Rotting Rogue: Archival

[jadewik]

Tordek:
"And so I say it again, life is a paradox. After all how else can you explain a damn policemen married to one of Titan's greatest rogues?"

"Love is irrational my friend, you of all should know. After all look at your own wife."

"...Hmm...It makes no difference. A coup will be staged, in time..."

..::These were the hush words that Tordek spoke to a close aquintance of his. The two had been friends for years. It was rare for the two to meet however, as both had travelling lifestyles and were rarely static for long. It was by mere chance that they had met again. Life was hectic for both of them now, and it would only be a temporary pause that both would rest there. Regardless Tordek confided these words to him::..

..::Rubbing his finger around the table top he looked sharply around him with piercing eyes for any spies or eavesdropers. He would not mind using a blade tonight, his blood ran cold as well as his heart::..

..::Warily he sipped on his mead awaiting the arrival of Curulan and Ebon. Surrounded in darkness, he spoke again softly::..

"Soon my friend, soon. The knowledge to be gained will be priceless."

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Curulan:
Curulan and Ebon leave the gates of the Palace and walk through Cartes. It has been a while since Curulan had the time to properly examine the place he has called his home (more often than not) in the past few years. The once sparse logging town is really more like a city, with its own market, smithies, livery stables... all the requirements for a self-contained nation that Titan has become ever since it declared independence from Queen Beth those many years ago. He looks over the projects he and others started. The outer wall, protecting both the city and the palace, is nearly completed, with parapets and guard towers jointing the bends.

The pair reaches the most famous public house in the whole village: The Golden Gryphon, nicknamed the "Titan Tavern" by its patrons. As its names suggest, this tavern is owned by a member of Titan, even though he is not one of the most well-known. Curulan always thought that the owner preferred his anonymity.

As they enter the dark interior, Curulan eyes the patrons. He's seen almost all of them before. Bro-P and Ekehart can be seen trying (and failing) to win over some of the visiting noblewomen. Tordek is sitting in the shadows with an accomplice. Plotting another failing attempt at stealing my wife's job, no doubt, Curulan thinks to himself. Curulan ponders for a moment on telling Tordek the full truth about himself just to see if the bard would still try to get around him. It's obvious to the Angel Dragon that Tordek is watching him and his wife, but trying to make it appear that he isn't. What is not obvious is the translucent, nearly-invisible shape watching Tordek. Curulan is surprised by this. Why would they have interest in him? He surely can't have anything they would want.

Curulan scans the rest of the tavern, not really seeing anything of interest until his eyes fall on the far end of the room. Sitting at at corner table sits a young woman dressed in combat fatigues indicative of of his home country's armies. She sees Curulan, and a smile spreads across her face. Curulan squeezes Ebon's arm to get her attention, and leads her over to the table. The woman sitting there stands, and Curulan introduces the pair.

"My dear, this is my niece, Sergeant Drenia of the Third Star Army. She is my heir to the kingship, or queenship in her case, of Dorias. Drenia, this is my new wife, Ebon Ashe."

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Tordek:
..::A burning sensation slowly began to consume him. He was not sure if it was impatience and desire, or the fact that someone was watching him. Turning about he saw nothing in each direction that he looked. Yet there was an awkward feeling that he just could not cajole himself from disbelieving::..

..::Taking his rise to leave, he stood abruptly and walked away from his friend. Without a word he headed out into the night::..

..::Once outside he walked the length of the tavern, ever few meters turning his head. He headed towards the back room of the Tavern, where steam was rising and the smell of both strong alcohol and warm food filled the air. As usual the door was open illuminating the street and giving glimpse into the hectic interior of the Tavern's unseen backbone. In the middle of the hustle and bustle he slipped in::..

..::Grabbing an apple, he threw it in the air, caught it, and took a hearty bite. He then proceeded into another backroom where he and only a few others were allowed entrance::..

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Drenia:
Drenia embraces her uncle. It is obvious that the pair love each other, being each other's only living blood relatives. Her respect for her uncle and gladness to see him show through her countenance, but she does take a moment to correct him.

"Lieutenant Drenia, actually. My commission was issued last week. I wanted to tell you in person."

Drenia turns to Ebon. "As for you, you'd better be taking good care of him. If I find out that my favorite uncle has been cold at night, I'll skin you where you stand." She smirks, showing the joke, but still leaving it open as a half-truth. "But... I'm sure my uncle didn't call me to Titan just to chat. Sit and drink. You look like you need it."

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Tordek:
..::There was a reason for Tordek's retreat to this room where he now sat. Inside was a tiny table suitable for a halfling as well as two stools. The prize however was that there was a tiny window that was wreathed in shadow where he could look out. Secondley, his keen ears could pick up on the coversation between the trio::..

..::With his chin resting upon his crossed hands, he sat in the dark silence listening to what they were saying. It was hard to distinguish pieces at times because of the crowd, but in that case he improvised::..

..::He had just heard this woman who claimed herself to be a captain in affiliation with Curulan::..

Pay close attention now. It will be him who will next speak. His words will have all the importance in this conversation...

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Ebon-Ashe:
... but it wasn't him who spoke next, it was the rogue.

"I'm afraid your uncle takes better care of me than I do him, but I can assure you he'll never have need of a three-dog-night so long as I'm around."

Ebon-Ashe took Drenia up on her offer for drink. Not wanting to push her luck with Curulan, she ordered a regular red wine. When the draught arrived, she mixed in the potion that Curulan handed her earlier-- though it would appear to anyone familiar with her habbits that she'd slipped the usual arsenic into the drink.

Stirring the drink with her finger, she changed the direction of the conversation to please her needs, " So, Captain Drenia, I suspect your uncle has filled you in with snippets of his life here, has he not?"

Of course, she was trying to pry into Curulan's private life. She'd never had the chance before now, and with the information she'd gleaned about him while they were connected, now was as good a time as any to probe his niece for information she might not know she was giving away.

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Dedman:

Upon seeing EbonAshe and Curulan walk across the tavern floor, dedman rises, strolls up to a man barely old enough to shave and wraps his hands around the mans throat, a sinister grin developing as the man rots into a pile of bones on the floor. Flipping a coin of unknown origin to the bartender, dedman apologizes for the mess and curses the man for not delivering his message.

Dedman proceeds to face Curulan and produce a solid black dagger, with a small white bead on the handle. With a grimace, dedman proceeds to jam the blade directly into the table, point first. "Does this look familiar? I came across a young man intent to deliver that blade directly into my chest, cut to ribbons and still standing, alive by a clerical magic unknown to me. When I reached for the dagger that small white bead appeared, powering a white mana based enchantment that has caused havoc with my dementia abilities. It seems that someone had planned on altering any black magics that would come in contact with it."

[jadewik]

Drenia:
Drenia is startled slightly as the demon interrupts the conversation. She finishes her drink and stands.

"Well, it seems you all have a situation on your hands already. I won't keep you."

She leans over and kisses her uncle on the cheek as the leaves the table. "Come visit me sometime, if you get the chance. My mother misses seeing you."

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Curulan:
Curulan waves to his neice as she leaves, then turns to Dedman. He sighs to himself as the demon goes on about "white mana" and "black magic"... wondering silently to himself if this one will ever figure out the true nature of the multiverse.

Curulan picks up the dagger and examines it... completely black, non-reflective, and looking to be cut from a single block of obsidian.

"Where did you find this, and how did you best its owner? Quickly now... important details only. I need to know certain things for my sake and my wife's."

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Tordek:
..::The dagger was very similar to Tordek's own agents. He had not ordered them to make any move against anyone in Titan. The possibility of mutiny was overruled in his mind because he knew that his group was held together by colossal solidarity::..

..::The news that this newcomer would give would undoubtedly be important. Agents were at work here, and that was certain. The darkness creeping in though was unknown however and that was startling. Tordek was not used to being ignorant to the situations occurring in the land. Watching with eager intent, he could not help but think that he could steal Ebon for his wife, just as he could steal that dagger from their grip right before their eyes::..

..::Licking his lips, his sanctuary is disrupted, as a loud crash is heard along with a shriek. A snarl is heard and then heavy footsteps leading to the door, where it is then shut::..

..::Creeping out, silently moving with elven grace he lurks out of the room cloaked by invisibility. In the kitchen there were no signs of any struggle, despite the sounds he had heard. Opening the door to the tavern he slips out to unable to see a soul on the street::..

[jadewik]

Ebon-Ashe:
Annoyed that dedman would come and interrupt their table's conversation, and even more annoyed when Curulan's niece leaves the table without delving into Curulan's personal life, Ebon-Ashe glowers at Dedman.

Curulan was nice about the interruption, but he wore a little bit more urgency on his sleeve than she would have deigned to do herself. She had a few questions herself, including mainly why someone would want to alter the black magic associated with herself, when she knew none. Then again, there were things about herself she knew little about.

Having left home at an early age, she didn't have the chance to learn all she could about her race and their magic, which was a large portion of Elven culture. Her parents, who lived on the fringes of the Elven nation, used magic for little else than to help their crops prosper and grow or to do chores around the house. Living so close to the humans, they didn't want to reveal too much of Elven society for fear of not being welcomed whence they returned "home" for the winter months.

Ebon remembered very little of those winter months, having been far too young to remember with much accuracy the things that took place in her Elven village. In truth, she wondered if she'd be allowed back if she could find such a place. Her reputation wasn't exactly reputable, but part of her did want to pay a visit to her past...

She mentally shook herself and forced herself to focus on Dedman, hoping that he would soon reveal more of the situation at hand.

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Dedman:
Dedman did not seem to mind the obvious disinterest of EbonAshe, and simply began:

“I don’t think this is a proper place for such a discussion, but if you insist.”

“After I examined the blood left on the tavern floor, I was able to track other sources of blood from the same creature, in this case EbonAshe. After the obvious elimination of the tavern I was able to trace the remaining numerous possibilities to various general locations, nothing too exact. In my travels I came across a servant of a man named Hoth’ar, the apparent ruler of the region I was traveling through. I was *informed* that he required a tax for travelling through the area. I told him I would pay if he could provide any information on EbonAshe, he replied that she was the equivalent to an outlaw in the region and that if I was attempting to help her I was to be arrested. I promptly killed him. It seems that this was a choice the guards of the area did not appreciate, they assumed I was one of the soldiers from a province waging a personal war with their leader. I summoned a small regiment of dead warriors to deal with the men, so that I could continue my search. Apparently after leaving the men to be slaughtered, they requested reinforcements and overwhelmed my servants."

"I found it amazing that even one of them escaped with only gashes from head to toe. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when he appeared before me, wailing about gaining the blessing of this Hoth’ar to track me and kill me personally. He was still injured from the earlier battle, gashes that should still be pouring blood were dry. I asked him about what magic would be used to prevent death from mortal wounds, his reply was a string of profanity, and telling me that with the blessing of Hoth’ars personal cleric, one could live through anything. He proceeded to draw that accursed dagger saying that it would protect him from any of my spells. The fact that I am here should be proof enough that this cleric of Hoth’ar needs better training. Besting him as a warrior was simple enough, though I am no expert with a sword, I did delight in reopening his wounds one by one. The more he bled the more white mana I was able to sense pouring from his body, similar to opening the floodgates of a dam. I decided that the fight needed to end soon, so I sheathed my sword and stripped my gauntlets, fortunately even blessed by the best of clerics, bleeding will slow any fighter. I simply sidestepped a blind rush and grabbed hold of the skin exposed by a gap in his armor, what there was of it. As he rotted, I stooped to pick up that weapon, when I took hold of it, that white spot on the bottom appeared. It must be the *blessing* he was raving about because all it has done is channel white mana and play hell with a few of my abilities that require strength of mind without the use of mana."

"Now, in answering your question, I want to know the significance of that blade. I want to know what made that man think he could best me with nothing more then a dagger. And I want to know where I may find this arrogant Hoth’ar person, it seems I owe him a great deal of suffering."

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Ebon-Ashe:
The story of how Dedman had bested the follower of Hoth'ar was as bland as sugarless tea, but she kept quiet and listened, though expressing her distaste for the lengthy story by a look of disinterest, as the fool might share information that might be valuable.

She did prickle at the thought of being followed by this crazy fool. Walking right into a fight that was none of his business and letting Hoth'ar know who he was was foolish indeed. In fact, now that he'd shown some of his powers to him, Hoth'ar would be careful to look into weaknesses to exploit. If Dedman had any advantage before, it was exhausted now.

Clearing her throat, she spoke, "You're a fool if you think that measley dagger is even a fraction of this fiend's power." Ebon-Ashe glared at Dedman. "If anyone is arrogant around here, it's you."

This was it, she wasn't going to let this insolent fool walk into her problems and expect to remain unscathed. He was in for a severe tongue lashing. Her anger, which had festered as she listened to him speak, now boiled over.

"You expect us to share information with you when you walk into this situation uninvited-- retracing my steps-- and then when your own folly gets you into trouble with my enemies, you expect me to let you enter the fray because you found a dagger similar to the one that jabbed me? If anything, your quick thinking, if you can call it that, has jeopardized any opportunity for suprise that we might have had. You've put yourself in danger as well as myself by bandying my own name about that area! You're as much a fool as you are lucky to get away unscathed and with that dagger in one piece."

Spitting on the floor beside her chair, she finished. Her anger still resonating strong. Though, she'd managed to calm herself a bit as she expended some of her energies on shouting. It felt good, but she still wasn't feeling one hundred percent and didn't have the strength to yell more than that.

She continued-- this time much calmer, though still angry. "But since you've seen fit to make yourself a target, I see little choice but to let you in on the facts." This was the last thing she wanted, but there wasn't really another choice.

She motioned for Dedman to pull up a chair and sit down.

"I'm not certain of the blade's significance myself. I was hoping my husband would tell me what he's learned about the dagger since finding the shard in my arm." Ebon looked at Curulan, hoping to catch his eyes. "I also have a few questions of my own I'd like to ask, some of them can wait untill later, but I'd like to hear about the dagger and possible side effects from it right now." She rubbed her arm where she'd been stabbed as she spoke.

The inky black mark was even larger than before. The stain on her skin had now traveled down to her wrist and spread around parts of her arm as well. Physically, Ebon felt more sensitive as if her body was fighting the poison of the black stain. She flexed her hand and the sensation chilled her spine.

"I'd like to know what exactly is happening to me, how to cure it, and I'd like to reap the same punnishment on the bastard who thought it was cute to stab me and leave me to die."

Thoughts of revenge against Hoth'ar tickled her mind. Oh, the pain she could inflict on his soul....

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Dedman:
Dedman, obviously insulted by the comments, spent a moment calming his thoughts. If anyone was listening, they would have heard a guttural howl emanating from dedman's mind in a voice not his own.

"Arrogance and pride in ones abilities are entirely separate entities."

"Remember, no-one, No-One on this realm knows my true strengths or purposes, yet. I find arrogance to result in what happened to that idiot soldier with his little knife, clerical enchantment or not."

"If you want to gripe at me for offering my services and providing information, feel free. But do it after you find out what in the 9 spheres is wrong with you this time, and we find a way to stop it. That includes you Curulan."

Taking a breath, dedman remembers that he is not exactly on EbonAshe's good side at the moment, he does what comes natural, presses his luck untill it snaps.

"As far as escaping unscathed, you would be hard pressed to find an actual physical scar from any battle on my skin, tainted or not. The fool's I spoke of however, well you would be hard pressed to find their skin."

"Please do not assume that this Hoth'ar is the first *powerful* being I have ever crossed. And do not assume that he will be the last."

"As far as jeopardizing anyone with any names, you should know that the easiest way to catch any prey, is to use the right bait. If you are so scared I can summon some *fun* creatures to *protect* you, but somehow I doubt this idiot would send anymore guards against us. They are expensive to train if all they ever do is rot."

"Petty arguments aside, I would like to study that wound, from a safe distance of course. I'll not promise that I can remedy whatever ails you, as I am no cleric, but I may be able to buy you some much needed time. Assuming you can hold your tongue in commenting on my method of examination, seeing that I have done everything else wrong."

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Curulan:
Curulan sighs, his patience slowly becoming exhausted by the pair arguing before him. His wife, he could excuse, but the other was really grating on his nerves. He the onyx dagger out of the table and thrusts back it blade-first into the wood, the force causing splinters to be ejected from the impact point.

"Both of you, shut up and sit down if you want to know anything!"

Once they do, he sits again himself and starts to explain, mostly for Ebon's benefit than the other's.

"First of all, this toy," Curulan points to the dagger sitting in the table, "is nothing but a poor imitation of the object in question; it has no power but that of any other knife. The dagger you were stabbed with is one of a set called the daggers of Semu. The details of what they were and who created them are unimportant to the matter at hand, but they were destroyed by ... a certain organization." Curulan catches himself quickly to avoid revealing too much at this time. Ebon, however, may be able to work some details out, if she tries hard enough.

"All of them were thought to be destroyed, but eventually it was discovered that one of them escaped destruction. That one was the key to replenishing the creators' legions. In short, anyone who was stabbed by this last remaining dagger will be subject to a blood curse. The curse will, over time, turn the afflicted into a Lesser Vampire. The first symptom of this curse is amnesia, caused by a blocking of the victims long-term memory. This we have already taken care of."

"The second symptom is starting to manifest itself more visibly, as shown by your arm. The melanin in the skin darkens, allowing some protection from ultraviolet radiation, to which Lesser Vampires have a deadly allergic reaction."

Curulan sighs, and shakes his head.

"I do not know how Hoth'ar obtained that dagger, nor do I wish to speculate on the implications that follow. What I do know, however, is that unless we find a way to break the curse within a month, you will be irreversibly turned into a Lesser Vampire, and subject to the powers and weaknesses of one of their kind."