EARLY’S ALIVE!
Dziga falls into a state of metaphysical depression at the loss of his shadow. He cannot sense his incorporeal companion at all on this plane of existence, yet his lifeforce has not been diminished to signify the shadow’s death. Dziga rarely leaves his room at the Rosegate House. He complains of rats in the walls, but no one else notices anything. He says there is a fresh rat hole in his room, and unusual looking paw prints, almost like little hands, in the dust on the floor.
Emeris spends most of his free time working with Saharasahla on mastering the secrets of the Tenebrous Formula.
After completing his job for Shilukar, Vatex awaits word on Early. He continues to investigate the identities of the burglars who’d robbed the Rosegate House, but finds no leads.
One day, the group receives a message at the Rosegate House from Shilukar. He reports that he has found Early! Excitedly, the group travels to Castle Shard and visits Shilukar’s laboratory. He explains how he used a chaositech device to find Early’s location. He is in an extradimensional place known as the “Beast Run”. That is the good news -- the bad news is that, although the device is capable of bringing Early back, it only works on a willing subject. Shilukar reports that he attempted to shift Early back to Elan, but it failed because the target was unwilling. So they will simply have to wait for Early to come back on his own someday, somehow.
Still, there is some comfort in knowing that, at least, their friend is alive and was not killed in the Staff of Shards explosion beneath the city.
VATEX TRAVELS TO MOONSILVER FOREST
Still haunted by visions of the beautiful silver-haired elf that intermittently appear in reflective surfaces, Vatex correlates this with what the diviner from the Tempe of Calethon had said -- according to Vatex’s birthsign, the diviner had believed Vatex had a twin sister. Vatex had never known of any sister in his youth -- but could it be true?
Vatex buys a horse and travels beyond the Holy Empire’s borders to Moonsilver Forest, the land of his birth. It is a long journey, and he finds that none of his relatives still live there in the end. Before he is too disappointed, he does find an elven druid elder, called the “Speaker of the Trees,” who supposedly knows all about the elven community of the forest. And remarkably, the Speaker reveals that Vatex did have a twin sister -- uniquely born with silver hair that gleamed like burnished metal.
Vatex’s parents had never told him anything of this sister. What happened to her? The Speaker informs him that before Vatex’s first birthday, unidentified dark forces appeared and attacked the caravan of which Vatex’s family was a part. The silver-haired infant was taken by these dark agents and no trace of her was ever found again. Wherever she was taken, it was powerfully shielded from divination magic -- even the insight of the gods could not reveal her location, or even if she was still alive.
His heart heavy, Vatex returns to Elan. On the last day of travel, as the city comes into view, Vatex encounters an interesting pair of travellers on the road. DAERSIDIAN RINGSIRE, a human warrior from Alaria, and BRUMMELT AIRMOL, a halfling rogue from. Together, they ride the powerful wyvern called THORNTAIL.
These two explain that they are heading to Elan to find and help their friend, a structural engineer by the name of THURVAN RASHONG. They are reluctant to reveal too much information, but they say Thurvan “changed” somehow and travelled to Elan to find something called “Kadmiel”. Vatex knows only a little of the local legends surrounding Kadmiel. People aware of local legendry say that Kadmiel, aka “the Shade Tower,” is a magic tower that does not really exist. Only its slender shadow appears in a long-empty lot on Ridge Road in Oldtown.
Once they get into town, Vatex recommends a decent inn for them to stay at, and wishes them luck on their quest to find their friend. He wonders though... if this Thurvan fellow was trying to “go to Kadmiel,” is Kadmiel more than just a strange supernatural effect on moonlit nights in Oldtown? It is a place a person can actually “go”?
EARLY AND OLD BEAR
Early spends his days, of which he has completely lost track, in the strange realm of the Beast Run. He lives off the land, wearing only a loincloth and wielding Cryssaegrym. He has grown a big beard like Osama. When he is not running with the Silver Wolf through the jungles, he is sitting around eating raw meat with a massive, 30-foot tall bear with four-arms called “Old Bear”.
The Silver Wolf, who is apparently some sort of animal god, lacks any overt means of communication. Old Bear is different -- he is quite talkative, well-spoken, and seems to be philosophically minded. Old Bear seems to be the speaker for the Silver Wolf’s strange philosophy of nature.
“Man is part of nature. His civilization is inherently part of nature. How is a city different from a beaver dam? No difference in principle, only in kind. But man can make choices like most animals cannot. If man rejects his nature, civilization then contains the seed of its own destruction. What is unnatural cannot persist -- it will eventually succumb to natural forces. The danger is that civilization severs man from his instincts. Not having this elemental aspect, one cannot hope to survive.
“The nature surrenders its treasures and feeds man. Man dies and feeds the earth. The earth in turn feeds more creatures still. Thus there is a perfect balance. All the natural beings of our world are part of this eternal cycle, this perfect balance. To exist within the cycle of nature, to follow one’s true purpose in a system of balance.
“Civilized men speak of ‘rights’, but there is only nature. The wolf does not respect the sheep’s rights. But nor does man respect another man’s rights. Whether they work together or kill each other is both compatible with man’s nature. The is only life and death, and survival along that continuum. On a long enough time scale, everything’s survival rate falls to zero. That is good and proper. Nothing should live forever. The only constant should be the _system_ which lets nature’s children live and die.
“Kyuss is corruption and eternal death. What he will bring is not natural. He would destroy the natural cycle. The Age of Worms is the end of nature. The end of everything living and natural.”
Early considers the words of Old Bear, but he does not exactly understand the Silver Wolf’s special enmity towards Kyuss. He considers Uncle Vegard’s words in the letter he’d written to Early. “But what makes Kyuss so special? Why is the ‘Worm that Walks’ so much worse than any other dread elder evil that exists in our world?”
Old Bear seems confused. “Gee... I don’t know. I suppose you’d have to ask the Silver Wolf that yourself.”
The only problem is that when Early runs with the Silver Wolf, there are no questions or answers. There is no dialogue. Only emotions and visions are imparted to him, but nothing in a clear language. Early sees a forgotten ziggurat with a jarring, abstract sculpture mounted upon it -- an ancient shrine in a similar setting -- an frighteningly armored warrior mounted on a metallic flying monster, leading an army of undead and aberrant horrors -- a lurching, cloaked figure with a nondescript white mask walking across a grassy plain -- and a solitary island surrounded by blue ocean, whose dominant feature is a dark fissure which goes deep into the earth, and from this fissure profound evil emanates.
WINTER OF STRIFE
The Holy Empire’s wars had brought great strain to food supplies, and imperial wizards fabricated additional gold to pay for the war effort led to substantial inflation. Tremendous shortages developed, and the poor and middle-classes of Elan found it harder and harder to put food on the table. Impromptu protests erupted throughout the city, but they tended to be nonviolent. Many clamored for price controls to keep the prices low, but the Commissar understood how this would compound problems of shortages and continued to let the market set prices.
Concurrent with the deteriorating economic conditions through the winter, Republican terrorists waged a violent campaign against the government of Elan. Before the new year, they conducted three attempted assassinations on city council members -- in one case, that of well-known fighter and blacksmith, Boren Darshal, a noted Guilder of the iron industry, they successfully killed their target.
In addition to these targeted assassination attempts, another Republican terrorist tactic consisted of detonating big wagons full of gunpowder next to City Guard watchtowers throughout the city. Many city guards and innocent bystanders were killed in these explosions. The City Council passed a law that allowed guards to randomly search any and all people and wagons in the city. This was a considerable affront to the civil liberties of the Elanians. As Imperial citizens, it would generally considered an unacceptable violation of liberty to randomly detain and search citizens (although that was considered legit when it came to non-citizens). Now _everyone_ could be searched. Various security checkpoints were set up at all major thoroughfares. Furthermore, the City Guard conducted many nighttime raids on suspected Republican homes or hideouts -- sometimes suspecting correctly and finding terrorists, and other times getting things completely wrong and creating an extreme state of fear and distress in innocent families or business owners.
At least thirty known Republican agents were arrested, tried, and executed for treason since the first attack in Decembar. A few others were simply shipped down to the Undercity Prison on executive order from the Commissar without trial and without a hearing before a judge.
Now while some people accepted this for the sake of security, many Elanians had a more steadfast connection to the Holy Empire’s general respect for the rule of law. The attack on civil liberties by a government that was draining the people with high taxes to pay for wars was too much for some people. Elan already had the highest taxes in the entire Empire.
SHADOWCASTER SECRETS
Through the cold winter, Emeris and Saharasahla attempt to master the Book of Inverted Shadows. From the original copy recovered in the Banewarrens, they find that even the most faithful translations featured many mistakes from its conversion.
Emeris also becomes more acquainted with Saharasahla, and learns that he is far sicker than he ever let on. The old man can barely lift the heavy tome without his arms trembling violently. He hacks and coughs all day and night.
Saharasahla continuously alludes to the fact that if can, as he suspects, use the complete Book to gain access to a place called Kadmiel, he will finally be able to have “freedom,” at least in a sense, for then he will be able to leave his library at last. But furthermore, he would be able to perform a dark ritual that would use the essence of the Plane of Shadow to merge his body and soul into a single unit -- he would become a shade.
Emeris wonders if he should complete the transformation as well. Obviously Saharasahla’s condition meant that not transforming would be a death sentence. But what of himself? It would grant him agelessness, immunity to disease, and the ability to regenerate wounds, among other fantastic shadowy powers. But a shade is not a dragon, and Emeris’ nature was fundamentally closest to that of his shadow dragon father. The transformatoin would cause him would lose his draconic nature, and become an outsider -- literally, that’s the creature type he would be.
But even more than that, the thing that dominates Emeris’ thoughts while they work on the equation all this time is the strange, ineffably familiarity of it all. Bafflingly, Emeris had the strangest feeling of deja vu about the text on the he’d read on the 751st page of the Book of Inverted Shadows. But... how could that be???
EARLY’S RETURN
The Silver Wolf crashes through a canopy of trees with a mighty leap, and lands before Early and Old Bear as they eat. Old Bear says, “Looks like its time for your last run. When you get powerful enough, you’ll have to go to the Shrine of the Silver Wolf. Maybe you can find your answers there?”
The giant bear gives Early a hug, and the warblade runs off with the dinosaur-sized wolf. After running continuously for a few more days, or weeks, or months (Early’s can’t tell)... the wolf brings him to a portal in the middle of the plain. Through the portal, Early can see the grasslands around the City of Elan. They run towards it, and at the last moment the wolf veers away and Early continues alone.
He finds himself decked out in all his gear, Cryssaegrym in hand, and still with his huge beard just a few miles away from Elan. He’ll have to shave when he gets home.
Immediately he can sense greater power within Cryssaegrym. Then at that moment Early realizes that it is not just Cryssaegrym that is growing in strength on its own -- instead, its power feeds off Early. No one wonder Cryssaegrym needed the wielder to be so strong.
Early now feels that the sword is the "bane of the favored of Kyuss," meaning it is extra powerful against aberrations and undead. But Early can also feel that his olfactory sense has gone crazy -- he has scent like a wolf constantly active, and when he enter his Hunter's Scent martial stance, his senses become heightened even further by the Vajra augmentation. Additionally, the warblade feels a deeper connection to the natural world -- so much so, that he can commune with nature.
Early reenters Elan. It’s damn cold and he is still dressed like its summertime, so he heads home. Along the way Republicans blow up several cases of gunpowder at one of the North Market’s watchtowers. Many people are injured or killed. At this point Early speaks with a few bystanders and learns that it is Marca 17, 755 YE. Early has been gone nearly six months it seems, and the city has gone to hell with high food prices and terrorist attacks and that sort of thing.
DREAMS BEYOND THE PALE OF SANITY
Early returns home and finds Vatex and Emeris. He hears about what they’ve been up to the last few months. They report that Dziga seems unwell. Since New Year’s, the rogue has been spending near all his time out in the cold at Keziah’s wall in Tent City. There he sits, staring at the crude drawings, the complex mathematical formulae, that astronomical diagrams, and strange curvilinear symbols. Somehow he thinks it will help him get his shadow companion back. But Keziah never shows up, nor does she seem to add anything while he is away.
During this time, Dziga returns home only to sleep and eat. When he sleeps, he finds that his crazy dreams have returned, more horrible than ever. On many nights he has vague, incomprehensible dreams of floating through an abysss of utter madness. As far as he can tell, it consists of insane non-euclidean architecture of twisted, semi-organic looking substance. This place seems inhabited by strange things to which he can ascribe no motivation or comprehension because of their utterly alien nature. Some seem to be like masses of bubbles, others clusters of tiny cubes, others like misshapen octopuses covered in prismatic barbs, and all manner of other crazy things. He floats among them, and whenever one of them seems to notice him (in its strange way, as it is utterly incomprehensible in a behavioristic sense), Dziga feels an intense grip of terror and awakens covered in sweat.
Beyond horrible were these dreams, but it is arguable that the _other_ dreams were even worse. In these dreams, far more vivid and clear than the others, Brown Jenkins -- Keziah’s human-faced rat familiar with little feet like that of a tiny man -- would emerge from the rat hole in the corner of his room. Sometimes he would only poke out his head. Other times he would crawl into bed with Dziga and nuzzle him. This would always cause Dziga to awaken in utter disgust and horror.
In other dreams, the most vivid of all, he could hear someone with very heavy shoes walking down the hallway outside his room. He could remember the distinct sound of those heavy shoes, for he’d heard them when the Black Man had shifted his feet in their first meeting. Thank goodness the Black Man never entered his room in these nightmares, for even in dreams Dziga feared the Black Man in a profound way.
Then, one night, while dreaming of the sea of madness, Dziga is approached by three figures. Two indistinct, ghostly figures -- one large, one small -- followed by one of those weird cube-clusters. Dziga knows immediately that the spectral things are Keziah and Brown Jenkins. When they are close enough to touch, Dziga feels a strange pulling sensation and finds himself in a familiar environment -- Elan. It is like his earlier dreams, with Keziah riding on his back. She whispers madness in his ear as he follows Brown Jenkins down various streets with no discerable direction.
But then, Brown Jenkins gestures towards a particularly dark alley. Indeed, an alley so dark even Dziga’s supernatural vision does not reveal much. At the edge of the alley, he finds his shadow companion, cowering as if it had been subject to some great trauma. Dziga hears sound of heavy shoes deeper in the impenetrable darkness of the alleyway, and then awakens.
The shadow companion is there in Dziga’s room. It seems emotionally battered, in a way that Dziga would not have thought possible for a creature of its nature. It doesn’t even seem to know what happened to itself. But the rogue-shadowdancer is glad to have his companion back.
ROSEGATE VS. SADAR AGENTS
The dawning of spring comes late. By the time Apri rolls around, there is still snow on the ground in the city.
Sitting in the bar one day drinking a mug of ale, Early is confronted by DUCLIS the catman duskblade-swordsage-fighter from Taforashia. It appears this is the catman who was part of the crew of burglars who’d robbed the Rosegate House.
Duclis explains that he and his crew were simply trying to find that shadow key Emeris had found in the basement of Richard Derby’s house. Early says it was given to Saharasahla for safekeeping. Duclis asks if there is any way Early might be interested in getting it for Duclis’ employer. Early rejects the offer -- before Duclis leaves, they are a hair away from drawing their weapons and fighting each other. The catman hisses and Early growls. As Duclis leaves, he tells Early to consider the request, and meet in Shara’s Park in Nobles District at midnight tonight with the key.
Early reports this encounter to his comrades. Emeris wonders what was the purpose of that strange key made of a shadowy metal substance. Saharasahla had never explained to him what it was. Hmm... In any case, the group decides to kill Duclis. They will go for the midnight meeting in the park, but they will simply kill Duclis and anyone else who shows up with him.
Vatex takes a sniper position on the art gallery rooftop overlooking the park. Emeris takes wing and circles the sky overhead. Early stands by the park’s fountain, while Dziga hides nigh invisibly in the nearby shadows.
Duclis shows up, with his entire crew. VIRANIA, human shadow warrior and lesbian lover of Nika Drendol, the human shadow blade they’d killed in the Banewarrens; XUMBLETWICK, the chaos gnome warlock; LAMBERT, a human knight; and ZUUMA, human ninja supreme.
What follows is a battle against difficult opponents, that is well controlled by the Rosegate Company. Dziga tries to bring down Zuuma immediately with a sneaky surprise attack, but the ninja is impossibly quick to react and throws down another cloud of mist to obscure his movement as he flies upwards.
Zuuma unleashes volleys of flaming shuriken at Vatex who fires back with his gun. Xumbletwick conjures up cold tentacles from the ground that grapple Dziga, but the rogue triggers his blinking armor and phases through them, firing arrows from Roguefriend at Duclis. Xumbletwick flies to intercept Vatex and blasts raw arcane energy at the elf.
Virania and Lambert stay close together. Emeris hits them with a blast of killing shadows, its deadly power maximized by the shadowcaster’s new ring of metashadow. Lambert is nearly killed, but Virania avoids the brunt of it. Virania, who seems to fight with no weapons, suddenly grows several shadowy appendages -- whipping tentacles and razor-sharp claws of hardened shadowstuff, which course with negative energy. Early tries to hit her with his gun but she dodges like Keannu Reeves in the Matrix.
Duclis fires a few shots from his tri-elemental dwarven magnum, hitting Emeris with bullets that crackle with flame, frost, and electrical energy. Then, with a couple of Dziga’s arrows protruding from his chest, he sees the rogue escape the tentacles and uses a Shadow Hand maneuver to teleport behind Early, putting him between the shadow warrior and the knight on one side, and the catman on the other.
Dziga helps Vatex fight against the flying gnome and the ninja. Dziga shifts in and out of shadows -- enemies cannot be sure where he will appear. And when he does appear, he blinks in and out of the ethereal plane. Several shots from Dziga’s arrows hit the gnome who goes down while blasting Vatex with arcane energy.
Zuuma flies over Vatex, spinning his kusari-gama and trying to trip the elf prone. Vatex catches the kusari gama as it twists around his left arm, and he twists with great strength and nearly pulls Zuuma to the ground. The ninja lands near the art gallery wall and the elf is upon him, blades flashing furiously -- the magic of his skirmish vest triggering a flurry of attacks.
Early finds himself surrounded. Lambert designates the warblade with his “Mark of Shadow” power. A dark twisted symbol appears on Early’s chest -- at this moment, black energy begins to infuse Lambert’s longsword. If Early does not hit Lambert with an attack, all that black energy can be released on Early in a devastating blow. Early understands the tactic -- Lambert is a protector, and his mysterious technique is meant to draw attacks to him. Duclis unleashes two bolts of powerful magic that leave nasty scorch marks on Early’s plate mail, burning flesh beneath. At this moment, Virania rushes forward, putting herself between the wounded knight the warblade.
Negative energy infused shadow claws slash at Early but he dodges easily, and rushes the female shadow warrior with a brutal howl. The warblade strikes with Cryssaegrym channeling the power of a Rabid Bear Strike, which hacks into Virania’s chest. Early follows up with an unexpected blow that cuts right through Virania. Her torso falls left and her legs fall to the right, her guts spilling across the ground.
Duclis sees his chance. He calls upon the power of the Vajra with a Diamond Mind technique. His keen catman eyes pick out the slightest imperfection in the warblade’s defenses. His weapon becomes a tool of his mind. At the same time, he channels raw arcane energy that would otherwise power his duskblade magic into his sword -- and begins speaking the words of a spell. He charges Early, and swings his elven thinblade at the warblade as Virania goes down. White arcane power swirls around the duskblade and is released at the moment the sword connects. Early is cut by the keen elven steel and engulfed in a torrent of arcane energy that burns him like magic fire.
At that moment, Duclis completes his spell, causing Early to dimensionally translocate -- right before Lambert, who is ready for Early. Still the Mark of Shadow is on Early’s chest, and suddenly the warblade regrets targeting Virania. The horribly wounded Lambert strikes with two mighty blows that flare with dark shadow power, drop the warblade in a shower of blood.
Zuuma fights aggressively with Vatex. The ninja marvels at the elf’s skill. But when he realizes Virania and Xumbletwick have been killed, and Lambert nearly dead, he figures it’s best to leave the battle and not risk absolute defeat. Zuuma turns invisible and flies away, promising he will meet the Rosegate Company again. Vatex curses all corwardly enemies who will not fight to the death.
Back to back, Lambert tells Duclis to flee. But instead the catman resolves to fight to the end. Emeris attacks Duclis through the catman’s own shadow, assaulting his mind with dark magic. Lambert struggles to fish a healing potion out of his pack, when Dziga suddenly appears only 30 feet away and looses another arrow at the catman. Lambert leaps in front of the shot with surprising reflexes and dies from the arrow meant for the catman.
Duclis realizes he is doomed. He hisses as Vatex closes in on him, swords flashing. Duclis parries a few attacks with his darting thinblade, but the assault is too much. The elf’s swords plunge into Duclis’ body and he dies.
As Early lays on the ground dying, he laments that perhaps he was not strong enough to be the Silver Wolf’s champion against Kyuss. Damn, how could he be killed now? In his final moments, he has a vision of the shrine in the jungle, and he feels Cryssaegrym communicate to him that the ultimate power of the sword can only be unlocked at that location. With superhuman determination, Early seems to stabilize his dying condition with will alone. While hovering at death’s door, his friends pour a healing potion in his mouth to bring him back to consciousness.
As the group walks back home, they hope Lord Sadar gets the message -- you fuck with the Rosegate Company, you get fucked.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
INTERLUDE: Republican Meeting
INTERLUDE
Novembar 28, 754 YE
Faric Selor stepped out of the swirling snow and biting wind in the city streets and into the Hunter’s Club, quickly closing the door behind him. He was instantly warmed by the fire in the hearth and the warm ambiance as he scanned the common room -- it was suddenly very easy to forget about the fierce winter storm that had come to Elan like an ice god’s curse.
He spotted Okoral’s olive skin and thick crew cut near the fireplace. The man sat staring vacantly into the dancing flames, with an untouched bowl of beef stew before him.
Faric slipped across the room, nodding a greeting to another Republican who sat in the back corner, Bravosi Henim. Faric sat across Okoral but said nothing. He waited awkwardly for a minute before Okoral shifted his gaze from the fire and acknowledged him.
“Thank you for coming,” Okoral said. The man normally looked much younger than he really was, but at the moment he seemed very worn by stress and exhaustion.
“What is it, Okoral?” asked Faric anxiously. “When I did not hear from you last week, I feared--”
“All the pieces are place. Raknian wishes to launch Phase One immediately.”
Faric’s eyes narrowed as he considered this information.
“What is the problem? You are not ready?” asked Okoral.
Faric shook his head. “I am ready, but why so soon? I thought we were going to wait until Januar because of the--”
“The Elanian people are suffering, Faric,” Okoral said solemnly. “Food stores are at their lowest levels in forty winters. Shortages are worse than I have ever seen, and I’ve lived here since I was a boy. Tairon’s wars are suffocating the people, and Elan must get out from under its yoke. Let the Empire plunder its own people for its wars, and let Elan be free once more.”
Faric knew the situation was bleak. Every day seemed to bring worse news. Secessionary wars in Yudora, rebellions in Gargaston and Walsta, combined with the the Silmarians successful occupation of Vigoor’s northern Guardia province, had put great hardship on the people of Elan. Food prices had tripled in the past 12 months, and combined with increased taxes to fund the wars, many people were under serious financial strain. It was also widely known that imperial wizards in Tairon were using fabricate magic to simply replicate gold coins, causing inflation which disproportionately affected the poor. Faric’s own mother had been unable to pay her rent and would have been thrown out on the street had he not intervened with some of his own money.
“Yes, Elan must be free,” Faric agreed. “I am ready.”
Okoral produced a sealed envelop from a pocket in his vest and pushed it across the table. Faric opened it and read it quickly. When he finished, he was more than a little surprised.
“Ashby Gerard... Talus Riverrun... Boren Darshal... These are members of the City Council!” he exclaimed.
“Quiet, you fool,” hissed Okoral. “This might be a Republican establishment, but we cannot be sure the Commissar does not have spies here.”
Faric looked around, thankful that no one suspicious seemed to have overheard. He said, “My men and I will take care of this, I promise. When the mission is complete, will we proceed with Phase Two?”
“No, Phase Two will proceed simultaneously. You will not be handling that. Raknian has forged some new relationships, and our new allies will take care of that.”
“New allies?” Faric had a lot of confidence in Raknian’s leadership, but was concerned about some of the new friends he’d made for the sake of Elan’s liberation. “What does Rebel Four think of all these new allegiances?”
“Rebel Four supports Raknian’s plans wholeheartedly,” Okoral said. “Sometimes you must work with the lesser of two evils to achieve the greater good.”
Okoral must have seen the concern in Faric’s expression. He said, “Itlstein was slow to act. He had staked his entire plan upon one obscure prophecy, which foretold an event that never materialized. Raknian is much more proactive and will not sit idle while our city is exploited for the sake of those bastards in Tairon.”
Okoral’s devotion to Raknian knew no limit, of course. He would never doubt his boss. He had worked for Raknian for nearly 20 years. Faric too had a lot of respect for Raknian, but he sometimes wished Helmut was still alive, to lead the Republicans with his more rational temper. Helmut would not have outsourced a vital mission such as Phase Two. Then again, Helmut probably would have never planned and executed a scheme like the three-phase scheme Raknian had concocted.
“That’s it, then?” Faric said.
“That’s it,” Okoral replied. “Contact me on Decembar 2 when the job is done.”
As Faric stood to leave, Okoral said, “This will be the winter of revolution -- our puppet-tyrants will meet justice, and Elan will be free! The dawn of spring will see the birth of a new government. And you will be regarded as a hero of the people.”
As Faric left the Hunter’s Club, his doubts were drowned out by Okoral’s words. “Hero of the people.” Faric liked the sound of that.
Novembar 28, 754 YE
Faric Selor stepped out of the swirling snow and biting wind in the city streets and into the Hunter’s Club, quickly closing the door behind him. He was instantly warmed by the fire in the hearth and the warm ambiance as he scanned the common room -- it was suddenly very easy to forget about the fierce winter storm that had come to Elan like an ice god’s curse.
He spotted Okoral’s olive skin and thick crew cut near the fireplace. The man sat staring vacantly into the dancing flames, with an untouched bowl of beef stew before him.
Faric slipped across the room, nodding a greeting to another Republican who sat in the back corner, Bravosi Henim. Faric sat across Okoral but said nothing. He waited awkwardly for a minute before Okoral shifted his gaze from the fire and acknowledged him.
“Thank you for coming,” Okoral said. The man normally looked much younger than he really was, but at the moment he seemed very worn by stress and exhaustion.
“What is it, Okoral?” asked Faric anxiously. “When I did not hear from you last week, I feared--”
“All the pieces are place. Raknian wishes to launch Phase One immediately.”
Faric’s eyes narrowed as he considered this information.
“What is the problem? You are not ready?” asked Okoral.
Faric shook his head. “I am ready, but why so soon? I thought we were going to wait until Januar because of the--”
“The Elanian people are suffering, Faric,” Okoral said solemnly. “Food stores are at their lowest levels in forty winters. Shortages are worse than I have ever seen, and I’ve lived here since I was a boy. Tairon’s wars are suffocating the people, and Elan must get out from under its yoke. Let the Empire plunder its own people for its wars, and let Elan be free once more.”
Faric knew the situation was bleak. Every day seemed to bring worse news. Secessionary wars in Yudora, rebellions in Gargaston and Walsta, combined with the the Silmarians successful occupation of Vigoor’s northern Guardia province, had put great hardship on the people of Elan. Food prices had tripled in the past 12 months, and combined with increased taxes to fund the wars, many people were under serious financial strain. It was also widely known that imperial wizards in Tairon were using fabricate magic to simply replicate gold coins, causing inflation which disproportionately affected the poor. Faric’s own mother had been unable to pay her rent and would have been thrown out on the street had he not intervened with some of his own money.
“Yes, Elan must be free,” Faric agreed. “I am ready.”
Okoral produced a sealed envelop from a pocket in his vest and pushed it across the table. Faric opened it and read it quickly. When he finished, he was more than a little surprised.
“Ashby Gerard... Talus Riverrun... Boren Darshal... These are members of the City Council!” he exclaimed.
“Quiet, you fool,” hissed Okoral. “This might be a Republican establishment, but we cannot be sure the Commissar does not have spies here.”
Faric looked around, thankful that no one suspicious seemed to have overheard. He said, “My men and I will take care of this, I promise. When the mission is complete, will we proceed with Phase Two?”
“No, Phase Two will proceed simultaneously. You will not be handling that. Raknian has forged some new relationships, and our new allies will take care of that.”
“New allies?” Faric had a lot of confidence in Raknian’s leadership, but was concerned about some of the new friends he’d made for the sake of Elan’s liberation. “What does Rebel Four think of all these new allegiances?”
“Rebel Four supports Raknian’s plans wholeheartedly,” Okoral said. “Sometimes you must work with the lesser of two evils to achieve the greater good.”
Okoral must have seen the concern in Faric’s expression. He said, “Itlstein was slow to act. He had staked his entire plan upon one obscure prophecy, which foretold an event that never materialized. Raknian is much more proactive and will not sit idle while our city is exploited for the sake of those bastards in Tairon.”
Okoral’s devotion to Raknian knew no limit, of course. He would never doubt his boss. He had worked for Raknian for nearly 20 years. Faric too had a lot of respect for Raknian, but he sometimes wished Helmut was still alive, to lead the Republicans with his more rational temper. Helmut would not have outsourced a vital mission such as Phase Two. Then again, Helmut probably would have never planned and executed a scheme like the three-phase scheme Raknian had concocted.
“That’s it, then?” Faric said.
“That’s it,” Okoral replied. “Contact me on Decembar 2 when the job is done.”
As Faric stood to leave, Okoral said, “This will be the winter of revolution -- our puppet-tyrants will meet justice, and Elan will be free! The dawn of spring will see the birth of a new government. And you will be regarded as a hero of the people.”
As Faric left the Hunter’s Club, his doubts were drowned out by Okoral’s words. “Hero of the people.” Faric liked the sound of that.
INTERLUDE: Just Business
Part I
--------
Inside the seemingly empty, polished stone hallways of Castle Shard a figure quickly padded his way past several large oak doors, his features obscured almost completely by the cloak that clung tightly to his slight frame. He cut a path straight towards the end of the hall, where the ample light of Castle Shard's braziers seemed to be repelled and unwelcome. A door was there, left open only by the slightest of margins, suggesting carelessness - not invitation. The cloaked elf made his way to the side of the door and without breaking stride, flung it open to it's maximum, a loud crack resounded as it struck the thick rock behind it. Unconcerned, the visitor strode boldly into the room beyond the doorway, his stance betraying his impatience as he halted and stood unmoving in the middle of the room.
"I heard you were looking for me." The man spat, aiming his words somewhere towards the rear corner of the room.
A lithe shadow was there, sprawled almost horizontally in an over-stuffed, silken chair. A glass of ruby liquid seemed to dangle from its hand, and the figure seemed unfazed by the abrupt entrance of the elf. It lazily responded, "Ah Vatex! Come, I've poured you a glass of the finest wine to ever be stolen from Ul-Drakkan. Please, I've been told it's a bad thing to only drink alone."
"I've got…Things happening, Shilukar. Out with it already."
"What sort of 'things' would those be, my dear and heroic friend?" Shilukar asked, his stance almost feline. His curiosity seemed somewhat insincere, since Shilukar always seemed to know more than he let on. He enjoyed acting ignorant of the recent events of the Rosegate Company, playing with the lunar elf, fearing no repercussion.
"Speak. Now." Vatex barked as he pulled free the hood of his cloak.
Seeing that there was little room for fun in this exchange Shilukar sighed dramatically, lolled his head over the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling."Fine, be that way. I've got a job for you.
"As I believe I mentioned when you brought that drow crossbow bolt to me, I was once affiliated with House Vrama. It was several lifetimes ago and I assure you that the details are both mundane and inconsequential, so I will forego the hows and whys of my involvement with that house. You also know that I have been covertly involved with the Temple of Calethon, supplementing the security of the special chaositech device in their vault. The request I have of you involves both of these in the form of one Haskur Arame of House Vrama.
“Through my role as 'benefactor' at the Temple of Calethon,” the dark elf continued, “I am privy to some of the administrative happenings there. Last week, a dark elf by the name of Haskur covertly applied for the sanctuary and protection of the Temple of Calethon, claiming that he flees from his evil kin and wishes to know the feeling of the sun on his face.” Shilukar laughed creepily. “Hilarious, don't you think? Evoking the sun and the feeling of warmth in a plea for protection from the church of an elven sun god - How could they ever refuse?
“Doraedian Mythlord, being the confused and goodly type who believes that evil can be overcome, gave his approval and soon after the application was accepted by none other than the high priestess herself, Darnesha Dreamwatcher. It's entirely possible that Darnesha is as foolish as Doreadian - or perhaps she's simply given into the pressure from the elves of the Emerald Hill district. They are a gang of pampered children, having never known the lash of Gorgoth-lol’s whip, nor the fear of 'the elves that come in the night'. Their attempt at inclusion and redemption has put that special piece of chaositech at risk and I will do what is necessary to protect it from House Vrama's greedy, idiotic hands."
Vatex held up a palm to Shilukar, halting the first flares of anger he had ever seen in the dark elf. "You'll have to give me some of these 'mundane' details about Haskur Arame. His arrival is too convenient and your request is too suspect for me to go in blind. Start with how you know him."
"I became acquainted with Haskur at the Academy of Arcane Arts in Ul-Drakkan; we shared a forbidden lust and fascination for those rare chaositech artifacts that would trickle in from surface raids. We were colleagues in many experiments on these objects and I'd like to think there was some mutual respect, that we recognized each other's passion for the chaotic. We continued our study through the decades at the Academy and into our roles at House Vrama. I believe that he facilitated my enlistment to the house to keep an eye on me from his superior position as house mage - Time after time stealing away my beloved tech from the raiding loot before I could even set eyes on it. Gods below, how I hate that man. I'd murder him a thousand times if I could.
“Apologies, my dear Vatex. It seems I've forgotten the taste of these memories and my thoughts of Haskur are clouded by the misery of having one of the few joys in this world taken from me again and again. Rest assured, I enjoy the thought of letting you loose upon this man but my primary concern is to deny him the vault - luckily for me, I will get both this night. Do you have any questions?"
The figure in the middle of the room, having stood intent and still for the duration of the dark elf's speech, suddenly swept towards the table in front of Shilukar and picked the untouched wine glass.
"A house mage of house Vrama huh? You know I don't really 'do' elves, right?" Vatex pondered, downing the glass in a fluid motion.
"Ugh, your manners are horrible, you've been around these humans for far too long," Shilukar responded, seeming unconcerned with Vatex’s question.
A long pause followed, Vatex all but halting the conversation until Shilukar recognized that an answer was still forthcoming. A moment more and Vatex uncharacteristically broke the silence.
"The church has wards, sentries, alarms and divine protection. You need an assassin-thief, not me."
"The defences have been muddled. Having paid for almost all of their more powerful of deterrents , it wasn't hard for a certain 'Shaelukar Darkfingers' to arrange a clear path for you." The shadow in the chair practically giggled, pleased by its own wit.
"Doraedian Mythlord keeps his own. If you've got pointy ears and die on Emerald Hill, chances are you come to his attention. Even if you are a drow. I don't think either of us need that."
"If my identity is exposed, I'm as ruined as you are,” Shilukar reminded. “At least you have the option to slip out of the city if need be - I'm still not trusted completely by Castle Shard and my goings and comings are almost always courtly business. I'll have no chance for escape. Let's just ensure Doraedian does not find that it was us."
A smirk slowly grew on both elven faces.
"So you'll do it then? I realize you command a higher market price than you did previously, so I'm prepared to release a good majority of my liquid funds for this task, perhaps 20 thousand?" Shilukar leaned forward, fingers steepled in front of his face.
"I do not want your money, Shilukar. I will name my price after the deed is done and no sooner, I assure you it will be reasonable and within your means. I've got two dark elves on either side of this job and you - of all people - can understand my need for... Flexibility." Vatex calmly returned, eyeing something on the table. Everyone knew that if he accepted a job, it was completed in almost obsessive fashion.
"That is unacceptable. Every drow child is taught stories of those foolish enough to make pacts without knowing the costs. Faustian deals are not my style, you see. To use your phrase, I do not 'do' them." A crease appear along the dark elf's angular cheek as he spoke.
"You want it done because you can't afford not to. Perhaps I ensure that Haskur gets his chance to access the vault unmolested, what will you do then? Perhaps he makes me an offer instead?" Vatex stood, his silver eyes communicating a viciousness that few had seen more than once, "You brought me here and now you quibble over what it may cost. That is what is unacceptable."
For a moment Shilukar’s charcoal face twisted as if to express rage, but he quickly regained his composure. Shilukar stood up and narrowed his eyes on the urban ranger. “Damn you. Just get it done - To hell with the consequences. I cannot have Haskur anywhere near that vault. Let me know what his screams sound like."
The moon elf returned his empty glass to the table, staring quizzically at the bottle it had been poured from. He picked up the crystal vessel, presumably for closer inspection.
"That wine is the finest in the underdark, dozens of gnolls lost their lives protecting it during my journey to the surface and I suspect it would be wasted --"
"Consider it a down payment. I'll find you when it's complete." Vatex interrupted, moving towards the wide open entrance.
"Maybe you've got a bit of dark elf in you after all. Enjoy your hunt." Shilukar looked wistfully at the bottle in moon elf's hand, watching it slowly leave the room in the possession of someone who would probably never appreciate it. "And close the door on your way out, you oaf."
Vatex returned the cloak to his head and paced down Castle Shard's empty hallways. He was off to Emerald Hill, locked into a job he wasn't sure he wanted anything to do with. Compromising on a contract was out of the question and so, with practiced ease, he began to run through scenarios and possibilities. Dark elves meant deceit, priests meant idealist zealots, and wizards usually meant lots of pain.
"You better appreciate this, you idiot." Vatex spoke to no one in particular as he ran down streets and avenue, towards the Temple of Calethon.
Part II
---------
Vatex clung to the corners and shadows as he skulked through the echoing chambers of the temple's basement. His way was clear, Shilukar had deactivated the doorways and floors where there had presumably been wards or traps. Vatex knew his target Huskur Arame of House Vrama sat somewhere within this building; purposeful and singular, the urban ranger was honing in. He squatted, concealed and flat against the corner of a main hallway and imagined a floor plan for the basement - One wing eliminated upon his entry and two more in the last 15 minutes, leaving just one large branching hallway, north of the entry staircase. Vatex heard shuffling, too soft to be boots but not not the distinct scraping of the open-toed sandals the attendant priests were prone to wearing. Flexing his back and chest, the moon elf held his position and tensely waited for the sound to drift closer.
A form loomed into the main chamber from one of the branching hallways, its femininity muted by yellow khaki robes, a silver half-plate and a thick belt that cradled an iridescent mace. The woman was an elf, her delicate features accented by a mane of yellow and orange hair that ended below her waist. She gracefully strode her route, scanning left to right every time she passed a doorway. Vatex recognized the priestess as Darnesha Dreamwatcher, who had been in attendance when he had come to the temple for the Star Ceremony back in early Augustar, hoping for answers to the visions he saw whenever he passed a mirror. At that thought, a bolt of anger worked its way through his core and into his finger, his hand dug painfully into the rough-hewn stones of the wall and it was all he could do not to grind his teeth.
"Damn them and their lack of answers!" He thought to himself, "Presumptuous asses, behaving as though they've answers beyond themselves. I came to them, fearing that I've become mad and they present me with riddles. The whole of them are cultists in everything but name. To hell with them."
Vatex released the tension in his body and like a whisper, drifted into the center of the room, pulling back his cloak and boldly facing the priestess' outline. Noting the unusual absence of her paladin protector, Calorean Whitesong, Vatex left his blades sheathed, content that he would be prepared for any action the priestess took. Secretly he hoped she chose to fight; to ring an alarm, bring the dozen or so sleeping gentry into his slashing blades.
The elf sat on his surprise and subsequent disappointment when Darnesha noticed him and, instead of taking a defensive stance, lazily angled herself towards him. As she crossed into the radius of light from the roof-mounted lantern above him, she spoke in the sing-song tone familiar to elves but rarely used in front of humans.
"What bring one of Elan's greatest heroes to my humble temple? Do you need healing? Or perhaps you are still troubled by those waking dreams?" Darnesha's opening salvo put the moon elf off-balance; twice her behaviour had been too relaxed, too confident.
"I knew Calethon was a fan of simplicity but if this temple has resorted to having the priestesses patrol the ground, I am troubled only by the gold that is not yet in my pocket," Vatex returned. The conversation was not in his control and he strained to keep from reacting to her dream comment; he did not wish to threaten her. Not yet.
"Who better to protect a treasure than those whose meals it pays for?" Darnesha shrugged. She was inching closer now, but not so close as to disadvantage herself against the lightning quick blades she had heard whispers of.
"I've been informed your temple is sheltering a dark elf by the name of Haskur. I've come to put an end to him before he can sew any chaos in the city,” Vatex stated as plainly as he could. It was one way to of interpreting what he was doing, but the misdirection made him too careful with his words, too tense with concentration and control.
Darnesha's unease at the mention of the drow was obvious but it did not keep her from catching the ranger's obtuseness. The priestess peered behind Vatex, mockingly lifting her hand to her forehead and miming a confused look.
“Haskur is our concern, not yours, not the city’s. He is sincere in his desire to renounce his evil past, and he is secure on temple property. If the Brotherhood of Redemption can convert ogre-magi, beholders, nagas, and trolls by brainwashing them, why can we children of Calethon not respect a humanoid’s autonomy and sponsor their willing conversion to goodness?”
“Elan’s laws mandate that dark elves be killed on sight,” Vatex retorted, leveraging his cover story.
"You work for the city guard now, then? Where then, are your companions? Are they constables as well?" She continued her irony, "They must share in this glory -- the lynching and murder of a man whose heritage is dark, but who now seeks the light of the Sunking. Step into the light, Rosegate Company and allow me to gaze upon your righteous forms!"
Vatex's grey eyes flashed to silver and his body seemed to vibrate the air around him with force, his hair drifted up and out around his shoulders as if buoyed some isolated breeze. He whispered menacingly to her, his words angry and over-enunciated, "Rosegate built itself on the corpses of fools like you, Darnesha. We have smote Arch-demons, murdered small towns worth of cultists, brought destruction to fiendish dragons, halted prophecies and walked the beneath Jabel Shammar itself. Do not invoke our name. I am the one before you and understand that I will fucking end you before a prayer escapes your lips."
The priestess shakily took a step back. She was unaccustomed to such pointed threats and for the first time since joining the order of Calethon, began to fear she truly may die. Gathering her courage and reassuringly running her fingers along the powerful mace at her side, Darnesha tried to regain her ground. "You come to commit murder - to do evil. This is my realm and you have made an error so vast that history itself will know of your foolishness. You face a high priestess of Calethon and will find his divine wrath to be unrivaled by your petty list of conquests."
The ranger composed himself, ignoring the challenge as best he could. He had not wanted it to go this far. He tried to remind himself that she did not need to die here. "Evil is to cause suffering of the innocent, with foreknowledge of the suffering it will cause. This is business that just happens to involve a dark elf, which I know you know is not innocent in action nor in nature. Allow me to handle my business here, for in this matter I am only an instrument."
Unmoved, Darnesha pushed her advantage. “I will not surrender someone who seeks the protection of Calethon -"
"Your unease is written plainly on you," Vatex cut in tersely, " I know that despite your role and your beliefs, you cannot help but distrust Haskur. You cannot help your belief that nature cannot be overcome and that his nature - drow nature - is to kill and deceive. I ask you again to step aside, to allow things to occur as they should. Do not sacrifice yourself for anything but what your god asks of you, Doraedian be damned for asking you otherwise."
The armoured woman seemed to deflate with those word. She had not expected her feelings about dark elves to be that evident. She was struggling to keep her resolve and the effort completely alien to her. "I believe...” she spoke slowly, as if to emphasize her conviction. “...that redemption is possible and --”
"Not for this one," Vatex cooly announced. "Besides, it's not exactly my choice. I would murder every dark elf in the city if that is what it would take to accomplish my goal."
"And what is that goal, Vatex? Riches? Noteriety? What has gotten you involved in the craven murder of a man who has not harmed you?"
The moon elf did not respond. He knew his task was necessary and because of that, it was good.
"May I pass, Darnesha?"
Time hung there in the basement of the temple of Calenthon. Slowly, Darnesha eyes wandered off to her left and a nod was returned. The ranger turned and padded off into the hallway, menacingly unsheathing his swords as he went. The woman stood there, alone and quiet; perhaps praying, perhaps regretting.
---
Vatex found his quarry at the end of a tucked-away hallway, sitting crossed legged on a worn mattress. Haskur Arame, his breathing steady and deep, placidly half-opened his eyes at the presence. He wore the plain brown robes of the temple's monkhood, his hair had been cropped short and he lacked the traditional accents and jewelry that dark elves were known for wearing.
"Can I help you…Moon elf, isn't it? I saw some of your kind a hundred or so years past. Kindly folk and charming... In a strange way." The mage blinked through an array of memories as he spoke.
The ranger boldy approached and sat beside the dark elf. He leaned over and quiety spoke."You remember them from the end of your blade no doubt. Tell me Haskur… Of House Vrama… of Ul-Drakkan... Of the Underdark, do you remember one of your kind named Shilukar?"
Unpreturbed and through hooded eyes, Haskur stared straight ahead and sighed, almost longingly. "I remember him. Power hungry, manipulative, cunning - An exemplar of dark elf virtues. I also recall hearing of his battle with a house matron and his subsequent escape to the surface. He has sent you here then? To placate his ego no doubt."
"I ask because I hear you share his preoccupation with Chaositech. It must be some kind of 'dark elf' thing, this lust for chaos. A compulsion so strong that it could lead someone to say, I don't know, travel to a distant land and pretend they're someone else just to get close to it," Vatex posited, shifting to face the still cross-legged mage.
Haskur seemed uncomfortable, his breathing became a bit more erratic and he began to sweat, "We -shared- the love of chaositech, but it has cost me dearly. As has rejecting my people, my house and my ways. I was as much a slave to the forces of chaos as I was to my Matron Mother, never questioning if the cost of the things I did were worth what it gained me." He sighed again, heavier this time. "It was necessary and so…it was right."
The dark elf stared deep into Vatex, his ebon eyes hard and wide with emotion, "I am tired of killing, of being told to kill, of being singular in a purpose that I'm not sure was ever my own. For the glory of myself, of my house, of Ul-Drakkan and of Gorgoth-lol; I've done my duty with no contentment or pride, I simply moved to the next task." Huskur's eyes softened then, as he turned to face the wall. "An empty life, you know?"
The grey-eyed elf stood, pulling back his cloak to show the swords on his belt as he walked to the side of the bed. "I know you are a drow. I know that you know there is a significant chaositech device here, in this very temple. I know that people do not change suddenly, and rarely do they change completely."
"Do you know what that life has really cost me? Look then. Look and know the cost of chaos." Haskur unfolded his legs and in the room's faint light Vatex saw the mangled wreck of feet, saw pustules and knobby growths and skin withered with necrotic taint. "I have given enough. I am done."
The ranger continued his lap around the bed, halting somewhere in the darkness behind the deformed mage. Huskur made no motions, his breathing returned to the deep rhythm of meditation.
"Don't you ever question it, moon elf? Why you do this and if it's worth it?"
The blades spun out of their sheaths. Like great arrows, they sunk into the mage's back, one went deep into his lung and through the heart while the other haltered inches below the surface of the neck, shearing the spinal cord in two.The standing figured leaned and hissed into his target's ear a single word - "No."
Jerking the swords free, Vatex instinctively moved to sever the ear from the corpse. Catching himself, he thought it best to instead pose the scene as a dark elf hit - People would not be surprised that a turncoat had been repaid by his brothers and that meant fewer questions would be asked. The elf moved instead to the small wooden box that presumably served as the mage's footlocker. Finding no lock nor trap, he snapped open the lid and slid out a piwafwi, a cloak of the underdark with a bejewelled clasp. Underneath the garment sat a small sack, ostensibly for gold and several large gems. The moon elf turned to leave, the urge to simply grab the treasures gnawed at him so fiercely that he turned back twice before he finally exited the room.
---
Exhausted, Vatex leaned against the wall outside Haskur's room. Dark elves were bred to guile the mind, to make their opposition question themselves, to plant doubts and to attack the driving force behind their enemy's actions. He told himself this but he could not shake his anxiety; He feared that he may have just been tricked into killing an innocent man. He stood there in silence and in darkness, motionless for a long, long time. "The job is not over," he reminded himself. "Move. Go. Finish it."
The ranger briskly rounded the corner to the exit staircase, resisting the urge to move too quickly, when he met the gaze of Darnesha Dreamwatcher who stood poised upon the bottom stair. He slowed a step or two, loosing the liquidity of his pace as he slid his cloak to hide the hilt of his blades.
"I know you do not honour Calethon," the priestess started, her form now wrapped in a thick, pearlescent coat. "But you must have a belief in something. A higher cause, noble or profane. Troubles and times such as these can't be eased or made sense of by a single mortal's facilities."
The moon elf continued towards the woman, looking not at her but straight ahead. "The Grim One watches, he may even be listening; I am not sure. What I do know, is that he does not judge."
"Perhaps judgement is ours alone. If so, how will others look upon you - Upon me?" Vatex could see Darnesha was wracked by her choice and role in the night's events but he had no words for her. A choice had to be lived with.
He made his way past her, launching up the steps two at a time and before pausing. Pivoting, he hesitantly walked back to her, sliding an object free from his pack which he placed in her hand. "Here. If your conscience cannot bear your actions, take this to Doraedin and let judgement be on those who are truly responsible." He paused, his eyes downcast. "Goodnight, Darnesha."
As the man silently marched up the stair, Darnesha turned the object over in her hands. As she pondered it's meaning, she was tempted to down what was left in the half-empty crystalline wine bottle.
Part III
---------
Shilukar lounged on an over-sized, tasseled pillow that occupied the middle of his light-less chamber. He made a point of keeping the room as dark as possible, it provided no end of entertainment to watch the humans struggle blindly as the groped about for a a place to sit when they came to visit. The dark elf smiled as he thought on this; perhaps fear of the dark was instinctual in these surfacers and if so, that made him something of a nightmare to them. Shilukar enjoyed this thought and rolled it around in his head, stifling a giggle as he poured another glass from his second reserve of wine.
Taking a long drink of the warm ruby liquid, his ear twitched as someone closed a door somewhere which Shilukar guessed to be about fifty feet down the hall - Perhaps a midnight triste among a few of Castle Shard’s guests? Perhaps Lady Themoine receiving a visitor, he hoped. The wizard prepared a spell for spying and mentally sent for a mephit he had bound when he was still a house mage in the underdark. He would be rather amused to find Themoine in the throws of passion; He also longed to add her to his list of potential blackmail targets, for she had a bountiful inheritance in her name. Castle Shard’s guests tended to be interesting and rich.
The dark elf rubbed his hands together and began to sub-vocalize an incantation when a hand touched his shoulder - it was only the concentration of casting that saved Shilukar from yelping in surprise like a child the moment he sensed someone else in the room. He swung around to see that damned moon elf, his form barely discernible inside the dark cloak that hung around him. Shilukar flared with embarrassment and rage, he had not detected the ranger nor had he been prepared for any kind of intrusion and right now- He could not afford to appear weak. Instantly, the wizard reminded himself that Vatex's appearance was a good thing and that fortunately, the elf had not caught him in a more… compromised position.
Shilukar opened his mouth but the moon elf already had an answer to the unasked question. From under his cloak the ranger produced proof of termination, a piwafwi folded neatly with a clasp on the top, if Vatex had the eyes for such things, the bejewelled clasp would have identified the garment as the property of house Vrama.
"No ears this time, eh surfacer? You're learning." Shilukar buzzed with excitement as he spoke, "Tell me, did he beg you? He bartered at least, I know the great Haskur would at least try to make you an offer, some kind of cunning gambit of riches tomorrow for a life today?"
The ranger grimaced, dropping the bundled cloak unceremoniously at Shilukar's feet. "He did not beg, he did not scream, he did not barter. He didn't even try to protect himself."
Shilukar raised an eyebrow quizzically, and Vatex said, “The man was genuine." The urban ranger he loomed over the drow, a bestial mask covered his face and exposing his canines as he spoke, "I may have murdered an innocent with no good to show for it!"
"I pity you sometimes, Vatex. You cannot seem to keep yourself from believing dark elves! You all but demand I pour some lie into your ear, to give you some absolution - and from what? The contract you accepted. The killing of a drow who was somewhere he didn't belong. The job is justified by default. Simply being a dark elf in this city is a capital offense!" Shilukar was unaccustomed to smiling this much, his cheeks felt numb and he struggled to wipe the grin from his face.
With humbling speed the ranger sprang, reappearing a foot behind the still prone dark elf, his blades tensioned to strike deep into the wizard's body. Shilukar innocently held up his hands, still failing to contain his amusement. "Alright. Justifiable for me, at least."
Relaxing and snapping his blades back into their scabbards, the moon elf stalked back around the pillow and squatted, his face an uncomfortable inch from Shilukar's. The ranger's eyes were terrifying, unwavering and absolutely predatory as they bore into the wizard.
"I was not born to this life. I had to learn it despite my family's plans for me. The first things I learned is that power trumps cooperation - People will do what they must to stay alive and to go lengths they may not otherwise if the prize is something as trivial as gold. I also learned that you need a plan. Would you like to hear my plan, dark elf?"
Nonchalantly, Shilukar went over the possibilities,"I doubt you will kill me. Even if you could, you still do not have your thus far unnamed payment. Likewise, I doubt you will turn me in, it would reveal that you executed a man for money. You have very little to hurt me with, very little I cannot handle. You are unaccustomed to the world of intrigue and currently, I'm a much bigger fish in that pond than you are. Remember Vatex, assassins do not get trials - but they do get public executions. The Rosegate Company could never save you from the mob. I know you remember Helmut Itlstein's execution - The peasants just wanted a show and the Republicans impotently sat by and watched it."
Vatex, unblinking, kept his intensity."Here is my plan, Shilukar. Doraedian Mythlord may, depending on a certain priestess' conscience, receive a very special crystal wine bottle. Being adept as he is, there's no telling what kind of information he could glean from that sort of possession. It's shared proximity with your for what, a hundred years or more?"
The bottom fell out of Shilukar's confidence, pouring scenes of horror all over his mind. And still, the ranger continued, augmenting the scenes he already imagined and dragging new terror into the light.
"Shaelukar Darkfingers would be exposed within the church. I'm sure someone at House Vrama or whoever you pissed all over in Ul-Drakkan would hear of the whole affair and would love their chance and vengeance, to gain favor by ridding someone of the lose end you've become. Emerald Hill would bay for blood, their modern sensibilities cast aside in the name of 'justice."
Vatex came just a little bit closer, enveloping more and more of Shilukar's view point, "Someone might even hire me to find you. Where on this continent, above or below, do you think you could run from me?"
Easing, the elf slowly withdrew from the sitting drow. "As for murder for pay; No one could openly call for the death of one of the 'Heroes of Elan' without casting suspicion on themselves. What's more, everyone would see that situation in simple terms: I was the weapon - but you are the one who wielded it.
"Regarding payment; I haven't even named my price. I have no gold to show for what I've done and could easily walk away right now. We both know where I would go first and neither you nor any of your resources could stop me. Then it would be all over for you. I know you would panic, start running without even so much as a day's head start. If I did not find you, you would probably meet your end in some backwater at the hands of a gang of townsfolk, the kind that lack lack Elan's cosmopolitan sympathies for 'evil' races. "
Flustered, the wizard snapped back at Vatex, "You fool! You only reveal how little you know of me. I've escaped Ul-Drakkan! Elan - hell, this whole damned landmass, is nothing to me."
The moon elf talked gently now, easing the prone man back onto his previous train of thought."You are doomed on my say so, Shilukar. Accept it so we can move forward."
With that the wizard dropped over the edge of his own rage. He stood, electricity sparking out of every cell on his body. Fire clung to his fingers, fields of blue energy shimmered in an orbit around him as he drew to his hand a slender chaositech contraption from some some hidden pocket. Shilukar pointed it, his intent unmistakable. Then, at the peak of his tantrum, he instead threw his wine glass at the ranger. The red liquid splashed harmlessly down the front of Vatex's cloak.
Then Shilukar laughed, laughed so long and hard after a moment his eyelashes shimmered with tears. Vatex was somewhat taken aback by the tricky drow’s emotional fluctuations, but he maintained his tense demeanor.
"You are quite a character,” Shilukar said simply as his laughter receded. “Name your price, and begone. Quickly, before my mood darkens further and I put this wand to use!" Shilukar wore a crooked smirk, but Vatex could not tell whether the chaositechnician was joking or not.
He didn’t care. Vatex shrugged and wiped away from of the spill from his cloak.
"Well?” Shilukar’s patience was becoming strained. “Tell me what has cost me the death of my enemy?" The wizard huffed, relenting to what now seemed untenable. He knew he had to position himself better, to move the ranger to where he could regain the upper hand. Mostly, he needed Vatex to take something in return for his actions.
The question was simple yet Vatex was silent, persisting in cleaning the remnants of wine from his cloak. Shilukar began impatiently tapping the gleaming rod-like chaositech device on his knuckles, galled by what he saw as adolescent posturing. "An answer sometime today would be just wonderful, elf. That is, if it does not pain his majesty."
The lunar elf could not help himself and burst into laughter as he turned to leave the room. "You're going to help me find something, Shilukar."
"Riches? Lost relics? Your imaginary mirror woman?"
Pausing at the door from to collect himself, he glanced over his shoulder at the row just in time to catch the wizard dramatically rolling his eyes.
"Early.You're going to help me find Early.”
--------
Inside the seemingly empty, polished stone hallways of Castle Shard a figure quickly padded his way past several large oak doors, his features obscured almost completely by the cloak that clung tightly to his slight frame. He cut a path straight towards the end of the hall, where the ample light of Castle Shard's braziers seemed to be repelled and unwelcome. A door was there, left open only by the slightest of margins, suggesting carelessness - not invitation. The cloaked elf made his way to the side of the door and without breaking stride, flung it open to it's maximum, a loud crack resounded as it struck the thick rock behind it. Unconcerned, the visitor strode boldly into the room beyond the doorway, his stance betraying his impatience as he halted and stood unmoving in the middle of the room.
"I heard you were looking for me." The man spat, aiming his words somewhere towards the rear corner of the room.
A lithe shadow was there, sprawled almost horizontally in an over-stuffed, silken chair. A glass of ruby liquid seemed to dangle from its hand, and the figure seemed unfazed by the abrupt entrance of the elf. It lazily responded, "Ah Vatex! Come, I've poured you a glass of the finest wine to ever be stolen from Ul-Drakkan. Please, I've been told it's a bad thing to only drink alone."
"I've got…Things happening, Shilukar. Out with it already."
"What sort of 'things' would those be, my dear and heroic friend?" Shilukar asked, his stance almost feline. His curiosity seemed somewhat insincere, since Shilukar always seemed to know more than he let on. He enjoyed acting ignorant of the recent events of the Rosegate Company, playing with the lunar elf, fearing no repercussion.
"Speak. Now." Vatex barked as he pulled free the hood of his cloak.
Seeing that there was little room for fun in this exchange Shilukar sighed dramatically, lolled his head over the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling."Fine, be that way. I've got a job for you.
"As I believe I mentioned when you brought that drow crossbow bolt to me, I was once affiliated with House Vrama. It was several lifetimes ago and I assure you that the details are both mundane and inconsequential, so I will forego the hows and whys of my involvement with that house. You also know that I have been covertly involved with the Temple of Calethon, supplementing the security of the special chaositech device in their vault. The request I have of you involves both of these in the form of one Haskur Arame of House Vrama.
“Through my role as 'benefactor' at the Temple of Calethon,” the dark elf continued, “I am privy to some of the administrative happenings there. Last week, a dark elf by the name of Haskur covertly applied for the sanctuary and protection of the Temple of Calethon, claiming that he flees from his evil kin and wishes to know the feeling of the sun on his face.” Shilukar laughed creepily. “Hilarious, don't you think? Evoking the sun and the feeling of warmth in a plea for protection from the church of an elven sun god - How could they ever refuse?
“Doraedian Mythlord, being the confused and goodly type who believes that evil can be overcome, gave his approval and soon after the application was accepted by none other than the high priestess herself, Darnesha Dreamwatcher. It's entirely possible that Darnesha is as foolish as Doreadian - or perhaps she's simply given into the pressure from the elves of the Emerald Hill district. They are a gang of pampered children, having never known the lash of Gorgoth-lol’s whip, nor the fear of 'the elves that come in the night'. Their attempt at inclusion and redemption has put that special piece of chaositech at risk and I will do what is necessary to protect it from House Vrama's greedy, idiotic hands."
Vatex held up a palm to Shilukar, halting the first flares of anger he had ever seen in the dark elf. "You'll have to give me some of these 'mundane' details about Haskur Arame. His arrival is too convenient and your request is too suspect for me to go in blind. Start with how you know him."
"I became acquainted with Haskur at the Academy of Arcane Arts in Ul-Drakkan; we shared a forbidden lust and fascination for those rare chaositech artifacts that would trickle in from surface raids. We were colleagues in many experiments on these objects and I'd like to think there was some mutual respect, that we recognized each other's passion for the chaotic. We continued our study through the decades at the Academy and into our roles at House Vrama. I believe that he facilitated my enlistment to the house to keep an eye on me from his superior position as house mage - Time after time stealing away my beloved tech from the raiding loot before I could even set eyes on it. Gods below, how I hate that man. I'd murder him a thousand times if I could.
“Apologies, my dear Vatex. It seems I've forgotten the taste of these memories and my thoughts of Haskur are clouded by the misery of having one of the few joys in this world taken from me again and again. Rest assured, I enjoy the thought of letting you loose upon this man but my primary concern is to deny him the vault - luckily for me, I will get both this night. Do you have any questions?"
The figure in the middle of the room, having stood intent and still for the duration of the dark elf's speech, suddenly swept towards the table in front of Shilukar and picked the untouched wine glass.
"A house mage of house Vrama huh? You know I don't really 'do' elves, right?" Vatex pondered, downing the glass in a fluid motion.
"Ugh, your manners are horrible, you've been around these humans for far too long," Shilukar responded, seeming unconcerned with Vatex’s question.
A long pause followed, Vatex all but halting the conversation until Shilukar recognized that an answer was still forthcoming. A moment more and Vatex uncharacteristically broke the silence.
"The church has wards, sentries, alarms and divine protection. You need an assassin-thief, not me."
"The defences have been muddled. Having paid for almost all of their more powerful of deterrents , it wasn't hard for a certain 'Shaelukar Darkfingers' to arrange a clear path for you." The shadow in the chair practically giggled, pleased by its own wit.
"Doraedian Mythlord keeps his own. If you've got pointy ears and die on Emerald Hill, chances are you come to his attention. Even if you are a drow. I don't think either of us need that."
"If my identity is exposed, I'm as ruined as you are,” Shilukar reminded. “At least you have the option to slip out of the city if need be - I'm still not trusted completely by Castle Shard and my goings and comings are almost always courtly business. I'll have no chance for escape. Let's just ensure Doraedian does not find that it was us."
A smirk slowly grew on both elven faces.
"So you'll do it then? I realize you command a higher market price than you did previously, so I'm prepared to release a good majority of my liquid funds for this task, perhaps 20 thousand?" Shilukar leaned forward, fingers steepled in front of his face.
"I do not want your money, Shilukar. I will name my price after the deed is done and no sooner, I assure you it will be reasonable and within your means. I've got two dark elves on either side of this job and you - of all people - can understand my need for... Flexibility." Vatex calmly returned, eyeing something on the table. Everyone knew that if he accepted a job, it was completed in almost obsessive fashion.
"That is unacceptable. Every drow child is taught stories of those foolish enough to make pacts without knowing the costs. Faustian deals are not my style, you see. To use your phrase, I do not 'do' them." A crease appear along the dark elf's angular cheek as he spoke.
"You want it done because you can't afford not to. Perhaps I ensure that Haskur gets his chance to access the vault unmolested, what will you do then? Perhaps he makes me an offer instead?" Vatex stood, his silver eyes communicating a viciousness that few had seen more than once, "You brought me here and now you quibble over what it may cost. That is what is unacceptable."
For a moment Shilukar’s charcoal face twisted as if to express rage, but he quickly regained his composure. Shilukar stood up and narrowed his eyes on the urban ranger. “Damn you. Just get it done - To hell with the consequences. I cannot have Haskur anywhere near that vault. Let me know what his screams sound like."
The moon elf returned his empty glass to the table, staring quizzically at the bottle it had been poured from. He picked up the crystal vessel, presumably for closer inspection.
"That wine is the finest in the underdark, dozens of gnolls lost their lives protecting it during my journey to the surface and I suspect it would be wasted --"
"Consider it a down payment. I'll find you when it's complete." Vatex interrupted, moving towards the wide open entrance.
"Maybe you've got a bit of dark elf in you after all. Enjoy your hunt." Shilukar looked wistfully at the bottle in moon elf's hand, watching it slowly leave the room in the possession of someone who would probably never appreciate it. "And close the door on your way out, you oaf."
Vatex returned the cloak to his head and paced down Castle Shard's empty hallways. He was off to Emerald Hill, locked into a job he wasn't sure he wanted anything to do with. Compromising on a contract was out of the question and so, with practiced ease, he began to run through scenarios and possibilities. Dark elves meant deceit, priests meant idealist zealots, and wizards usually meant lots of pain.
"You better appreciate this, you idiot." Vatex spoke to no one in particular as he ran down streets and avenue, towards the Temple of Calethon.
Part II
---------
Vatex clung to the corners and shadows as he skulked through the echoing chambers of the temple's basement. His way was clear, Shilukar had deactivated the doorways and floors where there had presumably been wards or traps. Vatex knew his target Huskur Arame of House Vrama sat somewhere within this building; purposeful and singular, the urban ranger was honing in. He squatted, concealed and flat against the corner of a main hallway and imagined a floor plan for the basement - One wing eliminated upon his entry and two more in the last 15 minutes, leaving just one large branching hallway, north of the entry staircase. Vatex heard shuffling, too soft to be boots but not not the distinct scraping of the open-toed sandals the attendant priests were prone to wearing. Flexing his back and chest, the moon elf held his position and tensely waited for the sound to drift closer.
A form loomed into the main chamber from one of the branching hallways, its femininity muted by yellow khaki robes, a silver half-plate and a thick belt that cradled an iridescent mace. The woman was an elf, her delicate features accented by a mane of yellow and orange hair that ended below her waist. She gracefully strode her route, scanning left to right every time she passed a doorway. Vatex recognized the priestess as Darnesha Dreamwatcher, who had been in attendance when he had come to the temple for the Star Ceremony back in early Augustar, hoping for answers to the visions he saw whenever he passed a mirror. At that thought, a bolt of anger worked its way through his core and into his finger, his hand dug painfully into the rough-hewn stones of the wall and it was all he could do not to grind his teeth.
"Damn them and their lack of answers!" He thought to himself, "Presumptuous asses, behaving as though they've answers beyond themselves. I came to them, fearing that I've become mad and they present me with riddles. The whole of them are cultists in everything but name. To hell with them."
Vatex released the tension in his body and like a whisper, drifted into the center of the room, pulling back his cloak and boldly facing the priestess' outline. Noting the unusual absence of her paladin protector, Calorean Whitesong, Vatex left his blades sheathed, content that he would be prepared for any action the priestess took. Secretly he hoped she chose to fight; to ring an alarm, bring the dozen or so sleeping gentry into his slashing blades.
The elf sat on his surprise and subsequent disappointment when Darnesha noticed him and, instead of taking a defensive stance, lazily angled herself towards him. As she crossed into the radius of light from the roof-mounted lantern above him, she spoke in the sing-song tone familiar to elves but rarely used in front of humans.
"What bring one of Elan's greatest heroes to my humble temple? Do you need healing? Or perhaps you are still troubled by those waking dreams?" Darnesha's opening salvo put the moon elf off-balance; twice her behaviour had been too relaxed, too confident.
"I knew Calethon was a fan of simplicity but if this temple has resorted to having the priestesses patrol the ground, I am troubled only by the gold that is not yet in my pocket," Vatex returned. The conversation was not in his control and he strained to keep from reacting to her dream comment; he did not wish to threaten her. Not yet.
"Who better to protect a treasure than those whose meals it pays for?" Darnesha shrugged. She was inching closer now, but not so close as to disadvantage herself against the lightning quick blades she had heard whispers of.
"I've been informed your temple is sheltering a dark elf by the name of Haskur. I've come to put an end to him before he can sew any chaos in the city,” Vatex stated as plainly as he could. It was one way to of interpreting what he was doing, but the misdirection made him too careful with his words, too tense with concentration and control.
Darnesha's unease at the mention of the drow was obvious but it did not keep her from catching the ranger's obtuseness. The priestess peered behind Vatex, mockingly lifting her hand to her forehead and miming a confused look.
“Haskur is our concern, not yours, not the city’s. He is sincere in his desire to renounce his evil past, and he is secure on temple property. If the Brotherhood of Redemption can convert ogre-magi, beholders, nagas, and trolls by brainwashing them, why can we children of Calethon not respect a humanoid’s autonomy and sponsor their willing conversion to goodness?”
“Elan’s laws mandate that dark elves be killed on sight,” Vatex retorted, leveraging his cover story.
"You work for the city guard now, then? Where then, are your companions? Are they constables as well?" She continued her irony, "They must share in this glory -- the lynching and murder of a man whose heritage is dark, but who now seeks the light of the Sunking. Step into the light, Rosegate Company and allow me to gaze upon your righteous forms!"
Vatex's grey eyes flashed to silver and his body seemed to vibrate the air around him with force, his hair drifted up and out around his shoulders as if buoyed some isolated breeze. He whispered menacingly to her, his words angry and over-enunciated, "Rosegate built itself on the corpses of fools like you, Darnesha. We have smote Arch-demons, murdered small towns worth of cultists, brought destruction to fiendish dragons, halted prophecies and walked the beneath Jabel Shammar itself. Do not invoke our name. I am the one before you and understand that I will fucking end you before a prayer escapes your lips."
The priestess shakily took a step back. She was unaccustomed to such pointed threats and for the first time since joining the order of Calethon, began to fear she truly may die. Gathering her courage and reassuringly running her fingers along the powerful mace at her side, Darnesha tried to regain her ground. "You come to commit murder - to do evil. This is my realm and you have made an error so vast that history itself will know of your foolishness. You face a high priestess of Calethon and will find his divine wrath to be unrivaled by your petty list of conquests."
The ranger composed himself, ignoring the challenge as best he could. He had not wanted it to go this far. He tried to remind himself that she did not need to die here. "Evil is to cause suffering of the innocent, with foreknowledge of the suffering it will cause. This is business that just happens to involve a dark elf, which I know you know is not innocent in action nor in nature. Allow me to handle my business here, for in this matter I am only an instrument."
Unmoved, Darnesha pushed her advantage. “I will not surrender someone who seeks the protection of Calethon -"
"Your unease is written plainly on you," Vatex cut in tersely, " I know that despite your role and your beliefs, you cannot help but distrust Haskur. You cannot help your belief that nature cannot be overcome and that his nature - drow nature - is to kill and deceive. I ask you again to step aside, to allow things to occur as they should. Do not sacrifice yourself for anything but what your god asks of you, Doraedian be damned for asking you otherwise."
The armoured woman seemed to deflate with those word. She had not expected her feelings about dark elves to be that evident. She was struggling to keep her resolve and the effort completely alien to her. "I believe...” she spoke slowly, as if to emphasize her conviction. “...that redemption is possible and --”
"Not for this one," Vatex cooly announced. "Besides, it's not exactly my choice. I would murder every dark elf in the city if that is what it would take to accomplish my goal."
"And what is that goal, Vatex? Riches? Noteriety? What has gotten you involved in the craven murder of a man who has not harmed you?"
The moon elf did not respond. He knew his task was necessary and because of that, it was good.
"May I pass, Darnesha?"
Time hung there in the basement of the temple of Calenthon. Slowly, Darnesha eyes wandered off to her left and a nod was returned. The ranger turned and padded off into the hallway, menacingly unsheathing his swords as he went. The woman stood there, alone and quiet; perhaps praying, perhaps regretting.
---
Vatex found his quarry at the end of a tucked-away hallway, sitting crossed legged on a worn mattress. Haskur Arame, his breathing steady and deep, placidly half-opened his eyes at the presence. He wore the plain brown robes of the temple's monkhood, his hair had been cropped short and he lacked the traditional accents and jewelry that dark elves were known for wearing.
"Can I help you…Moon elf, isn't it? I saw some of your kind a hundred or so years past. Kindly folk and charming... In a strange way." The mage blinked through an array of memories as he spoke.
The ranger boldy approached and sat beside the dark elf. He leaned over and quiety spoke."You remember them from the end of your blade no doubt. Tell me Haskur… Of House Vrama… of Ul-Drakkan... Of the Underdark, do you remember one of your kind named Shilukar?"
Unpreturbed and through hooded eyes, Haskur stared straight ahead and sighed, almost longingly. "I remember him. Power hungry, manipulative, cunning - An exemplar of dark elf virtues. I also recall hearing of his battle with a house matron and his subsequent escape to the surface. He has sent you here then? To placate his ego no doubt."
"I ask because I hear you share his preoccupation with Chaositech. It must be some kind of 'dark elf' thing, this lust for chaos. A compulsion so strong that it could lead someone to say, I don't know, travel to a distant land and pretend they're someone else just to get close to it," Vatex posited, shifting to face the still cross-legged mage.
Haskur seemed uncomfortable, his breathing became a bit more erratic and he began to sweat, "We -shared- the love of chaositech, but it has cost me dearly. As has rejecting my people, my house and my ways. I was as much a slave to the forces of chaos as I was to my Matron Mother, never questioning if the cost of the things I did were worth what it gained me." He sighed again, heavier this time. "It was necessary and so…it was right."
The dark elf stared deep into Vatex, his ebon eyes hard and wide with emotion, "I am tired of killing, of being told to kill, of being singular in a purpose that I'm not sure was ever my own. For the glory of myself, of my house, of Ul-Drakkan and of Gorgoth-lol; I've done my duty with no contentment or pride, I simply moved to the next task." Huskur's eyes softened then, as he turned to face the wall. "An empty life, you know?"
The grey-eyed elf stood, pulling back his cloak to show the swords on his belt as he walked to the side of the bed. "I know you are a drow. I know that you know there is a significant chaositech device here, in this very temple. I know that people do not change suddenly, and rarely do they change completely."
"Do you know what that life has really cost me? Look then. Look and know the cost of chaos." Haskur unfolded his legs and in the room's faint light Vatex saw the mangled wreck of feet, saw pustules and knobby growths and skin withered with necrotic taint. "I have given enough. I am done."
The ranger continued his lap around the bed, halting somewhere in the darkness behind the deformed mage. Huskur made no motions, his breathing returned to the deep rhythm of meditation.
"Don't you ever question it, moon elf? Why you do this and if it's worth it?"
The blades spun out of their sheaths. Like great arrows, they sunk into the mage's back, one went deep into his lung and through the heart while the other haltered inches below the surface of the neck, shearing the spinal cord in two.The standing figured leaned and hissed into his target's ear a single word - "No."
Jerking the swords free, Vatex instinctively moved to sever the ear from the corpse. Catching himself, he thought it best to instead pose the scene as a dark elf hit - People would not be surprised that a turncoat had been repaid by his brothers and that meant fewer questions would be asked. The elf moved instead to the small wooden box that presumably served as the mage's footlocker. Finding no lock nor trap, he snapped open the lid and slid out a piwafwi, a cloak of the underdark with a bejewelled clasp. Underneath the garment sat a small sack, ostensibly for gold and several large gems. The moon elf turned to leave, the urge to simply grab the treasures gnawed at him so fiercely that he turned back twice before he finally exited the room.
---
Exhausted, Vatex leaned against the wall outside Haskur's room. Dark elves were bred to guile the mind, to make their opposition question themselves, to plant doubts and to attack the driving force behind their enemy's actions. He told himself this but he could not shake his anxiety; He feared that he may have just been tricked into killing an innocent man. He stood there in silence and in darkness, motionless for a long, long time. "The job is not over," he reminded himself. "Move. Go. Finish it."
The ranger briskly rounded the corner to the exit staircase, resisting the urge to move too quickly, when he met the gaze of Darnesha Dreamwatcher who stood poised upon the bottom stair. He slowed a step or two, loosing the liquidity of his pace as he slid his cloak to hide the hilt of his blades.
"I know you do not honour Calethon," the priestess started, her form now wrapped in a thick, pearlescent coat. "But you must have a belief in something. A higher cause, noble or profane. Troubles and times such as these can't be eased or made sense of by a single mortal's facilities."
The moon elf continued towards the woman, looking not at her but straight ahead. "The Grim One watches, he may even be listening; I am not sure. What I do know, is that he does not judge."
"Perhaps judgement is ours alone. If so, how will others look upon you - Upon me?" Vatex could see Darnesha was wracked by her choice and role in the night's events but he had no words for her. A choice had to be lived with.
He made his way past her, launching up the steps two at a time and before pausing. Pivoting, he hesitantly walked back to her, sliding an object free from his pack which he placed in her hand. "Here. If your conscience cannot bear your actions, take this to Doraedin and let judgement be on those who are truly responsible." He paused, his eyes downcast. "Goodnight, Darnesha."
As the man silently marched up the stair, Darnesha turned the object over in her hands. As she pondered it's meaning, she was tempted to down what was left in the half-empty crystalline wine bottle.
Part III
---------
Shilukar lounged on an over-sized, tasseled pillow that occupied the middle of his light-less chamber. He made a point of keeping the room as dark as possible, it provided no end of entertainment to watch the humans struggle blindly as the groped about for a a place to sit when they came to visit. The dark elf smiled as he thought on this; perhaps fear of the dark was instinctual in these surfacers and if so, that made him something of a nightmare to them. Shilukar enjoyed this thought and rolled it around in his head, stifling a giggle as he poured another glass from his second reserve of wine.
Taking a long drink of the warm ruby liquid, his ear twitched as someone closed a door somewhere which Shilukar guessed to be about fifty feet down the hall - Perhaps a midnight triste among a few of Castle Shard’s guests? Perhaps Lady Themoine receiving a visitor, he hoped. The wizard prepared a spell for spying and mentally sent for a mephit he had bound when he was still a house mage in the underdark. He would be rather amused to find Themoine in the throws of passion; He also longed to add her to his list of potential blackmail targets, for she had a bountiful inheritance in her name. Castle Shard’s guests tended to be interesting and rich.
The dark elf rubbed his hands together and began to sub-vocalize an incantation when a hand touched his shoulder - it was only the concentration of casting that saved Shilukar from yelping in surprise like a child the moment he sensed someone else in the room. He swung around to see that damned moon elf, his form barely discernible inside the dark cloak that hung around him. Shilukar flared with embarrassment and rage, he had not detected the ranger nor had he been prepared for any kind of intrusion and right now- He could not afford to appear weak. Instantly, the wizard reminded himself that Vatex's appearance was a good thing and that fortunately, the elf had not caught him in a more… compromised position.
Shilukar opened his mouth but the moon elf already had an answer to the unasked question. From under his cloak the ranger produced proof of termination, a piwafwi folded neatly with a clasp on the top, if Vatex had the eyes for such things, the bejewelled clasp would have identified the garment as the property of house Vrama.
"No ears this time, eh surfacer? You're learning." Shilukar buzzed with excitement as he spoke, "Tell me, did he beg you? He bartered at least, I know the great Haskur would at least try to make you an offer, some kind of cunning gambit of riches tomorrow for a life today?"
The ranger grimaced, dropping the bundled cloak unceremoniously at Shilukar's feet. "He did not beg, he did not scream, he did not barter. He didn't even try to protect himself."
Shilukar raised an eyebrow quizzically, and Vatex said, “The man was genuine." The urban ranger he loomed over the drow, a bestial mask covered his face and exposing his canines as he spoke, "I may have murdered an innocent with no good to show for it!"
"I pity you sometimes, Vatex. You cannot seem to keep yourself from believing dark elves! You all but demand I pour some lie into your ear, to give you some absolution - and from what? The contract you accepted. The killing of a drow who was somewhere he didn't belong. The job is justified by default. Simply being a dark elf in this city is a capital offense!" Shilukar was unaccustomed to smiling this much, his cheeks felt numb and he struggled to wipe the grin from his face.
With humbling speed the ranger sprang, reappearing a foot behind the still prone dark elf, his blades tensioned to strike deep into the wizard's body. Shilukar innocently held up his hands, still failing to contain his amusement. "Alright. Justifiable for me, at least."
Relaxing and snapping his blades back into their scabbards, the moon elf stalked back around the pillow and squatted, his face an uncomfortable inch from Shilukar's. The ranger's eyes were terrifying, unwavering and absolutely predatory as they bore into the wizard.
"I was not born to this life. I had to learn it despite my family's plans for me. The first things I learned is that power trumps cooperation - People will do what they must to stay alive and to go lengths they may not otherwise if the prize is something as trivial as gold. I also learned that you need a plan. Would you like to hear my plan, dark elf?"
Nonchalantly, Shilukar went over the possibilities,"I doubt you will kill me. Even if you could, you still do not have your thus far unnamed payment. Likewise, I doubt you will turn me in, it would reveal that you executed a man for money. You have very little to hurt me with, very little I cannot handle. You are unaccustomed to the world of intrigue and currently, I'm a much bigger fish in that pond than you are. Remember Vatex, assassins do not get trials - but they do get public executions. The Rosegate Company could never save you from the mob. I know you remember Helmut Itlstein's execution - The peasants just wanted a show and the Republicans impotently sat by and watched it."
Vatex, unblinking, kept his intensity."Here is my plan, Shilukar. Doraedian Mythlord may, depending on a certain priestess' conscience, receive a very special crystal wine bottle. Being adept as he is, there's no telling what kind of information he could glean from that sort of possession. It's shared proximity with your for what, a hundred years or more?"
The bottom fell out of Shilukar's confidence, pouring scenes of horror all over his mind. And still, the ranger continued, augmenting the scenes he already imagined and dragging new terror into the light.
"Shaelukar Darkfingers would be exposed within the church. I'm sure someone at House Vrama or whoever you pissed all over in Ul-Drakkan would hear of the whole affair and would love their chance and vengeance, to gain favor by ridding someone of the lose end you've become. Emerald Hill would bay for blood, their modern sensibilities cast aside in the name of 'justice."
Vatex came just a little bit closer, enveloping more and more of Shilukar's view point, "Someone might even hire me to find you. Where on this continent, above or below, do you think you could run from me?"
Easing, the elf slowly withdrew from the sitting drow. "As for murder for pay; No one could openly call for the death of one of the 'Heroes of Elan' without casting suspicion on themselves. What's more, everyone would see that situation in simple terms: I was the weapon - but you are the one who wielded it.
"Regarding payment; I haven't even named my price. I have no gold to show for what I've done and could easily walk away right now. We both know where I would go first and neither you nor any of your resources could stop me. Then it would be all over for you. I know you would panic, start running without even so much as a day's head start. If I did not find you, you would probably meet your end in some backwater at the hands of a gang of townsfolk, the kind that lack lack Elan's cosmopolitan sympathies for 'evil' races. "
Flustered, the wizard snapped back at Vatex, "You fool! You only reveal how little you know of me. I've escaped Ul-Drakkan! Elan - hell, this whole damned landmass, is nothing to me."
The moon elf talked gently now, easing the prone man back onto his previous train of thought."You are doomed on my say so, Shilukar. Accept it so we can move forward."
With that the wizard dropped over the edge of his own rage. He stood, electricity sparking out of every cell on his body. Fire clung to his fingers, fields of blue energy shimmered in an orbit around him as he drew to his hand a slender chaositech contraption from some some hidden pocket. Shilukar pointed it, his intent unmistakable. Then, at the peak of his tantrum, he instead threw his wine glass at the ranger. The red liquid splashed harmlessly down the front of Vatex's cloak.
Then Shilukar laughed, laughed so long and hard after a moment his eyelashes shimmered with tears. Vatex was somewhat taken aback by the tricky drow’s emotional fluctuations, but he maintained his tense demeanor.
"You are quite a character,” Shilukar said simply as his laughter receded. “Name your price, and begone. Quickly, before my mood darkens further and I put this wand to use!" Shilukar wore a crooked smirk, but Vatex could not tell whether the chaositechnician was joking or not.
He didn’t care. Vatex shrugged and wiped away from of the spill from his cloak.
"Well?” Shilukar’s patience was becoming strained. “Tell me what has cost me the death of my enemy?" The wizard huffed, relenting to what now seemed untenable. He knew he had to position himself better, to move the ranger to where he could regain the upper hand. Mostly, he needed Vatex to take something in return for his actions.
The question was simple yet Vatex was silent, persisting in cleaning the remnants of wine from his cloak. Shilukar began impatiently tapping the gleaming rod-like chaositech device on his knuckles, galled by what he saw as adolescent posturing. "An answer sometime today would be just wonderful, elf. That is, if it does not pain his majesty."
The lunar elf could not help himself and burst into laughter as he turned to leave the room. "You're going to help me find something, Shilukar."
"Riches? Lost relics? Your imaginary mirror woman?"
Pausing at the door from to collect himself, he glanced over his shoulder at the row just in time to catch the wizard dramatically rolling his eyes.
"Early.You're going to help me find Early.”
Friday, September 2, 2011
APPENDIX C: Vegard's Letter / Fragments of Jakter's Journal
Dear Nephew,
I apologize for leaving so abruptly, and not giving more explanation as to the responsibility you must now bear. I must confess I was desperate to be away from Cryssaegrym and simply return home.
You see, the sword is a heavy burden to bear, for if the wielder does not appease its appetite for power, it brings profound sadness to the possessor.
Jakter satisfied the sword. I suppose I did too, at first. But then I journeyed to Zot at your father’s instruction, to investigate the the operations of an evil cult. On the way, I was captured by a wicked vampire and held in his pantry for a year. The vampire drained my lifeforce, and I endured great misery and pain. When I finally managed to escape, my soul was so withered that Cryssaegrym no longer found my power acceptable. I was overcome by profound sorrow, emanated from the sword into my dreams and eventually my every waking moment. It sought a more powerful user -- so I sought you.
Jakter gave me the sword before he went to a place he called “the keep on the borderlands.” I am afraid I do not know where that is, but I can confirm that Jakter likely met his end there. I arranged for a priest to commune with his god Navashstrom, and it was confirmed that Jakter was no longer alive. Jakter anticipated this -- that is why he gave me the sword before he went there.
Your father sincerely believed Cryssaegrym’s quest was the most important thing in the world. Personally, I regard Kyuss as just another dime-a-dozen “supreme ancient evil” that adventurers all over seek and destroy to bolster their reputations of glory and heroism, and the obsessive quest of the sword -- once fully imparted to the possessor like it was with Jakter -- will consume your life.
Early, think long and hard on whether you wish to tackle Cryssaegrym’s quest. If so, then I have included Jakter’s journal in the box with this letter. The journal contains contains fragments of information that may help you pick up where he left off. If you choose otherwise, then you must find someone else to take up the sword or your soul will suffer the most profound sorrow.
-- Your Uncle, Vegard
JAKTER’S JOURNAL FRAGMENTS, SUMMARY:
The fragments of Jakter’s journal contain various facts, but there are numerous gaps in the journal, especially near the end. This makes it impossible to piece together the entire narrative.
“Diamond Lake”
A mining town in southern Walsta. The journal does not say what first led Jakter to this place, but it was here that he heard stories of a place called “the Whispering Cairn,” and he went to explore it.
“The Tomb of the Wind Duke”
Hidden within the Whispering Cairn was a place Jakter dubbed the “Tomb of the Wind Duke.” It was inside this dungeon that he found Cryssaegrym. He also found the ghost of a teenager, slain long ago by one of the dungeon’s traps. The ghost asked him to return his bones to his family’s small cemetary.
“The Worm”
The ghost’s family’s cemetery had been desecrated, and when Jakter investigated, he uncovered a small group of necromancers, robbing graves and conducting vile experiments on the deceased.
After defeating the necromancers, Jakter explores their tower. He finds a jar containing a single green worm preserved in a strange fluid.
“Allustan the Sage”
Allustan is the Sage of Diamond Lake. He was very interested in the worm Jakter found and studies it carefully.
Allustan’s research over time provided a lot of information on the ancient lore surrounding the mysterious “Age of Worms”, a prophesied time when a horrid being called “Kyuss” would be triumphant over all.
The journal mentions that Allustan later learned something very important from his research, but it is implied that Jakter never found out what it was before he went to “the keep on the borderlands.”
“The Black Triad”
Jakter investigates the necromancers’ activities around Diamond Lake. When he learns of worm-infested undead within the Diamond Lake mines, he investigates and finds the hidden underground temple of a dark cult called the “Black Triad.” From here, Jakter wages a long battle against this cult. This cult was actually trying to create a new god entirely out of the essence of three dead evil gods. Was this new god to be Kyuss, then? Jakter wondered.
In the end the cult’s operations beneath the mines were defeated, but Jakter learns three interesting new pieces of information -- the necromancers had stolen the worm from the cultists, there were more Black Triad operations in Walsta and Zeltennia, and the green worms were apparently supplied to the cult by someone called “Tolstoff”.
“The Herald”
Shortly after Cryssaegrym was recovered, Jakter found himself stalked and frequently attacked by a powerful monster he calls the “Herald of Kyuss”. Jakter says it was able to change its shape, and it was far too powerful to defeat. He escaped death at its hands no less than three times.
“The Tolstoffs”
Jakter speaks of Karyna and Edwin Tolstoff. He believed that Edwin was a wizard of great power. Their connection to the Age of Worms is not entirely clear, but they seem to be involved with providing the green worms to the Black Triad cult at Diamond Lake.
“Cryssaegrym”
Jakter said he had completed two legacy rituals for the sword to unlock its powers, but the third one required a journey to the Silver Wolf’s Temple and he was unable to learn its location. Jakter writes often of how Cryssaegrym dreads the coming of Kyuss and wants to be ready to destroy him, and how important the quest is to him and the world.
“The Keep on the Borderlands”
Near the end of the journal, there are a few references to “the keep on the borderlands,” supposedly the last place Jakter went. He believed going there to be a likely suicide mission and he brought Cryssaegrym to Vegard for safekeeping just in case. He also told Vegard to investigate Black Triad operations (which, ultimately, he was unable to do).
I apologize for leaving so abruptly, and not giving more explanation as to the responsibility you must now bear. I must confess I was desperate to be away from Cryssaegrym and simply return home.
You see, the sword is a heavy burden to bear, for if the wielder does not appease its appetite for power, it brings profound sadness to the possessor.
Jakter satisfied the sword. I suppose I did too, at first. But then I journeyed to Zot at your father’s instruction, to investigate the the operations of an evil cult. On the way, I was captured by a wicked vampire and held in his pantry for a year. The vampire drained my lifeforce, and I endured great misery and pain. When I finally managed to escape, my soul was so withered that Cryssaegrym no longer found my power acceptable. I was overcome by profound sorrow, emanated from the sword into my dreams and eventually my every waking moment. It sought a more powerful user -- so I sought you.
Jakter gave me the sword before he went to a place he called “the keep on the borderlands.” I am afraid I do not know where that is, but I can confirm that Jakter likely met his end there. I arranged for a priest to commune with his god Navashstrom, and it was confirmed that Jakter was no longer alive. Jakter anticipated this -- that is why he gave me the sword before he went there.
Your father sincerely believed Cryssaegrym’s quest was the most important thing in the world. Personally, I regard Kyuss as just another dime-a-dozen “supreme ancient evil” that adventurers all over seek and destroy to bolster their reputations of glory and heroism, and the obsessive quest of the sword -- once fully imparted to the possessor like it was with Jakter -- will consume your life.
Early, think long and hard on whether you wish to tackle Cryssaegrym’s quest. If so, then I have included Jakter’s journal in the box with this letter. The journal contains contains fragments of information that may help you pick up where he left off. If you choose otherwise, then you must find someone else to take up the sword or your soul will suffer the most profound sorrow.
-- Your Uncle, Vegard
JAKTER’S JOURNAL FRAGMENTS, SUMMARY:
The fragments of Jakter’s journal contain various facts, but there are numerous gaps in the journal, especially near the end. This makes it impossible to piece together the entire narrative.
“Diamond Lake”
A mining town in southern Walsta. The journal does not say what first led Jakter to this place, but it was here that he heard stories of a place called “the Whispering Cairn,” and he went to explore it.
“The Tomb of the Wind Duke”
Hidden within the Whispering Cairn was a place Jakter dubbed the “Tomb of the Wind Duke.” It was inside this dungeon that he found Cryssaegrym. He also found the ghost of a teenager, slain long ago by one of the dungeon’s traps. The ghost asked him to return his bones to his family’s small cemetary.
“The Worm”
The ghost’s family’s cemetery had been desecrated, and when Jakter investigated, he uncovered a small group of necromancers, robbing graves and conducting vile experiments on the deceased.
After defeating the necromancers, Jakter explores their tower. He finds a jar containing a single green worm preserved in a strange fluid.
“Allustan the Sage”
Allustan is the Sage of Diamond Lake. He was very interested in the worm Jakter found and studies it carefully.
Allustan’s research over time provided a lot of information on the ancient lore surrounding the mysterious “Age of Worms”, a prophesied time when a horrid being called “Kyuss” would be triumphant over all.
The journal mentions that Allustan later learned something very important from his research, but it is implied that Jakter never found out what it was before he went to “the keep on the borderlands.”
“The Black Triad”
Jakter investigates the necromancers’ activities around Diamond Lake. When he learns of worm-infested undead within the Diamond Lake mines, he investigates and finds the hidden underground temple of a dark cult called the “Black Triad.” From here, Jakter wages a long battle against this cult. This cult was actually trying to create a new god entirely out of the essence of three dead evil gods. Was this new god to be Kyuss, then? Jakter wondered.
In the end the cult’s operations beneath the mines were defeated, but Jakter learns three interesting new pieces of information -- the necromancers had stolen the worm from the cultists, there were more Black Triad operations in Walsta and Zeltennia, and the green worms were apparently supplied to the cult by someone called “Tolstoff”.
“The Herald”
Shortly after Cryssaegrym was recovered, Jakter found himself stalked and frequently attacked by a powerful monster he calls the “Herald of Kyuss”. Jakter says it was able to change its shape, and it was far too powerful to defeat. He escaped death at its hands no less than three times.
“The Tolstoffs”
Jakter speaks of Karyna and Edwin Tolstoff. He believed that Edwin was a wizard of great power. Their connection to the Age of Worms is not entirely clear, but they seem to be involved with providing the green worms to the Black Triad cult at Diamond Lake.
“Cryssaegrym”
Jakter said he had completed two legacy rituals for the sword to unlock its powers, but the third one required a journey to the Silver Wolf’s Temple and he was unable to learn its location. Jakter writes often of how Cryssaegrym dreads the coming of Kyuss and wants to be ready to destroy him, and how important the quest is to him and the world.
“The Keep on the Borderlands”
Near the end of the journal, there are a few references to “the keep on the borderlands,” supposedly the last place Jakter went. He believed going there to be a likely suicide mission and he brought Cryssaegrym to Vegard for safekeeping just in case. He also told Vegard to investigate Black Triad operations (which, ultimately, he was unable to do).
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
INTERLUDE: Project ORTA
Welcome to Viper City Systems
Please enter username to begin: rbelski
Please enter password: **********
Access granted
Please enter directory name: ORTA
Warning: Level 7 Security Password Required
Enter Password: ************
Access denied
Enter Password: *************
Access denied
Enter Password: ***********
Access Granted
Enter command: show gear
Listing Combat Gear
> High Frequency Mercurial Sword
> Liquid Missile Launcher
> Material Disruptor Beam Emitter
> Tactical Deflector
> Modified Biocrystal Tech Suit w/ Gravity Control Orb
> Malefic Geist Field
/close
Enter command: show augs
Listing Surgical Augmentations
> Back-Up Organ IX
> Bone Lacing Grade AAA
> Breathers
> Extra spine
> Muscle Lacing Grade AA
> Fleshworkers (efficient class)
> Heart Regulator
> Stamina Booster
> Audio Translator
> Vigor Organ
> Revivify Serum
> R-z Nutrient Solution
> Visual Decoder Impant
/close
Enter command: show notes
Retrieving notes...
[newest first]
> Zhu Khen Technique Mastered
> Empowered KIAI! to Level 5.
> Despite semi-bionic conversion, still draws tremendous power from the Vajra. Theta charts off the scale, but the...
Show more notes? N
/close
Enter command: show subfolder Q
ERROR
Unauthorized access detected
System lockdown initiated
ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR...
Please enter username to begin: rbelski
Please enter password: **********
Access granted
Please enter directory name: ORTA
Warning: Level 7 Security Password Required
Enter Password: ************
Access denied
Enter Password: *************
Access denied
Enter Password: ***********
Access Granted
Enter command: show gear
Listing Combat Gear
> High Frequency Mercurial Sword
> Liquid Missile Launcher
> Material Disruptor Beam Emitter
> Tactical Deflector
> Modified Biocrystal Tech Suit w/ Gravity Control Orb
> Malefic Geist Field
/close
Enter command: show augs
Listing Surgical Augmentations
> Back-Up Organ IX
> Bone Lacing Grade AAA
> Breathers
> Extra spine
> Muscle Lacing Grade AA
> Fleshworkers (efficient class)
> Heart Regulator
> Stamina Booster
> Audio Translator
> Vigor Organ
> Revivify Serum
> R-z Nutrient Solution
> Visual Decoder Impant
/close
Enter command: show notes
Retrieving notes...
[newest first]
> Zhu Khen Technique Mastered
> Empowered KIAI! to Level 5.
> Despite semi-bionic conversion, still draws tremendous power from the Vajra. Theta charts off the scale, but the...
Show more notes? N
/close
Enter command: show subfolder Q
ERROR
Unauthorized access detected
System lockdown initiated
ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR...
INTERLUDE: Emeris and Saharasahla
Emeris:
"There are some things you should know before we begin this enterprise with the Tenebrous Formula. There are holes in my memory. Gaps. Long gaps. Longer than they should- or rather what feels right. I can remember everything fine up until two years ago; when I first arrived in the city; but before then things are sporadic.
"I am definitely older than I look. Although most of my memories are missing there is still enough there to fill the life of someone who appear my age twice over. I believe this is my dragon blood; like them we half-breeds age more slowly and become more powerful with age. I also feel that before I arrived in the city I was more powerful than I am today; that in the past few months I am rediscovering my lost powers rather than finding them for the first time. I fear there was some event in my past that robbed me of my memories and my powers.
"My first memory? It’s silly but it seems to be more a memory of a memory. I remember myself when I was very young, perhaps a score of years- although I did not look it; the closest approximation is that a human will age six times faster than I, so I was as developed physically as a human child of three years; remembering myself when I was perhaps a dozen years of age. My mother, by then no longer a young maid, was coming home with a magical item for me that she had purchased from a wizard. They were gloves, I still wear them to this day; they use transmutation magic and alter my form into something that is passable as human. My skin still remains a darker shade of grey, but not the near pitch it would be otherwise. It makes my horns all but disappear into some small ridge along my crown, gives me hands instead of claws, and removes the scales from my face.
"I have a few more memories of my mother, but she died a few years shy of her sixtieth name-day. She left me an orphan; I was a child of close to thirty-five years but still looked a child. We moved around quite a bit in my early years, few places would have us as I looked, and still do, halfway between a half-drow and something plane-touched. I think she was looking to have me apprenticed with some wizard or some kind of school; but the fact that I came with the prospect of a decades-long adolescence limited my prospects. When my mother died I survived by myself for a while until the city watch took me and dropped me off at orphanage run by the Imperial Church.
"Why it couldn’t have been these memories that were robbed from me, I will never know. Days, weeks and months of praying, serving, chores, beatings… I guess I was lucky as the more lecherous priests were turned away by my appearance; I had some friends- well not really friends, I didn’t much care for most of my fellow orphans, and those that I did like outgrew me quickly and moved on- they weren’t so lucky. I despise most Church priests to this day and killing them is a special treat. I ran away more times than I can count and for a long time I always ended up back there. And if I did make it out of the city, to someplace new, there was always another Church orphanage to confine me.
"I think that by the time I was sixty I looked old enough and had the wits to match that I could talk most guards out of taking me to one an orphanage. They still mistrusted the look of me, but I have had decades of schooling, was well spoken and well read, and could convince them I was some wizards apprentice or something else respectable or intimidating. It is at this point in my life that the holes in my memory begin. There are the odd events, encounters, books and places hat I do remember, but so much is lost in shadows. I like to think I found somewhere to study shadow lore, perhaps even becoming very powerful; it is in my nature after all- I am a creature of shadow. I also believe I spent a deal of time on the plane of shadows and perhaps an event there, or a spell or ritual is the reason for my memory loss.
"The reason I say this is where my memories begin again, roughly two years ago, I was on the plane of shadows. I was stumbling, and hurt, and disoriented. I was inside a building- a massive building with high vaulted ceilings, sinuous pillars of black marble- and it was all coming down around me. Cacophonous roars echoed around me; strange shapes flew and swooped in the gloom around me; and all I knew was that I had to make it to the gate out of there and off the plane of shadows. I ran through broken statues and falling blocks, and dove headlong into a swirly mist of shadow and came out the other side in a refuse heap in some back alley in OldTown. I got up and ran as far from there as I could and ended up down in the docks district. I was alone, confused, powerless and in a strange city. I had twenty pieces of silver in my pocket, and this note, hastily scrawled in my own handwriting, something that was a complete mystery to me until recently. It reads: “thus the light is nothing more than that wintry landscape of memory…”
"My point is, whatever we are doing, planning on doing, or going to do; I think I’ve done before."
Saharasahla:
"I have spoken before of fate bringing us together Emeris. I believe more strongly than ever that you and I were destined to be the ones to find the original 751st page of the Book of Inverted Shadows.
"For almost thirty years I have been trapped in this library. I have never told you why... and perhaps I am not fully prepared to do so. Knowledge is power, Emeris -- and power is dangerous. Sometimes it is safest to keep secrets. Especially when dealing with the dark powers of oblivion at the margins of reality...
"The hounds that stalk my dreams will terrorize me in the material realm should I leave this building. I have been a prisoner for so long, but if we unlock the secret of the Dagda Hazareth's masterpiece, the Tenebrous Fomula, then I shall at last break free of my shackles."
*******
For the next year, Emeris and Saharasahla spent nearly all waking moments studying the Tenebrous Formula, and re-analyzing the Book of Inverted Shadows in that context. In his free time (of which there is little), Emeris studies, drinks fine wine, and shags high-class prostitutes around the city.
Soon they will unlock its secrets...
"There are some things you should know before we begin this enterprise with the Tenebrous Formula. There are holes in my memory. Gaps. Long gaps. Longer than they should- or rather what feels right. I can remember everything fine up until two years ago; when I first arrived in the city; but before then things are sporadic.
"I am definitely older than I look. Although most of my memories are missing there is still enough there to fill the life of someone who appear my age twice over. I believe this is my dragon blood; like them we half-breeds age more slowly and become more powerful with age. I also feel that before I arrived in the city I was more powerful than I am today; that in the past few months I am rediscovering my lost powers rather than finding them for the first time. I fear there was some event in my past that robbed me of my memories and my powers.
"My first memory? It’s silly but it seems to be more a memory of a memory. I remember myself when I was very young, perhaps a score of years- although I did not look it; the closest approximation is that a human will age six times faster than I, so I was as developed physically as a human child of three years; remembering myself when I was perhaps a dozen years of age. My mother, by then no longer a young maid, was coming home with a magical item for me that she had purchased from a wizard. They were gloves, I still wear them to this day; they use transmutation magic and alter my form into something that is passable as human. My skin still remains a darker shade of grey, but not the near pitch it would be otherwise. It makes my horns all but disappear into some small ridge along my crown, gives me hands instead of claws, and removes the scales from my face.
"I have a few more memories of my mother, but she died a few years shy of her sixtieth name-day. She left me an orphan; I was a child of close to thirty-five years but still looked a child. We moved around quite a bit in my early years, few places would have us as I looked, and still do, halfway between a half-drow and something plane-touched. I think she was looking to have me apprenticed with some wizard or some kind of school; but the fact that I came with the prospect of a decades-long adolescence limited my prospects. When my mother died I survived by myself for a while until the city watch took me and dropped me off at orphanage run by the Imperial Church.
"Why it couldn’t have been these memories that were robbed from me, I will never know. Days, weeks and months of praying, serving, chores, beatings… I guess I was lucky as the more lecherous priests were turned away by my appearance; I had some friends- well not really friends, I didn’t much care for most of my fellow orphans, and those that I did like outgrew me quickly and moved on- they weren’t so lucky. I despise most Church priests to this day and killing them is a special treat. I ran away more times than I can count and for a long time I always ended up back there. And if I did make it out of the city, to someplace new, there was always another Church orphanage to confine me.
"I think that by the time I was sixty I looked old enough and had the wits to match that I could talk most guards out of taking me to one an orphanage. They still mistrusted the look of me, but I have had decades of schooling, was well spoken and well read, and could convince them I was some wizards apprentice or something else respectable or intimidating. It is at this point in my life that the holes in my memory begin. There are the odd events, encounters, books and places hat I do remember, but so much is lost in shadows. I like to think I found somewhere to study shadow lore, perhaps even becoming very powerful; it is in my nature after all- I am a creature of shadow. I also believe I spent a deal of time on the plane of shadows and perhaps an event there, or a spell or ritual is the reason for my memory loss.
"The reason I say this is where my memories begin again, roughly two years ago, I was on the plane of shadows. I was stumbling, and hurt, and disoriented. I was inside a building- a massive building with high vaulted ceilings, sinuous pillars of black marble- and it was all coming down around me. Cacophonous roars echoed around me; strange shapes flew and swooped in the gloom around me; and all I knew was that I had to make it to the gate out of there and off the plane of shadows. I ran through broken statues and falling blocks, and dove headlong into a swirly mist of shadow and came out the other side in a refuse heap in some back alley in OldTown. I got up and ran as far from there as I could and ended up down in the docks district. I was alone, confused, powerless and in a strange city. I had twenty pieces of silver in my pocket, and this note, hastily scrawled in my own handwriting, something that was a complete mystery to me until recently. It reads: “thus the light is nothing more than that wintry landscape of memory…”
"My point is, whatever we are doing, planning on doing, or going to do; I think I’ve done before."
Saharasahla:
"I have spoken before of fate bringing us together Emeris. I believe more strongly than ever that you and I were destined to be the ones to find the original 751st page of the Book of Inverted Shadows.
"For almost thirty years I have been trapped in this library. I have never told you why... and perhaps I am not fully prepared to do so. Knowledge is power, Emeris -- and power is dangerous. Sometimes it is safest to keep secrets. Especially when dealing with the dark powers of oblivion at the margins of reality...
"The hounds that stalk my dreams will terrorize me in the material realm should I leave this building. I have been a prisoner for so long, but if we unlock the secret of the Dagda Hazareth's masterpiece, the Tenebrous Fomula, then I shall at last break free of my shackles."
*******
For the next year, Emeris and Saharasahla spent nearly all waking moments studying the Tenebrous Formula, and re-analyzing the Book of Inverted Shadows in that context. In his free time (of which there is little), Emeris studies, drinks fine wine, and shags high-class prostitutes around the city.
Soon they will unlock its secrets...
Friday, August 19, 2011
EPISODE 57: The Banewarrens, Epilogue
Augustar 22-23, YE 754
in the control room, Now possessing both the Sealing Rod and the third piece of the Staff of Shards, Early the warblade, Emeris the shadowcaster, Dziga the rogue, and Vatex the urban ranger make their way down the Spire as quickly as possible.
Halfway down the Spire, they rendezvous with Saggarintys, the silver dragon. He has brought the Baneheart's warding generator back online using one of the diamonds provided by the companions. The strange arcane machine hums with internal energy.
Saggarintys says there is one generator left to reactivate. Unfortunately, this one is found at the Broken Seal area -- and the dread osyluths, released from the vault containing them, have spread through the Outer Vaults like vermin.
Fortunately, there is another way -- Saharasahla's teleporter will take them to the library, and they will be able to enter the Banewarrens through the umber hulk tunnel beneath Oldtown. So long as the osyluths have not spread to that point, getting to the generator should not pose a huge problem.
The companions teleport to Saharasahla's library and to Oldtown and rush through the umber hulk tunnel, showing past the Holy Order guards watching the Old Manor. Saggarintys marvels at the city that has grown around the Spire since the days of his great ally, Saint Danar. He shudders when he looks upon Jabel Shammer, which remains the region's most defining feature.
Back in the Banewarrens, the heroes gather around to protect the dragon while he begins working on the generator. An hour passes in tense silence before the first group of osyluths comes upon them. They are driven back... but only temporarily. Over the course of the next grueling 24 hour period, several more groups of the the devils attack. Given that killing one causes it to split into two fresh, fully healthy osyluths, it is an arduous defense. Early and Vatex hold the line while Dziga and Emeris support.
Finally, Saggarintys manages to get the generator back online. With the warding matrix reestablished, the group uses the Sealing Rod to close the outermost door.
There is only one final step to seal the Banewarrens for good -- destroy the Hand of Danar aka the Banewarrens key, which is the sole existing item that can deactivate the wards on the Sealed Doors.
Early takes the final piece of the Staff and attaches it to Yaeshla. He feels Cryssaegrym pulse with happiness -- but to his surprise the Silver Blade has one more requirement -- the Staff must now be sundered yet again! Birth, death, rebirth, death, etc... Such is the brutal cycle of nature. This is the natural order that Cryssaegrym, a physical embodiment of the Silver Wolf's power, cherishes so much, and wishes to preserve in the face of Kyuss' threat.
Early's hesitantly reveals to Yaeshla what he must do... and to his surprise, Yaeshla reveals that she knew this was her destiny from the beginning. However, she also reveals that striking the Banewarrens key with the Staff will likely result in an explosive release of arcane power.
For a moment, but only a moment, Early thinks about reconsidering this task before him. Will he be destroyed? If so, what will happen to Cryssaegrym's mission to destroy Kyuss?
The heads back down the tunnel. Early decides he will smash the key in the umber hulk's former lair, and hopefully the cavern will contain any explosions or calamities...
The group plaintively says "so long" to Early, and they worry they may not see him again. He says not to worry, and disappears into the umber hulk cave with the Staff and Cryssaegrym in hand.
Early braces for impact, grips Yaeshla in both hands, and smashes the Banewarrens key. His entire world turns white.
The other three companions, with Saggarintys, head down the tunnel to put some distance between them and the warblade. After several minutes, a massive explosion tears through the cavern ahead of them. The tunnel is filled with choking dust and debris.
When the dust settles, they see the umber hulk tunnel has completely collapsed. There is no trace of their friend. He is buried somewhere beneath a million tonnes of stone. There is nothing they can do other than return to the surface.
Later, they bid Saggarintys farewell. The silver dragon thanks them for their help, and departs to find a place for himself in this world, which is almost entirely new to him.
Vatex, Dziga, and Emeris briefly consider whether they should keep the Sword of Lies, or turn it over ot the Holy Order. They reason it will probably make them a target for powerful forces -- both arcane and divine, something they don't want to deal with right now. They deliver the sword to Sister Mara at the Grand Cathedral. This removes the quest spell from Emeris, and his servitude comes to an end.
The Rosegate Company's adventure in the Banewarrens is over. But as they consider new ventures for themselves, they wonder if their friend Early survived? And will Dziga's shadow companion ever return?
***********
No human could have survived the tremendous power released by the Staff of Shards at the moment it struck the mummified Hand of Danar. Yet Early did not feel like he was dead. Whatever had happened, it was not like when the Pactlord gnoll ranger had shot him down. Yet he did not feel quite... alive, either. But where was he?
There was no sign of Yaeshla, but he possessed all his other gear and, most importantly, Cryssaegrym. He was on a cliff overlooking a massive jungle that stretched horizon to horizon. There was no sun or moon, only a strangely silvery sky. He could see animals of huge proportions wandering around in the valley below. No sign of any civilization.
Early holds up the sword before him. He had done everything the sword wanted. He had meditated beneath the full moon in the forests outside Elan. He had mended the soul of Yaeshla and broken it once more. He had put his faith in the sword and the importance of its quest to destroy Kyuss. So was this his reward? Not more power unlocked from Cryssaegrym, but being lost in a jungle with giant animals?
"Damn you, Cryssaegrym!" His uncle had written to him, saying Cryssaegrym wasn't worth it, and if did not satisfy the sword's hunger for power, he would be sorry. Maybe Vegard had been right.
Then, just as the thought of tossing the sword off the cliff in anger begins to enter his mind, a huge form bounds up on the cliff behind him, emerging silently and suddenly from the treeline. Early turns -- standing before him is a huge wolf, 40 feet long, with a thick coat of coarse silver fur, two tails, and eight legs.
Early remembers this big creature from his dream, the night he completed the least ritual of Cryssaegrym. It makes a gesture with his head, beckoning him to follow as it bounds down from ledge to ledge, moving down the cliff toward the jungle. Early follows, jumping with superhuman skill.
At the jungle floor, the wolf begins to run. It crashes through trees and clears a path for Early. The warblade begins to run after it, following in its wake. At first he feels like he will never catch up, it is so much bigger and faster. But he knows he must follow it. He lets him mind relax, and the Vajra flows through him, and he knows he is alive and his quest to stop the Age of Worms is not over. He enters the Absolute Steel Stance, and runs even faster after the giant silver wolf.
By the time the wolf breaks through the line of trees onto a vast open plain of silvery grass, Early is right beside it. Together they ran and ran. It could have been days, or weeks, or months. Early did not know. But he did not care. The wolf did not communicate, but somehow Early knew this was all that mattered right now.
in the control room, Now possessing both the Sealing Rod and the third piece of the Staff of Shards, Early the warblade, Emeris the shadowcaster, Dziga the rogue, and Vatex the urban ranger make their way down the Spire as quickly as possible.
Halfway down the Spire, they rendezvous with Saggarintys, the silver dragon. He has brought the Baneheart's warding generator back online using one of the diamonds provided by the companions. The strange arcane machine hums with internal energy.
Saggarintys says there is one generator left to reactivate. Unfortunately, this one is found at the Broken Seal area -- and the dread osyluths, released from the vault containing them, have spread through the Outer Vaults like vermin.
Fortunately, there is another way -- Saharasahla's teleporter will take them to the library, and they will be able to enter the Banewarrens through the umber hulk tunnel beneath Oldtown. So long as the osyluths have not spread to that point, getting to the generator should not pose a huge problem.
The companions teleport to Saharasahla's library and to Oldtown and rush through the umber hulk tunnel, showing past the Holy Order guards watching the Old Manor. Saggarintys marvels at the city that has grown around the Spire since the days of his great ally, Saint Danar. He shudders when he looks upon Jabel Shammer, which remains the region's most defining feature.
Back in the Banewarrens, the heroes gather around to protect the dragon while he begins working on the generator. An hour passes in tense silence before the first group of osyluths comes upon them. They are driven back... but only temporarily. Over the course of the next grueling 24 hour period, several more groups of the the devils attack. Given that killing one causes it to split into two fresh, fully healthy osyluths, it is an arduous defense. Early and Vatex hold the line while Dziga and Emeris support.
Finally, Saggarintys manages to get the generator back online. With the warding matrix reestablished, the group uses the Sealing Rod to close the outermost door.
There is only one final step to seal the Banewarrens for good -- destroy the Hand of Danar aka the Banewarrens key, which is the sole existing item that can deactivate the wards on the Sealed Doors.
Early takes the final piece of the Staff and attaches it to Yaeshla. He feels Cryssaegrym pulse with happiness -- but to his surprise the Silver Blade has one more requirement -- the Staff must now be sundered yet again! Birth, death, rebirth, death, etc... Such is the brutal cycle of nature. This is the natural order that Cryssaegrym, a physical embodiment of the Silver Wolf's power, cherishes so much, and wishes to preserve in the face of Kyuss' threat.
Early's hesitantly reveals to Yaeshla what he must do... and to his surprise, Yaeshla reveals that she knew this was her destiny from the beginning. However, she also reveals that striking the Banewarrens key with the Staff will likely result in an explosive release of arcane power.
For a moment, but only a moment, Early thinks about reconsidering this task before him. Will he be destroyed? If so, what will happen to Cryssaegrym's mission to destroy Kyuss?
The heads back down the tunnel. Early decides he will smash the key in the umber hulk's former lair, and hopefully the cavern will contain any explosions or calamities...
The group plaintively says "so long" to Early, and they worry they may not see him again. He says not to worry, and disappears into the umber hulk cave with the Staff and Cryssaegrym in hand.
Early braces for impact, grips Yaeshla in both hands, and smashes the Banewarrens key. His entire world turns white.
The other three companions, with Saggarintys, head down the tunnel to put some distance between them and the warblade. After several minutes, a massive explosion tears through the cavern ahead of them. The tunnel is filled with choking dust and debris.
When the dust settles, they see the umber hulk tunnel has completely collapsed. There is no trace of their friend. He is buried somewhere beneath a million tonnes of stone. There is nothing they can do other than return to the surface.
Later, they bid Saggarintys farewell. The silver dragon thanks them for their help, and departs to find a place for himself in this world, which is almost entirely new to him.
Vatex, Dziga, and Emeris briefly consider whether they should keep the Sword of Lies, or turn it over ot the Holy Order. They reason it will probably make them a target for powerful forces -- both arcane and divine, something they don't want to deal with right now. They deliver the sword to Sister Mara at the Grand Cathedral. This removes the quest spell from Emeris, and his servitude comes to an end.
The Rosegate Company's adventure in the Banewarrens is over. But as they consider new ventures for themselves, they wonder if their friend Early survived? And will Dziga's shadow companion ever return?
***********
No human could have survived the tremendous power released by the Staff of Shards at the moment it struck the mummified Hand of Danar. Yet Early did not feel like he was dead. Whatever had happened, it was not like when the Pactlord gnoll ranger had shot him down. Yet he did not feel quite... alive, either. But where was he?
There was no sign of Yaeshla, but he possessed all his other gear and, most importantly, Cryssaegrym. He was on a cliff overlooking a massive jungle that stretched horizon to horizon. There was no sun or moon, only a strangely silvery sky. He could see animals of huge proportions wandering around in the valley below. No sign of any civilization.
Early holds up the sword before him. He had done everything the sword wanted. He had meditated beneath the full moon in the forests outside Elan. He had mended the soul of Yaeshla and broken it once more. He had put his faith in the sword and the importance of its quest to destroy Kyuss. So was this his reward? Not more power unlocked from Cryssaegrym, but being lost in a jungle with giant animals?
"Damn you, Cryssaegrym!" His uncle had written to him, saying Cryssaegrym wasn't worth it, and if did not satisfy the sword's hunger for power, he would be sorry. Maybe Vegard had been right.
Then, just as the thought of tossing the sword off the cliff in anger begins to enter his mind, a huge form bounds up on the cliff behind him, emerging silently and suddenly from the treeline. Early turns -- standing before him is a huge wolf, 40 feet long, with a thick coat of coarse silver fur, two tails, and eight legs.
Early remembers this big creature from his dream, the night he completed the least ritual of Cryssaegrym. It makes a gesture with his head, beckoning him to follow as it bounds down from ledge to ledge, moving down the cliff toward the jungle. Early follows, jumping with superhuman skill.
At the jungle floor, the wolf begins to run. It crashes through trees and clears a path for Early. The warblade begins to run after it, following in its wake. At first he feels like he will never catch up, it is so much bigger and faster. But he knows he must follow it. He lets him mind relax, and the Vajra flows through him, and he knows he is alive and his quest to stop the Age of Worms is not over. He enters the Absolute Steel Stance, and runs even faster after the giant silver wolf.
By the time the wolf breaks through the line of trees onto a vast open plain of silvery grass, Early is right beside it. Together they ran and ran. It could have been days, or weeks, or months. Early did not know. But he did not care. The wolf did not communicate, but somehow Early knew this was all that mattered right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)