Vahir — Roleplayer Guild

Emperor Bastian Wenderuthweiler

“Snap out of it! Now!”

Bastian’s command did not solicit a response of any kind in Ianne. The peasant woman still remained catatonic, slumped against the wall, her blue eyes locked in an aimless stare. No effect, then. He let out a sigh through grit teeth, and rose up sharply.

“Damnit! Gods above, below, everywhere, damn that wretched parlor magician!” He picked up a loose stone and threw it as far as he could off the cliff. “Tell me if any of their conditions change,” he told the tribesman on guard with barely suppressed fury.

Three full hours had passed since Uaziezuhr, that daemon-worshiping son of a whore, had locked his servants in a catatonic trance. Half of the initial dozen had already woken up, but the rest remained infuriatingly unresponsive. On his orders, they had dragged their comrades out of the throne room, and into the ruins of the courtyard. Once, it had been flanked on all sides by towers and walls; now, though, it was defaced by a sheer cliff after a quarter of the castle had crumbled from disuse, ripped apart from the castle and fell into the abyss of the valley below. On that daunting cliffside, he had them erect tents and campfires. Setting up camp in the middle of a castle; that was exactly how far the fortress had degraded.

He didn’t care so much about the servants (who were rather easy to come by for the Emperor) as he was vexed by the sorcerer’s sheer gall. They weren’t his to take away, damnit! And he actually liked this red haired peasant woman of his. Not particularly deeply, or as- perish the thought- a wife, but still. But above all, he was unnerved by the feeling of helplessness that gripped him without puppets to protect him. A stab, a crunch, and his soul would be at the mercy of the Dark Gods. Not a pleasant thought.

“Master, Ianne is waking!”

He ran to the two of them. About damn time, he thought. The tribeswoman was still slumped, but was convulsing in the same manner the others did as they awoke. After a moment, the convulsions stopped, and her eyes snapped forward. “Look at me,” Bastian ordered, and she did. He smiled with something close to relief: another servant was back in his hands, and the only one he didn’t mind bedding, thank the gods. He could not fathom going celibate for potentially months because he didn’t have someone to his taste around.

He supposed he could have redoubled his efforts to melt the Spider Queen’s heart, but suspected that she wasn’t ready for such a dramatic… advancement in their relationship yet. That kind of courtship would require presents, poems, and followers to protect himself from her loving retribution, none of which he actually had at the moment. And… he could not afford to exasperate The Overlord.

He was under no illusions of his status: He had been the first vanquished, the one to go into hiding (leaving the others to their fates in the process), the one to come to his master wearing peasants clothes, accompanied by a band of farmers. Respect was what kept one a Black Lieutenant, and respect was a finite commodity. Even he, with all his confidence, knew that the others considered him the weakest, the most vulnerable, the least worthy. And so he could not afford the kind of brazen behavior that his competence had permitted him in the Old Regime. 

Which was another reason why angry his servants were indisposed. He had come here with little- now he had even less!

Movement in the corner of his eye shook him awake. He’d been lost in thought, he realized suddenly, dangerously unaware of his surroundings. He spun around, to find Ianne walking along the cliff edge. “Get back here, Ianne!” he shouted as he walked towards her, his voice hard. 

She turned towards him. The mountain wind was blowing hard from the void, but she stood her ground there. She looked at him, blue eyes wide. Her lips began to move, slowly mouthing a word.

“No,” she said faintly, an expression of shock on her face. He stared back, dumbfounded. She… resisted?, he thought panicked. But… how? Is she… she’s strong enough…? He could only count the seconds, as they stood frozen.

Four…
She looked away.
Three... 
Her head began to turn.
Two... 
She spun around, facing the void.
One…
Bastian took two steps forward, right arm outstretched.

And then she leapt.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

How?

That was the question Bastian kept asking himself. How had she resisted his command? Oh, there were individuals of great enough fortitude to do so, but Ianna had most definitely not been one of them. For years- since her birth, in fact, twenty-five years ago- she had obeyed his commands as promptly as anyone else in their little pigsty of a village. So why now? The only answer that made any kind of sense to him was that the daemon insanity placed upon them, whatever it was, affect his control somehow. He tested the others thoroughly after the… jump, and they all seemed to still be under his perfect control, however.

He sat on a fallen piece of rotten timber, and thought silently. Thinking about thinking, to be precise: Why was he so deep in reflection? He had already arrived at the closest thing he would likely get for an answer, the Dark Gods not being very forthright with their ways. What was there left to ponder?

Perhaps he was looking at the wrong question. That was it. It wasn’t “how” he should be asking himself, it was “why”. Why would she do that? Jump, killing herself, ending her own life? Surely… any kind of existence was better than meeting the gods of this world? Hadn’t he cared for her, along with the rest of them? 

Was he that terrible, that only through death she could escape him?

Was he even sad? He couldn't rightly say. He didn’t care for the dead woman any more than he cared for his sword or a hunting dog- she was a possession, nothing more. No, he didn’t believe himself to be mourning her. Then why all this sudden philosophy?

All of this was certainly uncharted territory for Bastian. Three hundred odd years he had lived with this power, and he had never once stopped to think of morality. His own pleasure, his own desires were all he chased in life. So the fact that her death bothered him was baffling. He had killed thousands! Tens of thousands! He had enslaved and tortured and abused! Hadn’t he been willing to use her as a human shield against the other Lieutenants, back in the throne room? 

So why were these questions now haunting him? Why? Why? Why?

“Ragvar, come to me!” he barked, and an aging man with a great bushy beard walked over. 

“Answer my questions, and answer truthfully,” Bastian ordered. Ragvar just stood there, staring at him. “Alright, let’s start with basics. You were Ianna’s… uncle, right?”

“Her father,” the tall man let out through clenched teeth.

“Superb!” Bastian exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “Then maybe you can answer a few things I’ve been stewing on! For starters… Why did she jump, just now?”

“To get away from you,” came the reply, filled with venom. That took Bastian by surprise. Suddenly, a question occurred to him, one he had never bothered ask anyone before.

“Do you hate me?”

Ragvar looked at him with an expression of pure loathing. “Yes.”

Bastian closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he opened them again, and stood up. “Fine, you hate me. Good for you fucking you. But I am the Emperor of all mankind, and you will still obey my commands.” His voice was hard once again. 

“And from NOW ON,” he said, raising his voice so the others could hear him too, “everyone will stay at least five meters from that cliff edge at all times. That is an order! There is no escape! All of you, stop moping about like idiots and get back to cleaning this mess of rouble!”

He pointed to two of them. “Except for you two. Find me something to serve as a shield: a plank, a broken table, I don’t care. Work handles into whatever you find so I can actually use the damn thing.”

Walking over to the three still-catatonic tribesmen left, he kicked one hard in the stomach. “And you three- wake up already! Fun time’s over, children!”

I am Bastian Wenderuthweiler, Emperor, King of Kings, rightful ruler of this world!

But who was he, really?

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Actions: Set followers to clean up some of the mess, set up a camp, and to find him a goddamn shield already.
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