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#1 [fr] 

Cinabre made his way through the jungle ferns. His mektoub followed him, but seemed nervous, unused to this environment, which was quite similar to that of his native forest.

After several hours on the run, the Matis arrived at the clearing recommended to him. Behind him stood the massive, withered Stump. A little further on, to his right, was the camp of the sinister Black Circle. But what interested him most of all was this moss-covered expanse of bark.
He took off his heavy kostomyx to put on a softer outfit, and put down his club, taking his pick from his mektoub sticks.

The moss blistered, the bark appeared, streaked with amber veins. All that remained was to extract the raw material, with great blows of the pickaxe.
Among the mossy debris was a thorn. A simple movement to free a new vein of amber and pic!

Last edited by Cinabre (2 months ago)

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Cinabre Andertini,

#2 [fr] 

" Lao'doun, ki'doun, lao'doun, ki'doun " These words came back like a refrain. But at this hour, we liked to listen to another melody!
With a candle in hand, the old servant Matis made his way to the landing. It was definitely coming from Cinabre's room. He hesitated for a moment, but figuring he needed a good night's sleep, he finally knocked on the door.

" KI'DOUN !" Someone shouted from behind
Then silence. No, almost. A rustle of sheets, footsteps coming closer. The three panels of the door slid open stealthily. Cinabre, looking dazed, rubbed one eye and glared at the servant with the other.
In a pasty voice that was nothing like the one that recited this "lao'doun ki'doun", he asked:

"What's the matter?
- You're keeping me awake, ser. It seems you talk in your sleep."replied the old man, forgetting all about protocol at the same time.
However, Cinabre didn't seem to be in any state to take note of this discrepancy. He stared at the opposite wall, visibly troubled. As he seemed totally immersed in thought, the servant turned on his heel. As he lay back down, he wondered whether it would be wise to change the House...

Last edited by Cinabre (2 months ago)

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Cinabre Andertini,

#3 [fr] 

The wind blows hard, too hard. With a sudden crack, a tree topples over. But the sound echoes, as if in a large empty room.
The tree's roots no longer touch the ground, but move and intertwine.
In the meantime, the trunk has taken on a completely different shape: it looks like a hominin torso, with six stunted arms extending into clawed fingers.
The tree has turned into a monster! Evil incantations seem to emanate from between its fangs... Only, its head is nothing but a mass of translucent filaments that struggle to cling together. They glow with a morbid gleam. Suddenly, they rise up and come closer, closer... until they manage to scratch the forehead...

Cinabre opened his eyes, and the dream vanished with it. A small piece of furniture had fallen. He'd probably hit it with his foot in his sleep.

Reflexively, the Matis puts his hand to his forehead. Apart from being quite warm, nothing else. Already, memories are blurring.

A simple dream, just a dream that fills the silence of a night.

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Cinabre Andertini,

#4 [de] 

I'm looking forward to the sequel!

Last edited by Ozocery (2 months ago)

#5 [fr] 

Angelo Ivaldi, in his budding house in the Aniro district of Yrkanis, was turning over the soil in which his medicinal plants grew with a small spade. The soft sound of the three-panel door opening made him lift his wrinkled head. Cinabre had just entered, carrying bags of black soil.
The apothecary greeted him, wiping his hands on his burnished apron. Once his hands were free of dirt, he refitted his binoculars, careful not to place his hands on the glass made of hardened sap.
Meanwhile, the young Matis had stored his small cargo in a... corner of the round room...


"Your face is showing signs of fatigue, if I may say so, ser Andertini." says Angelo Ivaldi.
He continued, used to dealing with the Andertinis, both senior and junior:

"Insomnia or repeated sleepless nights?
- Let's just say that sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night. And most of the time it's just because of a dream." replied Cinabre
Angelo frowned.

"Nec, if you manage to go back to sleep afterwards, it can't be the cause of your apparent weariness. Has something been draining your energy lately? Perhaps your guild leader duties combined with the one entrusted to you by the Karan?"
Cinabre nodded.
"I don't think so, because we haven't had many caravans in recent seasons.
- Well, in the meantime, perhaps I can provide you with a potion for deeper, more restful sleep, eh?
- Sil, why not. Fila, ser Ivaldi "

Last edited by Cinabre (2 months ago)

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Cinabre Andertini,

#6 [fr] 

The glittering sphere approached, faster than a swarm of angry kipestas. But it shattered, in a thousand tiny flashes of light, on its target. The homin first wavered under the impact, then, shaken by spasms, vainly trying to resist the destructive magic, he collapsed with a barely audible groan.

Cinabre could feel the pain gradually spreading from his chest, which had received the full force of the spell. He saw, or rather thought he saw, a pale blue glow... Jena was about to restore his vigor once more.

Yet, just as he was feeling relief himself, he felt... no. He felt another pain. It wasn't him it was hurting. As the glow intensified, a shrill, thunderous cry vibrated between his temples.

The return to the Bark was brutal, all the more so as the scream had kept him half-conscious. Cinabre lay on his back for a few moments, exhausted and perplexed. Above him, he observed the ceiling of the small tunnel leading to the Ichor chasm. The lichens and other small plants dotted around reflected the bluish glow of the vortex. It took a while for the dizziness to subside, but the young Matis still thought he could hear the strange howling. The sounds of the animals in the forest just above him were distorted and muffled.

Making his first move, he brought his hand close to his right ear. It was damp. Cinabre looked at his fingers. It was bloody.

His eardrums had been put to the test. Where had the scream come from? And why had the blood only gushed out after he'd been brought back?

Last edited by Cinabre (1 month ago)

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Cinabre Andertini,

#7 [fr] 

As Cinabre emerged, the old servant smiled inwardly. He blessed the canopy for not slamming doors. He'd heard splinters of voices, no doubt there would have been splinters of wood.

Checking one last time that his tray was properly arranged, he struck three short, sharp blows on the lintel.


"Come inser Andertini senior
- Your slaveni tea, ser "declaimed the servant.
He placed the tray on the corner of the desk. He was just starting to serve the beverage when Andertini raised his hand, interrupting him.

"Nec, let me do it. You will take this to serae Jyhanne."

He was holding a parchment bearing the synoeca seal. The servant recognized the certificate attesting that its bearer was the guild leader. He understood, but remained silent. After bowing respectfully, he left at a formal pace.

Last edited by Cinabre (1 month ago)

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Cinabre Andertini,

#8 [fr] 

The huge Kipee shook its heavy geometric head. It slammed into its assailant's helmet.
Cinabre wavered in shock. Everything around him was moving, left to right and up and down. The fear of falling to his target's blows during this daze took hold of him. His vision blurred, but there was no pain to indicate a fatal blow. He thought he saw a cliff at the edge of Liberty Lake, then another expanse of water lined with sawdust, an island at its center.

But these landscapes were swallowed up by darkness.

The dream monster reappeared, menacing, its head still shapeless. It seemed to be reaching for her, once again with hooked fingers dripping black sap.
But he was far away, too far away.
No, he was no threat. His mass was but a shadow. The roots of the dream-tree from which he had sprung, which took the place of his feet, seemed to be rotting or falling to ashes.

Suddenly, the translucent filaments of his head rose and, as if from the depths of Atys, the cry rang out.

Cinabre wanted to say something, like a protective formula, but as his lips began to move, the light returned.

His axe was still in his hand. Magical runes from the incantations of the healer shouldering the hunters fluttered around him. The Kipee was only slightly lessened by the repeated blows. It had all been over in a matter of seconds. Cinabre was back.

Last edited by Cinabre (1 month ago)

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Cinabre Andertini,

#9 [fr] 

Cinabre couldn't hold back a sigh of relief. The Pillars of the Desert were about to receive him one last time. He stopped about twenty meters from the camp and dismounted. He slowly put away his weapons as a sign of peace.

The guards were nervous. So Cinabre waited for his interlocutor to join him. A member of the tribe stepped forward. If, for the young Matis, the moment was about to be a momentous revelation, for the Pillard it was just two short sentences, the kind you drop without giving them any importance.

A name... It was always better than nothing... A grave somewhere, no doubt, but whose location had been forgotten. It had been almost six years since the tragedy. All that searching for such a meagre result. This being he would have loved to cherish and call "mother" was now nothing but bones and dust. If only he'd known who she was a few years earlier...

That name... Her ears had already heard it somewhere. But when and where, she couldn't say.

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Cinabre Andertini,

#10 [fr] 

A page is turned. It seems as if one story has come to an end while another begins. Not all the shadows have been cleared, not all the nooks and crannies dusted off. But that's how this chapter ends for now, with three little suspension points...

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Cinabre Andertini,
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