kenoslogs | [ PERMANENT. ] a (k)atch-all log for kenos

[ Already, he had clambered from the soil. Already, he had set upon the cities and found their shape and form; a handful of memories of Kenos subsisted within him, even as he found himself alighting from the dark caverns beyond Kowloon — mildly dazed, and without any idea of what he might have witnessed out there in the darkness. To find himself belowground in any capacity, let alone bereft of the knowledge of how he'd gotten there was alarming enough. A numb chill in his fingers, a lingering whisper in the back of his mind, the understanding of his abject powerlessness as an "Unharmonized" Shard-bearer... they follow him.

Dirt is under his nails. In the dim light of Kowloon's neon-bright fungal forest and the city lights, his eyes catch and reflect — luminous as a pale, lavender moon. Flashing in the dark like some eerie cryptid come shambling out into the real world. ]

Ah.

[ He croaks, and then clears his throat. Upon his brow, the pale four-point star catches the light as well. A shard of soft blue, the bottom point trailing down between his white brows. ]

I promise, I mean you no harm.

[Very often, these days, when Liem ventures Below to wander Kowloon’s claustrophobic, labyrinthine corridors, he goes anonymously: cloaked and hooded, with his face hidden and his voice and body language magically altered. Kowloon is not kind to those aligned with Meridian these days, and in that dark, seedy underworld, a masked and hooded face is not so strange a thing. For a man who simply wishes to do his business and be on his way, anonymity is the simplest solution.

On this particular occasion, he does not bother. He is not here to explore the shops and the markets; there will be no one to attempt to swindle him, and if any ruffians grow overbold with his person, he has arms and magic to rely on to convince them of their error. So he is bare-faced and garbed in his inquisitor’s robes as he wanders the strange city’s outskirts, familiarizing himself with the tunnels and caverns branching off from this one. Contemplating the idea of arranging an expedition deeper in, weighing the potential costs and benefits.

He spies the dark-skinned elf easily in the plentiful glow illuminating the cavern: soft to human eyes perhaps, but not so to his. The dark elf’s features are written plainly in the neon light, and it takes only a brief moment to confirm that the small man is someone Liem hasn’t met before; another moment to spy the shard and discern, with a short Look, that it is wholly unharmonized.

His gaze follows the elf watchfully as he draws closer.]

Are you lost? [The man’s unwashed appearance and complete lack of weapons are rather conspicuous for someone in this setting, especially given his unharmonized state.] This is not a good place to wander unarmed.

I believe, in a way, I am lost.

[ The angles of his face are hungry things, pretty in that full-blooded elven way but lean and wild though that it might betray his less-than-domesticated mien. Politely ( and with practiced ease ), he keeps his hands folded before him, and the forward lean of his ears tip back with a shallow flick — as if capturing some distant sound.

A calm holds fast to him, steady and nonplussed despite the strangeness of his circumstances. Taking in the man before him, he begins to track the various points of interest: the way he holds himself with experience, the formal robes on his body and pallor of his skin. Below the loose fit of his tunic, muscle tenses and slackens all at once — unarmed as he has been noted to be, Drizzt has survived many a danger. ]

I don't recall how I got here. Last I remember, I was visiting the information sessions in both cities after dreaming of the end. How long has it been since then, do you know?

[The elf’s explanation for how he’s come to be here brings a slightly worried frown to Liem’s face. He well knows by now that shard-bearers sometimes wander to the Tree without their say or knowledge, sometimes to vanish entirely, but this is the first he’s heard of someone missing weeks of time elsewhere. What on earth is lurking in the Below, to have bespelled this man so thoroughly?]

It would have been weeks, at least. The last information forums were held early in Iqnu, and the month is almost over now.

[Keen eyes, pale blue against a black backdrop, regard the other man’s calm appearance. Aside from the need for a wash, he does not look as Liem might expect from someone confessing that he doesn’t know why he’s here or what day it is. But then, if his last memories are of the end of his world and the confusion following it, perhaps this circumstance is not so much stranger. And he still recalls the elf’s greeting, the one that had suggested he was used to being perceived as a threat despite his small stature and lack of obvious weaponry.]

Can I guide you somewhere? Are you hungry? Thirsty?

[Or maybe he’d just like a bath and a change of clothes.]

[ Don't worry, Liem. There's probably a simple answer for that loss of time — like, [redacted] or even [redacted]. ]

Hm.

[ Nearly a month missing.

It's not the worst he's been through ( Protagonist Problems, ugh ), but it is enough to make him wonder about the people he had met. Amos. Tezcatlipoca. Joshua and Raphael. Such brief interactions, yet he would remember them with a keen mind and a chronicler's fervor; the first thing he wanted to do, was actually obtain some writing materials to begin to keep track of his new journey. To write and keep record, as he was certain all the old stories would be destroyed with his world. ]

Would you escort me to the surface? I have no real place to go, but I think getting into contact with some of the people I met before to ensure that they are safe is what I'd like to do first.

[ Bath? Hm, not a priority. He does grace Liem with a small, brief smile. ]

Thank you for your courtesy.

[If Liem finds it surprising that this amnesiac newcomer would find himself wandering underground and be concerned first and foremost with the well-being of people who are probably just going about their normal day’s business in the cities above, he doesn’t show it. Based on even this brief encounter, he’s willing to suppose that the man is well used to both taking care of himself and considering the needs of others. Certainly, despite his weeks-long disappearance into the Below’s tunnels, he doesn’t seem any the worse for wear.]

Gladly. It would be callous of me to expect you to find your own way.

[His frown disappears, and he gestures toward the cavern’s main exit, inviting the elf to walk with him. He leads the way through the towering mushrooms without any hesitation; certainly he does not seem to fear the small, unharmonized man at his side, for all that his colouring reminds Liem of campfire tales of wicked, night-coloured elves that supposedly dwelled deep beneath Avistan’s surface. This kind, gentle man bears no real resemblance to the elves in those stories (which were probably fabricated by racists, anyway. Taldor was not always kind to non-humans).

And anyway, he is armed, and this man is not.]

You’ve ended up in the Below, you know — beneath Springstar. Do you recall anything of your time down here?

Very little.

[ While small, his voice carries a gravitas that suggests less that he is a leader and more that he is learned. An expression of gentle stoicism fills his face, eyes darting fast and attentive to their surroundings as if to pick out any dangers long before anyone else does — weapons or not, power or not, he has duty of care and defense. A calling and a sworn promise, that he has kept for years.

No matter who has challenged him, including his own heart.

As the other man begins to lead him, he trots in his wake — standing just within Liem's peripheral vision, so as not to alarm him. ]

What I do remember, I cannot discern whether it is memories of my travels here or old memories of my origins. The Below is much like the Underdark where I was born, with cities and wilds and even the glow of mushrooms. I would not be able to say if I was awake or dreaming.

[ His voice is low and pleasant, though solemn, and he pushes his pace further to draw even with Liem's shoulder — albeit at a respectable distance. ]

Have you lived in Kenos long?

Edited 2023-10-31 21:31 (UTC)

[The Underdark… The name is not familiar to Liem, though it is evocative, and not entirely dissimilar to the name for the subterranean lands beneath his own world’s surface: the sprawling, unmapped Darklands. Does every world have to have a big, mysterious underground labyrinthe full of weird bioluminescent wildlife? Perhaps.

The man’s lack of memory concerning his time down here is still concerning, but asking him about it doesn’t seem to jogging anything loose. It’s likely best to just let that topic lie for the present.]

About a year, now.

[Liem guides them around Kowloon’s blocky boundary, rather than through the city itself. While cutting through might be a little faster, he isn’t keen to field the attention his face would surely bring there — especially considering the sunbeam set in plain view in the bow of the golden key resting against his chest. It’ll be safer to skirt the edges.]

So, not long in the grand scheme of things — but I have been here for the entirety of what the locals would call the current Oracle War.

[ Ah, the war. The one he'd heard of, from both sides. The only two sides, really — there's little room for those who do not wish to be dragged into fight, or support for it. The whole thing strikes him of imagined enemies and manufactured foes, like the hatred the drow held for the people of the surface. Thousands of years of fabrication, to entice minds to hate that which they could not reconcile themselves with. For a moment, his ears droop, expression quieting. Shuttering.

The war. ]

What has it been like? To serve in that War?

[ He wonders for the health of those involved, for their wellbeing.

A glance at Liem's sunbeam tells him enough of his chosen side. He recalls being offered the same token, the image of the world he'd lost — but he finds, he cannot think of it when his companions await him in the afterlife. If they are not here, then he must go there. Weariness holds him like a weight, disappointment and sorrow heavy on his shoulders. Drizzt slips it away, as if into a pocket or a hole in the ground, covering it over for the time being for the long "winter" that is to come. ]

Is there room in Kenos for anyone who does not wish to fight anymore?

[The smaller man’s sudden despondency is noted patiently, without surprise or remark. He is, Liem is quickly coming to suspect, a gentle person with a bone-deep weariness of conflict. He suspects the elf has seen much of it, and wonders if he has lived a long time among humans, where death is so often found.]

For me, it almost as if I am back home again. I left one war of secrets and politics and quiet little battles, and traded it for another.

[So in some ways, of course, serving in Kenos’s war has been astonishingly simple. He has experience with just this sort of thing, after all.

But it has also been a gruelling, wearying experience — as fighting in Taldor’s civil conflict would have eventually become as well, he’s sure, if it had dragged on for this long. If Meridian is successful and he does manage to return home to continue that war, it very well might.]

There is at least one shard-bearer in Kenos, though, who to the best of my knowledge has never participated in any conflict here, faction-oriented or otherwise. [He makes an effort, now, to speak gently.] I do not think you would be prevented from doing the same.

I see. To go from a battle you've fought for so long, to a new one... knowing no satisfaction or rest? Your heart must be weary.

[ The words are soft, sad in that oddly gentle way of his. Drizzt doesn't seek to place a hand on Liem, knowing that sometimes touch is unwanted ( be it from him, or anyone else, but usually him — ), but he does keep pace. As if enamored with his surroundings, he looks around, examines them; a furrow between his brows appearing now and again, as he thinks back to the memories of Menzoberranzan, of the dark caverns and glowing mosses, bioluminescent fungi and ferns, the eerie silence of the vaulted heights and distant dangers beyond its borders.

A bit like the Below, with Kowloon at the epicenter of civilization. ]

I believe I might be able to rest for a time, but my joining in will be inevitable — someone will need aid, or protection, and I have never known the ability to turn my very soul away from the needs of others. No, I think I will take my time, but I will come to be wielded once more by the gods.

[ A pause. ]

Or the memory of them, knowing my world has ended and they have gone with it.

[Liem is not used to being the more cheerful half of a social dynamic, but the man beside him is burdened with a melancholy that gives even his old-man depression a run for its money. Having taken on the responsibility for shepherding this new and bizarrely lost arrival for the time being, he feels obliged to dredge up what optimism he has left just so he can be of service to his world-wearied companion.]

It is, at times… But I had colleagues to lean on in my own country, and I have found trustworthy companions in my time here. I do not need to bear my weariness alone, and nor do you.

[As they walk, their path takes them from bioluminescent fungal forest to a region of stalls and milling traffic, sandwiched between the city itself and the exit that leads out into the tunnel network. Once they reach it, they will pass through the Last Dance on their way to the surface.

Liem could guide them to the cornerstone in the Seven Black Oaths, but it will be more useful, he thinks, for the man to know the mundane route back to the surface. Besides, that particular cornerstone doesn’t feel like his secret to share.]

Besides — the gods are not entirely vanished, yet. [He raises one gloved hand, almost absently, to touch the ornate key hanging against his chest.] Mine still hears me.

[ He feels reassured, that the man before him has found those he can trust to accompany and support him; with his own losses still so fresh, he has not the heart to pick himself up and begin anew. Even at his most isolated and alone, he'd always ( at the very least ) had Guenhwyvar. In this place, there is no one who knows him and cares for him. Well, there had been some who knew his name — his deeds, even. Raphael and Karlach, denizens of his world. Where they were now, he did not know.

Hopefully safe. ] I had companions, too. When they passed, I found myself lost — and I was lucky to forge new connections, years after.

[ How ironic, to have counted Artemis Entreri among his friends. Time did strange things to people, he supposed. And Drizzt examines the way Kowloon bleeds away, fungi to bustling alleys draped in rich silks and tapestries and brass lanterns. It reminds him a little of Calisham, but colder, darker. The bright shine of Liem's holy symbol and the words that assure him of his god's presence brings a measure of peace to the elf; while he and Mielikki were no longer seeing eye to eye, he was grateful to the goddess for showing him the path for a long time. ]

Is their voice why you chose the path that you did in Kenos? I am loathe to bring all things back to Factions, but they seem to be a driving part of life itself.

[Liem nods slightly, soft sympathy for the other man’s words. For the companions he’d had, and lost. For the connections he’d made later, despite the lonely years. After well over a century of living almost exclusively among humans, he knows this pain well, from the few companions he’d managed to find throughout his long life.

It had worn him down, over time. Made him a sober and reluctant friend. He owes much of his current fortune to the obnoxiously headstrong nature of the companions he’s come to know in this world, he is well aware. Making fast friends in Kenos had not been his plan.]

Choosing a faction was not something I did immediately. When I was brought here, I had already spent months mourning my home and my god. [His eyes flick watchfully about the colourful surrounds as they make their way through the handsomely-draped tunnels. He doesn’t expect the same hostility here that he would in Kowloon proper, but nevertheless, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.] The lord of the previous land to welcome me shared Lady Yima’s outlook, but not her gentle demeanour. I was given no choice in joining their service, and was expected to do things that I could not condone. My arrival in Kenos closely followed an… eventful stay in that lord’s dungeons.

[He was tortured, is what he means. Funnily enough, he doesn’t remember it that well anymore, even though it happened only a little over a year ago. Perhaps they’ve just begun to blend together with his boyhood discipline.]

I was not well-disposed toward the idea of "factions" after that. But I think, more than anything else, I just needed something to believe in again.

Belief — faith — is as integral as love. You cannot live without them both, I have found.

[ The elves of Menzoberranzan had faith in their Spider Queen, but no love. It had twisted and wounded them, so deeply that generation after generation knew not anything more than enslavement to a chaotic goddess. Those who loved without faith in someone or something, he had found, lacked self-preservation or the courage to find themselves, when it was hardest to.

He worries for the Shard-bearers of Kenos, naturally.

The Last Dance, pretty and colorful and filled with all sorts of individuals, leaves Drizzt a little withdrawn. Quieter, his pale eyes darting sharp and attentive as he tucks himself just beyond Liem's peripheral vision. Not to lurk outside of him, but to ensure someone had his back. ]

I do not know what the Faction's offer, really. Aside from something to believe in — two somethings, which cannot be appeased by the other. How heartbreaking.

[Liem is not entirely comfortable having this strange man at his back as they progress through the winding tunnels of the Last Dance. Though he doesn’t quite glance back to keep him in view, he does become a little distracted, his attention split between their surroundings and the soft sounds of the man moving and speaking behind him.

Still, it is just ingrained wariness that has him so on edge. Everything about this man’s manner is quiet and gentle; alert, yes, but not predatory by Liem’s judgment.]

They also offer kinship, and status, and resources. When I finally pledged myself to Meridian, it was in large part because I wished to learn more about this place and our situation, and knew that it would be easier to do so with the connections offered by a faction.

[And if his dedication to Meridian’s cause has become more steadfast in the meantime, surely that is natural, given all that is at stake. Certainly Zenith cannot be allowed to claim victory while he is still trying to discover the truth.]

What do you think, having been brought here from where you were before? Do you believe it is as those in Zenith say — that going home is impossible?

[ Of course a Faction would provide that. What are they, if not a place for like-minded people to devote themselves to a goal alongside one another?

He keeps his hands visible at all times, even while lingering in Liem's peripheral vision. Watching out for him, watching over him; the tapered length of his ears flick to and fro, aiming to catch all sorts of sounds and the depths-layers-intricacies of them. Anything to ensure no threat is immediately coming for either of them, particularly Liem. Drizzt is a newcomer, but Liem speaks of himself as someone with experience and longevity in Kenos — he must have rivals, enemies. ]

I do not believe that going home is an impossibility, per se. I believe it is — [ Fane will ask him later, what he thinks. Right now, it is hard to articulate. That he does not find the act of rebuilding worlds impossible, but that it is... improbable. The harder path, and the more dangerous one. He has known realm-ending events, even multi-realm ending ones; he died, just before he came here. While there is nothing to go back for, for him, he is not selfish enough to claim that because of it, nobody else ought to try. ]

Duteous.

[Even if this man with him is not Meridian, Liem permits himself some relief that no one in the Last Dance seems interested in waylaying them as they make their way through it on their way to the maze of abandoned tunnels between here and the surface. He’d rather return the man to the surface unscathed and unharassed, especially because he seems such a gentle, thoughtful person.]

Well, it is that for many of us, I’d agree.

[He thinks of Hayame, fighting to return home so she can cleanse her dishonour, and Set, intent on fulfilling his promise to his son. He knows others, like Link and Yuri, have wars to fight when they return home as well. Then there are those, like D, who just think the people in the world they hail from deserve better than oblivion.]

To me, it seems too important a thing to give up on without at least trying first.

[He has not learned as much as he would have liked to in the year he’s been here, but at least he has not been idle.]

I am Liem Talbott, by the way: servant of the Wealthy Father, Abadar. And presently, shard-bearer of Meridian.

Our worlds are important. They are full of our histories, familiar haunts, streets we know intimately, friends left behind dreaming of tomorrow and tomorrow.

[ Even when he comes to choose Zenith, he will never downplay that. However painful his life had been, it had brought him friends and love, companionship and splendor. It had been difficult, at times impossible to survive, but he could never wish to change a thing about it. To know it gone would, at one time, inspired him to reach back into the past and be like the Meridian — to give it another chance, to revitalize it from the ashes and see every unique star burning again.

One more round at the Yawning Portal would be wonderful.

But, there is a dark thing that has snuffed them all out and he cannot bear the thought of the here-and-now threatened by it. Cannot bring himself to sacrifice the people who live in Kenos to its hunger. Even Liem, though they have just met, is worth so much more than to be a sacrifice on the off-chance that his success revives the world... only to have to see it crumble ( to see him devoured ) by Oblivion waiting for them. Going back will hurt the Meridian. It will hurt anyone and everyone, really. ]

Well met, Liem Talbott. I'm Drizzt Do'urden — a ranger, and Unharmonized. I agree that our worlds are important, no matter our experience with them. Other people live there than we do, after all. Yet, I also believe in your importance. Are you taken care of, here?

[The way this man speaks, Liem is a little surprised he isn’t one of Meridian’s already. The shard on his forehead would have made it clear that this isn’t the case, even if Drizzt didn’t explicitly say so, but even so, the fondness and deep respect with which he speaks of his world, of all worlds, seems strange to imagine on one of Zenith’s number.

He recalls, though, that this is Yima’s position also. Loving something does not mean being unable to leave it behind.]

I am, [he assures the man, without needing to pause more than a moment to consider his question. Yes, he is taken care of: exceptionally well, even. He is recognized and respected for his service, perhaps more even than he ever was in his own country. Even if the princess and the people of Stachys came to appreciate him, his face and deeds remained relatively obscure to most. Here, this was not so.]

But I do not need so much taking care of. It is simply a pleasure to be of service.

Perhaps you do not think you need it, but you deserve to be cared for.

[ In that, he truly believes. Not simply because Liem is helping him in a difficult, confusing time, but because he is alive and worthy of being treated with compassion and care. He steps up, noting no immediate danger, to enter the man's eyeline again and finds the strangeness of his eyes soothing. Drizzt's own eyes were alien among his people, pale and stained with a blue sheen that had left the natural red a sweet, soft lavender instead.

With the brush of his fingers, he seeks to halt Liem in a quiet gap within the cavernous maze, close to the surface. The warmth of Springstar's suns can be felt here, heating the stones in a way that feels so very much like coming home after so long. ]

You were very kind to me, and I will always remember that.

[ The words of a man who has not known kindness save for in small, rare patches among faithful, loyal friends. ]

I do not think of what you did as a service, but if you must — I will definitely seek to show you the same consideration that you have shown me.

[Liem becomes more at ease as they leave the activity of the Last Dance behind them and traverse the quiet maze of abandoned tunnels beneath Springstar’s surface. Away from the glowing mushrooms of Kowloon and the dim lamps illuminating the tunnels just outside it, the complex of twisting passages is almost completely dark, but the blackness and the silence are a welcome reprive after the press and crowds of earlier. Liem does not miss the ease with which his companion navigates, either, as the dark of that maze swallows them up.

He stops when Drizzt does, turning to look at the smaller man directly, pale eyes flashing, animal-like, in the low light barely filtering from down the passage behind them.]

You are deserving of care also, is that not so?

[This man’s philosophy is a kinder one than his own, Liem feels. He cannot recall ever meeting a stranger and, knowing almost nothing about them, deciding that they deserved to be cared for. By whom? Whose responsibility should that be? It is a charitable notion, he thinks, and would be more appropriate within the churches of the Dawnflower or the Eternal Rose than in his own patron’s. But Drizzt Do’urden seems to believe in it.]

Consideration is not meant to just be paid back, but rather paid forward. I hope you find the people you are looking for.

[ PERMANENT. ] a (k)atch-all log for kenos

[OCTOBER] closed, liem talbott

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his ear flicks… 🥺

i am an elf ear wiggle truther

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