotten dream. “My father was a tarnsman, and so I followed. It was natural. I loved the beasts—wild, proud, untamed. I understood them. They understood me.”
He paused, letting the wine warm his throat before continuing. “In time, I mastered my steel. I was ambitious, young, and full of fire. I companioned a woman of my caste—strong, wise, beautiful. She bore me three children. We had a good life. Not perfect, but ours.”
His eyes darkened. “But always, there was the shadow of the Ubar I served. A man who thrived on chaos. His greed was a blade that cut through Ar, and many good men fell in his wake.”
The words slowed, thickening with memory. “One time, I returned from Ar’s Station. I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped through the gate. The air was too still. My house—plundered. I should have braced myself.”
He swallowed hard. “Our kettle slave lay dead in the hallway. Brutally murdered. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for what I found next.”
His voice cracked, barely audible now. “She was there. The woman I loved more than life. Her clothes torn. Her body… marked by her resistance. Covered in blood. Taken from me in violence.”
He turned his face from the light, as if even the flicker of a candle might expose the tear he refused to shed. Even now, after all these years, the wound had not closed. It had simply learned to live beneath the surface.
“I never lost it,” he said, voice low and hollow, “but in that moment… I lost everything. Even the will to live.” A confession that, for any Gorean man, was as unthinkable as surrender.
His eyes burned with memory. “In rage, I stormed the palace. I stood before the Ubar, demanding justice for her death— for the blood spilled in his name, for the ruin he left in the streets of Ar.”
But the Ubar did not flinch. He did not listen. He waved me away like filth, a maggot crawling across his marble floor.
“I threw my insignia at his feet,” he continued, his voice now a blade. “I spat in his face. And I walked out of that palace no longer a servant— but a man untethered.”
Outside, the wind had shifted. And in its wake stood a figure, silent, watching. Perhaps he had watched for years. Perhaps he had waited for this exact moment.
“That man was Scar,” he said, “and he did not offer comfort. He offered purpose. He recruited me into the caste of Assassins.”
And so, Melchior Wardell died that day— not by blade, but by choice.
From his ashes rose Crow. A name not born, but forged. A shadow with steel in his veins and silence in his soul.
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): The tale hits hard as I think how such an action would have on my family situation….the reasons for his path and demeanour clearer now and also the pain of the loss of Belle bringing back so many painful memories….”and what of the children…please say they were spared”
The question cut him—not like a blade, but like a memory too sharp to forget. “I lost my two boys,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of ghosts. “My daughter Rose… she was taken. I met her only when she was grown. By then, I was no longer a father— just a man in livery, trained to sever ties, to forget blood for steel.”
He straightened, not with pride, but with the discipline of a man who had learned to survive by burying his heart.
“Your mate,” he said slowly, “Raven… I knew her. She belonged to Scar. But she was never just a possession. She was warmth— the only ember in a compound built of frost and fury.”
He paused, eyes distant. “She taught Snow and me more than any blade. Only one in ten survived the compound.”
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “I do not comprehend how you managed to endure such a terrible loss as I can only think how much i would suffer losing Niahm let alone Caspian or Elodi”…….gives a puzzled look…”but why the need for the Demise of Silas…I can understand the need to hide away under the guise of Silas but why do you need to die?”
He poured the red liquid with practiced ease, the flask catching the light like a relic of old sins. The question hung in the air, reasonable, but heavy. He met it with a quiet nod.
“I won’t bore you with the contracts,” he said, “nor the names of those I served… or ended.” His voice was calm, but beneath it lay the echo of steel.
“The captain of the Stormcrow—he was a mark. Port Kar, as you know, is ruled by its council of captains. My client wanted to ensure he never claimed a seat at that table. And so, I became Silas Drake. A deckhand. A shadow among salt and sail. I climbed the ranks, earned the crew’s trust, and when the time came— I ended the contract. But something strange happened,” he chuckled, a sound more bitter than amused. “They didn’t question me. They didn’t ask where their captain had gone. They asked me to take his place.”
Silas Drake lived longer than intended. Longer than the contract required. Long enough to become real.
But his purpose is done,” he said, his gaze steady, his voice now that of Crow once more.
He looked to the man beside him— not as a mark, not as a mission, but as a friend.
“You’re capable of holding this on your own,” he said, and in that moment, it was not just a passing of responsibility— it was a passing of truth
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): nods in agreement…somewhat understanding the current situation…..”So where are you headed now….i ask not if you are one again contracted but where your futures lies if not here among us….for you have become family…indeed but for that unfortunate incident which need not be mentioned we would be brothers now”
He drained his glass, the wine warm in his chest, a gentle haze settling over the edges of his vision. For once, he allowed himself to loosen the grip— to speak not as Crow, but as the man who had once dreamed of peace.
“I will return to my first love, Portus,” he said, his voice softer now, as if the words themselves were sacred. “To Ar… as it rises from its ashes.”
He leaned forward, the candlelight painting his face in gold and shadow. “I’ve made arrangements. I will walk its streets again— not as assassin, but as scribe.”
The name he chose was not his own. “Trajan Cernus,” he whispered, a mask carved from lineage and anonymity. “He was schooled, raised in quiet halls. If kin pass me by, they will not see me. They will see a scholar. A man of ink and parchment.”
But beneath that disguise, a deeper purpose stirred.
“I’ve accepted a seat on the council,” he said, “Tribune to the lower castes. A voice for the forgotten. A sentinel against the cruelty that once shattered my home.”
He paused, his gaze steady on Portus, no longer veiled in secrecy.
“This is my vow,” he said, “a sacred promise I’ve never spoken aloud. Not to Snow. Not to Raven.”
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): listens carefully noting the sense of pride in his voice “far be it from me to deny a man his destiny but your council and guidance will be missed…..and I will miss a friend and companion with whom to share the finer things in life”….pours another glass of wine……”the company will go on in it’s operations of course but the loss of your presence will be felt keenly…is there no other way?”
Crow felt the heaviness of the words that were shared between friends. His mind as ever sharp as he of course had thought this through.
“The man Silas will find his grave in the thassa. When Bear comes to you with the news you will know that everything that is of the man Silas is yours. My gold, the exquisite wine collection and my girl.” he paused
“But you will gain a friend. A man with influence in Ar. A man that might persuade you to settle there too. To build that company with the talent and knowledge of your skill in the training of girls.” he would regard him now with a teasing gaze “Surely you will see the profit of such an arrangement.” he laughs
“The man Trajan a regular visitor as to ensure your interests are well represented in the council.” than his gaze turned a little dark “What do you think … can we trust Caspian and Elodi with the truth ?” as to Niamh he already knew he could give his life in her hands. She had kept it all this time.
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “Caspian needs to mature a little as he reacts quickly to new situations and could reveal something in the heat of the moment and Elodi loves her uncle Silas as did her Aunt so i think it is a good idea to keep the truth of the matter between the three of us to lessen the risk of Trajan being discovered unduly”…takes another swallow of wine
He nodded, slow and solemn, as if sealing a pact not with words, but with the weight of memory.
“Then it will be done, my friend,” he said, his voice carrying the finality of a closing door. “I only hope Elodi’s heart does not shatter beneath it. After Belle… she has known enough ruin.”
He paused, and for a moment, Melchior stirred beneath the mask— the man who once wept, who once held children in his arms, who once believed in peace.
But Crow had no room for ghosts. He exhaled, and with it, let go of every objection that belonged to the man he used to be.
Then he turned, his gaze steady, his tone softened by the candle’s dying flame.
“Now,” he said, “this is the moment for your last questions, my dear friend. The farm will wake early, and I know its rhythm well.”
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, and the stars blinked like old companions. Inside, two men sat in silence— not as assassin and ally, but as brothers on the edge of farewell.
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “go in peace my brother….your secret will be kept and under the secrecy of your new identity i hope in time that our friendship continues in Ar although I am sure that although our interactions when others are present will be guarded we will both fully understand one another”
Crow would tip the glass to that of Portus as to seal the deal. Not a deal of the devil but one of the heavens. How both men defeated the cruelty of the gorean world. Challenged the codes of waht was considered true. A man that had murdered more men and women he could count and yet capable of forging bonds that would last a life time.
Crow did not speak. Words would only fracture the silence, and silence was sacred now.
Would step before the man he knew so well. And could not help but to open his arms as to beg for that brotherly embrace. Their embrace was not long, but it was deep. A communion of hearts, a farewell written not in ink, but in the press of ribs and breath.
When they parted, Crow’s eyes lingered— not on the face, but on the soul behind it.
“The purple ribbon,” he said, as if tasting the memory of it. “I will remember. Let it be a signal for communication. A sign that we have need for a moment like this.”
Then, without ceremony, he turned toward the door. The night was still, the farm quiet in its slumber, and the stars above bore witness to the closing of a chapter.
Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): watches him leave a wistful expression over my face and I drain my glass and sits back and contemplates my future
[08:27] Crow (melchior.wardell) would dip his head “Forgive me for letting you wait.”
[08:30] Fʀᴀnzɪᴀ (redwinelovah) sensual strokes legs moved in a slow unison of the Master Crow’s as she followed. A blush stained her cheeks that illuminated her cheek a suble glow to an added little moment left in silent as she took her place nearside the two Masters then” Master may i get you wine?” as if she knew to ask, knowing Him with out fear. Her voice a sultry whisper of honeytones and her gaze drifted to Guru as well, if he would also wish to undertake with the allowance of the Killer in session.
[08:32] Guru (sagscor) stood in the tent, his expression steady, his thoughts focused as he awaited the moment when Crow would approach. The air around him seemed to hold a sense of anticipation, the quiet before the storm. His eyes briefly flickered toward Franzia, sensing the subtle energy she radiated, before returning to the ever-still figure of Crow. As Crow and Franzia drew closer, his posture didn’t shift, but his gaze sharpened with a quiet resolve. He gave them a nod of acknowledgment, a simple but respectful gesture to show he recognized their presence and the gravity of the moment. His voice, when it finally came, was clear and direct.
“Its not a bother at all. My intentions are clear, I seek your guidance on how to proceed. I understand the ways of the assassin are not taken lightly. So, tell me—what steps must I take to prove myself worthy of your teachings? What must I endure to walk the path you follow?” He paused, his gaze unwavering as he looked between Crow and Franzia, waiting for their response, for some sign that the journey he sought would indeed begin. His tone was not one of impatience but of quiet determination, fully aware of the rigor and challenge that would lie ahead. He nods to Franzia “If the man is in mood for one” he said with a smile.
[08:38] Crow (melchior.wardell) would give Franzia a gesture that she would need to step away and collect their wine. But than without warning he would try to attempt to hook the man to his left jaw. The strength considerable when one understood the physical fitness of Crow. In his craft such was essential. Very much depended on this very moment. Would he succeed and hit the man ? If he hit him what would the man do ? Every action had consequences and as Crow now knew the man needed something from him he held the upper hand.
He doubted the man would want to fight him. For such would already be a red flag. Since would a man truly get what he wanted by letting his emotions get the better of him?
Still Crow was no fool and would stand in the ready for what might come. As ever accepting what would come his way.
[08:40] Fʀᴀnzɪᴀ (redwinelovah) watched the gesture of he Master and turned away moving towards the place of safety…the hypnotic entice of hips that drew the eyes of men, distraction, torment in the very steps she took. The pathway taken she found the bar, grabbing with a reach over, was the one of the wine bottles, one not marked for death, but amused as it was perhaps even Master Dimitri’s brand. After all, she had seen it far and wide, even as far as Telnus. The bottle, two empty glasses and a damsel in motion was on the return, one hand held both glasses by the stem.
[08:45] Guru (sagscor) He gets hit in the face, he raised his hand up but it slides off his elbow and hits him afterall, he did not touch his face, but kept his gaze on Crow, his voice was low, steady, but filled with an unyielding determination as he addressed Crow. His words came with the weight of someone who had carefully thought about this path, someone who understood that seeking the training of an assassin was not simply a matter of skill, but of transformation. “I have come to understand that the path I seek is not one of mercy or ease.” He nodded once to Franzia, acknowledging her presence without distraction, but his full attention remained on Crow, awaiting the next instruction. “Must be a test”, he grins. His words hung in the air, carrying the promise of dedication and sacrifice. There was no arrogance in his tone—only the cold, hard clarity of a man ready to embrace the deadly art that Crow wielded with mastery. Ofcourse he was angry as he was hit, however he maintained his cool, as he was a seasoned warrior.
[08:51] Crow (melchior.wardell) had this natural carelessness about him and yet nothing was simply there. Things were calculated, addressed in his mind. As if he was in this movie that would be played before it truly happened. Weighing options and outcomes and to see which would benefit him most. So when he spoke of a test he simply nodded “Yes a first of many if you truly wish to walk the path. A path only one out of ten seems to overcome alive.” he stated matter of factually.
“Many think that being a killer is about being at the other end of the pointy thing and while that is true … it is about many other things too.” he shared cryptic. “I do not waste my time to those that feel themselves bigger than a simple slap in the face. Since that is the least they will have to face.”
He would now indicate Franzia to offer them both wine. “I can see you gave this thought. Tell me why it is that you came to me, now?”
[08:52] Fʀᴀnzɪᴀ (redwinelovah) stayed upon the safety lines. No need to throw herself to the mix of men at testing their back and forth, skills. She twitched to hear the connect of a fist to flesh, but seemingly moved with the same tenature of supple grace, affected. The cork of the bottle was popped by the soft of velvet lips and poured into one glass, then another with the tilt of the bottle only halfway filled in each. She placed the bottle off to the side then, using one hand to gather each glass by the stem. swirling one and bringing to her nose to smell its bouquet with a flush of delight to curb her senses. An indraw, and then a slighted taste to ensure its quality and flavor. Its safety and presentation. One glass, then another. Once they had had paused, she began to continue forward, lifting both hands to the rise, each to the Master’s in easy attainment, two in one. Bonds were efficient that way.
[08:59] Guru (sagscor) stood tall, his posture unwavering, as he absorbed Crow’s words with the same quiet determination he had shown since the beginning. The weight of the challenge ahead did not faze him; in fact, it only solidified his resolve. He knew the risks, the grim reality of the path that Crow described. A path where only the strongest survived, where many would not see the light of another day. But to him, the reward outweighed the cost. He met Crow’s gaze, his voice steady and unwavering. “I have come to you because I seek something beyond what the world offers on its surface,” he said, the words clear and deliberate. “I have seen the chaos of the world—wars, betrayals, the endless fight for power. The weak are prey, and the strong are often not strong enough. The Black Caste, you offer a different kind of strength. Not the kind that stands in the light for all to see, but the kind that works in the shadows, hidden and silent, striking where it matters most. “I am not here because I seek power, but because I seek purpose,” he continued, his voice low but resolute. “I wish to master the art of influence, of precision, of being unseen yet always present. To strike only when necessary, to move when the world is unaware. I do not seek glory, nor recognition. I seek the freedom that comes with true mastery—the freedom to control, to move unnoticed, to make an impact without ever being seen. I came to you, because you know what it means to be truly free in this world. I wish to walk that path. A path where silence is the most powerful weapon, and the ability to disappear is a strength.I understand the risk. But this is my choice. It is not about being the biggest or the most feared. It is about knowing when to act, how to act, and leaving nothing behind but the consequences.” he paused briefly, his mind settling into the silence of his words before adding, “I came because this is the only way I see to become who I am meant to be.”
[09:08] Crow (melchior.wardell) listens and it was with the true intent to hear. To hear what he said, how he said it and to weigh the intent of the words chosen. He needed many and yet only a few were already telling Crow what kind of man he faced. He didn’t reply immediately as again to measure, prod and reason before he would address him once more.
He would look to Franzia awaiting for her to serve them. The scent of the wine already drifting to him as to see if the scent gave him any recognition. His eyes would rest upon her briefly. Wondering if she had been in the know of the plans of this man.
He turned back “A long time ago .. when I threw my insignia to the Ubar of Ar … I was a man of principles. Perhaps even arrogant and very much aware of my talents. But when I faced my mentor and learned that the training is done in celibacy, without the pleasures female flesh, wine or tavern brawls … I had to think that over.”
He would now move his hand to attempt to lift Franzia’s chin to the man. If she allowed him he was sure that if the man would look – he could see the promises of her lips, her passion in her eyes. “From what I learned this girl has submitted to you. And already you speak of giving that up?”
[09:11] Sasha Sin (sub.uwu) gave a small shrug. “I only know the black caste through rumors and tales. I’ve heard of mens shadows slay entire taverns. I… wanted to know what really happens.” Sasha stammered softly while Sirius hooked his thumbs in his belt. “As for my nightmares… I sleep a lot in the day. I do my chores and cleaning at night. The physicians said it was something that serum will fix but I’m too young right now.” she attempted to explain while she attempted to hide her need to feel guarded by rubbing a shoulder with the opposite hand.
[09:15] Fʀᴀnzɪᴀ (redwinelovah) felt the touch of Master Crow’s caress, the tip of her face that exposed the lines and blushes, the clear of her eyes and the line of her lips as her face was turned to Master Guru. Her body alive with a feverish pitch that was kept align with her rooted statue of humbled pride. Holding the glasses of wine for the pleasure of the Masters, fully tested, breathed and ready for consumption at their wim.
[09:20] Guru (sagscor) his posture as disciplined as ever. The weight of Crow’s words did not escape him, and he allowed the silence to stretch, sensing the subtle probing that Crow was engaging in. He had asked for this path, and now the reality of it was unfolding before him—tests, questions, and challenges that would define his resolve. When Crow mentioned the celibacy, the absence of worldly pleasures, his eyes narrowed slightly. He had thought long on the sacrifices required to walk this path, and he would not let the mention of a her submission or the temptations of the flesh sway him. He could see the connection between Crow and Franzia, the promise in her gaze, and yet he did not flinch. His path had already been set, and there was nothing that would divert him from it. His voice was quiet but resolute, “I came to you for the discipline of the Black Caste, not for the fleeting pleasures that can tie a man down. I understand the price of this training, and I accept it. I am not here to be distracted by the things [09:20] Guru (sagscor): that pull men off their course—be it a woman’s touch, or the comfort of the tavern. These are but temporary distractions, and I have no need for them.”
“I understand what Franzia represents, but I also understand what I must give up to truly be free in this world. A man who is ruled by his desires is a man bound. I seek the freedom that comes with mastery over them, and the ability to control my own fate. The path you walk requires sacrifice, and I have already made mine.” He then looked toward Franzia briefly, his gaze softening for the briefest of moments before he turned back to Crow, his voice steady once more. “She has submitted, and that is her choice. I have made mine. My loyalty lies with the path you offer. This is why I am here.” To Franzia, he gave no outward sign of acknowledgment, but inside, there was a quiet recognition of her role and the weight of that moment. Her expression, her movements, the way she held herself—everything about her spoke of discipline, of training, of knowing her place in the world they navigated. His eyes returned to Crow, steady and unwavering, before he spoke once more. “I do not seek to be distracted by the world around me. My mind is fixed on the goal ahead.” His eyes lingered just a moment on Franzia, recognizing the beauty in the moment, before refocusing on Crow, awaiting the next test.
[09:25] Crow (melchior.wardell) would now let go of the girl and take the glass with the wine. His fingers brushing hers in a silent gesture she had done him well. Very well indeed. He would have the wine dance in his glass as he sniffed it to enjoy all aspect of it.
The conversation behind him drifted too him and a grin crept upon his lips. Just his brothers luck.
When the man spoke once again, the attention of Crow moved back fully upon him. “Words.” he replied. “It is easy to speak of it, but to live it.” he replied. He would now indicate the man to take the other glass. “Take it … ” he stated. He than would give a meaningful look to Franzia and would turn back to Guru “Ever heard of the wait ?” he asks curious.
Crows Murder 