Sinclair Confronts Besar
Sinclair Confronts Besar
The finely dressed wood elf approached a man in robes who carried a clipboard. “I need to speak to him.” The man shrugs, “I mean, sure, but I can't let you in.” The wood elf nods, a flicker of purple in his eyes. “I just need to speak to him.” With another shrug the man, a man named Zania, steps to the side and the rainbow energy of the doorway between planes becomes more transparent, but the future becomes less clear. The wood elf peers into the darkness of the cell, to see a teifling, one who had once had a rich face of deep red, now pale, and pink, eons away from light, or fire, or power. The teifling smiles, “Oh Sinclair, its been... ages.” “What have you done?” Sinclair asks, a sternness in his voice, one he rarely used, outside the occasional argument with Iris. It was not easy being married to the Goddess of the Tempest. The Teifling still smiled widely as he pulled himself up leaning on the uneven wall of shadow that made his cell. “Me? What could you possibly mean Sinclair. I've been here.” His smiles turns to a scowl. “One hundred and fifty MILLION DAYS SINCLAIR!” He shouts “MILLION!” His horns seem to twitch with his spike in anger. “What could I have possibly done, damn it!?” “Your anger is unbecoming of a God, Besar.” The teifling laughs again, it sounds almost desperate. “I am only the god of death because I am here in this cell, dieing slowly!” He shakes his head, his dark black hair whipping back and forth, “I ask you again, Sinclair, God of Paradox, what, EXACTLY, are you accusing me of?” “The storms that are destroying the temples of Iris. One of them seems to be teleporting mortals through time.” Besar, the imprisoned god of death, looks confused and he raises an eyebrow as he steps towards Sinclair, “That certainly sounds... fun... but, what does it have to do with me? Sounds like a martial issue.” Sinclair purses his lips and crosses his arms in front of his white oxford shirt and brown leather waistcoat. “Neither I, nor Iris, have anything to do with this, and you are the only one powerful, and ambitious, enough to do this.” Besar shouts “Shouldn't you be able to see all that? All seeing god of time and all?” He scratches his head in a exaggerated manner, turning away from his peer. “If this storm is sending mortals all around time shouldn't you see them? Shouldn't you be able to see the island? Why are you asking me?” He turns back and with one finger pointing up asks “Maybe your timeline isn't as secure as you think.” He taps his temple “Maybe you are not all seeing?” He lunges forward palms flat to the forcefield keeping him imprisoned “Maybe this whole fucking god thing is a farce!” He shakes, his hair falling over his horns and his eyes wide, his fangs at notice “You new gods are not as safe you think!” Sinclair remains stotic “How did you do it?” “I didn't cause any damn storms Sinclair, and I certainly can't fucking time travel from in here so maybe you need to be asking yourself who could actually do that. Maybe speak to that wife of yours!” Sinclair shakes his head, “This isn't going anywhere, close it up Zania.” The man shrugs and the barrier between this realm and Besar's slowly becomes more opaque with various shades of magical energy. Besar is still smiling as he takes his hands from the forcefield “I would have started with the destruction of her divine realm.”
The finely dressed wood elf approached a man in robes who carried a clipboard. “I need to speak to him.” The man shrugs, “I mean, sure, but I can't let you in.” The wood elf nods, a flicker of purple in his eyes. “I just need to speak to him.” With another shrug the man, a man named Zania, steps to the side and the rainbow energy of the doorway between planes becomes more transparent, but the future becomes less clear. The wood elf peers into the darkness of the cell, to see a teifling, one who had once had a rich face of deep red, now pale, and pink, eons away from light, or fire, or power. The teifling smiles, “Oh Sinclair, its been... ages.” “What have you done?” Sinclair asks, a sternness in his voice, one he rarely used, outside the occasional argument with Iris. It was not easy being married to the Goddess of the Tempest. The Teifling still smiled widely as he pulled himself up leaning on the uneven wall of shadow that made his cell. “Me? What could you possibly mean Sinclair. I've been here.” His smiles turns to a scowl. “One hundred and fifty MILLION DAYS SINCLAIR!” He shouts “MILLION!” His horns seem to twitch with his spike in anger. “What could I have possibly done, damn it!?” “Your anger is unbecoming of a God, Besar.” The teifling laughs again, it sounds almost desperate. “I am only the god of death because I am here in this cell, dieing slowly!” He shakes his head, his dark black hair whipping back and forth, “I ask you again, Sinclair, God of Paradox, what, EXACTLY, are you accusing me of?” “The storms that are destroying the temples of Iris. One of them seems to be teleporting mortals through time.” Besar, the imprisoned god of death, looks confused and he raises an eyebrow as he steps towards Sinclair, “That certainly sounds... fun... but, what does it have to do with me? Sounds like a martial issue.” Sinclair purses his lips and crosses his arms in front of his white oxford shirt and brown leather waistcoat. “Neither I, nor Iris, have anything to do with this, and you are the only one powerful, and ambitious, enough to do this.” Besar shouts “Shouldn't you be able to see all that? All seeing god of time and all?” He scratches his head in a exaggerated manner, turning away from his peer. “If this storm is sending mortals all around time shouldn't you see them? Shouldn't you be able to see the island? Why are you asking me?” He turns back and with one finger pointing up asks “Maybe your timeline isn't as secure as you think.” He taps his temple “Maybe you are not all seeing?” He lunges forward palms flat to the forcefield keeping him imprisoned “Maybe this whole fucking god thing is a farce!” He shakes, his hair falling over his horns and his eyes wide, his fangs at notice “You new gods are not as safe you think!” Sinclair remains stotic “How did you do it?” “I didn't cause any damn storms Sinclair, and I certainly can't fucking time travel from in here so maybe you need to be asking yourself who could actually do that. Maybe speak to that wife of yours!” Sinclair shakes his head, “This isn't going anywhere, close it up Zania.” The man shrugs and the barrier between this realm and Besar's slowly becomes more opaque with various shades of magical energy. Besar is still smiling as he takes his hands from the forcefield “I would have started with the destruction of her divine realm.”
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