Verik is taken aback by Taisper's words as well as the glow in his eyes, as he was clearly unprepared for that turn of events. "Wha...me and Jemini...you want..." Verik continues to sputter for words and his face grows heated as he reacts with anger, clenching his fists. "You use a Truthtelling on me Taisper and demand to know my measure when you've been...you..."
Verik's words trail off as if he's received a lash, but it occurs from within his own head. Careful now my boy, anger does nothing here. Haven't you been waiting for over a year now for this? Your clumsy efforts and understanding and reparations have gone nowhere, driven him off to Thrune and the Master knows only what else on his outings, and yet here he is. Needing a sign. Don't ruin this last chance with hasty words and bravado...you know you need him to understand you. He needs you yet perhaps more than you realize. Now swallow your pride and get to it!
Verik takes in a deep breath then, letting it out slowly, his eyes unwavering to Taisper for a long moment. His fists unclenched, he slowly sits back in his chair, the seat of the Banker's study such as it is. Slowly, deliberately, he clears his throat and when he speaks his voice is once again calm, though tinged with a hint of steel. "Those words that passed between us Taisper over Orlivanch's execution, those heated calls for investigation between you, me and Jemini are long since over. They never were, Taisper. They were over long before Vinodragov first came and bound me to the Trading Post. I give you my Oath that there was nothing to come of it, and I never wrote about you to my superiors..." Verik suddenly frowns and flushes as he realizes that was not entirely true, hastily adding, "...I mean I did write Banker Lorrell about you in my letter to validate our mission here, but not about that! I never mentioned that to Absalom, just about your incident with Vinodragov unjustly naming you an Asmodean after Jemini's failed resurrection and I needed to know where your Sect fits in with normal Abadarian protocols and...and well they pointedly told me to shut up about it as...as you...I told you all of this in my letter you know!" He finishes that last part with a stammering embarrassment and anger over losing his composure yet again.
With a huff and smoothing of his hair, he adds, "Fishguts Taisper, there are two different discussions to what you ask. How I feel about you Hunters or whatever you are and your chosen methods is still of concern to me, but much of that just doesn't have to do with you alone. Whatever disagreements we have now, well back then I treated you like a newly minted clerk to mentor, when despite your presumed naivety you were never that, were you? That was my lesson to learn, both then and later on at Stagfall. As far as the other matter of turning you in for Orlivanch, and any agreement between Jemini and I, well that just doesn't exist, not then and certainly not now since her return with that rabid dog at her heels."
Holding the samurais gaze with his outstretched arm Berrin's face goes from somber to stony as the gaze draws out, thinking Akiros is about to throw his offer of friendship in his face. 'Doesn't matter.' he thinks as visions of his former commanders rush through his mind, they're disapproving looks, they're scalding words and the contempt in they're voices. 'I'll do this, with or without you. A commander needs respect and if I can't have it from you then I'll do it without you.'
When Akiros grasps his arm after what seems an eternity Berrin can't help but be surprised and looks at the samurai in disbelief. His surprise changes to pleasure and a grin creeps across his face when Akiros says his bit. Smiling genuinely as Akiros finishes Berrin holds his arm for a moment and then gives it a firm shake before letting go.
"Good. That's settled then. Let's go see the men."
Taisper's eyes have returned to normal long before Verik is done. He holds his hands up in a placating gesture. "It wasn't a truth spell, Verik; I wouldn't coerce you." He says quietly. "It was a passive effect. A gift from God. All Hunters get it. All Inquisitors." He takes another drink of tea. It's not coffee, but the bracing liquid is growing on Taisper. Verik is clearly better at making it than he as his own attempts have met with embarrassing failure. Maybe his cousin would teach him. "And I know you put a lot of that info in your letter. I did read it, you know; several dozen times. I couldn't believe it was real. Anyway, I had to just hear that one thing come straight from you, had to know."
Taisper takes one last drink and stands up. "There's more I need to tell you. Go for a walk with me? We're heading into the woods a bit, but not too far. I promise we won't be gone long."
Returning the smile, if perhaps not quite so exuberantly, Akiros nods and agrees "Yes. Let's"
Turning Kydal and allowing the horse to lead the way again, Akiros begins going over some details he feels important that Berrin should know. Mainly he discusses the men, pointing out potential leaders and as well, possible trouble makers. He also goes over the means and methods he's been using to train the men, giving ample opportunity for, and showing genuine interest in, Berrin's responses and opinion on things.
When they finally get to the barracks Akiros dismounts, hands Kydal's reins to a squire he knows can handle the high-spirited stallion, and calls to Captain Steffan to order a general rousing of the men and then asks a squire to bring a cool drink of water for himself and cool wine or ale for Berrin, whatever the general would prefer.
Once the entire army, except for those on patrol duty of course, are gathered, Akiros spends a moment looking over the fighting force that he has raised and trained. Although he can not any longer see the entirety of them as they are gathered here, what he can see fills him with a fierce pride. And moreover, he can feel and sense that same pride echoed in each and every man before him. They were an army, and they were good. And now, with Berrin's excellent leadership, they would be even better, he was sure of it.
Finally after several moments, clearing his throat, he begins to speak.
"I know you are all already aware of what I am about to tell you. Yet I feel it is my duty, and privilege, to deliver the news to you now, personally. It has been my great honour to lead, and serve, you men. All of you. Some of you, many of you, hardly knew which end of a sword to hold when you first joined this army. And now look at you. Soldiers you are now, to a man! WARRIORS! Every last one of you! And each and every one of you is a man I would, and will, gladly fight alongside, and trust my life to, in an instant. And I am trusting my life to you. I am trusting all of our lives to you! For you are Newhaven's Army! You are her Protectors! And I know you shall never fail her!"
After whatever reaction the men have, Akiros steps back beside and to the right of Berrin, putting his left hand on Berrin's back and pushing him forward slightly. Not hard enough to make him stumble, but slowly and with enough force to cause the man to take a step forward.
In a still booming voice he continues "Now we all know that this man here needs no introduction. Yet I shall do so anyway. Here before us we have the Hero Of StagFall! Steward of Sanctuary! Slayer of Trolls and Hydras! And, your new General, Berrin Myrdal!"
A rare grin on his face, and one of genuine pleasure both at the thunderous applause and shout from the men and as well at the embarrassment he is sure he is causing the man, again Akiros waits until the men's reaction has died down before continuing. "As I have said, it has been my honour to lead you men, but as you know, the decision has been made for another to be your commanding officer. And I tell you true my hearties, it is a decision that is the best for all. For while I have trained you all to fight, to be soldiers, to be warriors, Berrin Myrdal shall train to be an Army!. And an Army like none that has ever come before it you shall be! Under our new General's excellent leadership, we shall be a force to be reckoned with! We shall be unstoppable! Newhaven's enemies will wither before us and any who dare challenge us shall be cut down like wheat to our scythe! And, while my new duties as Marshall of Newhaven shall often take me away from you, I swear to you now, by my blade and by my blood, that whenever battle calls, always shall I be at your side! Men, a glorious new day is upon us, and a victorious future awaits us! So will you join me in showing our new General just what spirit, what force, his new army can provide? Will you join me and let your voices be heard across all of Sanctuary? All of Newhaven? All of the World?. Let them hear our Might and Tremble, men! FOR NEWHAVEN! FOR JUSTICE! FOR "
And, as his last stirring Battlecry washes over the men, they feel a Divine Force pervade them, causing them to feel stronger, quicker, clearer and more capable in almost every way.
Leaning in to Berrin, Akiros grins once again and whispers "Beat that!"
"Well, it seems me sitting here is not going to hasten Tandlara's street urchins to my doorstep any faster, if at all. Let me change then if we're going out." Verik emerges from his private quarters a few minutes later wearing sturdier boots and a chain shirt under more nondescript traveling vestments as he did on their last outing, and belts on his heavy mace as well as a stout wooden cudgel. Before Stagfall it probably would have been unseemly to him to wear some form of armor and take weapons, but over a year in the Stolen Lands have formed new habits out of practicality. Informing Thomas and Bertram that he will be out for a walk about town and to keep an eye out for the boys, Verik heads out with Taisper, muttering sarcastically to his cousin that he knows how a Truthtelling dweomer works, and wondering if he might be able to spot any of the "wild weeds" that Jhod claimed would make good healing ointments.
Jemini wanders outside on the streets. It had taken some effort to shake attendants that had wanted nothing better than to prepare Jemini for the festivities of the evening - but right now things weighed heavily on the paladin's mind. Her sisters words had struck a chord; there was a very real possibility that either - or both of them - would find themselves wed to husbands not of their own chosing. Was it right to do so? Perhaps it was, if it could help stabilize the tension. But what certainty was there of this? Nor, for that matter, whether being married to an unloved spouse would not in itself cause tension of a personal nature that would inevitably flow over to those around you; and when you're near the proverbial top, that would essentially be everybody.
Poul Orlovski's ambition could be trusted to reach further and further - and by extension that meant that the presence of his son was carefully calculated. Zander. Now there was a puzzle. The resemblance to our Zander is uncanny; and Zander's protests when I confronted him were... well it is not settled. Berrin I trust, almost implicitly. His unkempt social aptitude, or lack thereof, cannot hide that he's clear and honest - if he's told an untruth about Zander, then it was because he believed it himself. Nobody but "us" could've planted such a thought in his head; and its implaussible for any of us to have invented such a story, even in jest. Then there's Zander's reaction to... Zander. Clearly something is afoot.
Jemini rolls her eyes. And to round off the intrigue... there's a pending trial before us as well. Grigori... I haven't heard much off him; but he's almost immediately unlikeable. His words sway the crowd easily, but they are not sourced from good intentions.
The troops cheer loudly as the electric thrill of Akiros's words run through them. The discipline of the hundred warriors - no, soldiers - strongly shows through. General Berrin Myrdal will find himself in charge of a disciplined and dangerous army dedicated to the well-being of Newhaven. They will, however, need many more soldiers to defend their nation if Brevoy's instability arrives at their borders. This century will form the disciplined, elite backbone of the larger army.
After the dismissal of the troops, Stafen (one of the squad leaders, promoted in the days following Malglorzata's attempt in the city) approaches his former general. "Sir, we are thankful for your service. We can think of no one more capable of keeping the city secure. Should you need our service in training your guardsmen as militia, ask and we shall deliver whatever assistance you need." He turns to Berrin, a moment of recognition between them. The man was a strong but untrained teen, the son of a farmer, just a mere year before. They fought alongside each other at Stagfall. The young man clearly was not a natural fighter at the time, but his training under Akiros has very much made him into an excellent soldier.
"Sir, the men are ready for your command."
Jemini walks through the city, still getting used to it. Before her death, this was a fort controlled by their most dangerous foe. Now, a year later, she lives, Sanctuary stands over the countryside, and Nikolai stands as an ally. While all these things have changed, some things stay the same: the great Houses of Brevoy jockey for position and fight amongst themselves. Despite their attempt to found Newhaven as an independent nation, the politics of their northern neighbor are difficult to withdraw from.
A flower vendor stops her as she walks through the streets and offers her a beautiful red flower. The citizens of Sanctuary have showered her in gifts and kindnesses since her return. The crone bows with a hunched back when Jemini reaches for her coin patch and points to a man standing a few paces behind. Zander Orlovzky smiles broadly and bows. "My lady, should you bless me with the honor of your presence on a walk through your beautiful city?" Free of his retainers, the son of Poul Orlovsky seems genuinely charming and kind. She can't help but notice that he is quite handsome as well.
Jhod pats Zander on the shoulder several times. The physical touch is comforting, almost avuncular. Jhod leaves Zander to his thoughts, hoping as he leaves that his words and support had some effect. He closes the door to give him some privacy. His steps echo along the castle walls as he walks back to the Founders' Hall. Zander sits alone, with only the comatiae Tandlara as company.
Zander stays in Tandlara's room a while longer. "I hope you heard all that. Gives you something to think on, eh? Hurry back." He gives her hand a last gentle squeeze and heads out himself
Entering the halls, he ponders Our Minister of Secrets in bedridden... There is only one I trust to get to the bottom of this...to see through political webs...if only I could trust him....Where is Taisper?
Zander sets off to see if he can find his friend while thinking on those strange days in Brevoy....
Not finding him in the hall. He skirts past the assembly of troops greeting their new leader...Good for you Berrin, trading a shiny crown for a dented helm.
Later he comes to a stop in the streets as he spies Jemini and NewZander ahead...he takes a side street.
At the church, he means to ask if Verrik might know of Taisper's location, but is told the two left together...for the woods. Definitely intrigued, Zander makes his way to the gates, but he intends to leave them their privacy, for all he knows they may be talking about him. Instead he takes a post on the wall beside the gates. Waiting and staring out over the new kingdom gives him time to reflect on all that has happened since those nights he sat above Oleg's gates several seasons back.
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Taisper leads Verik back through giant sheets of hanging spanish moss, around massive tree trunks and over rock stepping-ways that cross wide ponds. It is a route that requires a bit of dexterity and plenty of concentration, so conversation is nonexistent most of the way.
After an hour's walk, a small but well-built shack seems to sort of appear out of the vegetation. Built into the side of a hillock ("It was a barrow", explains Taisper, "I moved the former occupants, with appropriate blessings from the Master, of course."), the deceptively shoddy-looking little structure is clearly uninhabited. Taisper holds his hand up, stopping his cousin. "Wait here a moment." Verik is then able to watch as the inquisitor carefully disarms a series of at least a half-dozen traps of various types; a trap door, three trip wires, etc. The whole setup is eerily reminiscent of Orlivanch's cabin. Verik can't help but wonder if the similarity is lost on his oblivious cousin.
Once he's happy that it's safe, Taisper motions for Verik to follow him in. The cabin has only two rooms; first there is a small room containing only a simple writing desk, a chair, and a musty camp bed that looks surprisingly well-used. The second room, built in what must have been the main chamber of the barrow, is behind another trapped door. It is into this room that Taisper leads Verik.
The air in this room is very close, and smells of sweat and blood and moss and rot. The scent is alarmingly reminiscent of Orlivanch's basement; the smell of madness. Verik takes stock of all the things he sees, his keen eyes and mind cataloging the items almost against his will. A great deal of money must have been spent to obtain all this, and suddenly his cousin's coy false entries in the city's accounting logs make a terrible kind of sense.
There is a shelf with many empty phylacteries on it, and one with many full phylacteries. There is an unmarked barrel. There is a very solid desk, not unlike a banker's desk, and a comfortable-looking chair. There are candles and torches. There are strange alchemical liquids and compounds, needles, thread, wire, pliers and knives...there are surgical instruments. There are empty boxes, caltrops, daggers with no handles, an axe, a crossbow, some gems, what looks like a mostly-empty coin purse, writing materials, feathers, books, journals.
The journals are tantalizingly close, each one marked simply with a date range done in his cousin's hand. Judging by the ragged state of the bindings, these journals have seen a great deal of use.
Verik finishes looking around and is startled by Taisper standing right in front of him. There is a trap door in the floor -- Verik sees more traps -- and his cousin is holding a good-sized box, a chest, really, like one would use to store very valuable treasure.
"It took me a long time, but I put some things together, Verik. I understand some things I had never understood before. Today's events, your troubles. I get it now." Taisper's eyes are shiny, but not in the healthy, glow-y way they get when he does magic or prays to Abadar; this is the shine of high fever or crazed zealotry. He sets the solid treasure chest on the desk with a resounding *THUMP* and takes a phylactery out of its pouch on his belt -- it is the one he was fiddling with earlier, back in Verik's office. In this phylactery is a key. Taisper breaks the magical seal and takes the key out. He holds it up like a prized possession.
"I wasn't sent here because I was the best man for the job, Verik, and I didn't get graduated early because I did well on the exams. It was all faked. Faked by a church afraid of a higher truth." Taisper is uncomfortably close to Verik at this moment, violating his personal space, which admittedly isn't difficult to do with the cleric from Absalom. "I made my first Judgment when I was fourteen, Verik. I joked as I did it. I joked as I did it like I joked when I killed the Stag Lord's men in front of you, like I did when I executed Kressle's men, like I do every time. I don't feel for them, you see, Verik? I don't feel for humans. I don't feel for anything. They're all the same to me; humans and beasts and elves...all the same. All awaiting Judgment. All just awaiting Judgment."
Taisper lowers the key.
"They weren't worried that I killed so young, they were worried that I didn't care. It was my job and I was proud to have done it well. That's not normal, Verik. That's not healthy. I prayed so much. I worked so hard. But I was neither smart enough nor skilled enough to pass my exams at 19. I was sent out unprepared, Verik, and I was not sent to Absalom, where I could have apprenticed. I was sent straight into the wild. And I think I know why. You already know that I'm an Inquisitor, that much was clear from your letter, and that's fine. What I do as a hunter is not a secret, Verik, but how I do what I do and how much I do it, these are things you shouldn't know. They were right when they told you to cease inquiries. You don't want to ask. But this is a valid church function. It is not what you need to fear."
Taisper puts the key in the lock on the chest.
"I had a dream, Verik. And I was shown meaning, and I was shown truth. I am going to die at the hands of my own church, a disgrace and a heretic. I will bleed to death in an alley, and all my magic and all my hate and all my skill will not be able to save me. I will never see my family again, if I do they will die. 'NEVER AGAIN' is what they told my mother, Verik; 'NEVER AGAIN, THIS IS A UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY BUT YOU MUST LET YOUR SON GO'! That's what they said! But they lied. They told her that not because I was special, but because they were sending me away to die, because they knew then what I am only just now learning..."
Taisper unlocks the chest.
"Verik, cousin, I must weigh the sins of my heresies against the good work I have done to enter Elysium, to be allowed to gaze upon the First Vault. I will not have the Lawgiver find me lacking, Verik. I will not. But I fear I am lying to myself and do not know it. In another dream, Orlivanch was me, and I him, and he my family and therefore I my only family. This cannot come to pass." Verik refrains from commenting that it perhaps already has come to pass, though it is difficult. "And now there is another! The widow Flaxton, Verik, I...I can't think around her, I...she...I think I'm falling in love, or something like it, I don't know. But I can't! 'NO FAMILY' they told me, 'NO FAMILY, FOR YOU ARE A HUNTER NOW AND THEY WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU'. That's why I spoke to you, see? You are family, but you are also a cleric. I can talk to you as a fellow of the faith. Ilyana, she...I...I think I know now that all they told me was lies. They sent me here and isolated me and put me in the woods not to conquer, not to win, but because they know." Taisper's voice is taking on an uncomfortable, keening edge that raises the hackles on the back of Verik's neck. somewhere outside, a raven calls. There is a splashing sound, like footsteps, but nothing comes into view. Taisper is starting to repeat himself now, which is somehow even more alarming; the repetition of an obsessive. "They knew the truth when I was 14, but they knew I could still be useful. I could help them and then be done away with, and for the same reason I can't let myself be with Ilyana or be close with any of you. Verik!" There is a sudden urgency in Taisper's voice. He pauses.
"Verik. I'm crazy."
Taisper opens the chest.
Inside the well-made box are 106 alchemical phylacteries, and in each phylactery is a perfectly preserved eyeball. Some are elven, some human, some halfling, some orc. It is an impressive and alarming variety.
The inquisitor's voice gets very quiet. "Behold, Verik. The price of freedom."
The price of freedom… Those last words from Taisper ring through Verik’s mind again and again, his cousin’s voice the only sound he can hear now, other than a dull throbbing that quickens with every ragged breath. His hands are shaking now, uncontrollably shaking, and with one hand he tries to grab and still the other, but to no avail. Verik’s eyes are large and wide, unblinking, staring at the chest, at what is inside the chest, the preserved and displayed eyes seemingly all staring back at him. All of them. Staring. Accusing. Pleading. Verik’s mouth is open, his jaw moving, but no words can come from it, having no breath to do so. His hands shake harder now, and Verik finally breaks his horrible staring contest with the scores of captured eyes to look up at his cousin.
Only two eyes stare back at him there, but he finds no ease to the shaking fit he is subjected to. His cousin’s eyes. Taisper. Family. Devoted. Hunter. Slayer. Zealot. Madman. The Truth of the past year comes crashing upon Verik in waves now, each new thought, each new piece to the confounding puzzle now clicks in place, each with a terrible lashing jolt. The throbbing is harder now, the blood racing uncontrollably and making Verik lightheaded as surely as if he was in a battle. Hands shaking, the smell of blood growing more pronounced, Verik now hears something beyond the echoing last words of his cousin, something high-pitched yet primal in a way, alien yet familiar. What could that sound be? For a brief instant a visual flash of a harpy intrudes upon his mind, but that cannot be it. Then he realizes the sound is that of a nearly breathless scream, his scream coming from his own open mouth, frightful and pitiful and terrible. Verik has no idea how long he has been doing this, but the throbbing is beginning to cloud his vision in blackness, and though part of his spirit would welcome the sightlessness gladly, his body’s instinctual reflexes of survival kick in of their own accord, forcing his muscles to spasm and for him to break off the scream in a terrible choking sound and draw breath.
Verik stumbles backwards and nearly falls over the table in the room, twisting at the last moment, his hands finding the table and pushing off just in time before he lands on his knees and crashes into one of the empty boxes nearby. Pain runs through his wrists and hands, but it is all the young cleric can do but take in a shuddering breath, tears starting to well up in his eyes now.
Still on his knees, the throbbing in his head dulled now, he twists to look back at Tasiper but not the chest at his cousin’s feet, his own mind once again able to form coherent thought, his voice cracked but able to utter words. ”Gah! G…Gods have m-mercy! T-Taisper, what have you done? Wha…what have you become, what did they do to you? It..it cannot be so! Master!”
Verik has to stop speaking a moment, because the throbbing in his head starts up again and he has to force himself to take in more deep breaths, his throat dry and raspy as if he had been days without water. He remains on his knees but tries to move his legs, putting a hand on the table to both steady himself and start to rise. Thoughts of Taisper, of Orlivanch, of the Stag Lord and Stagfall, of Thrune, of Vinodragov, of the words of heresy and witchcraft by Vinodragov, the Key of Abadar, the Horned Star of Asmodeus…NO!
”Taisper,” rasps Verik as he slowly stands to his feet, his voice barely audible as he tries to clear his throat. ”Taisper. Taisper may the Master forgive me, forgive us, but I must know! Taisper what has been done and what may be are all in the eyes of Abadar, who knows you! He knows us Taisper, he KNOWS what has befallen you here and if he knows your dedication and if you are true to him Taisper, there is still a road to be traveled, there is! You…you must show me Taisper! You must show me that the Master is with you, and and…and despite all of this he knows and loves you, and you are true to him and he has blessed you with his power through his holy servants!”
Standing now, Verik takes a step back towards his cousin, his hand going to his belt with mace and cudgel, but one hand rests only on the front buckle, and with his other hand he pats his chest where his holy symbol rests upon his chest. He continues now, talking, pleading. ”Taisper my cousin you must show me His power in you, for it is His trust in you and your work, and if that is true then it must be! You must show me, show me that you have his Grace, and the powers of the First Vault flow through…Taisper pull forth your holy symbol and channel his power through you, through you into me, so that I will know! I must know cousin, I must know that you have His favor and that it is not a mad deception upon us both! Taisper heal me or harm me I do not care which, but you must do it for me now, smite or soothe, please please Taisper you must you must YOU MUST CHANNEL ABADAR’S POWER UPON ME NOW!”
...what the-!
Taisper is alarmed until he hears what it is Verik wishes to test him on. He smiles calmly, then, and raises one hand, gripping his key in the other. "Verik!" he speaks in that oddly clear voice of us, his celestial diction as sterling as always, "...if there is one thing you need never doubt, it is that I am Chosen. Just like you."
Halated with golden light, his eyes twin orbs of sun, Taisper takes a single stride forward and thunks his right hand onto Verik's shoulder and his left palm onto the cleric's chest. Verik feels the familiar rush of pure healing energy pour through him, the same magic he himself uses at times. The magic of the Master. Energy to cure.
Taisper steps back. "I am no Asmodean, cousin, though I confess I am beginning to see certain truths, certain beauty in that god's writings. I still serve the Master of the First vault. My power comes from him. My judgment and Hunting from the Lawgiver. Always, forever."
The inquisitor closes the lid on his box of grisly trophies and rights the chair his cousin knocked over. He sits down. "But be all that as it may, here I still sit. In a swamp. Surrounded by enemies and all-but-abandoned by my order, the Inquisitorius. Alone and crazy."
"You are neither abandoned nor mad, Stosz." The familiar voice comes from nowhere, but echoes through the small cabin. Alexius Morai-Thrune, veiled from sight, apparently followed the cousins to the woods. Silently, insidiously, his presence is somehow unsurprising in this dark place. "You may not worship Asmodeus, but he knows and watches you with great interest. I was sent here to give you support, for your mission overlaps with his interests. It is why I, and not Jarrow, accompanied you on your hunts. Would he object, do you think, to what we did? Your trophies are merely the half of it, are they not? Tell him, Stosz, and see his true allegiances." The Cheliaxan's voice holds an edge of anger and menace.
Verik's shuddering gasp at his cousin's healing energy flowing into him is still nearly enough to send him down with his knees threatening to buckle, though he holds his stance somehow and steadies himself as Taisper finishes his devotion and steps away. Standing there, shaking, it is all he can do to nod in mute acceptance as Taisper speaks to him, the golden light of his eyes mirroring the golden key of his faith. Tears fall from his face as he nods in acceptance, unable to control them even as he knows it could be viewed as being weak, unwilling to hide such a trivial display in the face of the Truth that has been revealed at the shack. To Taisper, one additional Truth is undeniable as he sits there speaking to his cousin.
Verik is a terrible looking crier.
His face is flushed at his ears and cheeks but pale otherwise, with puffy eyelids and bloodshot eyes and a slight wheezing sound from deep in his throat as he draws breath. Certainly from the standpoint of practicing comedy the material is priceless, if not for the terrible circumstances of the situation. However, that is cut short by the awful intrusion of Morai-Thrune's disembodied voice and its air of malevolence.
”Thrune, you bloody, damnable, sneaking…” growls Verik as he whips his head back and forth, his left hand going to his heavy mace at his belt. His eyes still puffy and his ears still ringing somewhat, he looks around the cabin room but can sort out nothing familiar. He takes a step back towards the table and the nearby wall. Verik knows in his heart and mind, aching as they may be, that a battle has already started, one that will not be won with a mace.
"Taisper, don't believe him...Morai-Thrune twists everything as surely as Grigori does to suit his foul aims. Verik's voice starts out weak but gains some strength as he continues and looks to his cousin's eyes directly, trying to block out all else. "Taisper, cousin you...you have proven to me the Master's faith in you, and that is all that matters for now. Whatever else, anything else that can or could come from this starts with that one undeniable truth - you...you said it yourself that you labor to gain the First Vault one day, like the dream-vision we both shared! Remember? Whatever you are, whatever you want to be...cousin you are more to me than what lies in this cabin!"
"My lord, the honor is entirely mine," Jemini replies to Zander Orlovzky. "In truth, my long absence here means that I barely know this town better than you, and I find as I wander that every other corner brings a small surprise. Sharing this with another only deepens the experience." She gratefully accept the flower, and allows it to adorn her features by sliding it between her hair and ear.
Their conversation is genuinely enjoyable, if somewhat meaningless. Jemini tries to befriend the Orlovzky scion, or at least the person representing the Orlovzky ambitions here. She purposefully takes time with the wandering, and lets their path slowly trickle out of the town onto a barren nearby hill. She wants to be sure that she's able to speak with Zander in private.
When she feels it is safe she sighs, "It is such a pity, there always seem to be many with great ambitions. But few with great dreams."
Taisper doesn't try to hide his surprise, but nor does he show any concern. "Alexius, man, hey. I'm so glad you came by, 'missed you these past weeks, where've you been?" The inquisitor picks up his trophy box and sets it back in the trapped hole in the floor as he speaks, apparently unconcerned Verik (or Alexius) may be watching him re-set the traps.
"Alexius is right, Verik; there's another part to this. I took the eyes. Currency, as I said, for the Master; windows to the soul, all for the Vault. I then gave the souls of the Judged to Alexius' blade, that they may know torment and damnation for their crimes. Not all of them, of course, but the vast majority." He looks Verik right in the eyes. "This was the Judgment entrusted unto me, to pass on those who would trespass against our new land."
Tasiper leans on the edge of the desk and looks at the floor as he speaks aloud to the Hellknight he cannot see. "So are you gonna come in, Alexius, or just lurk in the dark? And more importantly, will you be joining me on future hunts? It's easier with two people..." Without waiting for a response, the inquisitor looks back up at his cousin. "Thank you, Verik; I...I am more than what's here, you're right. But it's also true that what's here is part of me, and I cannot deny that part any more than I can deny Il-...than I can deny what I told you about before." he finishes lamely.
Taisper then raises his head and speaks loudly in a voice clearly intended for both Alexius and Verik to hear; "Personally I think you both have a bit to learn from each others' gods, much as I have been doing. The commonality of respect for law, contracts, and a certain inevitable hierarchy to civilization join the two faiths and strengthen the resolve of visionaries willing to entertain the notions thereby implied."
That trademark sleepy smile comes over his face. "Don't worry, Verik; I will not be rejecting the Master any time soon. Still I wish to someday be part of the First Vault, to see it for real, with my own astral eyes. All the same, right now we have a fledgling land that needs protection. Our criminals must be Judged and our enemies must know fear; they must know that just because this country is new, it is not theirs to plunder and spoil."
Looking around the room in alarm, he grinds his teeth in frustration as he can still see nothing of the Cheliaxian. "I've seen all I needed to see at the port of Corentyn to understand what Thrune and his kind of "civilization" merits, Taisper. He seeks Order only through tyranny and misery, with his namesake and their infernal cronies at the top. Some Abadarians may subscribe to that notion, but I shall never do so."
Looking directly at Taisper, he utters his next words in a fervent whisper. "I fuoht laz sovr sunel fiyr zuo vuolic, poy cuy ic yrel qnellelcvel ub yrel Icbelncah! Yrel Vonnelcvz il ynuophicw yu sel, poy iy tuell cuy tilloatel sel ic yril. A nuat qajelt fiyr wuht yu yrel Jaohy tuell hiel uoylitel ub yril tusivihel, poy uchz ib zuo fihh ynoly sel! Vuolic, ib zuo pelhieljel cuyricw elhlel yray I laz, pelhieljel yray yu conyonel act qnuyelvy Celfrajelc al zuo ynohz tellinel, zuo soly pel uqelchz qany ub yril luvielyz act cuy apactucelt yu iyl hucelhz act lratufz eltwell!"
Taisper casts a simple orison on himself and Verik, so that he and his cousin may speak in the barest whispers and hear each other while minimizing any chance Alexius could overhear.
::As you say, cousin. I...hope you are correct, but for you to be correct, my dreams would have to be wrong. I...I will have to think on this. Let's go, for now, let Alexius follow if he wishes, I don't care.::
Berrin forces a grin onto his face as Akiros thrusts him forward on the stage, a grin that's more akin to a grimace though. 'More bloody titles I haven't earned. Ain't killed neither troll nor hydra..' Listening to the samurais rousing speech Berrin is reassured in his decision of requesting his aid and the councils decision of making him Lieutenant-General. 'He can row a crowd, he's got that.'
When Akiros finishes to the roar of the soldiers Berrin's grin turns genuine as he is swept along with the cheering, pumping his fist into the air. When the cheering dies down he turns solemnly to Akiros and locks arms with him again in a warriors embrace, making a display of reaffirming their friendship to the witness of the army drawing another cheer, albeit smaller. Turning to the soldiers he steps further onto the stage and raises his hands for silence.
"BROTHERS!" he starts drawing another cheer making him wait till silence settles again. "Your eager, I'll give you that!" he says with a laugh, his manner infecting the soldiers drawing snickers and grins. "Good. You'll need that for where we're going." he says, turning serious. "Lieutenant General Akiros speaks true; We're going to WAR! TROLLS! Amass at our borders. SOON! We'll march." Berrin starts pacing up and down the stage front, clasping his hands behind his back he stares out into the mens faces. "You will wade through blood and fire, rain and death, you'll see men die and others brake before this campaign is trough. I WILL NOT LIE TOO YOU! THIS WILL NOT BE PRETTY! War is serious business for serious men. Some of you are still boys, some of you veterans.." he pauses when he finds a familiar face from Stagfall and gives the man a nod of respect "..Look to them, your veterans of war. See them, your elders. THEY KNOW! They know what we're marching into, they've been part of the charge. They've experienced first hand running headlong at the enemy, watching his face get clearer till you see the color of his eyes and smell the stink of his breath as you drive your sword through his gut! THEY KNOW! War is not pretty." The crowd is silent by now, men shift their feet looking from one to another as the mood turns somber.
Berrin's voice turns softer as the mood changes. "They know. They know the feeling of defending their home. They know the feeling of standing up for what's right. They know the feeling of STANDING UP TO EVIL and LIVING TO TELL THE TALE!" Berrins voice turns thunderous again, his visage stern. "You are warriors one and all, trained to fight! I will make you SOLDIERS! Trained for WAR! I will march you till your feet bleed. I will force you to go days without sleep, I will starve you and bleed you till you cry for your mother mercy and I will give you NONE! I WILL! Make you the most fearsome standing army THIS SIDE OF AVISTAN!"
"Understand this. Fighting is one thing. Soldiering another. My job is to make sure you learn the difference. My job is to make sure you LIVE TO TELL THE TALE! You are not fodder. You are not nameless nobodys to die for some noblemans machinations. You. Are. Soldiers Of Sanctuary. Her defenders, her CHAMPIONS."
"I have a vision, a dream. In that dream Sanctury stands tall. A Haven for any goodly man who wishes to make a New start. I am one such man. You know me as Not-King. Reluctant Steward. Hero Of Stagfall. All this is true, I have done all those things. I was never king though I ruled this realm. The title of Steward was thrust upon me by no request of mine. I ran across the battlefield and drove my sword through our enemies gut and wrenched the sword when I drew it out. All those things I have done for the realization of this dream. But things have escalated. Further than even my wildest dreams. They escalated to a point where we Founders can NO LONGER BEAR THE BURDEN ALONE! And so it falls to you. It falls to YOU to shoulder the burden. YOU must be Sanctuaries defenders. YOU must keep her safe when her enemies descend. YOU are Sanctuaries First and Finest. YOU are the Shield against the Darkness."
"As I said; I will not lie to you. You may not love me for it but I will give you the hard cold truth over a blatant lie every day. I demand your respect. I demand you take this seriously. I demand you honor OUR commitment to the defense of the realm. TOGETHER we WILL make sure Sanctuary lives to see another day! DISMISSED!" Berrin finishes with a lazy soldiers salute and turns from the stage, pleased to hear the corporals and sergeants jumping at the cue, herding the men back to their duties.
"Summon the commanders for me and get me a roster of your potentials, we'll need to get them started." he mutters to Akiros.
Verik wants to say more, so much more to think and articulate and discuss, but knows in both his heart and mind that doing so would be counterproductive...and perhaps dangerous to Taisper with the Cheliaxian so entwined in matters. Taisper's message must be enough for now, and Verik must be patient, measured and dependable if there is to be a true future for his cousin. How he did not know, but he would take the first step by not blundering it.
Replying to the he nods slightly as he does so.
::Agreed. I will be there when you are ready. I will pray for guidance, but by the Master's Grace I shall not speak of this to anyone else.::
Zander Orlovsky smiles at Jemini's words. "Ambition? My father has ambition. I don't fault him any of that. He can plot and plan to his heart's content if it pleases him, so long as his ambitions do not trample on the rights of others. I have the ambition to simply live my life and recover the years taken from me by the fire. As you enjoy experiencing this great city upon your return from your absence, I enjoy experiencing life itself. I remember only the vaguest memories of my recovery, and vaguer still of life before that. The whole of the world is open to me, Jemini, and I plan to fill my dreams and ambitions with the second chance that I was given." A smile grows across his face as he tells her his dream, a smile she quickly finds herself mirroring. His good-hearted enthusiasm for life spreads to Jemini quickly. This is not something practiced or rehearsed, but rather a heartfelt tribute to the joy of living. "I feel I disappoint my father in that I am not the heir he had expected. That is likely why he sent Felex with me, to ensure that I do not stray too far from his vision with what he calls my mad dreams. I do the bidding that he asks me, and no more. I am my own man, with my own ambitions and dreams independent of him." Zander's words would sound bitter from another mouth, but his passionate enthusiasm makes even the infamously ill-tempered Poul Orlovsky sound unthreatening.
Alexius is quiet. It is almost too quiet as Taisper resets his traps that protect his grisly trophies. The Abadarians whisper between themselves through their magic, making as little noise as a slip of silk dropping on the floor. It is an uncomfortable silence of a man deciding what to do.
"Do you hear that, Stosz? He is blind to the benefits and natural alliance that our gods share. Given time, he will reject you and turn you in to the Archbanker for his judgment, their judgment. Is that what you want? A slow, inevitable alienation as he judges you? Silently, at first, then drip by drip as he begins to doubt you? He does not believe in your vision, Stosz. He doesn't believe in you. I'll join you on your Hunts, gladly and without reservation. He will deny you the justice that does not hew to his vision. Do you think that he will consent to doing what must be done with the anarchist Grigori? The heretic Vinodragov? The betrayer Sellimus? These are men who flaunt the law, wrapping themselves in its protection, while men like Jarrow say it is their right. There is a choice, Stosz. There are sacrifices to make that he will be unwilling to make. You and I are the type of men capable of making these difficult choices and sacrifices. He could never understand that." His words echo through the cabin, still not giving any indication of his exact location.
Akiros and Berrin watch together as the motivated army drills for the eventual war with Hargulka's trolls to the south. Berrin is busy aggressively battering away at an unprepared soldier, yelling about how there will be no mercy from the trolls and their allies, when one of the Guardsmen walks up and passes a message to Akiros. The missive apparently calls them to the Founders' Hall to receive additional guests from New Stetven, stating additionally that the others cannot be found to join them. Berrin leaves Stafen in charge of the remaining drills for the remainder of the day and reluctantly leaves the joyful task of fighting for the onerous task of entertaining.
The two men, far closer now than when they clashed swords at Stagfall, quickly arrive at the Founders' Hall. Jhod and Kesten, apparently found in the interim, sit in their respective seats talking between themselves. Kesten beckons them over with a motion. "The representative from Surtova is apparently here a bit early. I'm not sure who they sent, but I have a good memory for the major members of the family to do a proper introduction. Just follow my lead, and try not to set off an international incident." He stares pointedly at Berrin with the last admonishment.
Zander, from atop his perch, sees the small entourage enter the city. He easily recognizes the banner held by the herald of the group - not because of his own bloodline, but just as easily as any man of Brevoy would. It is the two-headed red dragon, originally held by House Rogarvia but adopted by House Surtova in their absence. One head of the dragon breathes flames while the other holds a sword. Amongst the group of riders is a relative of King Noleski Surtova.
The doors to the Founders' Hall open loudly, with two of the city Guardsmen flanking the entrance. A retinue of obvious retainers and servants enter first and take their places as if choreographed. The first obvious noble walks in and takes her own position, obviously waiting for another. She looks shy and bookish, with light brown hair and a downward gaze. She is pretty, in a way completely opposite the room-filling beauties of the Lebeda sisters. Kesten quickly snaps to her identity and announces her. "Elspeth Surtova, daughter of Baron Vladimir Surtova. Port Ice is welcome here." She looks up with acknowledgment to him, clearly recognizing him before sadly looking back down.
The second obvious noble walks in the door, if one could call it walking. He strides in with such arrogance that it is as if he swaggers. He is clearly not a warrior like Berrin or Akiros, though the sharp longsword he carries could certainly do some harm. His walk is one of born confidence, of the knowledge that his heritage would always be there for him. "Alexey Surtova, son of Baron Vladimir Surtova. Sanctuary welcomes Port Ice with open arms." Berrin's blood runs cold as the sneering noble looks straight at him with clear recognition. He last recalls his hands around the man's throat, choking the life out of him in a fit of rage, watching his face turn red then blue. Berrin knows immediately that Alexey Surtova was prepared for this meeting and not shocked in the slightest to see him.
Berrin nods to Kesten by way of greeting with a grim face, though annoyed at being pulled from the training so quickly after his first appearance with the men he is determined to do his duty as a council member, if he still had to play host then fine, he just hoped it would be over soon.
Standing in his place by Kesten Berrin smiles at the arriving nobles, albeit impatiently. The girl was fair, too be sure, but Berrin had other things on his mind. 'Get on with it!' Though he stands stock still his face betrays his inner turmoil as he gives a stiff smile to the Surtovan representative.
'Jemini should be here, she's made for this. Born and bred for courtly curtsies and intrigue, I've got men to train.' Berrin looses himself in thinking up details for the mens training. 'Split them into squads of twelve, raise corporals in each squad, rotating duties, night training, digging trenches, moving camp at night, split sleep, maybe I should march them to Olegsgrav and back without rest? or set up an obstacle course at the barracks? that would make it easier to secure supplies.. we'd never have to leave Sanctuary and I could field them fully trained.. we'll need other units as well, infantry on it's own doesn't stand much chance in a pitted battle, archers, cavalry, mounted archers maybe?...' Though Berrin is physically present as the nobles and their retinue file in his find is far away and he only frowns as a strange sense of familiarity follows the last noble in.
A pang of recognition sends shivers through Berrin as his blood runs cold and his attention is snapped back to the present. 'Him!?' No! It can't be, I.. I..' Berrin's expression goes from genuine surprise to disbelief but settles on cold fury as the reality of the situation hits him. Surtovan blood.
*Aldas screams echo through the house, following after a loud *snap* of a whip and manic laughter*
'Of course they'd raise him just like they did Jemini.'
*Alda cringes on the floor, her hair sticky, her clothing in tatters, arm raised to fend of another blow from the whip*
'Bloody bastards! He bloody deserved what I gave him!'
*the nobles face turns red, then blue, followed by the gurgling sound of his last breath leaving him, his eyes bulging as if trying to pop out of his head under the pressure of Berrin's hands like iron around his throat*
Berrin stands stock still at the entrance of the boy, a deep scowl on his face in greeting to his flippant smile. 'Alexey Surtova, son of Baron Vladimir Surtova. The name of the devil, I have his name at last.'
Clenching his fingers into fists it's all Berrin can do to stand still, he wanted him punished, Berrin wanted him to bleed and scream in pain as he made Alda do, he wanted him dead again.
Akiros kept a small smile on his face as Berrin stepped up to the challenge of also rousing and inspiring the men. And, surprisingly, even though not aided by the Divine in his speech, something Akiros himself hadn't quite understood, the new General does a fine job of it.
As matters naturally move into strict training sessions, Akiros joins in, closely watching Berrin's orders and actions. And he is impressed once again. For while he supposed he would always carry a slight twinge at his command of the army being given to another, Berrin very quickly made his greater experience in such matters apparent. 'Yes, of course we'll need archers and calvery, why hadn't I thought of that? Well, I suppose I would've, given time, but...'
Further speculation is cut of my the guardsman messenger, and Akiros accompanies Berrin to the Founders Hall, just as equally reluctantly as is the new General.
Greeting Kesten neutrally and Jhod with visibly more warmth, standing next to his friend the priest Akiros whispers "Do you know what this is all about Jhod?"
There is not much time for answers though as soon after the party begins arriving and staging themselves in the hall. Akiros plasters a fake smile on his face, doing the best he can manage to appear civil. He did not like nobles, never much had. Yes, there had been a few boys of noble blood at the Sword Lord Academy who had proven to be of good character, but aside from Jemini and a handful of others, Akiros had usually found nobles to be weak, self-serving and conniving, to name only a few less than salubrious traits. And since the...murders and his self-imposed exile, he had had even less taste or eagerness to mix with nobility of any land.
However, as the first obvious noble enters the room, something happens to Akiros. Something he had never thought to happen again. Something he is wholly, and entirely, unprepared for. As the noble Kesten names as Elspeth Surtova enters the room, Akiros feels his heart lurch. A feeling he had only ever felt exactly once before in his life. The first time he had ever laid eyes on Sarah. She was certainly no Sarah, this Elspeth, for Sarah had been a great beauty along the lines of Jemini and her sister. Sarah had been as unto the Sun, immediately brightening any and every room she entered. Yet this Elspeth, there was...there was something about her...perhaps it was the way she seemed to contain herself, perhaps there was a certain wounded quality that reached out to something similar in Akiros. Whatever it was , and to be truthful, Akiros cared little at all the reasons at this point, the shy, bookish noble completely takes his breath away. "Look at me!" he silently wills her "Do you even know that I am here??"
So enamored and entrapped is the Marshall by the presence of this woman that he hardly even notices the 'main star' of the party, Alexey, as he saunters into the room. It is not until he hears the back of the chair Berrin grips groan in complaint of the immense pressure the enraged warrior is putting on it, that he snaps out of his trace and glances over at the man to his right. Seeing the expression in Berrin's eyes Akiros leans closer and whispers "Berrin! What is it?? Are you alright??" then, following the warrior's gaze, he finally gets a good look at the prancing noble upon whom Berrin's furious gaze rests.
Sense Motive on Elspeth:
Sense Motive on Berrin:
Sense Motive on Alexey:
Verik scowls and his voice is scornful, yet filled with an unwavering conviction of the truth being on his side, wrapping around him like a mantle. "What a coward you are Thrune, that you would lie and grasp at heartstrings so to keep your pitiful deception intact. Side with that wretched man to enact our Judgment? Vinodragov and I? HA! Pauper of lies, how little you know of me speaks volumes to your own ignorance! I seek true justice, grounded and measured, whereas you only seek souls to damn with your infernal magics. The only reason you would seek to cast down men of greater stature than yourself is not about justice, but about shifting the balance of power to your kind."
Snorting derisively, he adds, "Let us hear of your superiors Alexius, and what they will do to you when you come back with your tail between your legs admitting failure to manipulate us. What is the price of your failure here Cheliaxian? Whom do you report and scheme to when you are not on the Hunt with Taisper I wonder?
"Honored guests." Berrin finds himself saying, unsure where he found the strength to speak as Kestens etiquette training kicks in. Rising he gives a stiff smile to Akiros and mutters "I'm fine."
Facing the guests he gives his best smile "Sanctuary welcomes House Surtova. Please, you must be parched from your travels. Let me summon refreshments." Berrin turns and finds a servants eye, giving him a stiff smile and a raised eyebrow causing the man to give a startled bow and scurry off to muster the servants to find bread and beverage for the newly arrived.
"I am Berrin Myrdal, General of the Armies. Allow me to introduce Akiros Ismort, Marshal of Newhaven and you of course know Kesten Garess our Grand Diplomat. Lady Jemini is indisposed at the moment but she'll be arriving shortly..." "You sent for her right?" he mutters to Kesten still smiling stiffly. "In the meantime, please make yourself at home."
Alexius snarls invisibly at Verik's dig, clearly angry at the situation escaping his control. "Justice? We will see what you truly stand for when you are Judged!"
Alexius intones something in Infernal, the words' precise diction bringing out his Chelaxian accent. Verik and Taisper look around for the invisible man, but the cabin is too cramped and the echos to great to determine where he is as he casts the spell. Suddenly, his black blade comes into view, glowing with a pale blue radiance as it slashes down upon Verik. The rest of Alexius fades into view as his invisibility spell dissipates. He carries through with the blade stroke downward and forward. If Verik were wearing his clerical robes instead of the chain shirt under his travel clothes, he would likely have been killed by the deadly attack. Even if the worst of the physical damage glances off, it is still a staggering blow. Worse still, the diabolist's dark magic calls forth a gale of icy wind straight into his veins, freezing the blood on the wound before it can even spill.
Verik has trouble catching his breath as the cold invades his lungs. He looks up to see the devil-worshiper just a few feet away. His jet-black hair and black eyes seem to be pools of obsidian to him. There is a look in his eyes deeper than hate and more insidious than cruelty. Verik can tell that Alexius sees him not as a person, but rather coldly as an obstacle to be conquered and disposed of. Most alarmingly, the black blade now has a pale green sickly aura to it, like tendrils reaching out to him.
Grunting at the vicious sword-stroke and feeling as if he had plunged into the Tuskwater in the middle of Abadius, Verik fumbles for his holy symbol and does the only thing he can think of to prevent his doom.
"B-By the L-Light oh Master sustain your Servants!"
A pulse of white energy flows from Verik and washes the cabin in pure and mercifully warm light, though it lacks the full intensity that the cleric had hoped, still numbed from the icy blow and seeing blood drip through his rent robes and chain links underneath.
"VERIK NO!"
Taisper whirls on Alexius, his eyes flashing gold. "Dammit, Alexius, what are you doing? Don't you know what this means?!" He yells through clenched teeth. He is completely, horribly dismayed at this turn of events. "I thought you were smarter than this! I TRUSTED you!" His hands flash out towards both his key and his morningstar.
"Mad dreamer, are you?" Jemini chuckles a little at the thought, then playfully pushes Zander Orlovsky, "You sound saner to me than most."
She smiles quite happily, as she gazes onto the distance where some workers are busily erecting something. "Do you know what is the difference between ambitions and dreams?" She waits a moment, to give Zander time to shrug his shoulders, then continues: "Ambition is something just for yourself. A dream is something that is shared by others - a common vision if you will." There's another smirk on her face, as she thinks to herself, aaaah, what a pity Verik isn't here for this, but alas: "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours?"
"You'll see, Stosz. His soul is damned! Mourne hungers for it!" Distracted by responding to Taisper, Alexius fails to complete the complex somatic components common to Asmodean spellcasters. A conjured globe of acid drips off the sword and splashes onto the ground. It eats away at the wooden planks at their feet. He raises his sword for another stroke, one that Verik likely will not survive unless he calls upon his god for assistance - or if Taisper makes a choice to aid his cousin.
"Oh. Well okay, then." At Alexius' words, Taisper relaxes noticably. This was the time when all things were clear, when he knew what to do. As an act of will, he calms his nerves and lowers his blood pressure and evens out just liek you been taught you dog now this one he spit the word done down low he aint but meat leik any of 'em you take what you c his breathing, preparing for what was about to happen. Many things now were made plain, most notably something he'd been fearing for a while; it was a mistake to trust an outsider with anything so valuable as the Hunt, and the security of the land, and Judgment. This was a mistake he did not intend to repeat, and which he also intended to rectify forthwith.
But first things first.
Taisper grabs hold of his key. False reward for fake accomplishment or not, this symbol is still as genuine as his faith. Bending his will inward, to the ordered place in his heart where the Master dwells, he feels that suffusion of holy power overtake him, lent strength and potency by his focus. His will gains strength; his limbs, quickness; his heart, endurance. Striding calmly forward he shrugs his shield off his back, letting the special armor slide off its quick release straps and into position on his arm in a single, smooth, well-practiced motion. The halo of divine energy that surrounds him extends to his shield and forms a gleaming protection around the inquisitor, protecting him from being harmed by wielded weapons, as well.
Stepping boldly between his cousin and the Hellknight, his weapon not even drawn, Taisper speaks calmly to the former, still using the orison so Alexius can't hear. ::Verik, you need to fight now, you got me? Heal yourself first, then move around behind him. He needs to be put down. As you tested me earlier, now I test you. Help me with this. Help protect our fledgling nation from this outside influence, from one of our own mistakes, and mine especially::
Taisper gazes back at Alexius' ferocious and burning gaze with his laconic half-smile and sleepy-lidded eyes. He is a picture of poised focus, staring down the Hellknight's hectic intensity.
Zander seems to enjoy Jemini's flirtations and smiles broadly back at her. "I see yours, all around us. The people of my father's land long to come here and share in your dream. If he would let them go, I imagine that you would have more men and women coming to this place than you would know what to do with. However, I sincerely doubt that will happen. I have been to New Orlovs one time since I recovered. My father made the city a monument to himself, while paying no attention to the people that live and work there. I don't pretend to be one of them, or to even truly understand them, but I do know that the nobility of Brevoy has a social contract that they ignore. In the lessons that I received upon my revival, I learned of the relationship between lords and their people - or at least how it is supposed to be. When I traveled and learned about the reality of the world, I was sorely disappointed. I do have a dream, Jemini - a dream to restore the nobility to their place as protectors of their people instead of schemers and exploiters."
With the formal greeting over, the guests from the Surtova retinue take food and drink to meet the hunger of the travel. Kesten makes his way to Elspeth, shaking a few hands along the way. These are, after all, members of his former social circle before his fall from Brevic high society. He embraces Elspeth as an old friend and speaks to her softly. He clearly has great affection for her, and she for him, but it is obviously not a romantic bond between them. Akiros slowly makes his way up to her, his eyes focused on her sad beauty. Kesten introduces them less formally and more intimately. "Elspeth, this is Akiros Ismort. He was, until recently, the general of these lands. He is now the Marshal, tasked with keeping the peace in the cities of Newhaven. Akiros, Elspeth was married once to my cousin, before his disappearance in the Golka dwarven mines."
She curtsies very politely and finishes the story began by Kesten. "I was married once, but my father decreed that my husband be declared dead. Lord Garess was in no place to disagree, and thus I was returned to manus pater potesta. Kesten, my dear friend, would you mind giving me a few moments to speak to Akiros?" He nods and heads off to talk to the others, while she looks at him with a sad smile. With a quiver of her lip, she asks, "I have been lead to believe that you were acquainted with a man named Corwin prior to his..." She pauses, barely able to finish the sentence. "Prior to his death."
With Kesten and Akiros speaking to Elspeth Surtova, Berrin lamely tries to make small talk with a few of the retinue while keeping an eye on the vile man who he once murdered. He is profoundly out of his element (ironically, which he was in just fine while murdering Alexey Surtova) and his discomfort is obvious. He turns to look for any familiar face - Jhod, or perhaps Jemini if she had come in, or even Verik for a lecture on some legal precept that precludes something that he doesn't particularly care for. He sees no one available to help him. As he turns one final time, he finds himself face to face, mere inches from Alexey. The vision of his strangled face interposes briefly over the cruel, sadistic bastard's own countenance. One side of his mouth rises in a smirk, full of hate and cruelty. "I don't believe that we have been formally introduced, though I believe we shared some of the same establishments once upon a time. I seem to recall that you have a taste for whores, is that right?"
Verik's look is one of pain and terror, though he finds a moment's respite as Taisper moves himself between the pair and affords him an opportunity. He only murmurs a brief reply to the , one that he hopes his cousin will understand.
::So it is Judged::
Taking a few steps back hastily as he has his cousin blocking the path of Morai-Thrune's dreadful blade, he draws his heavy mace in one hand, and then utters a prayer of healing while he has the opportunity. "Merciful Master, heal thy humble Servant in his dire n-need!"
Verik does his best to appear cowed, weak and frightened, though the terror of the black blade and its thirst gives him genuine emotion to draw from. He does not speak further and seems ready to bolt towards the door, but his hand grips tightly and firmly upon the well-made haft of his heavy mace, waiting for the next chance to strike.
Alexius growls in anger at Taisper. "Out of my way. I won't kill you, but I'm not afraid to make you feel pain to better understand." His black blade crackles with electric power as Alexius channels his arcane energy into it and completes his complex spell. The hair on Taisper's head and neck stands up, drawn to the electric current sparking from Mourne. Alexius swings at him twice, seemingly testing Taisper's resolve to defend Verik. Both strokes miss, one wider than the other. The electric charge remains in the sword, crackling with its own almost-living malice, though it seems ready to spark over to his metal armor if allowed too close.
Taisper smiles lazily. "See, Alexius, that's where we're different..." He reaches for his morningstar, and the second he grips the weapon's haft it lights up with an almost blinding golden glow that quickly fades to a dull but ominous burnish. Taisper unlatches the spike-headed thing and swings it in an unerring arc to smash through the side plating of Thrune's armor, tearing a large and painful gouge out of the man's side, the weapon guided as if by a divine hand. Taisper's follow-through badly scrapes the breastplate of the Hellknight's armor, adding insult to injury.
The inquisitor's gaze is steady and calm as he looks Alexius in the eye. "...I will kill you."
Berrin is unable to keep the loathing gout of his face as he takes in the bastards face before him, standing still where he turned Berrin doesn't move an inch to back off from him. "Something like that, yes. It's nice to have a name to go with a face though, Alexey Surtova. Makes it all that much easier to find a person again when you have a need." Berrin near growls at him.
"What are you doing in Newhaven? Come to see the Rogarvian heir?"
Akiros nods his thanks to Kesten for his introduction and again nods, in farewell, upon the diplomat's departure, the entire time his eyes never leaving Elsbeth's face.
He cannot conceal from his face his distaste upon hearing of Lord Garess' treatment of his own daughter as some piece of property or chattel to be traded or used as some bargaining chip in the nobility's never-ending game of chess, using real, living people as pawns.
However after Elspeth gets him alone, and the first thing she does is to ask about Corwin, her emotions so near the surface, the besotted Oracle assumes the worst, that she had been in love with the newly departed, and strives to conceal his reaction to such.
Bluff:
Akiros is greatly affected, feeling both sadness, disappointment and jealousy, in his assumption of Elspeth's being in love with Corwin.
There was definitely a deeper meaning to his last statement, " I will give my all to fill the role he so aptly did in life."
And Elspeth's answer to his last question is very important to him
Diplomacy:
His face showing sadness, sympathy and surprise, Akiros takes a small step back, swallows, then bows his head before looking back up and Elspeth and answering, compassion in his somewhat strained voice "Ah...why, yes your...May I call you Elspeth? Corwin was...Corwin was much more than an acquiescence to me, he was one of the very few whom I call friend. He was a good man, brave and strong and true. He was one of the best. And...I hope I do not speak more than my Ladyship wishes to hear, but I...I was with Corwin at his death. He died most bravely, and well, in battle, fighting for the people he was sworn to protect. If...if it is any cold comfort, I did slay the foul creature that took his life." Clearly uncomfortable, and struggling for the right words to say, Akiros lamely looks to his new badge of office before continuing "It...it is because of Corwin's passing that the office of Marshall of Newhaven was left open. In stepping down as General I have been asked to take up said office in Corwin's place. And, well, while I can of course never replace such a man, I...I will give my all to fill the role he so aptly did in life. He was obviously important to you...were...were you both...close?"
Verik had seen Taisper kill before of course, the most memorable in his mind being that dark day at another lonely shack with the twisted trapper Orlivanch. Seeing his cousin emblazoned by the holy fervor of Abadar however, like some Archon descending from the Vault to vanquish his foes nearly took his breath away. Taisper’s terrible ripping blow to Alexius was proof not only of his cousin’s unwavering dedication to Abadar and the Master’s bestowing of power into him as a vessel, but was also a clarion trumpet to Verik that his cousin held true skill as a deadly adversary.
Yet he knew that Morai-Thrune was of equally terrible skill with that blade, and the contest for which “kind” of Law would be valued here was on the scales. Even more than that, Verik could not abandon his cousin, even if it meant he could suffer horribly from that blade and its foul arcane energy. The matter was decided.
”Lawgiver, a tool of divine construction to bring this accursed usurper down!” Emerging into fashion once again was a brightly polished golden crossbow, faintly humming with power and dispassionately clicking with machinelike precision as the unseen mechanical wench loads the glowing golden bolt into place, weaving and bobbing mere feet away from Alexius as it fires at point-blank range.
The bolt of force deflects violently off of the black blade and careens into the wall of the shack with a shuddering boom. By itself, it would not be enough to aid Taisper. Bears and wyrms here I go again… Verik hefts his mace and strides back past his cousin to stand threateningly to Morai-Thrune’s side, his face reddened in furious anger. ”Here I am boy you want my hide WELL TRY AND TAKE IT!”
Alexius expertly uses his footwork to avoid the shots from Verik's summoned crossbolt as it clicks to reload the next bolt. He steps in a circular fashion, twisting his entire body around as he uses the momentum to deliver a spinning stroke of his black blade at Verik. The electricity crackles loudly as he brings the sword around towards the cleric of Abadar. For a moment, it looks as if the blade will miss by mere inches, giving Verik a moment of respite. At the last moment, the blade almost seems to jerk forward - drawn either by the electricity's pull towards Verik's metal armor or by the malicious spirit that must inhabit Mourne. Whatever the cause, it connects solidly with the cleric's body. The electric current jumps from the blade into Verik's body, lighting the entire room of the tiny cabin for a brief moment with a flash. The blade itself carves through the chains, which separate into a smoking mess to expose the blackened, bloody flesh underneath. Verik collapses in a heap on the ground, smoking from the surge of electricity. For a terrible moment, Taisper is not sure if he is alive or dead, an uncertainty laid to rest - however briefly - when he moans in terrible pain as the darkness of unconsciousness takes hold of him.
Alexius continues his spinning motion, creating a mist of vapor that quickly fills the cabin and stepping into it. He drops out of Taisper's vision, leaving the smoking form of Verik next to the inquisitor. His voice wafts out of the mist. "See, Stosz, how weak he is? He will never be strong enough to do what you know must be done to protect this land. He will lead all of Newhaven into a fall. Do you want that to happen? He must be sacrificed so that you can realize your true potential."
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"Oh, Alexius, you just made your LAST mistake! You think I don't know of Verik's physical weakness? His self-doubt? His questioning? You think I don't know where things stand? You think -- you HONESTLY think -- you can come down here, to my shack, where I keep Currency that will gain me passage to the very vaults of GOD himSELF and tell me things I already know and make me turn against a cousin I just bared my soul before? You THINK I DON'T KNOW about the risks I'm taking?" Golden fire is starting to flicker and whip around the tiny cabin in the woods, like wills-o-the-wisp gathering to Taisper. "And worst of ALL, you THINK you can prey on MY TRUST and the HUNTERS' BOND we had to bend me to...to WHAT? TO WHAT PLAN DO YOU HAVE?! YOU'RE JUST LIKE MY TEACHERS, THRUNE! 'LET'S GET THE CRAZY KID TO DO IT! HE'LL DO WHATEVER!'"The halo of light around the inquisitor is so bright now it almost penetrates the fog. Almost. "" As Taisper's clear, ringing voice rises to a feverish pitch of righteous fury, the flickers of gold flame gather and circle in the mist, the magic of the Lawgiver easily finding Alexius hiding in his magical fog and smashing into his armor, heating it. As the thunderous threats of the inquisitor shake the hellknight to his core, the fires leap into his armor and light the very flesh and hair and clothes of the man on fire, burning him alive inside his ornate plate mail.
Alexius now knows the fury of the Lawgiver, painfully, and first hand.
In the aftermath of the carnage that has nearly extinguished Verik's life, his body intermittently twitches as from deep within he struggles to draw breath.
Even as the holy golden fire threatens Alexius in his cloud of smoke and mist, the golden crossbow of Abadar continues to load its second bolt without hesitation, bobbing forward into the smoke with a final click before unleashing upon the hellknight.
Jemini's laughter is light and genuine. "Now that would be a sight to see. Even I don't dare dream that big!" she chides, before continuing ever more seriously. "My father and sister would like me to wed; each for different reasons. And in the great game of houses, it would be the smart thing to do. But I cannot simply marry. Not anymore. A union of marriage is more than a move in the game. A marriage is a commitment - and I'm afraid I cannot honor such a commitment. A noble's life can be fleeting, especially in times of uncertainty as now. This in itself is fortunately not enough to prevent fruitful unions, and as we've seen in various ways recently: a noble's house has the means and usually the reason to return a deceased to life - which ever more so strengthens the bonds of marriage between nobles."
Jemini sighs, and there's a bit of intangible happiness and sadness in it. "But not for me. My life is twice as uncertain as that of the next noble - as I don't just die by myself, I also die if Nikolai should fall. In both cases no mortal magic will be able to raise me. I shall then guard over Nikolai Rogarvia's soul in Abaddon. No... marriage, for me, is out of the question."
Alexius shakes his arms to put out the flames, scorching his skin in the process. He grunts in pain as he steps out of the mists to threaten Taisper again. "Don't be a fool. You are too deep involved in this! Asmodeus has claimed you for his own. You may not want to admit it, but you're more His than Abadar's!" Alexius conjures a spray of acid along the edge of the blade, sizzling as it splashes on the ceiling and floor in tune with his swings. Taisper sidesteps two strokes, one of which comes remarkably close. Had Alexius not been holding back, seemingly shaken by the young man's power, he would likely have struck him true.
Taisper's unnerving calm remains intact, but Alexius' last comment stings. he knows that style you pig you hang back and soon you eat that blade you be stuck you gotta break you gott just... The inquisitor shifts the divine energy that courses through him, redirecting it all into his arms and morningstar, readying himself for one killer strike, to end this. Abandoning his usual duck-n-jab tactics, he pours everything he's got into a giant two-handed haymaker blow.
The reckless swing catches Alexius, who is very familiar with Taisper's conservative and schooled fighting style, completely off-guard. The hellknight would never look for such a massive cut from the inquisitor.
The glowing morning star streaks past Thrune's defenses and catches him right in the temple, where it transfers a golden spike of pure divine power directly into the hellknight's very soul as the physical strength behind the impact lifts him bodily up and sends him reeling to the ground unconscious, blood pouring out of his fractured skull.
Taisper looks down at his former hunting partner, now his foe, crumpled and still on the ground. The inquisitor's face is horrifyingly blank. "Hey Alexius." he whispers. "You wanna hear a joke?" He stands there a moment, looking at the completely helpless man on the floor, then over to his equally helpless cousin.
two roads here you know they all at your feet they all mewling little they all not nobody now who so big is they they can KNOW they can feel it they
Taisper shakes his head as if trying to clear it. No. Not anymore. Or at least...not now. Still leaving up all his magical fortifications, the young inquisitor walks over to his cousin and bends down on one knee. For the second time this day, he casts healing magic into his Verik's body.