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Post by dragonkin on Sept 13, 2009 14:09:41 GMT -5
For as long as she can remember, Zemizia has always had a good rapore with the dwarves of Kaladim. Whether it be because of her songs, or perhaps her way with a brew barrel, the stout people have always enjoyed and looked forward to her visits to their underground city. This night, after many hours of drinking and entertaining in the warrior's guild hall, she has been granted a private room by the gardens to take a night's rest before her departure from the city. It is here we shall find her, in a deep, restless sleep, plagued by visions of dark elves, her mother, and her desperate flee from the Nektulos Forest long ago. The echos of voices hunting her ring clear in her mind as she dreams of ages past......
"Zemizia.......hear me," It is the voice of her lord Bristlebane, the King of Thieves, that comes to comfort her this night.
"A-am I...dead?" she whispers into the night air. "Have you taken me back yet again m'lord?"
With a slight chuckle, her diety replies, "No my child, you are quite alive. I've come to you with a grave task. You have grown strong in your bardic abilities, my child. So much so that I am appointing this task unto you. Deep within the city of Neriak a murderous wretch roams free to do as he pleases. Long ago, upon slaying your mother, he also slayed one of my children, and hurt me deeply. You are to ride there on the morrow and avenge your dear mother's death. You have a halfling Cleric within your ka-tet who has proven a loyal friend. He shall accompany you there for added protection. Do this in my name Zemizia, and she shall be avenged.
"Long have I awaited this day, m'lord. Long have I envisioned my sword meeting his hateful flesh. I shall leave at once. I shall be swift, but my sword shall be swifter indeed."
"NO!!" the diety boomed, causing Zemizia to shield her ears from his mighty bellow. "Yes the man who used to be your father shall perish but it shall NOT be by your sword Zemizia. He is still your blood, and to slay him yourself would be just as treacherous an act as him slaying your mother was. No, you shall not kill your own, lest you fall from my graces. Your intelligence shall win you this battle. Your wit shall bring his swift demise far more appropriately than shall your sword."
Zemizia is utterly dumfounded. "Y-y-yes, m'lord....I shall do as ye bid me, though I do not understand. How can I avenge she who is lost without fighting he who has hurt you so? And if I am not to kill him, why should I then also endanger Harrun to my imposed fate?"
But Bristlebane would give no answer, save this, "Do as I have instructed you, my child. Think upon this long and hard. Delve deep into your past, and remember all that you can. Remember, your wit is very powerful. Well used words can be just as damaging as a well-placed slash of a sword. Do my bidding, child, and all will be revealed in time. Only by doing this shall you find serenity in your dreams, and feel peace when remembering your past."
"I shall go where you tell me, m'lord, and I shall do as you say. I will not fail you good Lord Bristlebane. I swear upon my life I shall not fail you!"
And with that, the King of Thieves begins to weave a soothing cantata, lulling Zemizia into a deep, dreamless slumber, in her room under the mountainside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zemizia awakens the next morning to the sounds of Kaiya Stoutheart, the lady of the house, busying herself with the morning chores. Stretching, she reflects upon the previous night's encounter with the god of her understanding, and immediately knows what she is expected to do. Flinging her slender legs up and out, she gets out of the short bed provided to her with a swift motion, in a rush to be on her way as soon as possible.....and in her hurriedness forgets where she is and whacks her head on the ceiling of her little room. THUD!!
"AHHHH!!!!!" she cries as she sits down hard, her teeth clicking together from the impact. She holds her hand to her head and fights to remain conscious. Already a bump is starting to form at the site of impact.
Through the fog she hears the familiar voice of Kaiya calling her."Miss Zemizia!? You okay in there, lass?" Upon opening the door, Kaiya emits a loud belly laugh such as only Dwarves can. "Forget where ye are already m'lass? C'mon now, ye can't 'ave been that bad off yest'day for ye to be all stupid th'next day!" After hearing Zemizia's barely coherent grubmlings about the Dwarven sense of humor, Kaiya announces she'll be back straight away with an ice pack, laughing the entire way down the hall.
She returns moments later with a tray of hard-boiled aviak eggs, strong coffee, and a cloth wrapped around ice chips. "'Ere m'lady, put this on yer 'ead, 'twill help wif the pain 'n' swellin'. Take something ta eat, dear, soon's yer stomach feels able."
"Many thanks, madame," Zemizia stammers, blushing profusely. Already the sharp pain has resided to a throbbing ache in her head, but she knows that spot will still be tender into the following week. "Got a bit carried away with meself there. I'm fine now, thank you so much."
Kaiya watches her closely as she begins to pack her belonings into her bags: drum, flute, horn, lute, rations, masks and other assorted equipment fit for the travelling minstrel. "You leaving already, dear?" Zemizia nods a reply to her friend, not meeting her gaze, but busies herself with her packing. "But you've only just got 'ere yest'day! What 'bout the brewin' lessons I'm ta give ya? Kaladim Constitutional ain't a recipe we dwarves give out ta just anyone ya know...it's a goodly guarded secret. Took me a bit ta get the permissions to share it wif ya too..."
Finally Zemizia looks over at her short, pouting friend. She had promised she would stay another day to learn some new brewing recipes from her; she owed her an explanation. "I know ma'am, please forgive me. I know I promised to stay and brew awhile, but I'm afraid that's going to have to wait until I make my return. I've been appointed to a very important mission, by my lord Bristlebane himself! Came to me in a dream he did, and told me what I must do. I have to do it, miss, I cannot go against the wishes of my lord.."
Kaiya looks around nervously. "He ain't 'ERE is he?? Confounded trickster 'e is, never know what'll 'appen e'er 'e's about."
Laughing, Zemizia answered, "No, no dear. He's in his Plane of Mischief where he rightfully belongs. But I must be off at once, for I haven't much time. I still need to round up a cleric friend of mine along the way. He's to go with me on my journey"
"Not that 'alfling creature!" scoffs the dwarf. "Lawd ya never know what they're up to! You get yerself down to the cleric guild afore ya leave, miss. Get yerself some good Dwarven blessin's! That'll do ya goodly enough. Better'n them 'alfings...likely put a hex on ya if'n ya look at 'em funny...."
"HA-HA-HAAAA!! I will do that m'lady, I will do that. I'll give Harrun your best regards!"
"Bah! Off with ya!" Kaiya waves her away. Zemizia grabs the two eggs off the platter to eat on her way down to the cleric guild.
As she passes by the bank, an older Dwarf steps out of the shadows. Zemizia recognizes him as the Rogue guildleader, Raeckert, and stops by to greet him.
"Mornin' lass!" the Dwarf greets her with a smile. "Quite th'party ye threw last night! I 'aven't seen any lights on o'er there at the war'yer guild yet this mornin'. Canloe must've made quite merry of 'imself, eh?"
Giggling, Zemizia answers him. "Aye, aye that he did, sir! A fine time it was! By the way he was hangin' on the bar wench though, I'm sure his wife is none too pleased with him."
"Oy! That be fer sure! 'Eard her o'er there the bank wif me sis this mornin' sayin' she oughta take one'a them orc belts to 'is hide, heh-heh! Where'r ye off to so early in the morn, miss bard? I thought ye was stayin' awhile?"
"Aye," she sighs. "I was going to, but I've got many pressing things to do this day. I'm headed to the cleric guild now for a blessing or two then I'll be on my way out. I sha'nt be gone long, and if all goes well I shall come and celebrate my successes within your guild house, if you'll have me."
Raeckert grins at the thought and performs a swift and graceful bow. "Of course we'll have ya!! Not many bards come through this city very of'n. Makes us a bit 'ard up for ennertainment."
And with her promise of a grand concert in the rogue guild upon her return, Zemizia sets off on her way to pay a visit to the clerics. Once all the niceties are done, and all the blessings said, she bids farewell to her friends under the mountain and heads off toward the portal to the Plane of Knowledge.
Once there, she walks into a pub she and Harrun and their friends frequent. The familiar, comforting sounds and smells encompass her: the sound of a tinny piano and off-key drunken singing, the smell of meat cooking and the old brew barrels lined up against the walls. Here she finds her old friend, Harrun, a Halfling cleric of great repute in his class, and well-known in this pub for being able to drink even the broadest of Barbarians under the table, sitting at a corner table, and walks over to join him. Stein in hand, he doesn't even notice her at first, but instead continues trying to convince the barmaid that a Halfling's height wasn't what she needed to worry about.
"Zemi!!! Where've ya been? Have you met me good friend, Alice? Marissa! No wait....Miranda!! Aye that's the one! Me good friend Miranda here was just contemplating the joys of dating one such as meself. Pull up a chair lass! Marissa, I mean Miranda, darlin! Bring me old friend here a mug will ya dear?" Harrun's huge smile greets Zemizia as she sits down next to her friend. The barmaid huffs at him and stomps away, obviously offended at his lack of ability to remember her name. "Ahhh I still gots it, Zemi heh-heh! So what brings ya here? And where have ya been anyways, you didn't answer me..."
Shaking her head at his silliness, she begins to tell him of the mission at hand. "You know my past, Harrun. You know what happened to me, my mother."
Harrun grows serious, and much more sober. "Aye, that I do. What of it, Zemi?"
Zemizia looks him straight in the eye, and in a low, almost gutteral voice says, "It is time."
Harrun nobs his head slowly, understanding creeping into his eyes. "When do we go then?"
"Tomorrow," she states, all jokingness aside. "My "father" is going to know what happens when you piss off one of the great Gods of old. His contempt has not fallen on deaf ears. His death lies in the tunnels of Neriak, and it hears him. Where are you staying? I'll help you gather your things. We ride for Neriak in the morn."
And with that the two friends depart from the little pub and head toward the lodge where Harrun has taken up residence. As they leave, Harrun glances at her sideways, then does a double-take. "What have you got on you? You've got some kind of blessing?"
She looks down at her armor. "Oh, yes. Madame Kaiya sent me down to the cleric guild before I left Kaladim this morning for the blessing of their Conviction and Devotion. She figured I'd need it...why?"
"ACK!!" Harrun waves his hands at her as if shooing a spider off her. "Dwarf blessings!? BAH! Darn things will more likely put a hex on ya if you look at them funny. Get rid of them, Zemi! I'll give you some nice good Halfling blessings. Much better for you dear..."He blesses her and continues to grumble about her Dwarven friends on the way to his lodge, with Zemizia chuckling softly and shaking her head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I cannot do that, Zemi!!" a mildly shocked Harrun cries out. They are walking side by side through what is known as the East Commonlands, and his rise in volumn sends birds flying, and causes a nearby coyote to jump and scamper away. They'd been travelling for half the morning, stopping in Freeport for a bite to eat. "Talk about feedin' you to to the wolves! It's suicide!"
"You can and you will. You must Harrun. It's the only way I can think of to get him to come out on his own..." Zemizia had been pondering her desperate situation all morning. Many many a season had passed since she first started in her studies to become the Bard she was today. Yet with all her studies, and training in ad-libbing, this is the best plan she'd come up with. It was risky, of course it was. She could only hope that the guards outside Neriak were dim-witted enough to fall for it. "Anyways it's better than sneaking into the very heart of the city isn't it? At least this way we can run if we need to."
Harrun kicks at the dirt in disgust. "Yer my friend, Zemi. I'll not make you out to be a whore! I won't! It's dishonoring to you! An outrage, hell a damn near injustice to even think of it!" He kicks at the dirt again to better prove his point.
She puts a hand on the shoulder of her stout friend. "Oh come on Harrun, don't be rediculous, 'twill not be quite that bad. You're a wonderful story teller! Just pretend you're one of the actors in the story, and play it out as you would a part in a drama or comedy. They're sure to believe you, if you pitch it right. Besides I've already bought the potions we'll need for you...." she holds up a cloudy looking vial, and one with a rank, foul-smelling liquid inside.
"Now where did ye get those?" He already has a feeling what the cloudy liquid was, but he eyes the other one with suspicion. "Ye don't expect me to actually drink that, do ya?"
"It's either this or take on the whole of Neriak by ourselves," she offers, with a raise of her eyebrow at the Halfling. "So you'll have an interesting taste in your mouth for a few days..."
"Well.....what is it anyways? It looks, well, disgusting to be blunt."
"Essence of Dark Elf! I have a Shaman friend who offered me a nice discount for it. Drink this and you'll look just like one of them! Probably why it looks so nasty..." Zemizia explains as she holds the vial up to eye level and tries to look through it. Upon seeing the revolted look on Harrun's face she continues, "Well I would have had him make it in mint flavor but you know, he was fresh out of mint sprigs."
"I think I've got some cinnamon sticks in here somewheres..." mocks the Halfling as he digs through his bags.
Zemizia emits a loud laugh. "Ok ok I can see your point, shorty. Now, let's go over your lines once more. You'll down the potion when we start getting close to the city, and my hands will be tied by then. Loosely, mind you, I'll need to be able to get out of them before he comes out. Here's what you say when we come upon the guards there. I expect there'll be at least two to have to deal with. But don't worry I've already got plans for any extras we encounter. So you start off by saying....."
Zemizia continues well into the afternoon as they get closer and closer to the Nektulos forest. She can only pray she knows what she's doing...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zemizia has to keep turning to take another look at Harrun as they make their way through Nektulos Forest. He looks so funny as a Dark Elf, tall, slender, and much less hairy. His white hair hangs down to his shoulders in waves, his dark blueish skin shining even though the sunlight is filtered through the trees. With any other Shaman making the potions she'd be more concerned about how long the illusion would last, but not this one. This one she knows is quality.
The forest here is different from the commonlands, with fallen trees left to rot, and rocks jutting out of nowhere to trip up an unsuspecting adventurer. There is moss everywhere, and dew covers the ground. The sky is turning a faint golden color as the sun starts it's descent towards the horizon. Zemizia can just make out their destination, about a mile off the path. Saying a silent prayer for her and her friend, she checks the bonds holding her hands together behind her back.
"This is it, Harrun. You know what to do, yes?" she said with a wide-eyed glance at him.
"Aye. I dun like it, but I know what needs to be done," Harrun replies, saying his own silent prayer to Brell for good measure.
"Halt!! Who goes there? Speak up scum before I gut you!" hisses a voice coming from the cavern entrance. They made it; they were now at the doorway into Neriak. Just as Zemi had suspected, there is indeed two guards posted this evening, both with weapons drawn, the waning light reflecting off their armor in patches as it filters through the leaves.
"I've come with an offering for Ta`Lin, special delivery from the Plane of Knowledge, bought and paid for by your head Dragoons. In honor of sir Ta`Lin's birthday I suppose," answers the Dark Elf Harrun, with perfect Teir`Dal dialect. He gives a rough tug on Zemizia's arm to better show the guards his prize. "A ripe young Half-elf, too naive for her own good, heh-heh."
The guard on the right just snickers at her, however the one on the left side of the tunnel eyes her with suspicion. "Why the bloody hell does she still have armor on then?"
Harrun glances at her, then back at the guards. "I heard Ta`Lin likes em kind of rough, if you know what I mean. He likes it when they fight back, but I'll not have her dying after the first couple of blows. So she's protected, for now."
This seems to amuse the sentry and he motions them to go into the city.
"Are you crazy man?" asks Harrun. "We're not going in there! She'll get eaten alive in there, and she cost a pretty penny let me tell you. No, if he wants her he'll be coming out here. The forest will give him plenty of privacy to do what he wants with her." Seeing the argument about to come from the guard Harrun continues, "Do it now scum, or the Dragoons will be down your neck in a heartbeat!"
"Fine, fine!" the guard spits back at him. That's the last thing he needs is more trouble from the 'goons. A brutish lot they are, and he's had his share of run-ins with them. "Though I'm sure they won't object to me leaving my comrade out here to stand guard over you. You're face is not familiar to me and you'll not be trusted to roam freely as you will." And with an impatient nod from Harrun, the sentry disappears into the tunnels.
"Come over here, wench, and let me look at you." The remaining guard tugs on Zemi's free arm. "A fine prize you are, even if you are just a filthy little half-breed."
"Hands off her, scum! She's to be for Ta`Lin, not for the likes of you," growls Harrun, keeping true to form, just as Zemi knew he could.
The guard scoffs at him, and promptly shoves Harrun away, knocking him to the stoney floor, and smirks at the thudding sound. He presses his body against Zemizia, pinning her to the stone wall. This was not in the plans. She tries freeing herself from her fake bonds but they don't give. Too tight! They're too tight! Her mind whirls at her frantically. The young Teir`Dal's face was now on hers, and was he licking her face?? So Zemizia does what came naturally; she started singing.
This was enough to make the guard step back a bit. "What the hell are you doing, wench?" he spat.
"I was told I was to be entertaining. My master here insisted upon it. A song for you then?" A bit taken aback, the guard only nods in disgust. Zemizia weaves her song with skill and perfection, and in a matter of seconds has aquired herself a brand new Dark Elf pet. "Just as I thought, all brawn and no brains. Now get these acursed ropes off me, quick Harrun. They must have gotten tighter as we were walking here, perhaps when he pulled my arm."
Harrun cuts her hands free and she rubs the spots on her wrists. Harrun looks upon the creature with disgust. "I'd kill you for that if we didn't need you still." The Dark Elf only looked to Zemizia, his new master.
"Ok Harrun, no harm done. You'll want to drink your invisibility potion now dear. My father will be here soon, and I don't want them seeing you here. Only show yourself if you see I'm in dire need of a heal. Until then do nothing, say nothing, understand?" She looks at her friend intently.
"Aye lass, I've got it. Please do be careful. I'm right here dear when you need me." And with that Harrun takes the cloudy-looking vial out of his pouch and pops the cork from the top. "Bottom's up." As soon as all the liquid is emptied, Harrun vanishes, leaving only a mere shimmer in the failing light where he once stood.
Zemizia now turns her attention to her new pet. "Go now, my pet. Seek out the one called Ti`Vyl, he is the head of the enchanter guildhouse, and chief Dragoon in the city. You'll take to him a message. Tell him Ta`Lin wishes to see him here in the tunnel. He has a confession to make but fears for his life inside the city. Tell him he must come at once, or Ta`Lin will kill himself for the shame, and fear of being taken to Hate to stand before the prince. Go now! And hurry!"
"I will do as you wish, master." replies her pet, and he vanishes into the tunnel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chosen one indeed, Dragoon Ta`Lin thinks as he picks up yet another parchment. He is in his chambers, amongst stacks of parchments, old scrolls, and dusty manuscripts, all strewn together in discombobulated piles. The room is dimly lit by two worn candles on either side of his desk. His dinner, only half eaten, sits on the table next to him, and is now becoming the target of a nearby rodent as it seeks a way up to the top of the table. I can't believe this nonsense! A Dragoon stuck sorting and filing, all because that no-good son-of-a-troll Draken has become the master's pet. I ought to see him drawn and quartered for this... His thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sharp rapping on his chamber door.
Ta`Lin slams the parchment down on his desk, causing the dust from the old papers to billow outward in all directions. "Dammit Shali! I thought I told you no interruptions!" he shouts over his shoulder.
The muffled voice that answers him is not the one of his servant, "I beg your pardon sir, but I've been sent to come get you at once. Please sir, open the door that I may tell you."
"Fine!" shouts the elder Teir'Dal, and with a quick and agitated motion, shoves his chair away from the desk. He stomps over to the door and whips it open violently. Standing before him, he sees one of the sentry guards from the tunnel leading into the city. "What is it, boy? And why aren't you at your post? Speak before I have your hide flayed! I've no time for this idiocracy!"
The younger, obviously lower ranked Dark Elf, performs a quick salute, "Jared, sir. I've been sent to bring you to the gate sir. A Dark Elf from the Plane of Knowlege is here to see you. He's brought you a....package, sir. He says she's bought and paid for by Ti`Vyl himself, in honor of your birthday. But he won't bring him into the city. Guess he's afraid of losing her to the hoards, heh. Nice looking little half-elf, seems a right fitting gift if you ask me....not that you would, that is, sir."
Hmm, so the old man actually remembered. I could stand a little extracurricular activity today, thinks Ta`Lin. He looks back at all the piles of papers on his desk, then regards the sentry with mild amusement. "Well I suppose this nonsense can wait a few hours. I may have to go take a look at this "gift" that awaits me. Where did you say she is again, boy?"
"She and her master are with my comrade, Ja`lyn, sir, in the tunnel leading to the Nektulos Forest. Come, I'll accompany you there if you wish."
Ta`Lin waves at him, "That won't be necessary, I won't be needing an escort today. I'm relieving you of your post for now. It may be in your best interest to stay away from there if you know what's good for you. And since you were so prompt in delivering me this message, if there's anything left of her when I'm through, perhaps I'll let you sample her a bit."
Jared performs another salute to his superior. "Thank you sir. I shall return to the gate when I receive word from you." And with that he heads to his own quarters, happy to have the rest of the evening off. Besides, who was he to argue with a 'goon anyways? He did as he was told, always, and if that something happened to benefit him as well, he saw it as a rare gift.
Ta`Lin watches as the sentry disappears around the bend, then starts making his way through the winding streets of Neriak, past the Third Gate, and toward the exit to the forest. As he nears the exit, he can see the sun is almost totally set now, leaving just a hint of crimson at the horizon. He can hear the bats starting to make their evening flights around, hunting for insects and other small things.
He also notices there is nobody there, not even a guard at his post. "Well? Where are you then? Show yourself! You think I've got all night for this do you? You're wasting my time, and I'm starting to become angry. Where are you, dammit?"
"Well well well, things never really change do they? I see you're still thinking only of yourself." It is a woman's voice, soft-spoken, but with a hint of sarcasm. "Really, do they teach such arrogance in there, or is it an inherent ability?"
Ta`Lin turns toward the sound of the voice, but sees nobody. "Where are you? Show yourself, wench, before I gut you."
Zemizia steps out from the shadows, shoulders back, and a light smirk dancing on her lips. She stands up just a little taller when she sees the shocked expression on her father's face.
Indeed, Ta`Lin is taken aback, and has to blink a couple of times to convince his mind he is actually seeing what he is seeing. "Ze....Zemura??" He manages to stammer out. "How can this be? You can't possibly be here.."
"Zemura I am not, as she is dead. Dead by your hands. No, I am not Zemura, but I am someone who would have been just as close to your heart, if you ever had one," she says as she steps fully into what little light that's left.
Recognition slowly creaps into Ta`Lin's eyes as he registers just who this woman who stands before him so arrogantly is. "Zemiza," he nearly growls. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"
"Hello, father. Aren't you happy to see me? Haven't you ever wanted a little "family" reunion? I've wanted nothing more since the day you betrayed us," taunts Zemizia.
"I ought to gut you where you stand, you imputant little pig!" he growls as he moves closer, bringing his hand up to grab her neck.
She swats it away with a hard motion, receiving a small hint of satisfaction upon hearing his startled yell as his wrist breaks from the impact. He grabs his wrist with his other hand and falls to his knees in pain. "You'll not touch me, father! Not today, not ever!" She circles him slowly as he tries to keep his arm steady, glaring up at her the whole time. "You've no idea how long I've waited to see you like this, "father". You've no idea how much I long to draw my sword and lob off your stinking head!"
He spits on her boots, "Do it then, coward! I'm unarmed. Take your best shot, my people will hunt you down and you'll be dead by sunrise." His once silver eyes glow red with hatred for her, as he slowly rises to his feet. "Or perhaps they'll feed you to the necros for your insolence. You'd make a fine pet for one of the death dealers."
Zemizia opens her mouth to answer, but is stopped short as she hears faint footsteps coming toward them through the tunnel. "Ah, I see our guest has arrived," she says with a smile.
***************************************************
Lord Ti'Vyl paces in his chambers, obviously wracking his mind over something just beyond his grasp. Something is amiss, he thinks. Something is about to happen that will change many things. Perhaps for the better for me. He sends his mind reaching out into the unknown abyss of the future, expecting it to return with nothing, much as it has all evening. Only this time he senses it has something to do with his old student, Ta`Lin. What are you up to, Ta? His mind searches harder, but finds nothing.
The head of the enchanter guild, and chief Dragoon in the city, Ti`Vyl is respected and sometimes even feared within the city walls. But Neriak has never felt like his home. I don't belong here, he thinks for the millionth time. I need to get back to Hate, to my Lord Innoruk, and reclaim my place next to him. I feel that time is nearing where I will once again be in your favor, my lord. Bound together forever in Hate, my place is by your side.
Ti`Vyl continues to pace around his chambers, then spins suddenly at the sound of his door opening, ready to cause immediate pain and suffering to whoever was so insolent as to enter without knocking first. He freezes just before his spell lets loose from his fingertips when he sees the look on the sentry's face: Nothing...there's nothing there, no emotion, no personality, no FEAR, just....blank "What do you want, scum?"
The young guard's eyes shift to him ever so slowly, as if he were in a trance. "Come with me Ti`Vyl," comes the monotone reply. "You must come at once. It is Lord Ta`Lin. He must make confession to you, but in the outer tunnel. He wants not to die in the city from this confession. Come with me Ti`Vyl"
Ti`Vyl eyes this puppet with evil intentions. "And who is your master, then? Obviously you're not under your own control, so who has sent you, scum?"
"She who was gone and has now returned. You must come with me at once.." he still stares at utterly nothing as he drones on.
"I think I will go there, but not with you my little friend," Ti`Vyl says as he waves his hands in mystical magical ways, beginning to cast a spell. "Farewell, traitor."
And with that, Ja`Lyn's skin combusts in a blue flame all around him, sending billowing reams of smoke into the hallway, the smell of charred flesh permeating the air. Ja`Lyn screams silently in his own head, unable to do anything his master does not tell him, until finally, sweet death releases him from his torture.
With a look of utter disgust, Ti`Vyl steps over the steaming pile of ashes in his doorway and heads toward the city limits. Whatever foolishness his old apprentice was up to, somehow he knows by the end of the day he'll be glad Draken's been such a good student, for he'll need a replacement for Ta`Lin....
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Zemizia feels her pet is in grave danger. She can sense the agony of his death within her very being. Just another Tier`Dal she thinks, trying to push away the hint of guilt creeping into her mind. He was just like them, no regard for life other than their own. Our guest of honor is on his way. I hope you're ready Harrun, for whatever awaits us now my friend will not be pleasant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What the bloody hell is this?" Ti'Vyl nearly shouts as he happens upon the scene. Ta`Lin spins around towards the voice of his master, visibly shaken at having been discovered, weakened by an inferior race. Ti`Vyl's eyes narrow as he looks upon Zemizia, a look of sheer contempt upon his face. "Who is this, Ta`Lin?" When he does not answer immediately, Ti`Vyl turns his question to Zemizia herself, growing more and more impatient. "Who are you?? And how dare you dirty my city by your presence. Speak damn you!" he nearly roars at her.
Zemizia struggles to remain cool and collected as she formulates her reply. With a quick toss of her white hair, allowing her a quick glance over her shoulder to be assured Harrun was still hidden by his potion, she gives a slight nod to Ti`Vyl. "I am Zemizia, minstrel of Bristlebane. I'm assuming that you, given the reaction by my father, are Lord Ti`Vyl, this maggot's superior officer."
Ti`Vyl's eyes glow red with new hatred. "Watch your tongue, you filthy wretch!" he hisses at her. "You dare come to my city and speak to me with such arrogance! Who do you think you are, you worm!? And what...."
His words are cut off by another's voice coming from the shadows of the tunnel. "What did you mean, 'your father', halfbreed?" Draken has come to join his master. He had gone to his lord's chambers to hand in his latest essays, written on the importance of always having the proper spell components on your being when going into battle, and had happened upon the still smoldering pile of ashes in his doorway. Doing as his master had taught him, he'd used his minds power to seek the whereabouts of his master, and had come hither.
Ti`Vyl half-turns toward his apprentice, who was now stepping out of the shadows to light the torches in the mouth of the cave. His long black hair hangs down almost to his waste, his robes of cobalt blue flowing as he steps around the scene. "Ah, my young student. Very good indeed that you should pick up on that little hint," he says, then once again turns back to Zemizia. "You will answer him, wench."
There's too many of them, her mind cautions. I should have known more would come. Need to get this over with and get the bloody hell out of here. I...
"I said answer him!!" Ti`Vyl shouts.
"I meant just what I said," Zemizia answers, turning toward Ti`Vyl. She speaks very cautiously, choosing her words with great care. She knows she has to be very convincing, for even though she will tell only the truth, they may not believe her. "I am Zemizia, named that by my Lord Bristlebane when he sent me back from the planar world. Before then I was Zemiza, daughter to a human mother Zemura, and to this Teir`Dal, Ta`Lin." She pauses as she takes in the expressions on all their faces: mild surprise on Ti`Vyl's, shock on Draken's, and on her father's face, one of utter hatred and contempt. "We lived on the outskirts of the Nektulos Forest, long before my father became a 'goon. My uncle, his brother Ta`Vekn, was the head Dragoon then, before he was overthrown by you, Ti`Vyl. He was the only protection my father had from the Dragoons. After he was killed, your sect corrupted his mind, and turned him against my mother and I."
A look of familiarity begins to show upon Ti`Vyl's face. "I do remember. And my old apprentice here used their blood for his bloodrite ceremony, so he could become one of us. Prove yourself, woman, you've got my attention."
"My mother's blood he used in his bloodrite. However, some poor unfortunate other's was used in place of mine. I was too fast for him, having used the songs my mother had taught me to be able to flee from danger, and he could not catch me." Zemizia pulls a small hand drum out of one of her satchels and holds it out to the elder Teir`Dal. "This, Lord Ti`Vyl, save my life long ago. I've kept it ever since. Observe if you will the crest carved into the bottom. The lighter half represents my fair-skinned mother, the darker, my Dark Elf father. They created this crest when they were wed in secret under the trees of this forest, long ago. I am his daughter. He is just as false as was his bloodrite ceremony. It is folley."
"LIES!!" Ta`Lin shouts, the word echoing off the tunnel walls, sending a flurry of bats out of the entrance. "You can't possibly believe her!"
Ti`Vyl looks upon him with bitter remorse. So this is it then, Ta? This is how you will repay me for my generosity? "The crest is familiar, Ta. I've seen it before, long ago. It was amongst your possessions from your old cottage in the forest. Do you deny this?"
Fear sweeps over Ta`Lin's face as he pleads with his master. "No I do not, but look at her my lord! She's too old! Look at her white hair and worn features. She can't possibly be my daughter...." he pauses as he looks upon his master, now listening to Draken whispering close to his ear.
"I agree, Draken, one hundred percent," he says, then turns to look at his old student. "I hear what you say about the half-breed's hair and face. However I've yet to hear you say something denying her very existance, which is exactly what you should be doing, had you actually killed her as you said you did. I think you're lieing to me, Ta."
With that Ti`Vyl steps forward and places his hands upon Ta`Lin's temples, one on either side. "Please, master, I beg you! She's a liar! Do not do this. She lies!" But it was useless. Ti`Vyl was already peering into his mind, into his memories. Screaming, Ta`Lin sinks to his knees, struggling to keep his past memories hidden, but he is powerless to stop them from flooding into his mind, drawn by the power of his master.
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"Traitorous wretch!!!" Ti`Vyl's bellowing voice echos far into the tunnel towards the winding city. It is loud enough that the residents within turn in the direction of it. The rage in his voice is enough to make even his young student, Draken, step back. His eyes glow a deep shade of red with this new hatred, and he throws Ta`Lin into the wall, striking at him with each new insult. "Infidel! Fraud! Deceitful bastard, you dare make a mockery of the Bloodright!? Innoruk will string you up by your eyelids!" He steps back and raises his staff nose level to Ta`Lin, making him cower back against the wall of the tunnel. "You will burn for this, stinking worm! You will stand and be judged by the dark prince, and you will beg for death before he is through with you! Draken!"
"Yes, m'lord!" the visibly shaken apprentice jumps to his master's side.
"Take this idiot out of my sight! Grab one of the inner guards and have him brought to the dungeon. Then make your way to the wizard guild hall. Tell them to make ready for me a portal to Hate. We leave before dawn's first light."
Draken offers a deep bow to his master, then takes up the arm of Ta`Lin and leads him into the city. The new prisoner's voice echoes back to Zemizia, obviously frightened and distressed.
Ti`Vyl then turns to Zemizia. He can read the question in her mind: what did you just do to him?
A look of malicious amusement crosses Ti`Vyl's face as he regards the woman before him. "Surely you didn't think I would just believe you on your word." Zemizia glances down at the ground, then looks back up and shakes her head slightly. "Of course you didn't. But I had to ask myself what purpose would you have risking your life just coming here, only to lie when you got here. And now I find myself asking what is your purpose for coming here. Surely you have more than a little Tier`Dal coursing through your veins, to turn on your own father."
"My reasons remain my own, Lord Ti`Vyl," comes her reply. "I want nothing in return, and seeing as my work here is done, I shall take my leave." She starts toward the mouth of the tunnel and is then turned around by the hand that was suddenly on her arm.
"What makes you think you'll be allowed to just walk out of here on your own accord? Aren't we the presumptuous little half-breed? I think you assume too much."
Zemizia half turns her head and looks down at the blue-grey hand clutching her arm. She feels rather than sees the stir from Harrun to the front of her, most likely preparing for the worse. "I assume nothing. But now that it's been mentioned, perhaps a bargain or negotiation can be reached?"
Ti`Vyl lets loose his grip on her and folds his arms across his chest. "Negotiation? You honestly expect me to openly negotiate when you have an ally hiding here waiting to strike at me?? What, you think me an imbocile that I cannot see past a simple invisibility potion? No, there will be no negotiations whilst he is amongst us. Send him away, and prove to me I can trust you at your word, or both of you shall die."
Zemizia hangs her head a moment, then turns to look in the direction of her friend. So this is it then. This is where I shall be tested I suppose. Half turning her head once more, she says, "I trust you will allow me to have a moments word with him as a farewell?" There is only silence as a reply, and she glances back at him. Ti`Vyl only rolls his eyes with impatience and waves her at him: oh fine if you must, the gesture says. Walking over to where she knew she left her friend, she extends a hand out in front of her. Connecting with something that could only be the top of his head by the feel, his invisibility wears off and she can now see the expression on his face that she could almost feel: disgust, anger, and contempt as he looks upon the dark elf. Leaning very close to his ear so her voice won't carry, she says to him, "This is where we part my friend. Use your gate spell and get yourself out of here."
"No. Absolutely not, not unless we leave together. I can't believe you're actually suggesting this," was his shocked reply. "I came here to protect you, Zemi, not feed you to the wolves."
Zemizia only shook her head. "You heard him. If you stay here we both die, and I believe him. He's got his reward in his hands already Harrun: my father. I believe I can negotiate with him, and get him to agree to let me leave in safety. I think I can handle this, hon. Bards have always been good schmoozers."
"Dark elves don't 'schmooze' easily Zemi. This is too dangerous, too risky, even for a bard!"
Zemizia leaned in even closer, her voice barely audible even from such short distance, "It's ok. I have a gate potion tucked deep underneath my belt. It's still got a few drops left in it, just enough for one last gate. If it goes badly, I've always got that I can use, as long as it's not discovered. It will be difficult hiding it from him in my mind but I believe I can do it. Trust me, go now, and I'll meet with you in the guild hall. I will be there Harrun." She saw nothing but protest in her friends eyes. Raising her voice to normal speaking level to be sure Ti`Vyl heard her she continues, "I once swore I would never use my songs against a friend, but if you don't gate Harrun I will have no choice but to do so. Don't make me charm you and break my promise. We will meet again. Now go!"
The look on her friend's face nearly broke her heart. A horrible mixture of anger, hurt and sadness, and she had to turn away from it. "I will await your arrival at the guild hall Zemizia. I only go because you ask me to. But you'd better come soon or we're coming back looking for you." She gives him a slight nod, not without noticing the hurt and anger in his voice, then watches as he waves his hands and in an instant, is gone.
Zemizia then turns to the man who is to decide her fate. "There, he is gone. Now will you bargain?"
Ti`Vyl smirks at her with malice. "Surely you don't expect payment. What is it you could possibly want for bringing Ta's treachery to my attention?"
"I want no payment or any other worldly thing you could possibly give me. I want only one thing: safe passage. Grant me safe passage, and you'll never be bothered with me or mine again. The rest of Norrath need never know of this encounter, or of any negotiations made. Your name shall not be hindered whatsoever in the world."
Ti`Vyl considers this a moment. A very...long...moment. "Fine. Safe passage for you is granted." And with that he gives a wave of his hand and turns toward the city.
Zemizia raises an eyebrow at the simplicity of it all. But as she turns to start heading through the Nektulos forest a long, slender yet powerfully strong arm slips around her waist from the back. Startled, she instinctively reaches down to loosen the grip, and manages a small cry of "What is this??" before she feels the sharp blade of a dagger press against the skin of her throat. A rogue! her mind reels at her. I should have thought to check closely, careless! Got to get away, he's got me! "Hello my pretty," came the male voice of her new captor, very close to her ear. "You feel this blade, how very sharp it is. Be a good girl now and come quietly lest you want carved up like a wee rabbit."
Knowing that struggling is no longer an option, she cries back to Ti`Vyl "NO!! We had a deal! You granted me safe passage. Ti`Vyl!! Tell this heathen to release me!"
Ti`Vyl turns back to gaze upon the scene, a look of geniune amusement on his face. "And I am honoring said deal. All you asked for was safe passage, and one could only assume from that statement that you meant safe passage through our ever so fine city, and that's exactly what you are getting. Once you get there however, your safety will then be questionable of course." He shifts his eyes upward slightly to look at the rogue. "Bring her. She'll fetch a fine price from Lord Innoruk."
"NO!!" Zemizia nearly screams at him. "You know that's not what I meant! Release me, damn you! Liar!!"
Ti`Vyl stops walking, and without turning back to look at her, he answers, "Please, spare me the drama. Have your dealings with your father taught you nothing? Never trust a Tier`Dal" And she can hear the smirk, and sarcasm in his voice as he begins to lead them into the city.
And her promise of her return now seems to be drifting further and further away with each reluctant step she takes into the winding tunnels of Neriak.
The elder Dark Elf leads Zemizia and her new captor deep into the city. She can feel the hateful curiosity of the onlookers as they pass each dwelling and shop. Once or twice she is hit by something thrown from the side of the allyway, but the rogue behind her prevents her from turning to see where it came from. Through the narrow, winding streets they go until finally they stop at a building with very strange markings on the door. Going inside, she can see a large main room with a huge orbital structure in the middle, and several robed figures hovering around it, fiddling with this here, adjusting that there.
Off to the side is a half open heavy wooden door banded with steel plates for strength. Through this door she can see her father propped up against a rough stone wall, his hands bound by steel cuffs that were then attached to the wall by a chain that would allow just enough room for him to shift positions....if he were conscious, that is. It is in this room Ti'Vyl now gestures to the rogue that he is to deposit her.
"Put her in there," Ti'Vyl instructs the rogue. "Bind her to the wall opposite her father. Take anything that can be of any value to us, and for god's sake don't let her speak."
"M'lord?"
Ti'Vyl turns on him with impatience, "She is a bard you idiot. Bard's can do many wondrous things with their voices, almost magical things. You allow her to sing, and she gets away, and then you'll have me to answer to. Knock her out if you must, but do not allow her to use her voice, for anything but screaming that is. I'll be in my chambers preparing myself for our departure. Inform me immediately of any developments." And with a hateful smirk he leaves them, shutting the door behind him.
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