Allaria - Chapter 2: The Apotheoses' War

[Rilla]

Another Exhibition

​

The almost muted sound of hissing filled the jovial, yet quiet, Rocoan Hall. Its walls were lined with drunk men and women who were thoroughly enjoying he spectacle before them. Sarahix had been given another victim to murder for the enjoyment of Eclava, whom had just returned from another hunting campaign that turned up several escapees from all those months ago. A look around would still see the Immortal Priest, Echush, crucified above the throne that seated Eclava. In the middle of the floor, a man was having the life squeezed from him, the powerful grip applied by the tail of Sarahix, who would, just at the point of his death, release him for a moment to capture his breath before reapplying her hold on him. He could not run, he could not hide, he could not plead. The snake woman was forever under the command of Eclava, and so long as the woman wished for his death, she would always deliver. On her own time, of course. Her piercing black eyes never left Eclava, staring deep into the Drow wenches eyes; an almost lustful look in them. Eclava gave a sharp nod, and the man found his ribs broken, one puncturing his lungs. Sarahix dropped him to the ground and watched as he died slowly, the first time she had taken her eyes off her master, her leader, during the duration of the exhibition.

To Eclava’s left was Fananatu whom had kept both of his roles prominent - though one was hidden from the Drow. He was not objective of these exhibitions, in fact, he longed for them. He enjoyed the darker side of the Apotheoses, though he did not agree with his position in them. While not as smart as Ivan or the elusive Falden, he was far more suited to lead than Edan-Es or Eclava. The Dragoniod stood to the left of Eclava and watched, waiting - he knew an order would come soon. There were still many escapees missing and Eclava had been determined to hunt each and every one of them down, so long as they remained in the hook, remained in her, and Ivan’s, territory. He had already sowed the seeds for the next search party, ordered the few men and women that would be prime candidates for the party to be in attendance so that he may choose them. They were sympathic to his cause and further more to that of the cause of many underground rebellions. They wanted to restore faith in the God’s, be it because they felt it was right, or because under the rule of the God’s their own fiendish ways of life. They did not know of his actual cause, of course, which was far more sinister and did not require the defeat of the Apotheoses, but more-so a changing of the guard.

The crowd jeered as the man’s life finally fluttered out like a candle’s flame on it’s last flicker. In the past few months, there had been a birth, a very special birth. It was that of a child, conceived by the rape of a minotaur by a formerly radioactive mutant. Its cries filled the Hall, though no one knew if they were the cries of a happy child, or a scared one. Furthermore, the use of ‘baby’ to describe the child would be wrong, the creature was of age now, though it were no more than five months old. Eclava had taken to experimenting on the child, rapidly advancing it to the stage of a young adult, roughly twenty two in human years and looks - yet his mentality had been severely stunted. It was naught more than a primitive killing machine, it knew nothing but murder and play. The odd creature sulked to the middle of the floor where the man lay dying, a thick collar wrapped around the creature’s neck, with an even thicker chain trailing behind it. To those unaware, the beast had the head of a minotaur, and the lean body of a man. It was deceptively quick, and deceptively powerful. Thus far, only one man had been able to control the savage beast, by a mix of brute force and the thing’s own instincts towards family - Fairst. The creature, in naught but a loincloth to cover his cock, leaned over the man and pressed his left palm against his face. For a moment, he seemed to ponder what to do next, before a single, sharp, metal blade seemed to materialize from his wrist and slice the man’s neck open.

Many in the crowd took a step back, knocking into those behind them, causing ale to crash to the floor. The beast did not seem to notice or care what was going on around him. His face lowered to the cut, which was spurting large reserves of blood into the air, reminiscent of a fountain. He lapped up the blood as it coated his lips and fur, some dripping down to his chest. For a while, he moved into his own world, as if no one else was around him - until a sharp jerk on the chain brought him back to reality. “GET OVER HERE!” A booming voice said over the noiseless crowd, accompanied by another tug on the thick chain. The creature was lifted and sent crashing back into a table, the metal that was in his body - which, unlike Fairst’s, was naturally occurring - ejected and jammed into the ground, halting his further movements. He roared viciously and turned to face his attacker, but immediately limped when he saw it was his father. The man dragged him back into the crowd, which had parted for the beast’s passage. Many tried to have little to nothing to do with the man-beast, out of fear for his enormous strength and savage brutality. Only one went so far as to taunt the creature and that was Sarahix, who seemed to be jealous of Eclava’s fascination with the new creature.

“Fananatu…,”

A voice called him and he reacted immediately. He stood before Eclava in a flash, hands together and face turned to the ground. “Yes, mistress?”

“It is time for another search party. I am going to send Charlotte, Valcherion, Vintus, and another to find more of the escapees.”

“Mistress, if I may. We may have more luck in weeding them out if the people that were sent blended in with the crowd. As you well know, these people protect their own, and having new faces could weed them out. In anticipation of you accepting this offer, I have already assembled a squad of people here anxious to prove their loyalty to you, my Mistress.” Fananatu waved his hand, beckoning for Jonathon, Sin, Forsoff, and others to come over. “These people here are run of the mill, in terms of abilities, yet deadly effective in infiltration. They are the perfect candidates to sneak into the underground rebellion to glean much needed information if we are to crush these people before they take root and mount a vicious attack."

Eclava thought on this point for a moment, and nodded her approval. “They are to leave in two hours if they are to begin their search.” Her words were short and to the point. She rose and walked out of the hall, signaling the end of the exhibition.

Fananatu smiled as his head rose and turned, leading his adventures back to his chambers where they could speak in peace.

Gods’ Deception

* “All this time and we are still not yet ready for his arrival.” Asclepius spoke quietly to the Wolfen God across from him. “However, as long as Michael remains as he is, then all shall be fine.” Michael had been stuck in a near catatonic state since it had been revealed he was at fault for the way things were now. While they knew little of the man they were dealing with, it had been surmised that he was human - they had the most curiosity, the most drive, the most cunning. The medicine man walked to a large table with scattered plans atop it and began to pack the papers up into a satchel for safe keeping. None could see what they were working on or it would all be for naught - surely, they would tell the rest and Movius and Asclepius would be forever watched. This sort of traitorous behavior was unheard of among their ranks and would forever be so. *

± “Hush, Medicine Man, you are still the most hated of the gods, the most untested - if not for your advancing in medicine, you would still be on the ground, subject to the whims of the Apotheoses, the whims of ‘The Grey‘.” Movius watched as Asclepius grimaced at this thought, even he feared The Grey. The only man to seem to be on par with his abilities as a medicine man. “Anyway, things are progressing exactly as the man stated they would - soon we will be free to roam the world without the restrictions they have placed on us. None will be able to deny our might - nor my hunger.” ±

* “Says the chained wolf. They’ll never fully allow you back into the world, and that is why you need me, that is why we need him and he needs us. Yes, things are progressing as planned, yet, I feel that the Drow is getting close to us. She suspects something, it’s almost as if she knows something underhanded is going on. What shall we do about her?” *

± “There is nothing we can do, except wait patiently. She is of no importance, her time is steadily coming to an end.” Movius moved out into the Halls of Heaven, watching the empty expanse before heading down one of the nearby corridors. The rest of the Gods were gathered, still watching the map of the world, a map that changed constantly, yet was easily read by each of them. They knew what was going on and that was what hurt them the most. They could do nothing to help those who needed them, those who still prayed for their God‘s to come down and smite those who stood to oppress them. They knew some had to be praying, but their faith had been so smothered by the kind words turned vicious war of the Apotheoses it was waning, and waning fast. Movius reveled in this, because while he was bound by the same rules, but his race did not strictly abide to a God, therefore, he was not bound to them. His betraying them would not effect him adversely at all. ±

The rest of the Gods watched as Movius entered the room, though none said anything to him. Lloth eyed him suspicious but her lips did not part in any quips, instead, she returned her gaze to the Hook, or perhaps more importantly, Rocoa. Those who had lost faith no longer appeared on the map, nor did those who had no faith to begin with. In times before the Apotheoses, the map was bright with individual dots, but now, it was getting dimmer and dimmer; with only key places being lit. Something had to change fast if they were to be able to mount a return, or they would forever be left in Heaven.

Port Jinn

Ivan watched as those now under his eye scurried about their lives. Unlike Eclava he was content with letting them slave in the fields, or in the houses, doing whatever the saw fit in their leisure time, so long as it did not go against the doctrine of the Apotheoses. Denelii, his Skin Beast, stood at his side; though he was in the form of a Claymore, the legendary Claymore than rarely ever left the presence of Ivan. He reached out to touch the sword and stroke its hilt; it seemed to pulse with life. “Soon, my friend, we shall add another to our collective.” He had already gained another being by the name of Stephan, though he had enjoyed watching Stephan’s charge practically kill the man under the guise of trying to save him. He never knew what became of that soul, what was his name, Jarod?

Ivan rose from his seat and walked out to the streets of Port Jinn - the sun beating down upon the flesh of those out and about. Children, with their damaged innocence played, but shrugged away from Ivan. His soldiers bowed as he passed them. He smiled at this outcome, though, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that caused him to frown deeply.

The Jester was back!

[MelonHead]

Stout, wearing a simple leather tunic, hose and boots with a blacksmiths apron tied around his neck, Forsoff the dwarf stood with one hand firmly stroking his black beard with a frown on his scarred face. His hands were large and marked by the heat of the forge, and if that were not enough to tell his chosen profession the heavy looking hammer tied to a leather strap on his back certainly was. He had watched proceedings quietly angry, although only the most trained of observers would have been able to tell that the dwarf was filled with righteous indignation towards the barbaric actions of those around him. Certainly his scruples would have gotten him promptly into great heaps of trouble, which accounted for why he remained completely silent until all but one of the officials had left. Even a Dwarf like Forsoff had the good sense to remain quiet sometimes; certainly not all conflicts could be solved by one short man and his hammer.

He had arrived in Rocoa recently, taking a long route from the unremarkable town he had found himself staying in at the time. Forsoff had a knack for judging when it was time to move on, when he had learned all he could and when there was other fortunes to see. Besides which the message had been clear; the responsibility was firmly laid on him to do what was necessary. He had felt drawn to this place regardless, be it for further training in the blacksmithing trade, or even to seek his fortunes as a warrior. Forsoff was not a god fearing Dwarf, but neither was he a coward or a fool, the opportunity for adventure perhaps had swayed him towards his current cause. He just hoped that the price he was expected to pay was not his life.

Forsoff ventured out into the city, apparently given leave for a couple of hours of pointless wandering. The Dwarf looked at the many hawking merchants and their wares with feigned interest, steadily making his way towards the building he could almost sniff out like a hound. It was only as he neared his destination that a man selling general items caught his attention, he was short like Forsoff and quite obviously a Dwarf.

“Kinsman, what‘re yer doin’ out here with these surface rats eh?” The Dwarven merchant asked him curiously as he approached.

“Lookin’ for a tavern, brother mine.” Forsoff grinned in reply, staring into the drawn face of his second eldest brother.

“How’s pa?” His brother asked him. Forsoff shook his head.

“Same as always, proud n’ sour. It’s good ta see you Belmund.”

“You too Forsoff. So you be here on business then?” There was a hint of curiosity in the older Dwarf’s voice.

“True enough, dangerous business it is too. I can’t tell yer the whole of it but I might not be comin’ back.” Forsoff didn’t let the thought worry him; a cheery grin remained on his face throughout.

“Dangerous eh, then you might be needin’ some things.”

“Aye.”

“I can give you a good price.” His brother grinned boyishly.

“Cheatin’ yer own brother Belmund? You should be ashamed of yerself.”

“We’re alive to make profit mine Brother.”

Forsoff took up half an hour of his brother’s time, talking and laughing about the old times, before making his promises to return and taking the small satchel of food, travelling gear, and the short axe he had bought fairly cheaply from his brother. He wandered further down the street until he arrived at the tavern, and downed a few mugs heartily before remembering what it was he was supposed to be doing.

“Blast it, best be goin’ lads.” He told his new drinking companions, they groaned at his departure and waved him off with a few drunken pats to the back. He left the tavern with only the slightest sway in his step as he walked back to the Hall and Fanatau’s chambers, only stopping to deposit his own recently purchased goods in his small room.

As Forsoff entered Fananatu’s chambers about ten minutes early, he looked around with some curiosity; apparently the Dragoniod had some taste for culture. Everywhere he looked there were symbols of the strange race which were slowly dying to the Minotaur, and weapons he had never seen before in his life, let alone used or forged, hung from the walls. Some of them seemed to be made of interesting metals he had not had the pleasure to work with in the past, he had to stop himself from stealing them and taking a closer look. Looking around the rest of the chambers he saw nothing particularly interesting to his eye, but no doubt with each of their chosen skillsets certain other objects in the room would be of more importance to his fellow adventurers when they arrived.

“Fananatu.” He announced his arrival. Forsoff strode over on stumpy legs and sat himself down in a chair much too big for him. He pulled out a pipe from somewhere in his hose and began to puff thoughtfully.


--- Summary ---

Forsoff arrives in Rocoa after being drawn there by an undeniable urge.
He experiences the strangeness of the court, and visits the market where he meets his brother.
Forsoff returns to Fananatu’s chambers after purchasing travelling supplies.

[Dorian Gregory]

“I didn’t realize they were actually calling for a pound of flesh,” scoffed a straggly man sitting at a table somewhere in the dark and dank Rusty Cutlass tavern.

“What kind of flesh?” Aaensin spoke softly at the man’s back as he propped his body against one of the sturdier support beams only a few inches away.

“It was a joke…” the straggly man continued as he motioned as if scratching his shoulder leaving behind a small bundle of coin. “At least old Quov could laugh at a joke…”

Sin shook his head as he reached out from beneath the ragged cloak that seemingly enshrouded him in mystery. “Will the flesh of dwarf suit your needs?”

“Yeah boy…that’ll do. Maybe the old man can teach you to laugh at a customer’s jokes. It’ll keep things more interesting.”

Sin pushed of the wooden pillar without a word. He slowly cornered around the table, passing closely. As he did, a small bundle no larger than dagger wrapped in cloth was carelessly dropped onto the table. Sin continued on towards the counter without a second glance.

More often than not, no one was the wiser. It was one of the prominent reasons Quov Tsin had provided his apprentice with the Rusty Cutlass as his stomping grounds. The dilapidated tavern was hidden away amongst the back alleys of Rocoa and rarely explored by the guard or those without knowledge of exactly what they were looking for.

“A mug of ale Jazz,” Aaensin called for as he sat down at the bar.

“What sort of contraband are you peddling boy?”

Before Sin could even sit down the gruff voice of the oddity he had never encountered before had pierced his eardrum. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The dragonoid hand, armed with iron sharp claws grasped at his shoulder. The creature jerked the young boy to assure that their eyes would meet, the gargantuan creature’s claws carefully digging in. “Well you best wise up boy.”

The creature’s body hunched forward leaning in to clear the shadow that had engulfed Sin’s face, “You’re Quov Tsin’s apprentice, are you not?”

Aaensin could muster no courage to speak, he merely shuddered a nod.

“Good,” the creature said sliding his free hand over the counter in front of Sin. The folded piece of parchment that the hand contained was readily apparent and in surprisingly good condition. It had to be important. “Give this to him and I shall forget of your little indiscretion.”

Once again, Sin could manage nothing more than a frightened nod.

“Good, then we have an understanding. Make sure you’re quick about it,” the dragonoid grinned before releasing Aaensin and smugly pushing off through the crowd.

Aaensin was bewildered. He had no idea what to make of the situation that had just occurred. Never before had anyone ever called him out on the selling he did. He had no idea how to respond even when confronted. His Master would have been thoroughly disappointed.

“Should I throw this out Sin?” Jazz said placing a hand on the folded up piece of parchment sliding the flagon in front of him.

“N-no,” Sin shouted, swiftly snatching the paper away in overreaction, “no…”

* * *

“You’ll have to go in my place…” Quov coughed out, his body convulsing violently as he slowly maneuvered through the apothecary shop.

“But Master….this beast…he specifically –“ Sin was promptly interrupted.

“Fananatu will have to make due. You will go in my place, bringing with you the skills I have taught you. Whether or not he is pleased, I care not.”

“Yes Master,” Aaensin replied as he began to refill his pouches not with goods suitable for sale but for those better suited for the construction of alchemical potions.

“You have knowledge of some potent concoctions even if you have yet to actually test them for yourself. Fananatu will make use of this knowledge as long as you make it readily apparent that I am available to you at any time.”

“What if he has questions?” Sin inquired as he navigated a few shelves, and a number of tables merely to acquire the chosen pieces of equipment that he desired.

Quov coughed as he stood up, stretching his elderly body to reach a box on a high shelf. He could barely reach it, but with a short struggle he managed to drop it down to the table below. He clung to his elderly form, caste in shambles as his slender fingers wrapped around the corners of the box.

“You will answer them to the best of your ability.” Quov responded eyeing the box of dirt that he just retrieved, “There is a reason he searched for you in the Rusty Cutlass, because he does not know how to reach this homestead. I plan to keep it that way.”

Without allowing time for Sin to respond, the elderly man relinquished a dusty water skin from within the box of dirt and presented it to the young apprentice. “Full, as I expected. As long as you bury it for four hours once emptied, it will refill itself.”

"And what if he expects me to bring him here Master, to you, in your weakened state?”

“As I have said, in order for you to survive this place must remain a secret. This is why I have chosen you as my apprentice. You have a knack for getting around this city’s darkest alleys. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t get yourself killed.”

“That’s reassuring…” Aaensin scoffed.

Both Quov and Sin spent a short while gathering up a few more supplies. They were mostly alchemical in nature such as components, reagents, and scrolls containing notes or containers in which for the concoctions to be held in before they became of some use. Of course, Quov was not about to let Sin traipse around unprepared and had accounted for situations requiring money, food, and healing. Of course, neither man could even attempt to account for every possible situation so preparation was lackluster at best. Further still, if Sin was not given enough time in between tasks to prepare there was even less he could do. It would be ludicrous to assume that he would not come ready with a few pre-assembled potions of varying affects but how many could he carry safely before it became hazardous to his existence?

“Now Sin, leave your pack and come with me…there are a few more things we need to go over.” Quov Tsin was already standing over the opened floorboards that revealed a staircase down into the bowels of the home. It was apparent that such an entrance had been hidden given the rolled up rug and the table that was slightly askew from the rest.

“Yes Master,” Sin replied closing his backpack up before scurrying through the apothecary shop to aid his Master in their descent.
If the two of them were required to maneuver through these depths, Sin had already been fully aware of the implications that were required of him.

* * *

Aaensin slowly turned his head away. He averted his eyes away from the sickly display held out amongst the crowd like some elaborate display of civilized entertainment. Amongst a crowd that appeared to thoroughly enjoy it, Sin knew better. This display of entertainment had been nothing more but a self-indulgent murder caste in the light of intimidation. He knew better or at least he believed. He may have been too afraid at that point to even raise a single squeak but that did not mean he had to watch.

The unlucky refugee was losing his life at the hands the yuan-ti Sarahix, but everyone knew who pulled the strings. Eclava was a fickle bitch and no life would be wasted. Through this poor refugee’s lost life, the undisputed overlord of the Hook openly defaced everything the once proud people had stood for. Eclava spat on their liberty, their freedom, their pursuit of happiness and they idly stood by reveling in her grandeur only to keep their lives.

Sin was no different. Even as he turned his head down towards the half-empty flagon of lackluster ale, the young man was only brave enough to do as he was commanded. The table jostled. The ale bounced over the edge of the mug. He found little need to cause a ruckus. His stature was limited to begin with. There was little to be done with rash decision making. Sin’s eyes detracted from his conscious effort. The sight brought sickness to his stomach. He pulled away once again, shielding his eyes with an open palm. It was only luckily enough that he did so unnoticed.

As the crowd danced in front of him moving to and fro, waxing and waning like the tides of the ocean current Aaensin could not help but take note of the civil servant that brought him to this wretched place. Fananatu was either extremely arrogant or slovenly foolish. Sin had not been able to decide. The young man was foolish enough to expose himself to the toxic environment that surrounded him at the request of Fananatu. It was a request that seemed anything but a request. He was not so bold as to openly disobey what felt to be Eclava’s will. Fananatu on the other, or so he thought was certainly playing with the sword of Damocles.

Of course, Sin’s mistrust on Fananatu did not feel misplaced. The dragonoid stood so authoritatively proud beside his queen. If he was in no position to slaughter Eclava, how could he be so coy in collecting the masses to do it for him? The young man knew nothing of subterfuge or petty scheming enshrouded by shadow. Aaensin was not even man enough to question it now. Yet to his surprise or perhaps dismay something had brought him to trust the words of Eclava’s sly underling. Perhaps his trust was misplaced?

Aaensin could not help but draw his attention towards the center of the crowd as it roared to life. The refugee had been purged from existence, left in a crumbled heap upon the floor. Slobbering heathens they were. They were worthless men clinging to an existence fueled by death after vicious death to appease their own blasphemous beliefs. So easily had they throw their beliefs down, set aflame by the honey scented words of Eclava and her hulking fist of iron. Even as the crowd parted, Sin would not be so crass.

Sin felt a shiver crawl up his spine. An eerie feeling of discomfort, disgust, and fear washed over him, dripping over the furthest reaches of every extremity. His eyes only danced upon the sight for a moment. The twisted abomination seemingly born from the cruelest extensions of Eclava’s mind, crept through the crowd as if afraid of its own shadow. How could Sin know that it knew no fear? Mottled fur danced about its neck, tangled with dried gore. Drool crept from the corners of its slack jaw. Nostrils flaring, the beast’s eyes danced upon the fallen refugee. The minotaur horns that protruded from either side of its head seemed adequate to gore the lifeless body into oblivion, just another spectacle for the crowd’s juvenile demeanor to revel in. Sin found it hard to turn away.

Sin watched as the ghastly creature outstretched its palm. Slowly it wrapped its tendril like fingers around the lifeless figures face. Aaensin could only think who that particular refugee happened to be. Could he have been just an apprentice like himself? The creature controlled the limp body as if it were nothing more than a slender house cat. As disgusted with himself as he was, the young man had trouble pulling his eyes away. He had been awestricken unlike the crowd that surrounded him. Even as the beast produced a blade of unknown origins, seemingly manifesting out of the nothingness of its flesh Sin did not avert his eyes again. And even as the gangly creature lurched forward to drink from the refugee’s severed neck, so profusely excreting the viscous fluid of life, Sin no longer seemed to flinch.

Apparently without a moments Sin was thrown to the ground with a great huff. Covered in warm mead, the young man tumbled to the ground caste beneath the feet of shocked individuals amongst the crowd. It had parted as if a sea by some divine intervention. He could not scamper to his feet fast enough. As if drawn upon by some rapscallion with a sword, Aaensin would rise to battle with the hilt of his own dagger held tightly in his palm. But he dared not to move closer. He barely dared to rise to his feet at the stifled sound of gurgling grunts and howls.

Fairst, the creature on the other end of a dense, length of chain tethered to the abominations neck had drawn hard on the chain retrieving his “child” or so it had been aptly described. The beast tumbled back, hurtling through the crowd and barreling over the table that Aaensin had found prudent for his drink. Caught off guard, the young man was surprised that he had not fallen victim to the creature’s propensity for inflicting death. The crowd had parted too slowly for Fairst to be appeased and as such made his own hole at the expense of the creature that he would seemingly adore.

Of course, this would not be the first time that Sin would have his attention torn towards something that he had little interest in dealing with. While he gawked at the inherent control that Fairst exerted over the demonic creature, his slack jaw was drawn towards Fananatu’s irritating voice as it spoke his name. The dragonoid had the silver tongue of a sly devil “persuasive” enough to bring Aaensin into this wretched nest of debauchery. Little had he been aware; however, that it would bring him under direct influence of that bestial bitch of a drow Eclava.

He tried to stand up. In fact, he tried to clamor, scramble, drag, and even leap to his feet. What more could he have done to even make himself appear less awkward? It was not until a burly looking woman snatched him up by the wrist as he tore at her dress that Aaensin was pulled to his feet. With his deepest sympathies he slinked away through the crowd and towards the center stage, where Sarahix stood eyeing the atrocious abomination distastefully.

What the hell had he been roped in to? Eclava would leave Fananatu to his suggestion. What would she care who did her bidding as long as it was accomplished successfully? In her eyes, they probably would all die anyway. Aaensin; however, felt little relief with the lack of Eclava’s presence.

It was all Aaensin could do not to make his awkward avoidance of Sarahix readily apparent. He slowly staggered at the front edge of the crowd, never turning his back on the yuan-ti. Hauntingly beautiful in her own right, Sin had little interest in showing any amount of affection in any form towards the creature. Luckily enough for him, he was not nearly as impressive as anyone the yuan-ti would be concerned about. Sarahix’s attention would certainly be drawn elsewhere at least for the time being.

Even as he breached the crowd, successfully navigating the fiendish daemon Aaensin questioned his readiness. Little could be understood of what he was actually preparing for. If it had not been for his Master he would have shown up naked. Yet, if it had not been for his Master he would not have had to show up at all. Extra rations had always been in short supply. Certainly there were a few odds and ends but nothing substantial. Sin had been urged to take them anyway and without any reassurance of his success.

The hallway leading off of the main chamber was decorated with alternating shields and banners paying homage to Eclava hanging on either side of the wall. The arch-way which may have been large by Aaensin’s standards was barely tall enough to all the dragonoid to pass without fear of bumping his head. Of course, the construct dwarfed the dwarf that was calm enough to meander down the hall before Sin could slink beyond the fiendish horde. Fananatu effortlessly thrust the iron banded wooden door open, ducking to enter the room through the pre-constructed portcullis. He left the door open behind him, which was swiftly breached by the dwarf. Sin on the other hand remained quite weary of the dumbfounded men positioned outside the door, fully armed as if protecting something. Slowly he would approach; however, his eyes would not leave the floor.

[Nemaisare]

“You’re wanted, husband mine. Page come and gone time you take t’blink, poor lad, lookin’ all peeked too. Best y’get your arse off t’see the lady, John. Best do fast.”

Quiggley couldn’t help but blink a moment at his wife. The greeting she gave him was an entirely unexpected one. He had, after all, just come from the Lady’s presence. True, he’d taken a circuitous route to make it home, but he hadn’t dawdled so long that she could possibly have decided she wanted him again and sent someone off so quickly that he wasn’t caught up along the way. Everything had seemed fine when he left, no disappointments, no awkward moments, no I’ll be needing you again soon… So what was it calling him back?

He found his fingers unconsciously fiddling with the silver pendant the Lady had entrusted to him. A dove in flight, her spirit animal… Well, no matter the foreboding he felt, when he’d accepted her service he’d not given any sort of conditional oath. His time was the Lady’s, whether or no he’d already given her a full day’s trials. “Aye, s’pose I best. An’ you lookin’ all a sight fer mine eyes, sorry tis I’m t’be gone agin. Klep y’eyes you git tired and no waitin’ up, yeh?”

He gave her one kiss such as they always did, and headed back to the Lady’s house. Had he known what was waiting for him there, Quiggley might have refused to step within a 50 foot parameter of the place. Even farther, if he’d known Fananatu already knew of him, for all the dragonoid had asked after any man in Lady Dalia’s employ suitable to his needs. Specific needs, of course. As it was, it was too late; he was caught the moment he stepped into the room. The discussion was short, one-sided and uneventful in the extreme. But it marked a closing of one part of his life and the opening of a new one. And the door being shut was a heavy one. When the lizardspawn left, he and the lady had stood for many minutes in silence.

He did not know if he should blame her or pity her. Though he assuredly pitied himself. Anyone with any sort of mind knew it was better to never be caught up in the politics of the powerful. And here he was being handed over to one of the highest. In a bid against possibly the strongest. Finally, without needing to look at the lady’s face, he removed the pendant and handed it back to her. Where he was going, he should have no connection to the nobility. She’d left little enough mark on him otherwise. “Lady, I’ll be missin’ a few good days, I ‘spect.” Clearing his throat, he glanced her way as she took the pendant. “You’ll keep m’wife, safe? Lady?” She was under no obligation to do so, and he did not wait to see her refuse him, just in case. Chelse could look after herself, but he didn’t like thinking of her needing to.

***

When he’d arrived home that night, having taken far longer than necessary by way of getting soused in unnatural bravery, Quiggley had slipped into bed and wrapped his arms around his wife. He’d told her nothing of the arrangements that had been made, merely that he was going to be gone for a time, and if she ran into trouble she ought to go to the Lady. He was owed that, at the least, for being volunteered to this purpose. Oh, he wasn’t about to complain too loudly, but he might have liked the choice of when and where and how he offered his help to this cause against the Apotheoses. He’d left the house with his cloak as usual, keeping his baggage count as minimal as nothing. Just a bit more food than usual and an extra length of rope. And an empty flask he’d fill when the first opportunity lended itself to doing so. Better than carrying too much extra and weighing himself down. If needs be, he’d borrow a few things along the way.

***

Now, Quiggley stood with a face drained of all blood, tattoos a sharp contrast against the pale leather of his weathered skin. He’d never had a taste for the blood sport. And it was this, more than anything, that had required the drink the night before. If things went wrong and he couldn’t slip sideways to get out of them, that might well be his own fate down there. Caught between the scales of a monster until she twisted too tight for him to remember how to breathe. It terrified him, sure enough. It ought to terrify any sane man as liked living. But he couldn’t look away.

Worse was when the lumbering creature, caught halfway between monster and man and made into something worse, came into its own horror. He swallowed thickly, almost imagining the thick taste of blood sliding down his own throat. Thankfully, his practicality returned before he lost his lunch. Death might well be frightening, but once he was dead, he didn’t imagine there’d be much left to care what happened to his body. Besides, he was in this now, for better or worse, he might as well get it over with. And maybe do some good while he was at it. The Gods would be remembered, the Apotheoses would be… less, if not gone. Changed for the better, he hoped. Otherwise, he’d have no hope of living through the end.

The chaos of the monster’s recall broke him free of his cycling thoughts and Quiggley physically shook himself to draw out some strength from action. As well as to step along with the flow of the crowd as they moved away from the creature’s passage and then back in to fill the gap. And he slipped farther in, picking his way through with a careful ease that now and again descended into a pointed jab with his elbow to move people out of his way. Fananatu was speaking with Eclava, and whether or not he wanted to face either of them, the moment was set in motion and he was meant to step forward with it. If he died the next instant between one breath and the next, he would not be surprised, but he didn’t. Instead, the ex-thief saw the infamous drow nod her head, speak for a moment and then rise and walk away.

The world shrank and grew with the size of his relief as Quiggley loosed a sigh.

Following Fananatu, he paused a moment to collect himself before walking through the door into his chambers. As he did, he noticed the young man pausing there and clapped him on the shoulder, offering a rueful smile by way of encouragement. It didn’t fit very well on his still pale face, but at least it didn’t shake. “Chin up, lad. What’s afore i’n’t ‘alf so bad as what’s be’ind. En’t no use, him ‘armin’ us ‘fore we do ‘im what he asks after.”

Whether or not that was what kept the younger man dragging his feet, Quiggley wasn’t certain, but his words ran away on him a little from the very moment he opened his mouth. He was more than a little nervous himself. But that went pretty much without saying, really. With his words said though, he paused no more and stepped into the dragonoid’s chambers with an air more curious than frightened, though he couldn’t hide the nervous fiddling of his fingers with the brooch that kept his cloak around his shoulders.

[BlckDmnd]

Despite himself, Markith felt his lip curling into a small sneer of disgust as he waited for the drow’s torture to end. The den of the Apotheoses was exactly as he had imagined it: cruel, senseless, and devoid of most sanity. Just standing in the ring of witnesses to the slow and torturous murder made bile rise in the back of Markith’s throat in a strange mixture of anger and fear. Anger because he couldn’t stand having to watch the scene before him and not do anything. Fear because in a few months, he could very well be the one being killed.

He had been found out. After over a year of hiding his faith in Sargas, he had finally been discovered by one of the Apotheoses. His life was literally in the palm of another’s hand, and as soon as he had lost his usefulness, he would be the one facing the serpent Sarahix. Markith closed his eyes briefly to steel his will, resolving to put up a better fight than the drow had when his turn came. The irony, however, was that though his moment of ineptitude had put him in significant danger and would no doubt one day lead to his death, it had also provided him with a rare opportunity: a chance at Eclava’s head. Markith looked away from the grim spectacle in the center of the hall to glance over at the war-paint covered drow, only daring to do so for a few moments before forcing himself to watch the torture once again. The temptation to charge across the hall and attempt to crush Eclava’s head with his bare hands was intense, but Markith knew it was folly. There were a million different ways he could be stopped before he even reached her, and there was no guarantee he could kill her even if he did.

Markith gritted his teeth in frustration. He had become a scared little sheep like the rest of the world, and instead of attempting to kill Eclava like an honorable minotaur would, he stood watching one of her favored servants slowly torture another to death, only able to protest with silence. Markith called it discretion. Many of his people would label it cowardice. But Markith knew it was suicide to do anything other than watch and wait. Still, the situation pricked at his already raw and bloody pride, nonetheless.

Mercifully, the display ended at last, though Markith didn’t know if it was more merciful for him or for the drow who had finally been allowed to die. He let out a small sigh of relief and looked towards Eclava again, expecting her to continue the…festivities, only to have his eyes drawn back to the tortured drow’s corpse by a strange creature stalking towards it. It was a horrible monstrosity, a bastardization of the minotaur. Just looking at the creature filled Markith with the instinctual urge to kill it. It was not natural, and Sargas certainly would never allow such a monster to come about. The rest of the crowd was clearly afraid of the creature. Markith, however, was too busy trying to resist the urge to draw his sword and behead the beast to consider fear. He watched the “child” play with the drow’s corpse, angered that the poor man wasn’t even allowed the dignity of not having his corpse defiled and mutilated further. Such a thing was dishonorable to the extreme, and he would have smacked any minotaur he caught doing such a thing upside the head, or worse. It was just more evidence that the monster was not minotaur. Not in deed, not in word, and not in blood. The twisted mockery was another of a long list of horrifying things Eclava had wrought, one Markith silently swore he would one day set right himself. For now, he was in the presence of Eclava, and he would be forced to watch and wait.

Markith was brought out of his thoughts by something bumping into him. He looked down to see that an elf had taken an involuntary step back from the monster and bumped into him. Markith couldn’t help but smirk slightly. Perhaps he could plant a small seed of discord here.

With that thought, he put a heavy, gauntleted hand down on the elf’s shoulder. “Do not turn away,” he commanded. “Watch, and witness Eclava’s will.”

There were few doubts that the poor elf was revolted and terrified by the creature. By connecting the brute to Eclava, Markith hoped to transfer the elf’s disgust to her. He wasn’t sure if it had worked or not, but he had certainly succeeded in intimidating the elf into watching the monster play with the corpse.

Good, Markith thought. Look upon what your leader brings about, foolish follower of the Apotheoses. Look at it and realize the mistake you’ve made.

~*~

The rest of the proceedings had gone more or less without incident for Markith. He had been called forth to “hunt down escapees”, but he knew his true mission was coming from the man Eclava was speaking with, Fananatu. He had stood alongside several others, a dwarf and two humans, and watched Eclava and Fananatu with an unblinking gaze, though he was careful not to make direct eye contact with Eclava. The drow matriarch had likely killed subordinates for less, and Markith had no intention of being killed for not appearing docile enough to fit her liking before he could do anything.

The meeting had ended quickly, and Markith had been dismissed to discuss the mission with Fananatu and the others. Markith had already arrived prepared with all his armor and equipment, and thus filed out after Fananatu and followed the dragoniod back to his quarters. Markith made no attempt to strike up conversation. He wasn’t fond of Fananatu, and he doubted Fananatu liked him much, either. The minotaur and dragoniods had never been on the best of terms to begin with, and wherever Fananatu’s sympathies lay, they didn’t change the fact that he was still an Apotheos, not to mention one that knew of Markith’s secret worship of Sargas, knowledge that the dragoniod had already put to use to blackmail Markith with. It was fortunate that for now, Markith was “being forced” to do something he already wanted to, but he was aware that that fact could change quickly. No, they certainly had no reason to like each other, Markith decided. Their cooperation was a temporary and purely professional one born of necessity. It was a miracle in itself that it had formed in the first place. They would be at each other’s throats soon enough, no doubt. For now, though, Markith had little choice but to follow orders. His control of the situation had already been lost the moment his religion was revealed.

The group arrived at Fananatu’s quarters, and Markith forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. He strode easily into the room, not showing the curiosity or nervousness the others did as they entered. In fact, his expression didn’t show much of anything. Markith had already steeled himself for this meeting, and while Eclava had certainly surprised him with her display of cruelty before, Markith didn’t think he had much to fear from a simple conversation, even if it was with one of the most powerful Apotheoses in existence. Mere words wouldn’t kill Markith. Or, at least, they wouldn’t yet.

[Rilla]

Rocoa
Several Hours Prior

Fananatu stood looking at a letter, hand written and personally delivered to him - things had changed. They didn’t trust the messengers, or at least, that was the story. The letter noted that to get into the War Council they needed to bring something rare, and Fananatu knew just the thing. To his left, he looked at a majestic ghost leopard. A smirk crossed his draconic lips, the leopard couldn’t vanish - couldn’t come and go as it pleased due to something always watching the creature. “Now remember, Cheshire, you are to be their key to the Council; do as I have commanded, and I will leave them alone.” The creature seemed to understand, which was all Fananatu needed. “I am going off to watch the exhibitions now; you stay here like a good cat, and all will be well.” Fananatu turned, his coat waving behind him as he made his exit.

Brick after brick piled up hiding the room he was once in - none would be able to find it, none so keen with the senses. Runes scarred his rune, hiding it from all but the most powerful runic masters - there were a couple running about, but a novice held the key. The Manifesto of Runes, as discovered by Jinzaga Errouni - Captain of the Allarian Master Warship, was still high atop his list - he would need it to control the Rocoan Chimera. He already held the other key - the Black Blade of Antonio and Jinzaga. The item was procured from the broken statue of Michael when Eclava invaded, cleverly hidden in a homage to the God’s. He oft wondered whose idea it was to hide the sword there, made to look like a enlarged stone sword, but it was often knocked from his mind when other things arose. He managed to disguise the sword as his own, a buster sword of sorts.

“Stay here, Cheshire, I shall return in mere hours.”

He spoke to nothing and vanished into the depths of the Cathedral heading to the Hall to watch the show.

Hours Later

They’d all arrived - they were smart, having gathered their things before hand. That still left them with several hours before they had to depart, but there was nothing wrong with them leaving early. Perhaps Eclava would look kindly upon them for wanting to get a jump on the competition. He looked around at the room, filled with hand chosen people who each had their own reasons for being here. For one, it was because he had been foolish enough to pray, to pray in Rocoa - they Holy City, under the ever watchful eye of Eclava and the even more watchful Fananatu. Another was here because his master was sickly, yet was that the reason? It would never be revealed at least, not yet. No, now, they had work to get to. He paused for a moment to watch those around - they did not trust him, no, but he did not know why. He did not offer them harm nor reason to be distrusting of he who wanted the same thing they wanted. A restoring of order.

“Gentlemen, you all have been brought here for one reason and one reason only. To bring down Eclava and restore order to the Hook, and soon, the entire world. Eclava wants you to hunt down the last of the Escapees, yet there will be no hunt. I know where they reside when Eclava does not. I know where they rest their heads and make their plans. You will be sent to them, in Shian, and then to a special Council. Your targets are as such:

Kayless, a suave thief and spy, who is said to be the one to orchestrate the escape. He is the man you want to speak with, for he is considered to be the brains of the outfit. Do be careful, however, if you get on his bad side, he will not hesitate to stab you in the back if given the chance.

Mars, a woman accused of having a man’s cock ripped from his body when he tried to have his way with her. She is skilled with engineering, but her true power is with her constructs. Sources state her power has grown exponentially and when one is near her, they are always watched. She will not cringe at the thought of having one of them destroy either of you. Her brother is Damian Murthull, who fled via pirate ship.

And finally,

Jarod, who is suffering from the effects of a mental game played by Ivan. He pretended that Stephan, Jarod’s bodyguard and best friend was in danger, and heavily injured. Ivan forced Jarod’s hand and made him heal Stephan, or perhaps that is the wrong word for it? When Jarod was ‘healing’ him, the opposite effect came to be, he was damaging him. Now, Jarod is mentally broken, but it has given him an additional skill. He can now see all the spirits that have no master, no vessel, and transplant them into the bodies of those who lack a spirit.”

Fananatu gazed into the eyes of those around him, smirking as he stepped into the darkness. “There will be others with them, though that is not important. They do not know you are coming, and you must keep that secret, because the Apotheoses is always watching.”

He snapped his fingers and a shimmering leopard walked out to his side. “To get into the Council, you must bring something useful - and this is what you all will bring. It is a rare Ghost Leopard, the rune on its head will be the proverbial ticket.” Fananatu waved his head and the bricks opened up allowing the group to exit.

Ten Minutes Later

They arrived at the front gate, Fananatu nodding towards the gate watchers to part them and allow the soldiers passage. The fields outside of Rocoa were vast and green stretching on for miles, or as far as the eye could see. There was a forest off to towards the east, and the ocean was settled towards the west. A range of animals scattered themselves along the fields doing what they must to survive. Fananatu pointed towards the south east. “Head in that direction and round the bend; it will do you good to set up camp in a few hours for the night comes and it is dangerous out there. If you see a convoy of the Apotheoses soldiers, do not engage unless you have too. If they come to speak to you, banter with them as though you are normal, give them no cause for alarm. We are a ruthless bunch and any provocation can be easily written off as traitorous intent.”

Fananatu moved backwards as the gate began to close; separating the group from the rest of their master. “Go now, and complete your hunt.” Fananatu turned, and spoke beneath his breath as the gate closed. He walked back across the streets and vanished into a crowd of those around him. He now needed to get Jinzaga’s infamous book of Runes and all would be complete.

The clouds above were moving slowly, not yet dark enough to indicate imminent rain, but dark enough to signal it rain was in the future. The creauters outside the gates stayed away from the various plumes of smoke that rose skyward from spread out scouting camps; some miles from each other. A small breeze blew the tall grass from left to right, sweeping the salty smell of the ocean across the expansive fields and into the forest. A Dodobird loomed in the distance, curious of the new people who’d just made their exit from the Holy City. Before it could cross the tree line, and odd hand reached out and pulled the creature back into the depths of the forest. The shrieks of the dying creature ripped apart the air.

“Aye, you lot; get ta’ moving, Eclava doesn’t take kindly ta’ people who take their merry ol’ time. Now move along, afore rye come down there and make ya.” The guardsmen of the gate said, hoisting up his sword. The guards were trained to fight to their last breath, and under the strict regiment of Edan-Es, before he left, they were trained to peak physical conditioning. They were a line of defense and were expected to act as such when the rime arose.

Valgar
Jiskam’s Reign

Loyalty.

That was what drove Jiskam to take the actions he had, to fortify the city for the impending war. There was not much to do for the place was always receiving new undead and forever growing under the magic of Valgar, himself. Jiskam would never betray Aledit and all he did was under his careful guidance. The poltergeist moved swiftly through the city; the vast amount of dead undead being added to the city; expanding the city and the magic. At the moment, if the city expanded at its current rate it would be the dominant city in the Hook by one or two centuries, if not in a shorter time span. That was what Jiskam, ultimately, wanted - as well as to place Aledit at the top of the world as King, as Ruler. The Undead were the only thing, aside from the living, that would never give out. They would constantly emerge so long as life sputtered out, they would consistently grow so long as life did.

The city was quiet, many of the people sat and waited for word from the Council, though they knew it were far off. Jiskam was situated in Aledit’s quarters watching a map that detailed the path of Aledit as he headed towards the city. Only two people knew of the map, and one was currently viewing it - the other was being viewed. “Aledit, Master, while I know you have no fear, do be careful. There are several scouts between where you are and Shian. The mountains conceal several places for scout groups to hide and prey on those who travel unaware.” Aledit’s voice was spotty, but Jiskam was assured that Aledit and his group were fine. The dwarves were keeping an eye out from below and what was left of the Minotaur race was keeping an eye out from above.

Jiskam turned from the map and walked out towards the great ocean, spilled with their various forms of necromantic magic. The ocean swirled and the air seemed to darken. Jiskam moved softly, swaying back and forth - beneath the ocean, bones began to rattle and shake, attempting to break free of their dirty and watery graves. What Jiskam was doing, no one would know until it was too late. The city began to live and breath, what were once bones and torn flesh began to pulse as though breath was coursing through its veins. The city had always been alive, but it had a greater purpose and it would all become clear. Words began to pour from his mouth, the ocean starting to rock more and more, until he finally stopped. What he was doing required stops and rests, each phase beginning some time for from last. He turned back and watched as the sky above Jiskam, which could be seen for potentially miles and miles around, darken and stir. With any luck none would come calling about the Undead City’s different weather.

As the man walked through the city, his eyes closed and the message was sent to his Master.

“It has started.”

[MelonHead]

The stout Dwarf puffed at his pipe as the Dragonoid said his piece, and Forsoff couldn’t help but feel gratified to hear the words that they were working against Enclava. Although he knew fairly little about the world of intrigue he had been thrown head first into, he still had his keen sense of right and wrong. Working against the gods… working for that vile creature. That was wrong. It was frighteningly possible that without direct interference the Apotheoses would actually be successful in their campaign. Forsoff was too good a Dwarf to stand by idly and let that happen, it was time for some rough and ready action to get things back on the right track. He checked on his equipment, the dwarven hammer, the short handled axe, a small bag of travelling essentials and a pouch of gold. With all of this set, he was ready to venture off.

He followed on with his group for the first time taking note of the strange ghostly beast which they were tasked with escorting. The creature seemed to be some kind of big cat, but other than that he had no real idea. That was the downside to being a dwarf; you were often isolated from anything even remotely magical in nature. On the plus side he was also that bit more resistant to its effects, be they mental or physical. He tugged at his beard thoughtfully as they walked through the streets, the leather tunic he wore creaking as he moved. The other beast they walked with was all too familiar, a Minotaur, massive creatures who would sometimes fight with the Dwarves who ventured into their mountains. Forsoff could not confess to have ever fought one, but immediately after having that thought he began to see the ways in which he would. He shuddered as his mental run-through of the fight ended badly, a massive furry beast with a sword and shield was more than a match for a dwarf with a hammer it seemed.

As they reached the gates and Fananatu bid them goodbye with one passing piece of advice Forsoff only half heeded, he took a long look around at the wilderness they were about to be thrown into. Oblivious to the others for a moment, he took a long breath, staring down at the ground as he took his first step with noticeable emphasis. Forsoff was spiritual in strange ways, and had a great belief that the first step of any journey was the most important. Once you got that out the way the rest seemed to follow on without incident.

“So it begins then?” He asked of no one in particular. “I’d like ta’ introduce myself formally. I be named Forsoff son of Glint, son of Baldun. I be partial to just Forsoff though.” He gave them all a casual grin.

"I guess we best be off." He would say after the others introduced themselves, providing they actually did. If someone decided to take charge he would gladly follow someone more knowledgeable of the area, if not, the Dwarf would begin to walk in the south east direction the Dragonoid has pointed out to them, whistling quietly as he did so.

--- Summary ---

Forsoff is glad to hear of their mission to work against Enclava, and checks his equipment.
He considers the origins of the strange 'Ghost Leopard' which they are escorting, and sizes up the Minotaur, Markith.
After introducing himself at the gates, he sets off and resigns to following the others should someone take charge.

[Skallagrim]

Drunken men and women stared with rapt and grotesque amusement at the intricate and hauntingly beautiful dance performed before them. Eryx stood silently, his red-rimmed eyes wide in anticipation of the coming event. A death, oh but it wasn’t just any death. No this was a death administered by the deft hand, or in this case, tail, of Sarahix. Each subtle squeeze of the tail as it undulated around the man’s body brought shudders of excitement to Eryx. It took all of his willpower to maintain the proper decorum required of such events.

Eryx lowered his eyes as the final moments of the darkest kiss graced the lips of the drow, a trickle of saliva slipped from the corner of his own lip, to hang for a moment before falling to the floor as the crackle of bone under muscle filled the air for a moment. Hastily wiping away the remnants, Eryx exhaled slowly as he focused on the crumpled form. The drow lasted longer than he had anticipated, not much, but longer as the final sigh of life escaped the parted lips.

That last sickly sweet breath expelled from crumpled body, sailed forth to be consumed by those closest to the prone from. Among those stood Eryx, wrapped in his black robes, his staff gripped tightly, and the polished skull atop it grinning as if the dead man and it shared a private joke. A subtle shifting of his hand allowed the light to reflect off the large rubies socketed in the hollows, creating an eerie effect as the eyes appeared to light up at the death, as Eryx inhaled deeply trying in vain to capture the final breath all for himself.

His mind raced, computing the possible ways he could obtain access to the body to speak with the dead drow, to question him about his experience, to garner more understanding of what lies beyond the final dark. Then the creature slinked forth from what every cage that housed it. The sight of the beast, the body, and head an amalgam of both man and beast for what else could a Minotaur but be called. The sight of the blade caused Eryx to shudder with perverse delight as the beast slipped loose a razors edge upon the cooling neck.

Engaged in the lapping of the fouling blood, the beast shifted and roiled as if it were in ecstasy. Eryx grinned slightly as his mind conjured the drow’s spirit to stand before him, watching as the man-beast lapped the fluids that once raced through his lithe form. A sad sigh escaped his lips as his mind wandered through the plethora of questions he would ask, when suddenly the revelry is shattered by a gruff voice and violence.

The hurling form of the abomination sailed close by, the fetid breath, expelled forcefully as it crashed bodily into a table, knocking over tankards and a buffoon who clearly had not paid attention to the events at hand. A slight gasp followed by a stifled giggle escaped Eryx as the scene unfolded before him. A wide grin spread across his gaunt face until he heard a chilling sound silence the chamber, Elcava, the drow bitch had summoned one of her minions to her.

“Fananatu”

Eryx lets slip a subtle grunt as he realized that the time had come, the time he and the others would step forth to do the bidding of Elcava. Lowering his eyes while in her presence he listened to her and to the great beast, the Dragonoid, Fananatu speak. When it was over the imperious bitch dismissed them with obvious disdain. Watching her walk away perverse thoughts ran through his mind, trailing down dark paths in which that body would do as he bid.

Following the large beast, Eryx stayed behind most of the others, his form shroud in black. These others, they were here for their own reasons. Perhaps they had made deals with the Dragoniod, perhaps they were offered things, dark things that only the Apotheoses could offer. When in the great chambers of Fananatu, Eryx listened to what the Dragonoid expected of him and the rest of them. The appearance of the Ghost Leopard was unexpected. His red-rimmed eyes lingered in the feline for a moment before slipping towards Fananatu, dull and lifeless they focused on his form as he spoke.

The group, led by the hulking Dragoniod stepped through the gate, where last minute instructions and a warning passed to them. Drawing the black robes around his form, Eryx bowed slightly to the back of Fananatu as it disappeared through the gates. Gritting his teeth, he glanced at his companions, and sniffled once before the guard spoke. Glaring at the beast from under shadowed brow, he was about to say something when a voice piped up. Glancing at the dwarf, Forsoff who spoken his words of introduction to the gathered, Eryx held his tongue. After a moment he tipped his head slightly to Forsoff and the rest as he rasped, “Greetings, I am Eryx Baird. I agree brother dwarf we should begin this journey should we not?”


Summary- Turned on by the death of the drow, escorting the Ghost Leopard to find the leaders of the rebellion and meeting new friends along the way.

[mbl]

Fields of Rocoa

Cheshire, the ghost leopard, stalked slowly behind the group he was tasked with guiding to the meeting of rebels. He heard the creatures introduce themselves to one another but did not bother to listen, his master had already made sure he was well informed on each of them. Each had his own reason for working with Cheshire's master: some owed him a debt, some worked with him out of simple lust for whatever prizes the lizard had offered them for good service, while others wished to rebel against their masters and had somehow become convinced that the lizard would help them. Whatever the reasons, the adventurers were now part of a game that Cheshire knew none of them fully understood, a game that would most likely result in their deaths.

The group got moving out of Rocoa and took the first steps of their new journey and Cheshire watched as Forsoff, on of the dwarvin companions, took the lead. Cheshire was relatively sure that did not actually know the way to where they were headed, but the dwarf was going in the right direction for now at least, so Cheshire decided to take the chance to scout ahead for any dangers. The group could pass for apostheoses well enough but it would be better if they ran into as few people as possible in their travels. The cat fell behind the rest of the group, out of their visions, and suddenly vanished. Well, teleported would be a better word for it. As he disappeared from behind the group he appeared relaxing on top a tree branch in one of the trees several hundred feet in front of them. That was the ability of the ghost leopards, whenever they went unobserved by any other creature they could instantly transport themselves to any other place that was not currently being observed by another creature.

Cheshire used his abilities to scout out, in little over a minute, the next several miles in the direction the group needed to head. The way was mostly clear, with no soldiers or creatures that Cheshire saw to get in their way. Cheshire took one last second to enjoy the peaceful quiet before deciding to return to the group. The cat teleported to a patch of forest near where the party had last been. He silently sat atop a branch of one of the taller trees and looked out the the direction he expected them to be in a saw the group still a good fifty feet away from him. Cheshire was about to return to the group before he was startled by the sudden sense of movement below him.

The cat looked down to see a large birdlike creature playfully pecking at the mangled corpse of a dodobird. Cheshire immediately recognized the beast as a herdbane, a gigantic predatory bird faster, stronger, and generally more intelligent than most simple animals out there. Cheshire had a good deal of experience with herdbanes from his encounters with them in the wild before he served the lizard. He knew they were vicious fighters and did not simply hunt for food. Hunting and killing was sport for herdbane, the did it for the simple enjoyment of it. Cheshire also knew that herdbane traveled in pairs, with their mates, at least and that this one was the male. Which meant that the far stronger female was lurking somewhere else where Cheshire had missed. Cheshire contemplated locating the herdbane's partner before taking action but he found that impossible with the rest of the group heading towards the creature unawares, with the creatures attention suddenly turning towards them.

Cheshire watched as the herdbane took a stalking stance and observed the group of adventurers heading towards it. The creature would strike soon, Cheshire knew, and with its incredible speed it could be on the group in a matter of seconds. Cheshire decided on his plan, he relaxed silently on the tree and waited for the herdbane to make a move.

The herdbane saw an opening, the group noticed that Cheshire was no longer there and all looked back, almost entirely turning their backs towards the creature. The giant bird darted out of the treeline and moved towards the group with an incredible speed and grace that could only be displayed by a predatory bird. Cheshire acted too, waiting until the last moment he could to get the creature as close to the group as possible and teleporting suddenly within striking distance of the bird's back. Cheshire released his claws and made several powerful slashes at the herdbane's back, digging deeply in places he knew would hurt, and then immediately teleported back to his perch in the treeline, watching what happened after. The creature let out a loud screech of pain and rage and turned back to face it's attacked, only to see empty air. Cheshire knew the screech would surely have alerted the group to the bird's presence and now it was the bird who had its back to them, not the other way around.

====Summary===

Cheshire used his teleportation abilities to scout ahead of the group, discovering a vile herdbane in the nearby treeline. When the herdbane attempted to sneak up on the group, Cheshire used the chance to get his own surprise attack on the creature, which alerted the others and left the bird vulnerable to them. Herdbane hunt in pairs, though, and it's partner was nowhere to be seen.

[GrievousKhan]

Diēscogito felt he would become sick at the unsettling sight he had been forced to lay witness to. It had been many days of travel before reaching the great city the called Rocoa, originally sent by his father to better relations with the Apotheoses. Before arriving here Diēscogito had never been to a city of such a size before, at most the only settlement's he had ever encountered were the ones his clan often traded with. These being no more than small towns or villages and even then he had never actually entered these places himself, still they surely were nothing like the great walled dwelling place that Rocoa clearly was. Diēscogito had at first had mixed feelings going to Rocoa, he had no idea what to expect or what not to, and he had felt a sense of fear before his journey had even begun. However as time passed he felt more and more curious to what a true city would be like, as close to the unknown he had ever come and it had intrigued him to no end. He had tried to imagine all the things he would see for the first time, all the wonders, the music, the sounds, the sights, the smells the many different races all boggled together in one place.

Diēscogito however had only found death in this place, along with filled with squalor and thieves. The grisly scene he had witnessed with the Drow had only strengthened that feeling of dread this place gave off further. Surely no living creature deserved to die in such a foul manner, it was all Diēscogito could take and he had looked away as the coward around him gasped in shock. Had he continued to stare he would have surely been ill and lost what little food he had managed to eat earlier that day. Such waste of life, and in the way those in the coward reacted, or lack thereof, it seemed this death hardly bothered them. It was then his sharp ears picked up an all too familiar name and he turned in order see that the speaker was none other than Eclava Oussrett addressing on of her retainers, Fananatu. After a moment the Dragonoid, beckoned over him and a few choice others and Diēscogito hesitantly followed trailing behind a lanky dark robed man with red rimmed eyes who gave Diēscogito an unsettling feeling. Soon they arrived within Fananatu dimly light and finely furnished inner chambers, where he at last learned the true reason for his coming to this place.

A part of him was glad at hearing such news for he could hardly stomach the thought of taking more innocents into Eclava's veil torturer chambers, or far worse judging from the vile abominations of nature that he had seen so far. However it was not until the revelation of the Ghost Leopard that Diēscogito attention was truly peaked. In all his years he had never seen one himself, he had heard many stories such beast, most of all by his grandfather who claimed to have seen one many years ago in his youth. It was a sign of fortune and a good omen to those who saw them among his clan so the old teachings old. Soon Diēscogito realized Fananatu had finished his piece and they were soon escorted out of the chamber and eventually lead to the cities gate. Which Diēscogito was all too happy to see at last, the sooner he could leave this city the sooner he could forget the things he had seen, or at least try to.

Just outside the city at the gate entrance the party had assembled as a light breeze blew from the west. Diēscogitō wore his light beige shaded traveling duster its edges blowing up in the wind. The duster was a light coat Diēscogitō often wore, used by horsemen to protect their outer clothes from dust a long coat that stretched down to his ankles, with a slit in the front. It partially hid his leather reinforced suit of armor he wore underneath with only a visible bulge from his quiver he had strapped currently to his back the top half just sticking out of the neck. He had since run low on arrows and had transferred the rest to his belt quiver, leaving only his bow visible and strung over his left shoulder which allowed the duster to reveal his left side. He combed his hand through thick black hair as he sighed, flexing his head to the side as tried to work out a kink in his neck. Perhaps due to the unsavory conditions he had slept the past night. He still felt sleeping outdoors preferable to sleeping in a walled city. They were both wild places to him, and would rather stay in the domain he was most accustomed to.

The Dwarf was the first to break the silence with a quick introduction followed by the lanky man he had noticed earlier. Diēscogitō nodded back awkwardly as they did so and wondered all the while how he should go about his own introduction, a needed recourse if they were expected to work together. He decided against using his full name and to keep things simple so with a breath. "My name is.. Diēscogito of the clan of Dray...” He said with a stiff nod of his head to his fellow 'comrades'. I knew at least a few might have heard of the Draythikon nomads even this far south, such was their reputation. Though not all of it good, as some bands and specifically the Anemos (one of the four Uvuljuu, or groups within the clan of nomads) had been known raiders into the more 'civilized' lands. Specifically why Diēscogitō had opted not to wear his war mask into the city, but kept it clipped to his belt rather. Hopefully they would not ask further on why a Draythikon nomad was out in Rocoa working with the Apotheoses no less.

After the introductions the group was quick to make a start in their travel, seemingly with no plan or forethought. Were they even sure they were going the right way? Diēscogitō could only assume. In any case, though he would have to work with them that by no means meant he fully trusted them either. He kept to the back for the first leg of the journey keeping an eye on their ghost leopard, which they had been charged with its wellbeing. He wondered if any knew the significance of such a creature being in their midst. City dwellers were often so ignorant of such things. Having grown up with tales of these almost mythical creatures all his life, Diēscogitō could almost not help glancing in its direction now and again. As time went on Diēscogitō could not ignore his disquiet he felt as they entered the woods proper. With a glance at those currently in their little band he could easily tell none were frontiersmen like him. That much was evident surely, still to allow a subterranean dwelling dwarf to take lead seemed folly in some sense. He decided the best course of action since none had volunteered to do so would be to scout ahead. At least it would put Diēscogitō at ease to have a better feel of his surroundings, he had after all only came through these woods once on his way to Rocoa. He walked up to the head of the group to walk beside the dwarf and spoke just loud enough for those around may hear even given his normally soft spoken tone, "Forsoff was it? Since we will be entering the deeper woods soon I believe a survey of the land would be wise. I'll have a look about and signal you should I find anything worth it."

And with that he made for the forest line that flanked both sides of the path, seeming to vanish into it not so unlike the Ghost leopard that followed them. He thought it best he give them a heads up before running off, in the off chance something should happen to him though he knew better then to expect any to come to his aid. Still he was far more comfortable working alone and with the way these being tramped through the woods he would have no problem finding a way back if needed. He only hoped they avoided getting lost. Now out of the city and back in his neck of the woods, so to speak Diēscogitō quickly took the time to remove his duster and fold it away into his light single strap pack he carried and held his precious few belongings. After that he re-tied it around his waist so the pack hung at the small of his back, as a nomad Diēscogitō was used to packing light and only what he could carry.

It was almost two minutes later that Diēscogitō's sharp senses picked up the coppery smell of blood in the breeze. Diēscogitō froze and stooped in one spot as he sniffed the air, trying to judge the direction. It hopefully was nothing and something they could hopefully avoid, but if not it could spell trouble Diēscogitō would rather not have to face so early in their escapade. As silent as a shadow Diēscogitō expertly maneuvering over brambles and under low hanging branches. Even as he moved his keen eyes spotted markings and disturbed soil. Evidence that something large and heavy had come through here, it did not even require a skilled hunter to spot all the bent tree limbs and leaves torn form branches as something had brushed past it, and further signs of a struggle or chase. Diēscogitō stopped and realized the danger of going any further alone, the signs seemed obvious to deduce for someone of his particular skills set that a large and powerful predator was roaming nearby. Moving as quickly and as carefully as he could he retraced his steps back to the party. They had to be warned before it was too late and they walked in on the beast blindly, especially if it was what he thought it was.

He managed to reach a narrow game trail that lead into the main path he knew they were following and reached a large swath of underbrush that separated him from the path. He suddenly heard a twig snap and stopped in place mid stride. Then followed the heavy footsteps of a large creature running a short distance and Diēscogitō clenched his teeth as he moved to the edge of the undergrowth and peeked through to see to his horror what he had feared. An adult male herdbane rapidly closing in on the rest of the party, and where there was one....

Cursing under his breath he reached for an arrow at his belt but doubted he could make an accurate shot in time just as a figure seemed to appear one the herdbane's back. The ghost leopard from before? When had it managed to climb to a tree branch conveniently right above the herdbane? In any case it seemed to succeed in distracting the beast before winking out of existence again in the blink of an eye. Now it faced in his direction, but it was unlikely it knew of his location yet, no Diēscogitō could not act yet. Taking the time he quickly released the strain on his bow stabbing the arrow into the ground and reaching for a pouch at his belt. He as not sure how long the poison would take to work on such a large beast, so he had to his a vital spot to allow it to spread at optimal speed. He hoped the others could buy more time, or perhaps find a way to escape as unlikely as it seemed at this point. It would be too much to hope that the ghost leopard be able to lead the beast away on a wild goose chase. He wondered of it was even capable of such tricky.

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Summary
-Diēscogitō is sickened by the Drow's death
-Diēscogitō Introduces himself
-Diēscogitō scouts ahead of the party and discovers the Herdbane, waits for an opening for a chance to poison the beast