<em>[OOC Note]<br/><br/>For those of you viewing with fresh eyes, the OOC is here: http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=77273.0 (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=77273.0) . Please post up a CS and read the rest of the thread before posting here. <br/><br/>For those of you already fired up and ready to go, we begin two days after the Empress ought to have arrived home. One day is worrying, but the second day makes it clear that something is awry. <strong>Elfguy</strong>, Lilith would've been involved in sending out several contingents to search for the Empress, and they'll have found nothing. <br/><br/>The rest of you, begin somewhere suitable for your character and try to move them along into interacting with others. All of you will know one another at least in some respect. Please try to keep your posts above five lines long. <br/><br/>Without any further ado! ... :)</em><br/><br/><br/>Six bodies lay in their beds in a simple, unadorned country inn off the cobblestone road that led to the Crossing. Each appeared to have died in their sleep, mouths still open from snoring, arms still tucked underneath pillows and splayed out of rough blankets. Nothing moved in the room itself, the curtains open and leaving the lead-diamond windows to cast dim patterns on the dusty floor.<br/><br/>Outside, the sound of a horse departing clattered through the air, and would likely have woken the inhabitants of the room had they been able to rouse themselves.<br/><br/>The rider was leaving post-haste. The dark bay, light-set animal was built for speed, and dawn was chasing it. Draped in a deep brown, hooded and rough cloak, there was nothing particularly remarkable about either the rider or the horse itself. They were simply in a hurry, and headed directly for the Crossing. The four bridges that stretched across the channel between the coast and the island city of Ende reached out from the fortified beach that was visible from even this distance.<br/><br/>Hooves took risks. They carelessly scrambled down ravines and neglected smaller bridges in preference of simply crashing through shallow waters. The cloak billowed behind the rider, exposing further plain clothing with a leather cuirass strapped to it, an empty quiver buckled into place and a bow tied to the saddle’s rear.<br/><br/>A severe halt sent dirt-dust into clouds as they stopped by a decrepit hut. The morning stars were fading, and the deep indigo of the sky began pinkening at the horizon. The rider flung themselves from the saddle and yanked the door to the rickety building open, and vanished into it.<br/><br/>Ten minutes later, the hood was gone, the cuirass was off and a very different figure emerged from the hut. Swathed in burgundy and gold quatrefold brocade, a mahogany haired woman with striking angular features had made a sudden transformation from swift-riding ranger to poised lady.<br/><br/>She removed the saddle and replaced it with one designed for ladies. Once the cinch was done tight, she disappeared back into the hut for a brief moment. A clacking sound ensued, and then she sped out of it, mounted, and continued her hasty journey with the smoke of burning wood behind her.<br/><br/>Seated side-saddle, she thundered through otherwise tranquil summer fields. Long, lush grass whispered at the shoulders of her animal, hissing across the hem of her skirts and swaying back into silence after her passing. Morning was undeniably on the edge of the moment, and it hounded her with rose hues and cheerful, keen voiced birds.<br/><br/>Finally, the satisfying, solid sound of hooves on stone as she made her way into the ports of Ende, the gateway to the Crossing looming ahead of her with its weary eyed, grumpy guards and their smoking meat breakfasts.<br/><br/>She reined in at the appropriate distance, the strong, reversed ‘v’ of her horse’s neck bending into its typical proud carriage.<br/><br/>“Papers,” one of the disgruntled, no doubt recently roused guards muttered, midway through a bite of bacon and wedge-like bread.<br/>“Don’t be an idiot,” a second snapped as he rose to see to opening the colossal wooden gate. “You know who the lady is.”<br/><br/>The first guard squinted up at her, and a moment later he tossed his breakfast down onto the grease smeared plate it had come from and stood sharply to attention. “Your Excellence, Marm!” he corrected himself. “Forgive me, s’early.”<br/><br/>“Forgiven,” she answered, in a particularly rich, mature voice that rang with the aristocratic lilt of Tanperian nobility.<br/><br/>The gate opened with several men to push it, creaking in complaint as though it too couldn’t stand morning light.<br/><br/>“Good fortune t’your day, Excellency,” the second guard murmured, accepting a silver coin from her gloved hand with a respectful bow of his steel encased head.<br/><br/>“And to you, boys,” she answered, nudging her horse into a canter as she made her way up and onto the smooth stone pathway atop the bridge itself. The sea remained grey beneath her, never managing the romantic sapphire so admired in more northern climes.<br/><br/>Ahead of her, the island city seemed to leak upwards into the sky in turrets that defied the horizon, the aesthetics of the castle and its surrounding, imposing buildings lending it a fairytale, luminous beauty in the early hours of another tedious day.<br/><br/>The gates at the other end of the bridge were already open in anticipation of her; she came through here every morning from her manor on the mainland, the island guards knew the routine by now.<br/><br/>She passed through the streets directly up to the castle, the flowery boulevards broad and the townhouses immaculate. It was a city built for the upper class. The peasants and farmsteads remained on the continent.<br/><br/>The stables were quiet, as they were every morning without fail, and the boy came to take her horse, as per usual. There was nothing out of ordinary to her appearance that morning.<br/><br/>The page boy brought her a silver tray of letters on her way to the Chamber in which she spent the majority of her day. She looked them over whilst continuing to walk through the echoing halls of the labyrinthine fortress, the paintings staring at her and the mirrors winking her own visage back at her.<br/><br/>“Has the Emperor awoken yet?” she enquired of the page as she replaced unimportant letters onto the tray and kept the others between her fingers.<br/><br/>“Not to my knowledge, your Excellence,” he answered, eyes down and his wrist up.<br/><br/>"I wish to know when he does," she told him. One didn't spend fifteen years in close proximity to a man's wife and not develop a friendship with him, too - in fact, often she'd Advised him along with the Empress, and now she was quite sure that the disappearance would be at the very least, upsetting for him.<br/><br/>Time to comfort an old friend.