Doublecrossed...
I ease myself gently through the open window ever so slowly.
Peering down the darkened hall, my pupils dilate with a will of their own.
The far off flicker of candlelight plays like golden ghosts dancing down the lacquered hallway floor.
A cool evening breeze accompanies me into the manor through the window now.
I reach back and gently lower the glass portal leaving the latch undone...
... and quickly turn back to attuning my senses to my surroundings.
Save for the far off crackle of a fireplace, the manor is still and eerily silent around me.
The slight scent of potted plants in the air, nary a whiff of dust.
This place is certainly well kept by this so-called merchant. No guards, no traps on the window, just as they said it would be...
A lingering doubt hangs in the back of my mind.
... either of those two could have easily done this task, so why did they send me?
A shuffling overhead, somewhere on the floor above.
... no time to ponder such things. To the task, and then leave. And the sooner the better. Second room on the left...
I pad softly down the hall in the shadows, crouched so low that the hem of my cloak sweeps the floor.
The layout of the manor in my minds eye as I move forward, rich tapestries dangling from the walls on either side.
The intended destination yields a doorway left ajar, and a lightless room beyond.
This should be the study...
I press myself against the wall and test the door, it swings easily on it's well oiled hinges.
Door half open now, I peer inwards, allowing my elf eyes to sweep the room for occupants...
... and the floor inside for traps.
Several large bookshelves line the walls on either side of a small window.
The slightest bit of streetlight arcs through...
... silhouetting a large oak desk and cushioned chair standing centerpiece to the far wall.
A small surge of adrenaline as I peer about the vacant room.
Empty... good. Now I just need to find...
A simple brown ledger rests on the corner of the desk next to a jar full of quills.
This is easy. Too easy.
My previous nagging doubts and suspicions rear loudly in full now.
I twist my hooded head to peer up and down the hallway in a half panic.
Silence.
A quick wistful glance back to the window I came in through.
Followed by a deep steadying breath.
Calm... I can take the ledger and be out that window in less than a minute.
I grit my teeth and squeeze through the half open door now, clinging to the shadows.
I step lightly and quickly over to the desk while continually scanning the floor.
A cursory glance around the desk and ledger for any traps...
Nothing.
The ledger is in my hands. And then it's in my satchel.
A rush of sweet relief.
And then... something glimmers out of the corner of my eye on the desk.
A large ruby half the size of my fist glinting beside an inkwell.
I pick it up gingerly and hold it aloft to let the streetlight play through its depths.
Gods. This is likely worth as much as what I paid to tho-...
My ears twitch.
I turn slowly towards the door that I had left half ajar...
... now wide open.
The form of a robed man materializes in the archway now, seemingly from no-where.
With back turned to the street-lit window, I present a convenient target.
The cold fear that I had once thought conquered edges back into my innards.
The man draws a short breath and starts to murmur...
A swirling green mist erupts from the mans hands, congeals into the form of a gigantic fist...
... it's fingers snap open and it rushes on me in the span of a heartbeat.
I'm slammed backwards, pinned against the desk now, helplessly caught by the mans spell.
The giant appendage gives a startling and agonizing squeeze, ejecting the air from my lungs.
CRUSH!
A low chuckle erupts from the man as the ruby falls from my hand, my arms pinned to my side.
All I can now do is gasp for air...
... a singular mindstate, one of desperately wishing for release.
All other cohesive thought vanishes.
CRUSH!
The man steps forward towards me now, the room erupts into magical light.
My vision pulses and swims, bursting with black splotches and pain filled stars.
I remain conscious long enough to see my captor now...
... his clean shaven tattooed head, his red robes with gold trim.
His piercing grey eyes.
A sardonic smirk.
"Greetings Teu-tel-quessir. So nice of you to drop by."
CRUSH!
Blackness.
Reveries and Recollections.
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
An unlikely arrangement...
The clean shaven man sits before me now in a plush seat.
Arms folded neatly into the lap of his silken red robes. His demeanor calm, confidant.
My ankles and wrists tightly tied to the legs and arms of a hard backed wooden chair.
Gagged and disoriented, my groggy mind feebly tries to assimilate my situation.
... you naive idiot. Hells, that hurt. The magic this man commands... and the tattoos...
My eyes flick from the man to our surroundings and back. My thoughts racing outwardly.
He cracks a small smile at the slumping of my shoulders.
At my resignation.
"Judging from your demeanor I don't suppose I need to illuminate you on the gravity of your predicament."
His smile grows wider at the affirmation in my eyes.
"Good. Now... I am going to remove your gag. I am quite aware of your... ability in the art, but know this: if you so much as try to cast even the slightest cantrip I will reduce you to ash. Am I understood?".
His tone is cool and even.
I nod once. Convincingly.
For I am convinced he makes no idle threat.
The man reaches past my right ear and draws on the corner of the cloth knot behind my head.
The gag slides away effortlessly, disappearing into his left sleeve as he casually circles me.
"Do you know who I am?", he asks plainly.
A tremor in my voice, "No... but, you wear the trappings of a Red Wizard of Th-.."
"Your astute observations are unnecessary young elf. Let us refrain from stating the obvious from here on out, shall we?"
His cadence slow and deadly when he speaks.
My mouth is drier than when the gag was in it.
He comes to a slow stop before me, turning on his heel to face me directly.
"Why are you here?"
A bitterness rises in my throat, despite my fear.
My affinity for sarcasm ejects the next words from my mouth.
"Because two motherless dock rats sold me out, obviously."
I purse my lips and close my eyes...
... idiot. He'll probably turn you inside out for th-...
The mans baritone voice slowly rumbles out a low chuckle. Much to my amazement.
"A worthy retort young Teu-tel-quessir. A sharp wit I see. Although, not quite sharp enough to catch my meaning. Why... are... you... here?"
He holds his hands apart expectantly... bending slightly at the waist.
Goading the answer out of me.
"... in Athkatla?"
A slow clap from the man as he stands upright again.
He smiles once more. Albeit, not one of warmth, but of cunning.
"Bravo. I knew you had it in you."
Bastard.
"I'm... I was looking for someone."
... what the... why did I tell him that?
"Are you now?"
"Yes."
... the hells!?
His piercing eyes narrow briefly. The mans sharp brows knit only for a moment.
"Indeed..." A statement, not a question.
"You... you've cast a dweomer on me. An enchantment..."
"Of course I have." A terseness rising in his voice now. As if an impatient instructor to a pupil.
"It is one powerful enough, I might add, to affect one of your heritage and, at the same time, alleviate any possibility of subterfuge on your part!"
The man almost glowers at me now before reaching down towards an end table.
He delicately plucks a brandy snifter up and gives it a swirl under his nose while his narrowed eyes regard me.
I already know his next question.
"And who, pray tell, are you looking for?"
Gods damnit...
"Viere... an elf woman named Viere."
There is no hiding the preciousness of her name from my voice.
Or the desperate unwillingness to part with it.
As if it is the only thing I hold sacred anymore in my gods-forsaken wanderings.
The mans hand abruptly stops swirling the glass.
A droplet of brandy arcs out over the rim and onto the hem of his red sleeve.
A swell of realization as I see his expression.
His eyes flash to the pendant hanging from my neck.
He knows something about her... he's heard her name before!
The man stares hard at me now and takes a step towards me again.
He leans hard in towards my face, the sharp, mixed scent of sage and brandy.
"And what, my dear little Teu-tel-quessir, would your name be?"
... say Sjinn... gods... just say Sj-...
"Jassin... Rhaevaern."
The mans charcoal eyes flash with recognition.
... he knows... me? Or is it my name he knows? What in the nines is going on...
He continues to stare hard at me for a few seconds...
His eyes narrow now as he slowly stands, perhaps trying to ascertain if his enchantment is still working...?
The Thayan resumes swirling his glass as he reclines slowly into his plush seat again.
His voice as cold as ice now, he enunciates his words with ever a hint of malice.
Slowly, and concisely.
"I have... a task for you young Rhaevaern. And, let me make myself abundantly clear when I say this... if you ever wish to see your dearest Viere alive again, you will perform it..."
... she's alive...
"... unerringly, and without remorse."
The clean shaven man sits before me now in a plush seat.
Arms folded neatly into the lap of his silken red robes. His demeanor calm, confidant.
My ankles and wrists tightly tied to the legs and arms of a hard backed wooden chair.
Gagged and disoriented, my groggy mind feebly tries to assimilate my situation.
... you naive idiot. Hells, that hurt. The magic this man commands... and the tattoos...
My eyes flick from the man to our surroundings and back. My thoughts racing outwardly.
He cracks a small smile at the slumping of my shoulders.
At my resignation.
"Judging from your demeanor I don't suppose I need to illuminate you on the gravity of your predicament."
His smile grows wider at the affirmation in my eyes.
"Good. Now... I am going to remove your gag. I am quite aware of your... ability in the art, but know this: if you so much as try to cast even the slightest cantrip I will reduce you to ash. Am I understood?".
His tone is cool and even.
I nod once. Convincingly.
For I am convinced he makes no idle threat.
The man reaches past my right ear and draws on the corner of the cloth knot behind my head.
The gag slides away effortlessly, disappearing into his left sleeve as he casually circles me.
"Do you know who I am?", he asks plainly.
A tremor in my voice, "No... but, you wear the trappings of a Red Wizard of Th-.."
"Your astute observations are unnecessary young elf. Let us refrain from stating the obvious from here on out, shall we?"
His cadence slow and deadly when he speaks.
My mouth is drier than when the gag was in it.
He comes to a slow stop before me, turning on his heel to face me directly.
"Why are you here?"
A bitterness rises in my throat, despite my fear.
My affinity for sarcasm ejects the next words from my mouth.
"Because two motherless dock rats sold me out, obviously."
I purse my lips and close my eyes...
... idiot. He'll probably turn you inside out for th-...
The mans baritone voice slowly rumbles out a low chuckle. Much to my amazement.
"A worthy retort young Teu-tel-quessir. A sharp wit I see. Although, not quite sharp enough to catch my meaning. Why... are... you... here?"
He holds his hands apart expectantly... bending slightly at the waist.
Goading the answer out of me.
"... in Athkatla?"
A slow clap from the man as he stands upright again.
He smiles once more. Albeit, not one of warmth, but of cunning.
"Bravo. I knew you had it in you."
Bastard.
"I'm... I was looking for someone."
... what the... why did I tell him that?
"Are you now?"
"Yes."
... the hells!?
His piercing eyes narrow briefly. The mans sharp brows knit only for a moment.
"Indeed..." A statement, not a question.
"You... you've cast a dweomer on me. An enchantment..."
"Of course I have." A terseness rising in his voice now. As if an impatient instructor to a pupil.
"It is one powerful enough, I might add, to affect one of your heritage and, at the same time, alleviate any possibility of subterfuge on your part!"
The man almost glowers at me now before reaching down towards an end table.
He delicately plucks a brandy snifter up and gives it a swirl under his nose while his narrowed eyes regard me.
I already know his next question.
"And who, pray tell, are you looking for?"
Gods damnit...
"Viere... an elf woman named Viere."
There is no hiding the preciousness of her name from my voice.
Or the desperate unwillingness to part with it.
As if it is the only thing I hold sacred anymore in my gods-forsaken wanderings.
The mans hand abruptly stops swirling the glass.
A droplet of brandy arcs out over the rim and onto the hem of his red sleeve.
A swell of realization as I see his expression.
His eyes flash to the pendant hanging from my neck.
He knows something about her... he's heard her name before!
The man stares hard at me now and takes a step towards me again.
He leans hard in towards my face, the sharp, mixed scent of sage and brandy.
"And what, my dear little Teu-tel-quessir, would your name be?"
... say Sjinn... gods... just say Sj-...
"Jassin... Rhaevaern."
The mans charcoal eyes flash with recognition.
... he knows... me? Or is it my name he knows? What in the nines is going on...
He continues to stare hard at me for a few seconds...
His eyes narrow now as he slowly stands, perhaps trying to ascertain if his enchantment is still working...?
The Thayan resumes swirling his glass as he reclines slowly into his plush seat again.
His voice as cold as ice now, he enunciates his words with ever a hint of malice.
Slowly, and concisely.
"I have... a task for you young Rhaevaern. And, let me make myself abundantly clear when I say this... if you ever wish to see your dearest Viere alive again, you will perform it..."
... she's alive...
"... unerringly, and without remorse."
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
... Present day...
The Gate teems with life on this night.
I watch the city bustle from my shadowy vantage point.
The Fist roam in lazy circles, armor clanking...
Nobles and commoners alike wander the cobblestone streets...
The occasional adventurer runs to and fro.
Busy. Much like my mind...
A pristine retrospect of my life since my time in Athkatla.
A torrent of memory to mirror the clamor of the East Gate district.
So much has transpired since my capture at the Red Wizards complex...
... and subsequent flight from Amn.
A near lifetime of experiences acquired in my journeys on the Sword Coast.
... the first few months spent in near solitude, scrounging trinkets from various ruins to hock in the Gate, just to purchase shelter and food...
... a re-connection, albeit a reluctant one, with my kin...
... my... 'citizenship' with Doron Amar. If one may call it that...
... a trove of new relationships, from invaluable friendships to bitter rivalries...
... a new-found love I could not act upon. Leonia...
Dark days and blood.
... The Gate-Amn war...
... A bitter defeat at Gullykin...
... and a secret victory that helped turn the tide of the war.
A Dragon Goddess bursting up out of the Gate... incinerating man, woman, and child alike...
... and the petty mirth displayed by the elven leadership when they learned Tiamats wrath had leveled the White Mask...
... the disgust, and disassociation I felt at that moment, to hear them laugh openly while smoke still rose from the charred remains of entire families.
A retreat into self. A reunion with solitude.
Leonias kidnapping a the hands of the dhaerow...
... and a journey to the underdark along-side her husband to save her.
So many faces come and gone.
Familiar visages passing on down the road, into the mists of time...
... or into the afterlife.
And always, those comforting whispers from the shadows, my constant companions.
And so it came: a need for resolution.
For closure.
For myself. For Viere.
But first, I had to return to Amn... to fulfill a debt to a dangerous enemy.
One who had revealed a facet of my heritage to me that I hadn't known existed previously...
... and one who still held many answers.
"... unerringly, and without remorse."
His words still reverberate in me...
... how many acts had I committed without remorse before and since that day?
Dozens? Hundreds? Countless? ... perhaps.
It didn't matter.
A thousand years of remorseful acts would still pale in comparison to the guilt I felt over her...
... and would feel forever more had I not returned to Athkatla.
And so, return I did...
Last edited by Snarfy on Fri Sep 04, 2020 6:17 pm, edited 2 times in total.
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
An arrangement fulfilled...
I drum the fingers of my right hand lightly on the arm of the plush chair now.
One leg casually crossed over the other as I peer at the man across from me.
Kezarn, resplendent in his red robes, shifts slightly in his chair.
He levels me with an even gaze.
The tattoos on his shaven head seem to dance in the light cast from the fireplace.
"Interesting." His voice quivers with the slightest bit of trepidation now.
"What is?" A deliberate injection of nonchalance into my tone.
"That you managed to enter my abode without setting off a single ward this time. You've grown rather skilled it seems."
He regains a small measure of composure now.
But his charcoal eyes never leave mine.
I wait a long moment before replying.
"Skilled enough." I shrug my shoulders, the soft black silk of my outfit makes no sound.
His eyes narrow briefly. "Such modesty. Bypassing my magical defenses is no small feat. How did you do it?"
He's trying to pry me to see how skilled I actually am...
"A few necessary precautions is all. I simply wished to ensure that you didn't try to ensorcell me again, I'm sure you understand."
My tone is even and non-threatening.
"And you believe you are safe from such now?" He says in an equally neutral voice.
My right hand moves slowly to brush the pendant at my neck.
The one given to me by Viere. The one he recognized before.
His eyes glint as they look from my eyes to the pendant and back.
"Ahh. So you have discovered it's properties I see." He pauses as my hooded head nods once slowly.
"I have."
"Your skills in the art must have improved as well then." An undercurrent of mirth in his voice now.
"Enough to know that this necklace will give me a moderate chance of resisting your magics." My right hand returns to the arm rest.
"Moderate you say? I would rate your chances as slim... at best. Your necklace didn't help you before."
His ego is getting the better of him. Good.
"Perhaps you are forgetting that this is an elven artifact. I believe that it, combined with the ability to resist enchantments my race affords me..."
I bring my left hand from my lap up to rest on the chairs arm now...
... and draw my black cloak aside to reveal a wicked reverse curved dagger resting in my lap as I do.
"... among other things, makes my chances better than slim."
Kezarns eyes do not fail to notice my now not so concealed weapon.
"Also, do you honestly believe I would willingly enter your abode without a few well placed wards of my own?"
His jaw muscles clench.
Kezarn reaches towards the half empty bottle of brandy on the end table next to him and proceeds to pour two glasses.
"No, I do not suppose you would." His begrudging tone is music to my pointed ears.
"And where, might I ask, did you study?" A genuine, if somewhat guarded, curiousness to his voice now.
A small sigh escapes me. An anticipated deflection...
"In an Arcane Academy... in an elven settlement no less."
The Thayans eyes light up as he slides one of the brandy snifters towards me down the table.
He swirls his own, then takes a small sip.
"You don't say? Tell me about it... the Tower I mean."
"I don't believe I will." I say in a flat tone.
Kezarns lip twitches now. "If you want to know the location of your precious elf woman, I suggest you reconsider..."
"That was not part of the bargain." An edginess creeps into my voice as I reach for my glass of brandy.
"Then perhaps we could re-examine the bargain? I could even sweeten the pot for you..." His tone sickeningly silken now.
The Red Wizard shifts in his seat before me as I sit in silence.
He gazes over his glass of brandy at me eagerly.
... cunning bastard, you want to play this game? Alright then.
"I have performed your original task. Unerringly and without remorse even."
His eager look deflates somewhat, he nods his head in a conciliatory manner.
"Indeed you have. And one of my chief rivals lies dead... thanks to you."
Kezarn lets out a long breath as I gaze at him expectantly.
Finally he shrugs and nods.
"You should be repaid for such a task. I will give you the location of your beloved Viere..."
The relief I feel is almost palpable, it washes over the lingering dread I feel but does not dissolve it.
But I remain motionless, expressionless.
I wait for the Thayans inevitable offer.
"... but I would also ask you to hear me out. You may very well find what I have to trade to be worth your information on this Arcane Academy in Doron Amar."
So, he knows of Doron. A slip up on his part? No, that was deliberate... no matter though.
I offer Kezarn a long thoughtful look now.
"And what could you possibly have to offer that would inspire me to betray my kin?"
A small smile widens on the Thayans face.
"Would a rather detailed and unique glimpse into your familys history interest you at all, my dear Teu-tel-quessir...?"
I narrow my eyes slightly, suspiciously, "And what insight could a Thayan possibly offer me regarding such?"
His baritone voice rumbles out a small chuckle. "It just so happens that I am a bit of a... chronicler, when it comes to 'The People'..."
The man leans forward towards me now, his voice lowering invitingly.
"... and I can promise you, you will want to hear what I have learned about your particular family, young Rhaevaern."
His perfect pronunciation of my name leaves little doubt there is at least some truth to his words.
We will see about that...
I raise my brandy snifter slowly now and tip my head in a small toast.
"Perhaps we can make a deal after all..."
I drum the fingers of my right hand lightly on the arm of the plush chair now.
One leg casually crossed over the other as I peer at the man across from me.
Kezarn, resplendent in his red robes, shifts slightly in his chair.
He levels me with an even gaze.
The tattoos on his shaven head seem to dance in the light cast from the fireplace.
"Interesting." His voice quivers with the slightest bit of trepidation now.
"What is?" A deliberate injection of nonchalance into my tone.
"That you managed to enter my abode without setting off a single ward this time. You've grown rather skilled it seems."
He regains a small measure of composure now.
But his charcoal eyes never leave mine.
I wait a long moment before replying.
"Skilled enough." I shrug my shoulders, the soft black silk of my outfit makes no sound.
His eyes narrow briefly. "Such modesty. Bypassing my magical defenses is no small feat. How did you do it?"
He's trying to pry me to see how skilled I actually am...
"A few necessary precautions is all. I simply wished to ensure that you didn't try to ensorcell me again, I'm sure you understand."
My tone is even and non-threatening.
"And you believe you are safe from such now?" He says in an equally neutral voice.
My right hand moves slowly to brush the pendant at my neck.
The one given to me by Viere. The one he recognized before.
His eyes glint as they look from my eyes to the pendant and back.
"Ahh. So you have discovered it's properties I see." He pauses as my hooded head nods once slowly.
"I have."
"Your skills in the art must have improved as well then." An undercurrent of mirth in his voice now.
"Enough to know that this necklace will give me a moderate chance of resisting your magics." My right hand returns to the arm rest.
"Moderate you say? I would rate your chances as slim... at best. Your necklace didn't help you before."
His ego is getting the better of him. Good.
"Perhaps you are forgetting that this is an elven artifact. I believe that it, combined with the ability to resist enchantments my race affords me..."
I bring my left hand from my lap up to rest on the chairs arm now...
... and draw my black cloak aside to reveal a wicked reverse curved dagger resting in my lap as I do.
"... among other things, makes my chances better than slim."
Kezarns eyes do not fail to notice my now not so concealed weapon.
"Also, do you honestly believe I would willingly enter your abode without a few well placed wards of my own?"
His jaw muscles clench.
Kezarn reaches towards the half empty bottle of brandy on the end table next to him and proceeds to pour two glasses.
"No, I do not suppose you would." His begrudging tone is music to my pointed ears.
"And where, might I ask, did you study?" A genuine, if somewhat guarded, curiousness to his voice now.
A small sigh escapes me. An anticipated deflection...
"In an Arcane Academy... in an elven settlement no less."
The Thayans eyes light up as he slides one of the brandy snifters towards me down the table.
He swirls his own, then takes a small sip.
"You don't say? Tell me about it... the Tower I mean."
"I don't believe I will." I say in a flat tone.
Kezarns lip twitches now. "If you want to know the location of your precious elf woman, I suggest you reconsider..."
"That was not part of the bargain." An edginess creeps into my voice as I reach for my glass of brandy.
"Then perhaps we could re-examine the bargain? I could even sweeten the pot for you..." His tone sickeningly silken now.
The Red Wizard shifts in his seat before me as I sit in silence.
He gazes over his glass of brandy at me eagerly.
... cunning bastard, you want to play this game? Alright then.
"I have performed your original task. Unerringly and without remorse even."
His eager look deflates somewhat, he nods his head in a conciliatory manner.
"Indeed you have. And one of my chief rivals lies dead... thanks to you."
Kezarn lets out a long breath as I gaze at him expectantly.
Finally he shrugs and nods.
"You should be repaid for such a task. I will give you the location of your beloved Viere..."
The relief I feel is almost palpable, it washes over the lingering dread I feel but does not dissolve it.
But I remain motionless, expressionless.
I wait for the Thayans inevitable offer.
"... but I would also ask you to hear me out. You may very well find what I have to trade to be worth your information on this Arcane Academy in Doron Amar."
So, he knows of Doron. A slip up on his part? No, that was deliberate... no matter though.
I offer Kezarn a long thoughtful look now.
"And what could you possibly have to offer that would inspire me to betray my kin?"
A small smile widens on the Thayans face.
"Would a rather detailed and unique glimpse into your familys history interest you at all, my dear Teu-tel-quessir...?"
I narrow my eyes slightly, suspiciously, "And what insight could a Thayan possibly offer me regarding such?"
His baritone voice rumbles out a small chuckle. "It just so happens that I am a bit of a... chronicler, when it comes to 'The People'..."
The man leans forward towards me now, his voice lowering invitingly.
"... and I can promise you, you will want to hear what I have learned about your particular family, young Rhaevaern."
His perfect pronunciation of my name leaves little doubt there is at least some truth to his words.
We will see about that...
I raise my brandy snifter slowly now and tip my head in a small toast.
"Perhaps we can make a deal after all..."
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
... a deal broken, twofold.
"... you will find your elf woman in the Palace district, residing in the rather luxurious home of one named Carcillo. A magistrate of some sort if I'm not mistaken."
Kezarns shrewd eyes glimmer faintly.
Mine narrow slightly in response as I peer at him intensely.
A swell of emotions inside me now, ranging from doubt to relief and everything in between.
I struggle to keep my composure.
And promptly quaff my glass of brandy.
A faint smile plays across the mans lips at the long ensuing silence between us.
"She is... indentured to this magistrate?" I manage to ask the question without gritting my teeth.
Kezarns shoulders lift as he reclines back in his seat.
"It is possible. He paid a handsome enough sum for her... I presume he has put her to good use, as is his wont."
I do not fail to notice the cunning undertone to his words.
The man raises his glass to his lips now, eyeing me over his brandy with those grey orbs.
I cannot help but repress my disdain, nor my lip from curling up ever so slightly.
... he's trying to incite me, to plant seeds in my mind, but to what end?
"I did not ask for your presumptions, nor are they welcome." My tone takes on a deadly calm, despite the boiling in my blood.
"Well, if you did not wish to hear the answer perhaps you should not have asked the question."
A barely repressed terseness and impatience to Kezarns tone now.
He's on edge... and attempting to put me on edge as well. Something is amiss...
"I have fulfilled my end of the bargain and given you the location of your long lost elf woman, and I have shared with you one of the chronicles I have penned regarding the Rhaevaern family. Now, I humbly request that you reciprocate and provide me with any knowledge you possess regarding the Academy in Doron Amar."
His tone is anything but humble. It is bordering on demanding if anything.
... fine, time to draw this deal towards it's conclusion.
I purposely inject my next words with acquiescence.
"Fair enough... but first, may I pour mysel-... pour us another?"
I loft a brow at his near empty glass, as if just noticing it.
"To finalize the bargain, of course."
I motion towards the bottle of brandy now.
Kezarm offers me his most cunning gaze and a slow nod.
"Of course..."
His eyes follow my black gloved hand as I reach for the bottle.
I fill my glass first, my movement plain and deliberate.
Then I reach the bottle towards his...
"To the top, I presume?"
His eyes wander from my hand to my face just long enough...
... the subtlest flash of movement of my index finger over the lip of the bottle now.
"You presume correctly." His baritone voice says with bemusement, as he watches me pour.
I set the bottle aside now and motion for him to wait as he looks at his glass.
"Not just yet, if you don't mind. Not until I fulfill my part of the bargain."
The Red Wizard nods again, his bemusement now infecting his facial expression.
I reach slowly towards the satchel that is concealed under my left arm now.
Keeping my level gaze on him... for a moment.
I lower my hooded head, feigning an intended glance down as I reach for the drawstring that ties my pack...
... but only lowering it so low as to keep sight of the Red Wizard from below the hem of my shadowed hood.
My keen eyes flash upward now as I tug the string.
Kezarns eyes peer past me to squint quickly at the corners of the darkened room now...
... so, he invited others. Cunning and treacherous wretch...
Kezarns features contort into one of eagerness as his eyes draw back to me...
... watching me pull a night-blue tome from my satchel.
I will myself into a lucid state of awareness, feigning again, but this time in ignorance of his glance past me.
The words of a mentor whisper in my mind now.
The velvet memory of her voice giving me hidden strength and crystal clear resolve.
... breathe.
Enveloped in the calm of the moment, my senses acclimatize almost instantly.
The hair on the back of my neck stands.
Pointed ears perking under my hood as my newfound awareness reveals things hidden...
Two of them. One in each corner... although one's breathing is more shallow. They're not moving. Yet.
... time slowing to a crawl as my mind anticipates and envisions the next precious moments.
I'm holding the book aloft now, as if in slight reluctance...
... and then gingerly handing it towards him with my left hand while taking up my glass in my right.
I focus on the sounds behind me.
Waiting for the slightest hint of movement as I raise my brandy in another silent toast.
The resplendent Red Wizard glances longingly over the book in his lap, then takes up his own glass.
A mouthful for me.
A long slow sip for Kezarn, our eyes locking.
... any moment now.
Kezarn looks back down with a triumphant grin and turns to the first page of the book...
((*Edited to make mention of the other part of the bargain.))
"... you will find your elf woman in the Palace district, residing in the rather luxurious home of one named Carcillo. A magistrate of some sort if I'm not mistaken."
Kezarns shrewd eyes glimmer faintly.
Mine narrow slightly in response as I peer at him intensely.
A swell of emotions inside me now, ranging from doubt to relief and everything in between.
I struggle to keep my composure.
And promptly quaff my glass of brandy.
A faint smile plays across the mans lips at the long ensuing silence between us.
"She is... indentured to this magistrate?" I manage to ask the question without gritting my teeth.
Kezarns shoulders lift as he reclines back in his seat.
"It is possible. He paid a handsome enough sum for her... I presume he has put her to good use, as is his wont."
I do not fail to notice the cunning undertone to his words.
The man raises his glass to his lips now, eyeing me over his brandy with those grey orbs.
I cannot help but repress my disdain, nor my lip from curling up ever so slightly.
... he's trying to incite me, to plant seeds in my mind, but to what end?
"I did not ask for your presumptions, nor are they welcome." My tone takes on a deadly calm, despite the boiling in my blood.
"Well, if you did not wish to hear the answer perhaps you should not have asked the question."
A barely repressed terseness and impatience to Kezarns tone now.
He's on edge... and attempting to put me on edge as well. Something is amiss...
"I have fulfilled my end of the bargain and given you the location of your long lost elf woman, and I have shared with you one of the chronicles I have penned regarding the Rhaevaern family. Now, I humbly request that you reciprocate and provide me with any knowledge you possess regarding the Academy in Doron Amar."
His tone is anything but humble. It is bordering on demanding if anything.
... fine, time to draw this deal towards it's conclusion.
I purposely inject my next words with acquiescence.
"Fair enough... but first, may I pour mysel-... pour us another?"
I loft a brow at his near empty glass, as if just noticing it.
"To finalize the bargain, of course."
I motion towards the bottle of brandy now.
Kezarm offers me his most cunning gaze and a slow nod.
"Of course..."
His eyes follow my black gloved hand as I reach for the bottle.
I fill my glass first, my movement plain and deliberate.
Then I reach the bottle towards his...
"To the top, I presume?"
His eyes wander from my hand to my face just long enough...
... the subtlest flash of movement of my index finger over the lip of the bottle now.
"You presume correctly." His baritone voice says with bemusement, as he watches me pour.
I set the bottle aside now and motion for him to wait as he looks at his glass.
"Not just yet, if you don't mind. Not until I fulfill my part of the bargain."
The Red Wizard nods again, his bemusement now infecting his facial expression.
I reach slowly towards the satchel that is concealed under my left arm now.
Keeping my level gaze on him... for a moment.
I lower my hooded head, feigning an intended glance down as I reach for the drawstring that ties my pack...
... but only lowering it so low as to keep sight of the Red Wizard from below the hem of my shadowed hood.
My keen eyes flash upward now as I tug the string.
Kezarns eyes peer past me to squint quickly at the corners of the darkened room now...
... so, he invited others. Cunning and treacherous wretch...
Kezarns features contort into one of eagerness as his eyes draw back to me...
... watching me pull a night-blue tome from my satchel.
I will myself into a lucid state of awareness, feigning again, but this time in ignorance of his glance past me.
The words of a mentor whisper in my mind now.
The velvet memory of her voice giving me hidden strength and crystal clear resolve.
... breathe.
Enveloped in the calm of the moment, my senses acclimatize almost instantly.
The hair on the back of my neck stands.
Pointed ears perking under my hood as my newfound awareness reveals things hidden...
Two of them. One in each corner... although one's breathing is more shallow. They're not moving. Yet.
... time slowing to a crawl as my mind anticipates and envisions the next precious moments.
I'm holding the book aloft now, as if in slight reluctance...
... and then gingerly handing it towards him with my left hand while taking up my glass in my right.
I focus on the sounds behind me.
Waiting for the slightest hint of movement as I raise my brandy in another silent toast.
The resplendent Red Wizard glances longingly over the book in his lap, then takes up his own glass.
A mouthful for me.
A long slow sip for Kezarn, our eyes locking.
... any moment now.
Kezarn looks back down with a triumphant grin and turns to the first page of the book...
((*Edited to make mention of the other part of the bargain.))
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
A clash of Shadows...
... the Red Wizard turns to the second page now, and then rapidly to the third.
His triumphant grin evaporating exponentially with each page flipped.
Bald head snapping upward, a snarl forming on his lips.
"This is nothing more than a spellboo-...! hrrrgg..."
The rest of Kezarns sentence degenerates into an incomprehensible gurgle as the poison takes effect.
The mans eyes droop, and a long string of spittle extends slowly down from his lower lip.
Kezarns left hand jerks upward, the mans futile attempt to form the somatic component of a spell failing utterly.
The wizards fingers contort and spasm as he reels forward in his chair towards me...
... Or at least where I had been.
For I had cloaked myself in the shadows delicate embrace the very moment the man started to speak...
... and now to deal with our guests.
My pupils dilate wide as I press myself against the wall, curved blades poised.
Clinging to the darkness closest to the mouth-breather.
His quick shuffling steps whisper off the tiled floor...
Kezarns guests intended strike coming far too late, both of them launch out of the shadows...
... and, just as quickly, slide to a halt at the moment of the Red Wizards failed magical gesture.
A tall imposing looking man in black leathers with a long wicked looking blade.
His brown hooded hin counterpart, gleaming daggers drawn at the ready.
The same two Shadow Thieves that set me up all those years ago...
... staring haplessly at each other from near their respective corners of the room.
"Malek! The hells he do to the wiza-...."
The hins next words become a sickening squelch as I slam my blades to intersect into the sides of his neck...
... they sever artery and windpipe all at once, a lateral spray of blood out both sides to soak his hood.
I'm pivoting on my left heel now, whipping in a clockwise motion behind the newly deceased halfling, blades still implanted.
I jam my left blade forward and yank my right blade towards me as I spin.
In a single fluid motion I transfer my energy up from my hips, my full momentum finishes the decapitation for me.
The hins body stays upright and stiff while his head spins halfway on its bloody axis...
... the halflings visage regards me with a final wide-eyed and open mouthed look.
The forward facing torso crumbles into a heap, shorn hood and head rolling across a marble floor.
I'm crouched low and at the ready. Twin bloody blades extended towards my remaining foe.
His expression a montage, flowing from shock to anger, then anger to dark determination.
The imposing looking human flourishes his long blade in a expert maneuver before leveling it at me slowly.
"A grievous mistake on your part my knife-eared friend. Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"
His tone hints at a silent outrage.
The man in black leathers crosses one leg over the other sideways to his right now...
... inching his way towards a more favorable position. His footfalls silent as a ghost.
Buying time with words while he figures out his next move, no doubt...
"Well enough to know, Malek, that I wont have any trouble from your shadowy associates if I lay you low next to your partner here..."
A deadly inflection in my quiet voice now as I also start to circle to my right...
... positioning myself behind my former seat, facing the one occupied by the slobbering Red Wizard.
"And how do you figure that? Assuming you are even able to... lay me low, as you say."
A frightening calm to his tone now as we continue to parallel each other around the room...
... his countenance becoming more and more predatory as he starts a low creep backwards.
He passes his blade from one hand to the other.
My tone incredulous.
"Tell me... who exactly do you anticipate will report two Shadow Thieves being slain in the abode of their Thayan accomplice... him? Permitting I even let him live, that is."
I motion to the incapacitated Kezarn with my right blade...
... while keeping my left one and my narrowed eyes trained on my seemingly very capable adversary.
"Ahh... but you're neglecting a very vital detail in all this, elf."
A quiet menace manifests in his tone as he speaks now.
"And what, praytell, is that?" I know full well the answer, but bait him with biting sarcasm anyways.
"I am not slain... nor do I have any intention of being such!"
Rage getting the better of him, Maleks final outburst causes him to pause in his circling...
... and allows me to remain moving in my circle and out of the fireplace's treacherous glow.
The very place in which he had, no doubt, intended to strike at me.
The imposing Shadow Thief launches himself blade first at me anyways...
... but I have already rolled right and joined with the shadows again.
Malek ceases his rush a few strides in.
He blinks, then growls low while slashing in a deadly defensive diagonal arc in front of him.
His fury filled eyes trace slowly from right to left now... seeking for any hint of my passing.
... good, he thinks I am trying to circle behind him.
I press myself even tighter into the corner, waiting for him to expose his back as he slowly turns left...
And then it happens.
In the space of a heartbeat and a half Malek snaps his vision, and his blade, back towards the very corner in which I lay in wait...
... and rolls left, vanishing into the shadows as well.
Now... I'm in trouble.
My hands clench the hilts of my blades tightly, a silent curse at my rapidly diminished options.
My mind frantically weighs the choices as Malek lays in wait...
... he's coming at me from the right, which means...
I only have one option. And it's a risky one, at best.
I'm planting my left foot against the right wall now.
I take a short hop up off my right leg and propel myself off the wall in a diving leap and roll...
... back towards the fireplace.
Malek volleys himself from the shadows not a moment later.
The tip of his blade slashing across my shoulder as he hammers past me into the wall.
I manage to complete my awkward roll past the fireplace, Maleks glancing strike not enough to skew my momentum.
I drop one of my blades as I reach my feet, reflexively bunching my cloak over my now bleeding shoulder.
The Shadow Thief does a back roll to his feet now, then stalks aggressively towards the middle of the room...
... but cannot close the distance between us before I find the shadows again.
I grimace as I press my cloak tighter to my wound.
"How does it feel, elf, to know that all I have to do to find you... is follow the trail of blood..."
Malek snarls, his eyes gleaming as they pass over my fallen blade.
The regenerative properties of my cloak take effect... but not fast enough.
A rapid trickle of warmth streaming down my arm now, I bend my elbow and pinch my cloak below it...
... stemming the flow for a few precious moments.
... blood. A realization hits me full force.
Malek stares hard at the corner of the room in which I vanished.
His dangerous eyes flicker to the floor as he stalks closer to it...
... but not to me.
I backpedal silently along the wall towards the adjacent, and darkest, corner of the room.
Stepping outward now I hang my elbow low, hovering it near the decapitated head of the fallen hin...
... letting the corner of my elbow hover less than an inch over the already existing pool of halfling blood.
A dozen drops into a lake of crimson. They make barely a ripple in the scarce fire light.
The healing powers of my cloak finish closing the skin over my gashed shoulder.
Not fully healed, but enough for me to resume my movement to the opposite corner of the room.
Malek growls low and slashes his blade at the empty corner facing him...
... then backs himself into it and disappears from sight again.
Now my fallen blade also vanishes as well. No doubt into the hands of my deadly foe.
... the longer this goes on the less chance I have. This will need to be perfect.
I'm flinging a green vial across the room now, murmuring a soft incantation as I do.
The acid bomb arcs a path towards Maleks hiding spot...
... my skin hardens to stone as the ward takes effect.
But it also betrays my location.
The green vial shatters, it's viscous contents erupting violently near the hins fallen body.
Malek explodes out of the shadows towards me, the outward edge of the acid bomb splashing across the backs of his legs...
... he howls in fury, only slowed for the briefest of moments.
I'm leaning forward now... unmoved from my corner of the room, a statue of stone.
Eyes fixated at the on-rushing blades.
Staring hard at approaching death.
... breathe.
Maleks roars in triumph as he thunders towards me...
... we both know I don't have enough time to re-find the shadows, and thus dodge Maleks incoming strikes.
Not that I have any intention of doing so.
... breathe.
I inhale sharply, fully committed to accepting Maleks blow, and trusting in my ward to absorb the brunt of it...
Two blades seek home, one for each lung.
My skin made of stone receives them both with a clang, the entirety of my chest making a loud crunching sound...
... twin blows defected out wide now, dissipating the ward completely in the process.
The entire content of air in my lungs expel despite my ward...
... I slam backwards against the wall now.
My Shadow Thief adversary reels backwards as well... into the open.
Both of the bones of his forearms shattered from his maniacal charge into my stone form...
... weapons dangling uselessly with whatever strength his fingers still manage to possess.
Malek traces a resigned gaze from his broken arms upward...
... to the pitch black of an empty corner.
His long blade and my borrowed dagger clattering to the ground at his feet.
His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly.
I'm driving my blade into Maleks back now, diagonally towards the spine. The sweet spot.
My foes body goes rigid.
Paralyzed.
A statue of barely quivering flesh.
I turn to glance at the still drooling Kezarn, the hem of his robes scorched by acid as he lolls in his plush chair.
I'm leaning to reclaim my fallen dagger now. A cool reassurance to it's hilt.
I reach both blades up and around in front of Maleks throat...
... pressing in close towards the mans ear, a modicum of respect coloring my whisper.
The last he will ever hear.
"You were right... it was interesting to have met such a like-minded, and talented, individual..."
... the Red Wizard turns to the second page now, and then rapidly to the third.
His triumphant grin evaporating exponentially with each page flipped.
Bald head snapping upward, a snarl forming on his lips.
"This is nothing more than a spellboo-...! hrrrgg..."
The rest of Kezarns sentence degenerates into an incomprehensible gurgle as the poison takes effect.
The mans eyes droop, and a long string of spittle extends slowly down from his lower lip.
Kezarns left hand jerks upward, the mans futile attempt to form the somatic component of a spell failing utterly.
The wizards fingers contort and spasm as he reels forward in his chair towards me...
... Or at least where I had been.
For I had cloaked myself in the shadows delicate embrace the very moment the man started to speak...
... and now to deal with our guests.
My pupils dilate wide as I press myself against the wall, curved blades poised.
Clinging to the darkness closest to the mouth-breather.
His quick shuffling steps whisper off the tiled floor...
Kezarns guests intended strike coming far too late, both of them launch out of the shadows...
... and, just as quickly, slide to a halt at the moment of the Red Wizards failed magical gesture.
A tall imposing looking man in black leathers with a long wicked looking blade.
His brown hooded hin counterpart, gleaming daggers drawn at the ready.
The same two Shadow Thieves that set me up all those years ago...
... staring haplessly at each other from near their respective corners of the room.
"Malek! The hells he do to the wiza-...."
The hins next words become a sickening squelch as I slam my blades to intersect into the sides of his neck...
... they sever artery and windpipe all at once, a lateral spray of blood out both sides to soak his hood.
I'm pivoting on my left heel now, whipping in a clockwise motion behind the newly deceased halfling, blades still implanted.
I jam my left blade forward and yank my right blade towards me as I spin.
In a single fluid motion I transfer my energy up from my hips, my full momentum finishes the decapitation for me.
The hins body stays upright and stiff while his head spins halfway on its bloody axis...
... the halflings visage regards me with a final wide-eyed and open mouthed look.
The forward facing torso crumbles into a heap, shorn hood and head rolling across a marble floor.
I'm crouched low and at the ready. Twin bloody blades extended towards my remaining foe.
His expression a montage, flowing from shock to anger, then anger to dark determination.
The imposing looking human flourishes his long blade in a expert maneuver before leveling it at me slowly.
"A grievous mistake on your part my knife-eared friend. Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"
His tone hints at a silent outrage.
The man in black leathers crosses one leg over the other sideways to his right now...
... inching his way towards a more favorable position. His footfalls silent as a ghost.
Buying time with words while he figures out his next move, no doubt...
"Well enough to know, Malek, that I wont have any trouble from your shadowy associates if I lay you low next to your partner here..."
A deadly inflection in my quiet voice now as I also start to circle to my right...
... positioning myself behind my former seat, facing the one occupied by the slobbering Red Wizard.
"And how do you figure that? Assuming you are even able to... lay me low, as you say."
A frightening calm to his tone now as we continue to parallel each other around the room...
... his countenance becoming more and more predatory as he starts a low creep backwards.
He passes his blade from one hand to the other.
My tone incredulous.
"Tell me... who exactly do you anticipate will report two Shadow Thieves being slain in the abode of their Thayan accomplice... him? Permitting I even let him live, that is."
I motion to the incapacitated Kezarn with my right blade...
... while keeping my left one and my narrowed eyes trained on my seemingly very capable adversary.
"Ahh... but you're neglecting a very vital detail in all this, elf."
A quiet menace manifests in his tone as he speaks now.
"And what, praytell, is that?" I know full well the answer, but bait him with biting sarcasm anyways.
"I am not slain... nor do I have any intention of being such!"
Rage getting the better of him, Maleks final outburst causes him to pause in his circling...
... and allows me to remain moving in my circle and out of the fireplace's treacherous glow.
The very place in which he had, no doubt, intended to strike at me.
The imposing Shadow Thief launches himself blade first at me anyways...
... but I have already rolled right and joined with the shadows again.
Malek ceases his rush a few strides in.
He blinks, then growls low while slashing in a deadly defensive diagonal arc in front of him.
His fury filled eyes trace slowly from right to left now... seeking for any hint of my passing.
... good, he thinks I am trying to circle behind him.
I press myself even tighter into the corner, waiting for him to expose his back as he slowly turns left...
And then it happens.
In the space of a heartbeat and a half Malek snaps his vision, and his blade, back towards the very corner in which I lay in wait...
... and rolls left, vanishing into the shadows as well.
Now... I'm in trouble.
My hands clench the hilts of my blades tightly, a silent curse at my rapidly diminished options.
My mind frantically weighs the choices as Malek lays in wait...
... he's coming at me from the right, which means...
I only have one option. And it's a risky one, at best.
I'm planting my left foot against the right wall now.
I take a short hop up off my right leg and propel myself off the wall in a diving leap and roll...
... back towards the fireplace.
Malek volleys himself from the shadows not a moment later.
The tip of his blade slashing across my shoulder as he hammers past me into the wall.
I manage to complete my awkward roll past the fireplace, Maleks glancing strike not enough to skew my momentum.
I drop one of my blades as I reach my feet, reflexively bunching my cloak over my now bleeding shoulder.
The Shadow Thief does a back roll to his feet now, then stalks aggressively towards the middle of the room...
... but cannot close the distance between us before I find the shadows again.
I grimace as I press my cloak tighter to my wound.
"How does it feel, elf, to know that all I have to do to find you... is follow the trail of blood..."
Malek snarls, his eyes gleaming as they pass over my fallen blade.
The regenerative properties of my cloak take effect... but not fast enough.
A rapid trickle of warmth streaming down my arm now, I bend my elbow and pinch my cloak below it...
... stemming the flow for a few precious moments.
... blood. A realization hits me full force.
Malek stares hard at the corner of the room in which I vanished.
His dangerous eyes flicker to the floor as he stalks closer to it...
... but not to me.
I backpedal silently along the wall towards the adjacent, and darkest, corner of the room.
Stepping outward now I hang my elbow low, hovering it near the decapitated head of the fallen hin...
... letting the corner of my elbow hover less than an inch over the already existing pool of halfling blood.
A dozen drops into a lake of crimson. They make barely a ripple in the scarce fire light.
The healing powers of my cloak finish closing the skin over my gashed shoulder.
Not fully healed, but enough for me to resume my movement to the opposite corner of the room.
Malek growls low and slashes his blade at the empty corner facing him...
... then backs himself into it and disappears from sight again.
Now my fallen blade also vanishes as well. No doubt into the hands of my deadly foe.
... the longer this goes on the less chance I have. This will need to be perfect.
I'm flinging a green vial across the room now, murmuring a soft incantation as I do.
The acid bomb arcs a path towards Maleks hiding spot...
... my skin hardens to stone as the ward takes effect.
But it also betrays my location.
The green vial shatters, it's viscous contents erupting violently near the hins fallen body.
Malek explodes out of the shadows towards me, the outward edge of the acid bomb splashing across the backs of his legs...
... he howls in fury, only slowed for the briefest of moments.
I'm leaning forward now... unmoved from my corner of the room, a statue of stone.
Eyes fixated at the on-rushing blades.
Staring hard at approaching death.
... breathe.
Maleks roars in triumph as he thunders towards me...
... we both know I don't have enough time to re-find the shadows, and thus dodge Maleks incoming strikes.
Not that I have any intention of doing so.
... breathe.
I inhale sharply, fully committed to accepting Maleks blow, and trusting in my ward to absorb the brunt of it...
Two blades seek home, one for each lung.
My skin made of stone receives them both with a clang, the entirety of my chest making a loud crunching sound...
... twin blows defected out wide now, dissipating the ward completely in the process.
The entire content of air in my lungs expel despite my ward...
... I slam backwards against the wall now.
My Shadow Thief adversary reels backwards as well... into the open.
Both of the bones of his forearms shattered from his maniacal charge into my stone form...
... weapons dangling uselessly with whatever strength his fingers still manage to possess.
Malek traces a resigned gaze from his broken arms upward...
... to the pitch black of an empty corner.
His long blade and my borrowed dagger clattering to the ground at his feet.
His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly.
I'm driving my blade into Maleks back now, diagonally towards the spine. The sweet spot.
My foes body goes rigid.
Paralyzed.
A statue of barely quivering flesh.
I turn to glance at the still drooling Kezarn, the hem of his robes scorched by acid as he lolls in his plush chair.
I'm leaning to reclaim my fallen dagger now. A cool reassurance to it's hilt.
I reach both blades up and around in front of Maleks throat...
... pressing in close towards the mans ear, a modicum of respect coloring my whisper.
The last he will ever hear.
"You were right... it was interesting to have met such a like-minded, and talented, individual..."
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
Contingencies and Concessions...
The Red Wizard Kezarn stirs groggily in his chair finally.
Fine black rope intertwined around his hands, interlaced intricately through his fingers.
The mans singed feet bound to the legs of his plush seat.
Mouth filled with a white cloth gag, stretched tightly to encircle his bald head.
I'm perched on the corner of the end table closest to Kezarn...
... flipping lazily through the pages of one of the mans chronicles.
I do not look up from it as he rouses, speaking in a casual tone as my eyes trace it's contents.
"A relatively thorough record, I must admit. Much of it corroborates what I had already learned of my family during my stay in the north."
Kezarn's faculties return enough to him to induce a bewildered look out of the man.
He shifts in his seat, seemingly wishing to respond but inhibited by the gag.
After a moment he glances around the room, clearly still dazed by the residual effects of the poison...
... yet his eyes widen still, the gravity of the situation sobering his mind-state by the second.
A pile of bubbling flesh, bone, and leathers is all that remains of the hin behind me.
Reduced to a near unrecognizable mass by my acidic projectile.
Maleks still form lies heaped on the far side of the darkened room...
... broken arms splaying out wide over a pool of black crimson.
The Red Wizard turns back to me now as I look up at him from the pages of the book...
... staring flatly at him out of my hood with a cold demeanor.
The glint of defeat in his grey eyes, he offers me a single conciliatory nod at my work.
Kezarn rocks his jaw a little, his expression proud and plaintive all at the same time.
"Something to say, do you? ... very well."
I reach a single curved dagger over towards his face, inducing a slight flinch out of the man.
"If you so much as try to cast even the slightest cantrip..."
My tone is cool and even, the same as his when he used those same words in our role reversed past.
... I make a twisting motion at the wrist, making clear my intent to remove his eye if he does not acquiesce.
A few pensive nods are his reply.
My blade hovers in my hand at Kezarns left eye a long moment...
... then I loop it's razor tip under the side of the gag and flip my hand upward, severing the cloth neatly.
Kezarn puckers his mouth for a moment as the gag falls...
... staring at it as it flutters to his lap, landing on his immobile hands and fingers.
I set my blade down onto the inner spine of the book and wait for him to collect himself.
The irony of the reversed situation is too much to resist. "... Am I understood?"
"Of course you are, Teu-tel-quessir." The bitterness in his tone is not lessened by his hoarse croak.
"An excellent answer..."
I narrow my eyes at him cunningly, then loft my thin brows at his hands.
"... especially considering your apparent need for the physical aspect of performing the Art."
He can not repress the derisive curling of his upper lip. "... If you knew that, then why the restraint?"
"So that I could explain the repercussions without any long winded interruption, naturally."
My thumb strokes the pommel of my dagger meaningfully.
The Thayans eyes glance to my blade, then he swallows a single time before wetting his lips with his tongue.
His eyes narrow thoughtfully as he regards me now.
"Tell me, young Rhaevaern, why do I still draw breath?"
... why indeed?
My internal musings stretch the moment out as I stare at him flatly.
Kezarn seizes the moment, his self-preservation kicking in...
"A show of mercy on your part perhaps...?"
Mercy.
How the word has become so unfamiliar to me.
As if some piece of me scattered to the winds during my searching for her...
... only to coalesce just out of reach at scarce moments of introspection.
"I must say, you don't strike me as the merciful type, but I've been wrong before..."
His cunning attempt at brevity jars me out of my musings.
"Yes, you have been wrong before. The moment you included those two in our dealings for instance..."
My words come tersely as I motion to the two fallen Shadow Thieves.
Much to my surprise, Kezarns demeanor builds...
... his posture one of confidence as he reclines back.
"Would you believe me if I told you that they were not here to kill you? That they were, in fact, only here to see our bargain through?"
"No, I would not believe you." I state in a rather matter of fact tone.
"Think about it young Rhaevaern... I had nothing to gain from your death, and they could have struck at you any time during our conversation."
My mind a tumult now... doubt creeps in.
"You could have meant to capture me..."
The Red Wizard chuckles low at that.
"You and I both know you would make a terrible slave."
...there is some truth to his words, however he may be twisting it.
"You may have even squandered a grand opportunity by killing them, and gained the ire of their organization in the process... truth be told, I suspect they might have had an interest in recruiting you to their cause."
A single bead of sweat and a telltale blink slip through Kezarns proud facade.
I see through the ruse now. The tumult in my mind ceases.
"You know gods damned well I despised those two, and that I would have no interest in their organization. Their deaths are the result of your treachery, not mine."
"Treachery?! Was it or was it not you who poisoned me!?" His face reddening now.
My words slow, my tone methodical and confident now.
"Intellect devourer venom, potent to say the least... and a contingency only. One I had to resort to when I became aware of your other guests. I could not know their intentions."
"And I suppose giving me your paltry spellbook, instead of the information on the Academy in Doron Amar that you promised me, was also not a betrayal?"
His disbelief is genuine, however misplaced it may be.
"You did not specify what information you were seeking. That spellbook, paltry as it may be, is the culmination of my magical learning's at the Arcane academy..."
Kezarn scoffs loudly now, his fingers start to wiggle feebly beneath his restraints.
My blade is in my hand now and flashing towards his face.
I pause the blades momentum a hairsbreadth from his eye, then slowly dig it's tip into the Red Wizards temple.
Kezarns complexion goes from deep red to ghost white in the span of three heartbeats.
His fingers abruptly cease their movement.
"... it was also meant to lure you and your companions into a reaction that would reveal your intent. And so it did."
I snap shut the chronicle with my left hand and place it in my satchel...
... slowly I stand and move behind the Thayan as I trace the point of my blade around the back of his neck.
I press in close towards the mans ear, as I did with Malek.
Kezarns breath coming rapidly now.
I curve the blade under his chin to rest against his adams apple.
... Mercy.
The word reverberates in my head again.
This time resembling only some far-fetched and quaint notion.
That deadly whisper eases out of my mouth now, floating towards Kezarn like the sweetest death knell...
"I know that it was you and your companions that conspired to set me on that wayward path to Calimshan so many years ago, I spied those two wretches speaking of it not a tenday ago..."
I arc my second blade under the Red Wizards chin now, the deadly calm of my whisper growing in intensity.
"And I've seen your ledgers... the same that show how you profited from the sale of the woman I love... not to mention countless others, many of whom were my kin."
I make an X with my daggers now.
Their blood-stained hilts clink together as their razor edges caress Kezarns throat.
The Red Wizard stiffens, but he is too proud to beg or whimper.
"Can you think of any reason why I should spare your life?"
... I will give him ten heartbeats to answer.
He finds the words in five.
"I... I gave you her location."
A fact that had not escaped me.
"... that you did."
But will more treachery lie in wait?
Kezarn sucks in an anticipatory breath...
... I let the moment linger.
... and then my blades depart.
I pad towards Maleks corpse now.
His body melting away under the contents of a second vial of acid shortly thereafter...
... and then I am at the door, turning back to regard Kezarn.
A bewildered glance at Maleks bubbling remains from the Thayan...
... followed by a stupefied look of disbelief at the door as I swing it open.
His body trembles and shudders in relief, no doubt at his un-slit throat.
"Y-... you do not mean to kill me?"
"Make no mistake, wizard, it is not my wish to arouse the enmity of you or your organization. But if I do not find her where you say she will be... then I will return to do just that."
A solemn nod from the Thayan now. "You will find her there, young elf."
For once, I believe Kezarn is telling the truth.
He sees it in my cold blue eyes.
"As per our bargain, the spellbook is yours... although I suspect you will glean nothing from it that is of any particular use to you."
Kezarn manages a rueful chuckle as I turn towards the door.
"Not to sound ungrateful... but I suspect your kin would not approve of you letting a Thayan Wizard continue living. Especially considering your particular family's views on the value of human life..."
My feet find a moment of pause.
My voice barely above a whisper as I look over my foes melted bodies.
My memory brings me back to Waterdeep, Deldrach pitching forward with my blade embedded in my kinsmans throat.
"You are correct in that. However, I am not like my kin... not anymore."
The shadows embrace.
A bittersweet reunion with night painted streets now...
... my heart burdened and hopeful all at once.
... I'm coming.
The Red Wizard Kezarn stirs groggily in his chair finally.
Fine black rope intertwined around his hands, interlaced intricately through his fingers.
The mans singed feet bound to the legs of his plush seat.
Mouth filled with a white cloth gag, stretched tightly to encircle his bald head.
I'm perched on the corner of the end table closest to Kezarn...
... flipping lazily through the pages of one of the mans chronicles.
I do not look up from it as he rouses, speaking in a casual tone as my eyes trace it's contents.
"A relatively thorough record, I must admit. Much of it corroborates what I had already learned of my family during my stay in the north."
Kezarn's faculties return enough to him to induce a bewildered look out of the man.
He shifts in his seat, seemingly wishing to respond but inhibited by the gag.
After a moment he glances around the room, clearly still dazed by the residual effects of the poison...
... yet his eyes widen still, the gravity of the situation sobering his mind-state by the second.
A pile of bubbling flesh, bone, and leathers is all that remains of the hin behind me.
Reduced to a near unrecognizable mass by my acidic projectile.
Maleks still form lies heaped on the far side of the darkened room...
... broken arms splaying out wide over a pool of black crimson.
The Red Wizard turns back to me now as I look up at him from the pages of the book...
... staring flatly at him out of my hood with a cold demeanor.
The glint of defeat in his grey eyes, he offers me a single conciliatory nod at my work.
Kezarn rocks his jaw a little, his expression proud and plaintive all at the same time.
"Something to say, do you? ... very well."
I reach a single curved dagger over towards his face, inducing a slight flinch out of the man.
"If you so much as try to cast even the slightest cantrip..."
My tone is cool and even, the same as his when he used those same words in our role reversed past.
... I make a twisting motion at the wrist, making clear my intent to remove his eye if he does not acquiesce.
A few pensive nods are his reply.
My blade hovers in my hand at Kezarns left eye a long moment...
... then I loop it's razor tip under the side of the gag and flip my hand upward, severing the cloth neatly.
Kezarn puckers his mouth for a moment as the gag falls...
... staring at it as it flutters to his lap, landing on his immobile hands and fingers.
I set my blade down onto the inner spine of the book and wait for him to collect himself.
The irony of the reversed situation is too much to resist. "... Am I understood?"
"Of course you are, Teu-tel-quessir." The bitterness in his tone is not lessened by his hoarse croak.
"An excellent answer..."
I narrow my eyes at him cunningly, then loft my thin brows at his hands.
"... especially considering your apparent need for the physical aspect of performing the Art."
He can not repress the derisive curling of his upper lip. "... If you knew that, then why the restraint?"
"So that I could explain the repercussions without any long winded interruption, naturally."
My thumb strokes the pommel of my dagger meaningfully.
The Thayans eyes glance to my blade, then he swallows a single time before wetting his lips with his tongue.
His eyes narrow thoughtfully as he regards me now.
"Tell me, young Rhaevaern, why do I still draw breath?"
... why indeed?
My internal musings stretch the moment out as I stare at him flatly.
Kezarn seizes the moment, his self-preservation kicking in...
"A show of mercy on your part perhaps...?"
Mercy.
How the word has become so unfamiliar to me.
As if some piece of me scattered to the winds during my searching for her...
... only to coalesce just out of reach at scarce moments of introspection.
"I must say, you don't strike me as the merciful type, but I've been wrong before..."
His cunning attempt at brevity jars me out of my musings.
"Yes, you have been wrong before. The moment you included those two in our dealings for instance..."
My words come tersely as I motion to the two fallen Shadow Thieves.
Much to my surprise, Kezarns demeanor builds...
... his posture one of confidence as he reclines back.
"Would you believe me if I told you that they were not here to kill you? That they were, in fact, only here to see our bargain through?"
"No, I would not believe you." I state in a rather matter of fact tone.
"Think about it young Rhaevaern... I had nothing to gain from your death, and they could have struck at you any time during our conversation."
My mind a tumult now... doubt creeps in.
"You could have meant to capture me..."
The Red Wizard chuckles low at that.
"You and I both know you would make a terrible slave."
...there is some truth to his words, however he may be twisting it.
"You may have even squandered a grand opportunity by killing them, and gained the ire of their organization in the process... truth be told, I suspect they might have had an interest in recruiting you to their cause."
A single bead of sweat and a telltale blink slip through Kezarns proud facade.
I see through the ruse now. The tumult in my mind ceases.
"You know gods damned well I despised those two, and that I would have no interest in their organization. Their deaths are the result of your treachery, not mine."
"Treachery?! Was it or was it not you who poisoned me!?" His face reddening now.
My words slow, my tone methodical and confident now.
"Intellect devourer venom, potent to say the least... and a contingency only. One I had to resort to when I became aware of your other guests. I could not know their intentions."
"And I suppose giving me your paltry spellbook, instead of the information on the Academy in Doron Amar that you promised me, was also not a betrayal?"
His disbelief is genuine, however misplaced it may be.
"You did not specify what information you were seeking. That spellbook, paltry as it may be, is the culmination of my magical learning's at the Arcane academy..."
Kezarn scoffs loudly now, his fingers start to wiggle feebly beneath his restraints.
My blade is in my hand now and flashing towards his face.
I pause the blades momentum a hairsbreadth from his eye, then slowly dig it's tip into the Red Wizards temple.
Kezarns complexion goes from deep red to ghost white in the span of three heartbeats.
His fingers abruptly cease their movement.
"... it was also meant to lure you and your companions into a reaction that would reveal your intent. And so it did."
I snap shut the chronicle with my left hand and place it in my satchel...
... slowly I stand and move behind the Thayan as I trace the point of my blade around the back of his neck.
I press in close towards the mans ear, as I did with Malek.
Kezarns breath coming rapidly now.
I curve the blade under his chin to rest against his adams apple.
... Mercy.
The word reverberates in my head again.
This time resembling only some far-fetched and quaint notion.
That deadly whisper eases out of my mouth now, floating towards Kezarn like the sweetest death knell...
"I know that it was you and your companions that conspired to set me on that wayward path to Calimshan so many years ago, I spied those two wretches speaking of it not a tenday ago..."
I arc my second blade under the Red Wizards chin now, the deadly calm of my whisper growing in intensity.
"And I've seen your ledgers... the same that show how you profited from the sale of the woman I love... not to mention countless others, many of whom were my kin."
I make an X with my daggers now.
Their blood-stained hilts clink together as their razor edges caress Kezarns throat.
The Red Wizard stiffens, but he is too proud to beg or whimper.
"Can you think of any reason why I should spare your life?"
... I will give him ten heartbeats to answer.
He finds the words in five.
"I... I gave you her location."
A fact that had not escaped me.
"... that you did."
But will more treachery lie in wait?
Kezarn sucks in an anticipatory breath...
... I let the moment linger.
... and then my blades depart.
I pad towards Maleks corpse now.
His body melting away under the contents of a second vial of acid shortly thereafter...
... and then I am at the door, turning back to regard Kezarn.
A bewildered glance at Maleks bubbling remains from the Thayan...
... followed by a stupefied look of disbelief at the door as I swing it open.
His body trembles and shudders in relief, no doubt at his un-slit throat.
"Y-... you do not mean to kill me?"
"Make no mistake, wizard, it is not my wish to arouse the enmity of you or your organization. But if I do not find her where you say she will be... then I will return to do just that."
A solemn nod from the Thayan now. "You will find her there, young elf."
For once, I believe Kezarn is telling the truth.
He sees it in my cold blue eyes.
"As per our bargain, the spellbook is yours... although I suspect you will glean nothing from it that is of any particular use to you."
Kezarn manages a rueful chuckle as I turn towards the door.
"Not to sound ungrateful... but I suspect your kin would not approve of you letting a Thayan Wizard continue living. Especially considering your particular family's views on the value of human life..."
My feet find a moment of pause.
My voice barely above a whisper as I look over my foes melted bodies.
My memory brings me back to Waterdeep, Deldrach pitching forward with my blade embedded in my kinsmans throat.
"You are correct in that. However, I am not like my kin... not anymore."
The shadows embrace.
A bittersweet reunion with night painted streets now...
... my heart burdened and hopeful all at once.
... I'm coming.
Last edited by Snarfy on Wed Sep 24, 2014 3:20 am, edited 1 time in total.
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
Musings in the dark...
The din of the bridge quarter falls away behind me as I near the Government district of Athkatla.
A low hanging moon now detaching itself from the rooftops in it's slow ascent skyward.
My stride slow and full of purpose as I pad along the shadowy streets edge.
My hands clenching subconsciously in eager anticipation.
The low thudding of my dulled and aching heart to metronome against an onslaught of reveries and recollections.
A moment of convergence for all my long years spent searching for her.
It's elusive resolution inching into view...
... at last, a finality to wretched wondering and this despair filled void.
The rarest of instances now as tears well under my lowered hood...
Giving my feet pause.
No. Not now. Focus... breathe.
The concept of focus seems such a ludicrous notion that, after a long moment, a low chuckle escapes me.
A melancholic sounding mirth that elicits several strange looks from various passerby's.
I do not even offer them the briefest of glances as I continue on...
... the deluge in my mind resuming it's unforgiving assault.
Will she forgive me for all that I have done? Will she even understand what I have become... ?
A stark and sobering epiphany.
A killer.
I nod my hooded head once now in some strange moment of self-acquiescence.
A blunt and dark moment of acceptance.
A notion creeps into my musings, tinged by futility...
Will it even matter what she thinks? What any of them think...
My thoughts drift to those back on the Coast...
... to acquaintances, friends, and a host of shadows...
They would understand. And they will, if ever I manage to return...
Now the faces of my kin dance across my thoughts...
Leonia, Mealir, Laisren, Luthien, Rhys, Tyressan... Nëa. How strange to think of her at a time like this... perhaps I should have just stayed. Perhaps...
Illusions of a multitude of futures play out in my minds eye...
... potential lifetimes to sprawl out before me as I stride onward in silence.
... could there have been... something between us?
A single memory rears to form, dispersing all others with it's clarity...
A recollection of holding her small hand and giving it a light squeeze, telling her that I would be leaving...
A remembered ghost of longing, and pang of regret at that previous moment...
... but the remembrance itself doesn't illicit the faintest twinge inside me now.
No...
A feeling of certainty at the thought...
... how childish her affections were. Cloying even. We had nothing, even compared to what I shared with Leonia... and both were but a shadow compared to her.
I'm just shaking my hooded head as I walk now.
Viere's lovely visage somehow springing to life in my minds eye to perfectly mirror my remembered beauty of her...
... best to cast these delusions away. I have experienced 'love'... and look where it has led me.
The vision of my lost elven maidens visage changes now...
... a somberness in her almond shaped eyes.
I have chosen this path, for both of us... even if it means my life, you will have your freedom again, I swear... I will redeem myself to you Viere.
My silent and solemn vow strips away all other thought and hurls it's mass to the wind.
The Palace district before me now...
... it's pristine buildings loom and shine in the moonlight.
But the marvelous architecture of the city is lost on me.
A single yearning for closure...
... and it will be found on this night.
The din of the bridge quarter falls away behind me as I near the Government district of Athkatla.
A low hanging moon now detaching itself from the rooftops in it's slow ascent skyward.
My stride slow and full of purpose as I pad along the shadowy streets edge.
My hands clenching subconsciously in eager anticipation.
The low thudding of my dulled and aching heart to metronome against an onslaught of reveries and recollections.
A moment of convergence for all my long years spent searching for her.
It's elusive resolution inching into view...
... at last, a finality to wretched wondering and this despair filled void.
The rarest of instances now as tears well under my lowered hood...
Giving my feet pause.
No. Not now. Focus... breathe.
The concept of focus seems such a ludicrous notion that, after a long moment, a low chuckle escapes me.
A melancholic sounding mirth that elicits several strange looks from various passerby's.
I do not even offer them the briefest of glances as I continue on...
... the deluge in my mind resuming it's unforgiving assault.
Will she forgive me for all that I have done? Will she even understand what I have become... ?
A stark and sobering epiphany.
A killer.
I nod my hooded head once now in some strange moment of self-acquiescence.
A blunt and dark moment of acceptance.
A notion creeps into my musings, tinged by futility...
Will it even matter what she thinks? What any of them think...
My thoughts drift to those back on the Coast...
... to acquaintances, friends, and a host of shadows...
They would understand. And they will, if ever I manage to return...
Now the faces of my kin dance across my thoughts...
Leonia, Mealir, Laisren, Luthien, Rhys, Tyressan... Nëa. How strange to think of her at a time like this... perhaps I should have just stayed. Perhaps...
Illusions of a multitude of futures play out in my minds eye...
... potential lifetimes to sprawl out before me as I stride onward in silence.
... could there have been... something between us?
A single memory rears to form, dispersing all others with it's clarity...
A recollection of holding her small hand and giving it a light squeeze, telling her that I would be leaving...
A remembered ghost of longing, and pang of regret at that previous moment...
... but the remembrance itself doesn't illicit the faintest twinge inside me now.
No...
A feeling of certainty at the thought...
... how childish her affections were. Cloying even. We had nothing, even compared to what I shared with Leonia... and both were but a shadow compared to her.
I'm just shaking my hooded head as I walk now.
Viere's lovely visage somehow springing to life in my minds eye to perfectly mirror my remembered beauty of her...
... best to cast these delusions away. I have experienced 'love'... and look where it has led me.
The vision of my lost elven maidens visage changes now...
... a somberness in her almond shaped eyes.
I have chosen this path, for both of us... even if it means my life, you will have your freedom again, I swear... I will redeem myself to you Viere.
My silent and solemn vow strips away all other thought and hurls it's mass to the wind.
The Palace district before me now...
... it's pristine buildings loom and shine in the moonlight.
But the marvelous architecture of the city is lost on me.
A single yearning for closure...
... and it will be found on this night.
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
The arc towards closure...
A muted glow of strategically placed magical globes reflect off a wide stretch of polished marble floor.
Tall and intricate pillars neatly line the room, leaving a plethora of conveniently placed shadows for me to traverse the expanse.
From the safety of one shadow to the next I silently glide towards the sound...
... a distinct and methodical shuffling of parchment at the far end of the decadent hall.
With every re-positioning I shift my magical blades, Whisper and Shade, in my gloved hands...
... twisting at the wrists to carefully deflect and bend the treacherous light away from me.
Fixated on my goal.
So completely and utterly focused on the shuffling...
... that the decorations and decor of the abode are nothing more than a haze in my peripheral sight.
My heart pounds.
I am closing the long distance now...
... the sparse magical lighting finally offering me sight of my quarry.
A tall man with short hair, cropped and black. His back turned as he rifles over the contents of the desk in front of him.
The Magistrate, Carcillo...
The not so dull anger that I had been repressing wriggles from it's bonds...
... jaw setting and teeth gritting within the depths of my hood.
My narrowed eyes, harboring a palpable rage, fall slowly to linger on the mans exposed back.
The 'sweet spot' beckoning me ever so enticingly.
But then... a quiet warning creeps into my thoughts.
Waves of temptation now. A near irrepressible urge to lunge forth and bleed the life out of this man.
A singular purpose that has manifested into this moment...
... but the warning persists, and I hesitate.
My feet, instead, now tread cautiously forward. Closer and closer I edge.
A dozen paces away from the Magistrate now. My slender hands grip twin hilts reflexively.
Eagerly.
And then...
... something about the mans attire, about his poise.
One by one the trappings of the massive room slowly re-assert themselves in my awareness.
I see them in my minds eye, that hazy periphery that I so carelessly neglected...
... rosewood wand, propped up carefully on a dais. A wide painting depicting... what? Was it Karsus' Folly?
A tall staff tucked neatly into a corner, crystal perched atop...
A barely repressed sucking in of breath now as I wheel to press my back against the closest pillar.
He is no Magistrate. Carcillo is a Cowled Wizard...
A hundred curses in Elven, Common, Draconic, Sylvan, and even a few in Orcish roil through my mind.
A wave of bitterness and self reproach at my ineptitude.
Slowly, and with no small measure of trepidation or reluctance...
... I arc my hooded head past the pillar to risk a glance towards the man now.
With hands folded neatly in front of him to hang beside a brown sash, and keen eyes glinting smartly...
... Carcillo, Cowled Wizard of Amn, is staring straight at me.
A small sigh.
"Gods damned mages."
A muted glow of strategically placed magical globes reflect off a wide stretch of polished marble floor.
Tall and intricate pillars neatly line the room, leaving a plethora of conveniently placed shadows for me to traverse the expanse.
From the safety of one shadow to the next I silently glide towards the sound...
... a distinct and methodical shuffling of parchment at the far end of the decadent hall.
With every re-positioning I shift my magical blades, Whisper and Shade, in my gloved hands...
... twisting at the wrists to carefully deflect and bend the treacherous light away from me.
Fixated on my goal.
So completely and utterly focused on the shuffling...
... that the decorations and decor of the abode are nothing more than a haze in my peripheral sight.
My heart pounds.
I am closing the long distance now...
... the sparse magical lighting finally offering me sight of my quarry.
A tall man with short hair, cropped and black. His back turned as he rifles over the contents of the desk in front of him.
The Magistrate, Carcillo...
The not so dull anger that I had been repressing wriggles from it's bonds...
... jaw setting and teeth gritting within the depths of my hood.
My narrowed eyes, harboring a palpable rage, fall slowly to linger on the mans exposed back.
The 'sweet spot' beckoning me ever so enticingly.
But then... a quiet warning creeps into my thoughts.
Waves of temptation now. A near irrepressible urge to lunge forth and bleed the life out of this man.
A singular purpose that has manifested into this moment...
... but the warning persists, and I hesitate.
My feet, instead, now tread cautiously forward. Closer and closer I edge.
A dozen paces away from the Magistrate now. My slender hands grip twin hilts reflexively.
Eagerly.
And then...
... something about the mans attire, about his poise.
One by one the trappings of the massive room slowly re-assert themselves in my awareness.
I see them in my minds eye, that hazy periphery that I so carelessly neglected...
... rosewood wand, propped up carefully on a dais. A wide painting depicting... what? Was it Karsus' Folly?
A tall staff tucked neatly into a corner, crystal perched atop...
A barely repressed sucking in of breath now as I wheel to press my back against the closest pillar.
He is no Magistrate. Carcillo is a Cowled Wizard...
A hundred curses in Elven, Common, Draconic, Sylvan, and even a few in Orcish roil through my mind.
A wave of bitterness and self reproach at my ineptitude.
Slowly, and with no small measure of trepidation or reluctance...
... I arc my hooded head past the pillar to risk a glance towards the man now.
With hands folded neatly in front of him to hang beside a brown sash, and keen eyes glinting smartly...
... Carcillo, Cowled Wizard of Amn, is staring straight at me.
A small sigh.
"Gods damned mages."
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
... and new bonds of regret.
A dozen heartbeats of silence pass...
... I stare hard into the eyes of Carcillo.
His likewise hardened gaze fixated equally upon me.
A Cowled Wizard of Amn. The keeper of that which I hold most dearly...
... captor of the woman I love.
Carcillo breaks the silent exchange. His voice does not tremble.
"Who are you, and why are you here in my home?"
I step sideways slowly, cautiously, and out from behind the pillar now.
Twin blades dangling low in my hands. But the silence still grips my tongue.
"... are you an assassin?"
A hint of warning in his tone as he speaks this time.
Warning, tinged with curiosity.
I look downward to regard my own appearance now.
A brief moment of self-realization...
... as I stand with deadly poise. Shrouded in black, and with hood pulled low over my face.
... of course. For that is surely how I must appear.
My thin shoulders heave faintly. A quiet moment of self-mirth at my own expense.
My self musings do not go unnoticed.
"Is there something terribly funny about all of this?"
An unspoken confidence in his tone... and something else.
My hooded head slowly raises to regard Carcillo again.
Something in his words are amiss. Something I had anticipated, but cannot detect...
"Do you have a voice to speak? Why are you here?"
Carcillo's hands inch slowly upwards now.
The middle aged Amnian delicately looping his thumbs inside his sash as he quietly regards me.
... malice. His voice does not carry any. Who is this man? And...
"... where is she?"
The words escape my mouth as if of their own will. An unfiltered thought finished aloud.
A raw and desperate query, darkened by a promise of retribution.
My lithe hands clench twin blade hilts reflexively...
... and elicit the Cowled Wizards keen eyes to flash in alarm.
With a sharp intake of breath, Carcillo's expression then takes on one of consternation.
Finally, his sharp eyes narrow knowingly at my darkened form.
She is here...
The Shadows reach to me now. Thin tendrils of black to tug at my edges invitingly.
Beckoning me towards that all too familiar embrace.
But I hesitate...
I feel it. A sliver of realization working it's way inward as I stare at Viere's captor.
It struggles and worms to pierce through my armor...
... through a decade worth of anguish. Of wondering. Of despair.
Carcillos hands unhook from his sash now.
His fingers begin to dance, and the Shadows beckon again.
But still, I hesitate.
That pin-prick of a sliver burrowing slowly and delicately home.
A muted and quiet realization, echoing somewhere behind the dust, blood, and ghosts of the past.
But too elusive to take full form...
Carcillo finishes his quickened incantation. The tall humans form bending and flickering to his left...
... and then he is gone.
Only to re-appear moments later on the far side of the room.
Twenty paces of polished marble floor and a dozen pillars between us now.
"I will not let you take her from me!!"
Finally I relent. Giving myself to the Shadows embrace.
And the sliver of realization retreats.
Taking with it my ability to discern the hidden meaning behind Carcillo's bellow.
I am the killer again...
... and I will make this wretch suffer for whatever he has done to you, Viere.
A dozen heartbeats of silence pass...
... I stare hard into the eyes of Carcillo.
His likewise hardened gaze fixated equally upon me.
A Cowled Wizard of Amn. The keeper of that which I hold most dearly...
... captor of the woman I love.
Carcillo breaks the silent exchange. His voice does not tremble.
"Who are you, and why are you here in my home?"
I step sideways slowly, cautiously, and out from behind the pillar now.
Twin blades dangling low in my hands. But the silence still grips my tongue.
"... are you an assassin?"
A hint of warning in his tone as he speaks this time.
Warning, tinged with curiosity.
I look downward to regard my own appearance now.
A brief moment of self-realization...
... as I stand with deadly poise. Shrouded in black, and with hood pulled low over my face.
... of course. For that is surely how I must appear.
My thin shoulders heave faintly. A quiet moment of self-mirth at my own expense.
My self musings do not go unnoticed.
"Is there something terribly funny about all of this?"
An unspoken confidence in his tone... and something else.
My hooded head slowly raises to regard Carcillo again.
Something in his words are amiss. Something I had anticipated, but cannot detect...
"Do you have a voice to speak? Why are you here?"
Carcillo's hands inch slowly upwards now.
The middle aged Amnian delicately looping his thumbs inside his sash as he quietly regards me.
... malice. His voice does not carry any. Who is this man? And...
"... where is she?"
The words escape my mouth as if of their own will. An unfiltered thought finished aloud.
A raw and desperate query, darkened by a promise of retribution.
My lithe hands clench twin blade hilts reflexively...
... and elicit the Cowled Wizards keen eyes to flash in alarm.
With a sharp intake of breath, Carcillo's expression then takes on one of consternation.
Finally, his sharp eyes narrow knowingly at my darkened form.
She is here...
The Shadows reach to me now. Thin tendrils of black to tug at my edges invitingly.
Beckoning me towards that all too familiar embrace.
But I hesitate...
I feel it. A sliver of realization working it's way inward as I stare at Viere's captor.
It struggles and worms to pierce through my armor...
... through a decade worth of anguish. Of wondering. Of despair.
Carcillos hands unhook from his sash now.
His fingers begin to dance, and the Shadows beckon again.
But still, I hesitate.
That pin-prick of a sliver burrowing slowly and delicately home.
A muted and quiet realization, echoing somewhere behind the dust, blood, and ghosts of the past.
But too elusive to take full form...
Carcillo finishes his quickened incantation. The tall humans form bending and flickering to his left...
... and then he is gone.
Only to re-appear moments later on the far side of the room.
Twenty paces of polished marble floor and a dozen pillars between us now.
"I will not let you take her from me!!"
Finally I relent. Giving myself to the Shadows embrace.
And the sliver of realization retreats.
Taking with it my ability to discern the hidden meaning behind Carcillo's bellow.
I am the killer again...
... and I will make this wretch suffer for whatever he has done to you, Viere.
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
... Present day...
The Misty forest...
A serene and tranquil reprieve from the cacophony of "civilization".
The calm of the woods disturbed only by the low and perpetual thrum of wildlife.
My new-found perch at the shadowed base of a gnarled tree...
... with bittersweet memories to keep me company in its darkened cradle.
How ironic that this solitary spot should feel so much more civilized than the Gate. And yet...
... a slow undercurrent that drags at my boot heels.
A quiet discomfort that I cannot shrug away.
My eyes lift from the grass to gaze slowly up the slope towards the resplendent village.
It's painstakingly crafted wooden bridges, monuments, and marvelous looking structures.
So starkly do they resemble many of the villages one might find on Evermeet.
The entire settlement practically teeming with elves. The People.
... my kin. But still... it is all so distant. Removed from me. No, I from it.
A sobering clash between memory, familiarity, and detachment that collides and pulls in all directions...
... and leaves in it's wake a loneliness that makes the solitude of these empty woods pale by comparison.
A small price to pay to do something... anything, to help the silent one.
To give her some reprieve from her forced seclusion...
... and lessen the burden of an undeserved solitude that inhibits her from growth and potential.
It is what they would want for her. It is what anyone who cares about the little bird wants for her...
I ease down onto my back now.
Then stare up at the golden beams streaming through the wooded canopy overhead.
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...
-
Snarfy
- Posts: 1430
- Joined: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:14 pm
Re: Reveries and Recollections.
((Placeholder/reminder to self, to finish this at some point))
There are no level 30's, only level 20's with benefits...