The Returning Slumber

[Cerce]

((Just some explanation as to why Cerce left in-game))

Brick upon brick, stone upon stone, a castle was being built. Cerce moved the many materials on top of one another, creating a basic lower wall where once there was nothing. It was painstaking work, taking hours - sometimes days - to create sections of the wall. But Cerce carried on.

He had been working the better part of a month like this, with occasional help from Varutil, Saera, and others. Varutil had since left the castle for parts unknown, although the bond they shared still resounded within himself. Today, it had come time to quit and return to his temporary quarters in one of the unfinished guard towers. Cerce laid down his building materials, and tromped off to sleep. He entered the tower, shutting the door behind him, and he laid down upon his bedroll.

Something wasn't right. He stands up again, and he looks out the window. A stunning view of the ocean meets him, as usual. He turns back to his bed, only to see the familiar figure of a stunningly handsome man with a black cane and suit laying comfortably on his bed.

Nomanic Carver was on his bedroll.

"Oh, so nice to see you again, Cercey-boy! That is what the dragonoid calls you, right?" He smils coyly. "How cute."

Cerce's hands clench. "What... are you doing... here...?" His anger and fear is displayed clearly through his stance.

"Confused as to how I'm out of the black box?" Nomanic chucks. "That never did contain me. It's just a nice place to... relax, away from the rest of the stupidity that are the ever-expanding realities of this existence. Why you ever thought you could contain and seclude me from the world, I'll never know." Twirling his cane in a quick fashion, then placing it firmly on the ground, Nomanic then stands up to his full height, at eye level with Cerce. "As to what exactly I am doing here, I'm just reminding you of our standing agreement."

Cerce scowls. "You mean my slavery."

Nomanic looks offended, throwing his hands up in a mock attempt to stave off the supposed lies. "You wound me with your words. Indentured servitude is much more becoming of our agreement. You cut my heart out, I rule your life until I get bored. You agreed when you tried to kill me so many years ago."

"I don't have to put up with this. Get back in your box, by the name of the One!" Cerce walks towards the door of the barely-constructed tower, and yanks on it. Beyond the door, however, lies literal nothingness. Cerce closes the door, and turns slowly back to Nomanic.

Where once there was the inside of the tower, there now lies a small lounge room, complete with comfortable plush sitting chairs. Two cups sit on a table, a bowl of sugar in between them. Water boils over a fire against a wall of nothingness, which cannot be accurately described. It appears as if tea is being prepared. Nomanic sits at the table, occupying one of the plush chairs, and motions for Cerce to sit.

"It's time to face the facts, Cerce. Vacation is over." Nomanic sighs, looking at his cane as he twirls it. "First, you went against what I wished. You denied Varutil the book which I gave you... Poor soul is probably wanting of a truly informed conversation. You even went and got yourself tied up with a demon - and a demon nearly equal in power to me, at that." As he turns to face Cerce, he stops twirling the cane. "Second, you became detatched with the Warlords. You were supposed to bring them together - create a stronger Kiwike, so as to protect the slumbering land until it awakens. You failed." He brings the cane down on the floor hard at the word 'fail'. "Thirdly, your building sucks. I mean, cobble? Really?" He chuckles, pouring himself some tea.

Cerce then finally seats himself, knowing now that his time in Kiwike is over. "Alright... Then I'm going to have to leave to do whatever it is you want me to do. Again." He scowls once more. "This isn't going to end, is it?"

Nomanic grins. "Define 'this', if you would be so kind."

Still scowling, Cerce then asks, "What of my companions? Varutil, Rhasa, Cell, the Warlords, Gekk-Va, Inkscale... Saera...?"

To this Nomanic drinks, uttering a muffled 'Oh!' as he does so. "No, no, don't worry. You'll see... Those closest to you will remain in a form, be it the form you know or something new. Two of them, specifically, will remain. I'm sure you can figure out which two can survive for a hundred and eighty years. I'm sending you to the future, not an alternate realm." The dark being smiles, sitting back in his plush chair. "Oh, the fun times that shall be had... Politics, intrigue, racism, war - Hey, we might even get a hint of sex if you play your cards right!"

Cerce blushes slightly at the thought of Nomanic's last topic. "Please tell me you aren't sending me there to procreate."

Nomanic bursts forth in laughter, almost intentionally spewing the hot tea all over Cerce. "Oh, no, no. I'm not nearly that mean."

Cerce sighs a breath of relief. "Thank you."

Nomanic smiles. "I meant I'm not that mean to the women. Anyhow, you're being sent for the same reason you were sent here: Unification. Apparently you were not motivated enough on your 'vacation' to Kiwike. Know that if you fail here... Consequences beyond your imagination will befall you, your friends, and realms beyond our touch. The Tether is not an artifact to be overlooked."

Cerce appears puzzled. "The Tether...? What's that...?"

Nomanic ignores him, and continues. "You will be sent 180 years into the future. Humans rule, and the majority of other sentient life-forms are forced to become subservient to them, under threat of military action or starvation. For the record - it's partly your fault. Someone saying they hate elves, even as a joke, can spread racism to future generations like wildfire. Your objective is very, very simple this time around: Unify the two peoplegroups. It's not rocket science. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Still puzzled, Cerce asks, "Rocket? Science?"

Nomanic rolls his eyes, again focused on the cane. "Oh, how ignorant our little Cercey-boy is. You'll see. Now, get back in bed. We've got a lot of waiting to do if we're going to get 180 years into the future." The coy smile re-appears on Nomanics face, and Cerce's vision fades to black...

[sethd13]

(( good bye cercy boy))