Sparks of the All-Forge - Preludes

Sparks of the All-Forge - Prelude 1- Rolin Wintertide- To Lose It All

Amusing, is it not, what a simple disguise can do? Rolin all but ran down the hall. Buckets of willpower were required to maintain the semblance of composure he held. That and his amusement were all that separated him from killing each and every Aegimari affiliate on the island. No part of him wanted to break world order when he saved Samara from her cell. He would do it, though. Let it all rot if sparing them all meant a world without her. Mother would not appreciate that sentiment. She loved each and every one of her children; even those who had been chosen by the Spectrum or the Void. Life had equal value in her eyes.

Rolin saw things differently, even as one of her direct children. A life without Samara was lesser; even more so was the life of one who wanted to take her away.

Focus, Wintertide. Focus.

All signs indicated that they would not be ready for him. They had suppressed her, likely with Indigo Hues, and he couldn't sense any high concentration of Nether in the area. He could feel her through their Fatethread. Forbidden, intimate, and most importantly at this time, unidentifiable. The Thread allowed him to feel her presence and location at the barest of minimums. One could send flares of emotions, memories, or even bits of thought to the other through the Thread.

The Thread had shown them that others could think in different ways. Samara thought in sensations and pictures, associating them with words and events that she was portraying to herself. Rolin thought in words, an inner monologue of sorts.

Her outburst at this discovery stuck with him to this day. I have to listen to you drone on and on when I'm with you. Must I when we're apart as well? He felt himself smile from ear to ear. Yes, focusing on her was necessary. It kept Rolin in check. They had been Threaded more than twenty years now. That would not end today.

The Thread was the reason he had found her. She had been abducted from her palace in Solrusia. The audacity of it all enraged him like little else could. Aegimar thought they had been quite secretive and, truthfully, they had. Without the Thread, Rolin might have eaten up the bait which would have set him, and Samara's kingdom, against the Maras of Mithrock. Without the Thread, he wouldn't have felt the worry and concepts of haste which had pulsed in his head whilst he was hundreds of miles away in the Autumn Isles. They had been too far apart for direct thoughts to come through, so he had waited.

The familiar came for him from Theron, their steward in the Ebonhold, stating that Samara had been taken. Solrusia was doing well despite the fact that their queen had been kidnapped from under their nose by unknown forces. Rolin's response, in which he stated that he would get her back without issue, had supposedly done wonders to keep them calm. As calm as they could be, at least. There would still be the typical opportunist to deal with when they made it back home. Some criminals will have been emboldened. All were quaternary at most on his list of concerns.

The news had forced Rolin's conferences with the Dwarven faction of the Autumn Isles to come to an abrupt end. Luckily, the dwarves were much more amenable to such slights. The elves would have scheduled a day and a half dedicated to letting him know how terribly insulted they were. Rolin was a king, he was a mortal god; Samara was a Disciple to another god. It would not do to explain what emergency had occurred. It would do to let them think on what could possibly require a god to step away as quickly as Rolin had without showing them how thoroughly he had been undermined.

Rolin and his Lunemorians acquired a smaller boat. Theirs would not do. It would simply signal to Aegimar that they knew, that Rolin was coming, that he was angry enough to meet them on their own ground.

That he was livid enough to kill them all.

All of these rang true. Rolin didn't want them to know it, though.