Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 26, 2013 18:50:29 GMT -5
The splintering of the burnt log exploding finally woke her. Aingeal’s body contorted as if she had been dropped from the tallest tree and left for dead on the rug. Stretching and pulling her knees up to her chest hugging herself “…And this is what Merrique meant…” escaped her lips letting the rest of the thought retreat back into her mind.
Keeping balance was harder than creating chaos.
The madness of the night before replayed in her head searching for a different outcome, and yet it was as it was meant to be…
Such a faulty emotion but a part of that spark that made life worth living. “Am I such a monster … NO! It had to be done, my end was held up not once but….” Aingeal rhythmically bounces her forehead off her knees, symbolically trying to change her mind.
The log collapsing in on itself snapped her back to the room.
“Given freely. He gave it freely”
|
|
|
Post by Jolicia on Mar 28, 2013 10:10:23 GMT -5
The plan was settled, and the group waited only for Aurelia to move into place. Jolicia watched the room quietly, looking over each individual. Aingeal was quietly sitting and also observing. Quinn was Quinn, talking about arrows in faces and such. Gaius, who had only been in Ashencrosse for a few days, was already placing his life on the line to help. Alisiea was dressed and ready to go, almost looking eager but upon closer inspection she was really just masking the nervousness inside. Paine was as he always was, calm and trying to provide some comic relief. Then her eyes reached to Judas. He was quiet and focused, but then again, they were the only ones who knew the consequence if this was unsuccessful. Jolicia had but to look at his face to realize the truth of her words from the previous night. He was trying to do too much on his own and it was killing him.
She looked over herself now and something just didn’t seem right. As she excused herself for a moment, Jolicia ran to the house and up to her room. Rummaging through the chest, she found the neatly wrapped item that called to her this night. She closed the chest and laid the package on top, then slowly untied the wrappings. Grabbing the crimson robe, she held it up and looked it over for a moment before putting it on. It was still at least two times her size, but the hem had been fixed so that it just grazed the floor. Jolicia grabbed a belt and cinched it around the robe and her waist to help rein in the extra fabric, as a slight grin crossed her lips. Placing her hand over her heart, she whispered a few words to herself and hopefully those that may be looking down upon her, and then headed back to the others.
******************************************
Draven's arrogant drivel lasted longer than the actual fight, but this was actually a blessing. It meant that they had survived. When Jolicia watched Draven's head roll across the floor, relief washed over her. Once, he had been the leader of her Coven, but no longer. Now he was nothing to her. Nothing to the rest of the world either. After burning his body, they left Carden and returned to Ashencrosse. As they sat around the Bramble Rose, the mood lightened, and Alisiea even entertained them with her gypsy dance of victory. Finally, Judas returned from the Hall.
Jolicia had always known that this would come, but she watched quietly as he approached everyone in the room and said his farewells. Some were filled with humor, some with words of wisdom, and some were very heartfelt. Then Judas turned to her, “What I have to say to you, I think I need to do in private.”
She simply nodded and followed Judas upstairs. They stood there quietly a moment before he began to speak, “I am saying my farewells ... one more vampire I need to face." She sighed heavily and nodded as he continued, “I am meeting Avella at the end of the week. Once I am done, she will trouble you no longer. And after I am finished with her, I intend to ..."
Judas had once told her of the circumstances surrounding the agreement, but Jolicia also knew how unpredictable Avella could be. Who knew what her Sire actually had in store? It was the one game, out of all that Judas had played, that worried her the most about his safety. At this point, the two began to speak almost in riddles, as if trying to cause confusion. Truthfully, it was more because this was not a conversation either of them wanted to have. Not at this moment. Finally, Judas spoke plainly, "I am done speaking on this."
Jolicia nodded in agreement, “Four days”
"Yes. If you cannot find me ..." His words trailed off for a moment and she frowned, knowing exactly what he meant. Then he confirmed the sentiment. "Four days ..."
|
|
|
Post by Judas D'arc on Apr 2, 2013 10:53:28 GMT -5
Following the confrontation at Carden, and the death of Marcus Draven, Judas returned to Ashencrosse to say his good-byes.
To Aurelia Bretane, the woman that saved his life and inspired him to be victory. Part of him wondered if they could have stayed together, but he realized that she was far too noble, both in spirit and in blood, and he was far too undeserving. Besides, it was a pointless musing, since he had already surrendered such possibilities for Aingeal's protection. To Gaius, a last minute addition to their group, but based upon the very briefest of interactions, a man the bard wished he could have had the opportunity to know better. To Aingeal, the gypsy witch who had wandered into their abandoned Trinsic mansion one evening. Judas was still uncertain whether this had been coincidence, or something that needed to be. While they did not always see eye to eye, her magicks had done their part, and were worth the price that was paid. To Quinn Morgan, lycan hunter extraordinaire, who could both amuse and irritate with the wink of an eye. That night, the bard struck first, and sat in her lap instead. To Paine Drakul, the vampire slayer whose wisdom and wit were forever an asset. Well, not forever, since he had lost his immortality, but this was likely a change for the best. To Alisiea, his Gypsy Girl and dearest friend. She might never forgive his inability to love her the way she desired, but she would also remind Judas that sometimes, even he was capable of making the right choice. To Jolicia, there was but the hope that they would meet again in four days time.
The next day, he released the Countess Isabella de Mor from captivity, and they departed together. He ignored her questions until the the road, and then he asked, "If you could be anyone, where who would it be? Where would you go?" After she answered, they continued along their path.
When they reached the City of Trinsic, Judas stopped before the western gate and turned to Isabella. "Promise me you will really use this second chance to be something ... better. I know you are ... what you are. The curse you have, the monster within you. But I also believe you are capable of much. I have hope for you, is all I am saying, and I -- I do forgive you."
However, the Countess seemed focused on Draven's fate, rather than the future. As he had tried to explain it, "When you have a second chance, you do not look back. You take it or you lose it."
Instead of further argument, he told her of his bargain with the Lady Avella Isilian, and the fate that most likely awaited him there. Isabella stomped her foot in defiance, demanding that he refuse to honor the agreement. Then he reminded her that it was the breaking of a promise that had started all of this. Then they embraced, and shared a farewell kiss.
"I will remember you, Judas of Yew, and I wish you the best," she told him.
"And I will remember you, Isabella de Mor of Trinsic. It will be as the lady I know that you are, and that I know you will be. And in nothing else but fondness."
"Judas, I hope our paths do not cross again."
"But if they do," he tipped his hat with a slight smile. "May it be in times better than previous."
As Judas traveled north, his mind formed the perfect image of a new Isabella de Mor. One capable of standing on her own, without the need of a lover or an obsession to provide her with clarity. This Isabella would forsake all ties to Draven and seek redemption, protecting the people of Trinsic forever. But in his heart, he knew that the moment he was out of sight, she would abandon this second chance to return to Carden. Because, as a friend had once warned him long ago, women were just sort of crazy that way. And some things never changed. But this was no longer his concern, for there was still one final vampire to contend with ...
|
|
|
Post by Judas D'arc on Apr 3, 2013 9:23:36 GMT -5
Your murdering mouth is forever hungry Your murdering mouth blaring at me Your murdering mouth relentlessly pounding Your murdering mouth takes aim at me
********
"And did you succeed?" she inquired, as the two of them stood together that night within the bowels of the Lycaeum.
Nearly a week of anticipation, and Judas finally faced the Lady Avella Isilian, bereft of all his protections and his trickeries. Exactly as he had promised her. "Yes," he nodded. "We found him alone ... and cut off his head."
"Did you now?" An amused grin appeared. "How very interesting."
"You seem ... skeptical," the bard respondend, almost defensively. "Do you think I would lie to you?"
"Tell me, Judas D'arc, how many of our kind have you killed that were as old as Draven?" After listening to the question's answer, she asked another. "And what do you know of the kindred blood bond between a sire as old as Draven?" The back and forth continued. "And do you know what happens when the sire of such a childer is destroyed?"
"I have heard different theories," Judas watched her carefully as he spoke. She moved closer, her fingers probing, with an expression that left him uncertain whether she would kiss or kill him. "Someone told me that -- well, regardless of what I have heard, I expect you are about to enlighten me."
"Do you wish to be enlightened?" Avella smiled again, pressing her body against his.
"I ... suppose," he muttered.
"Suppose? Suppose what, my pet?" She teased, her eyes and fingers in constant motion.
"Enlighten me ... Avella."
********
These open wounds that fester and rupture These open wounds under merciless attack I only asked you if what you say is true dear I only asked you if what you do is fair
********
"Ahhh, yes, I see now," Avella stated, understanding the meaning behind his words. In light of what she had revealed concerning Draven, Judas was unsure how she might react. But surprisingly, she assented to his perspective. "Then I suppose I must congratulate you."
"Perhaps I am not the fool you thought a few minutes ago," he suggested.
"You are many things, Judas, but I do not believe you a fool."
"Thank you," the bard nodded. "Avella, can we speak ... plainly? No games or trickery?" Then he tried to explain himself, conceding a vulnerability that he usually kept hidden from the world. He told her of the path that this conflict had forced him to travel, of all his sacrifices, and then finally, of the freedom that he craved. "I honor our agreement. I submit myself to you, as you asked. I could not stop you from killing me. Turning me. Making me your blood slave."
At this, she smiled, but did not comment.
"So all I can do is ask you ... not to. To attempt to appeal to the woman that you once were."
"You ask much of me, Judas," She observed, without a hint of emotion. "And you have asked much of me since we've met."
"Well, I wish to ask more as well," Judas refused to relent. "Then you can take your measure of my demands, and my ... counter-offer."
********
Your murdering mouth is forever hungry Your murdering mouth glaring at me Your murdering mouth grinding and snapping Your murdering mouth pointed at me
********
Upon completion of any business between them, Judas turned to Avella. "What now? We cuddle and discuss our childhoods?"
"Now, you may go. Our bargain is completed. But first ..." The vampire closed her eyes, and slowly lifted back her head. It was obvious that she was up to something, but her expression refused to dislose even a glimpse of what it was. A few seconds passed, and then she lowered her head, her dark orbs visible once more. "Jolicia is free, I have broken my bond to her. You are free to go, Judas. I will trouble you no further."
"Avella, I ..." He struggled for the words, as he watched her return to a state of dress. He did not know what to say, so all he could say was, "... thank you."
"You gave me a small gift this night. That is enough. A memory ... long ago."
The bard reached for his own clothing, mostly torn and shredded on the floor. "Well, whoever you were, once upon a time -- she was beautiful." He then covered himself as best he could with the scraps that remained.
Any attempts at small talk were thwarted by the re-appearance of Avella's wolf, who snarled when he approached. Then suddenly, Avella was on her knees, her hands covering her face. "Why do you just stand there?" She demanded. As Judas moved to comfort her, she gazed up at him, her features covered in a stream of bloody tears. "You must go, Judas. I cannot control myself for much longer. I have tasted your blood, and find it too sweet to ignore."
The bard nodded in comprehension, and with one final farewell, he was gone.
********
Multiple stab wounds There's always you my darling White and jagged Opening closing
At the centre Always you my darling At the centre Always you my dear
********
Judas quickly emerged from the depths of the Lycaeum, and eagerly welcomed the cool night air that greeted him. He paused for a moment, allowing a stray breeze to refresh his tired form, before continuing along his way. There was a small, empty feeling inside the pit of his stomach, and he was sore and bruised and bloody. But most importantly, the bard had confronted the Lady Avella Isilian ... and he had survived.
********
Note: All italicized portions of the above liberally adapted and stolen from Murdering Mouth by the Creatures, with an arrangement by John Cale.
|
|
|
Post by Jolicia on Apr 4, 2013 11:23:27 GMT -5
Mazewood was quiet, peaceful and lent to Jolicia being able to think with a clearer head. Two days on her own here and she had already started to get a better idea of what she really wanted and needed. Today though she was trying to figure out why an empty feeling had washed over her the other evening and stuck with her still now. She was snapped out of her thoughts though as she felt his presence and heard a knock at the front door.
Balam followed her up to the roof and they found a spot to sit. The conversation came easier today, but then it was about updating him on the latest events he had missed. Jolicia always did better with this sort of conversation and it had become their main source of interaction lately. She filled him in on the murders that had taken place around all the cities, the night in Carden, and of Aurelia's latest decision. Picking at the edges of the small table, she watched him, "So... we are trying to hurry along the ritual now..."
Balam's expression remained stoic, "Understood. So are you going through with it then?"
She nodded slowly to him, "I am. Are... you going to?" Her heart sank a little at his answer but she still tried to reason with Balam until they reached a point of silence. He was the first to break it asking if there was anything else. Jolicia sighed and lowered her head, "I don't want to tell you because we're actually having a normal conversation... and... I want you to go through with the ritual with the rest of us."
He stared at her plainly, "Tell me."
She looked to him and took a deep breath, beginning to explain the thoughts she had been battling with. Touching on the dangers of the ritual, the effect it would mean on their bond, their previous conversations of having a fresh start. "If I'm starting over... again. I need to find the old me that's been lost all these years... And I need to do it on my own."
Balam's face remained unchanged but she could feel the sting as he nodded slowly, "I see."
"It's not that I don't love you Balam... I do... but I don't feel like me anymore."
Jolicia watched quietly as he slowly slid off his ring and looked it over a moment before setting it on the table, "I... understand."
Lifting her gaze from the ring, she looked back to him, "You don't even know if you want to go through with it."
"I am what I am Jolicia. I will not change it if the only reason I would is no longer mine."
She sighed heavily, "You won't do it then?"
A bit of his defiance seeped through as he asked her what the point was. It was his next words broke her heart though, "I will find this Order of the Silver Sword and confess my true nature to them."
Jolicia tired to plea to him, " So instead of being... you would have yourself killed instead?" He simply nodded to her, "Why?" As he gave her his reason she lowered her face into her hands and began to cry softly.
Balam slid the ring across the table to her and stood slowly, "I love you Jo."
She grabbed the ring and stood up, walking over to him. This was not what she wanted to happen, it wasn't suppose to be like this. He was suppose to still go through with it all, incase... "Please don't do this," she pleaded again.
"There is nothing else for me Jo."
"Not even a hope that things could change in the future?" Balam wasn't seeing her point of view though. His mind had been made up and Jolicia's pleading and reasoning were not going to change it. If only these words they shared could have happened months ago instead of the fighting and the arguing.
Instead Jolicia heart broke further asking if he knew the pressure he was putting on her, "No pressure intended Jo. You said what you wanted and I respected that. Now respect mine."
Through her sobs she squeaked out, "But it's my fault..."
He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek softly, "No it's not, it's mine. I ran you away." Jolicia sighed and made a final request of Balam. He nodded, "Very well..." She sigh heavily as she had hoped he'd pick someone else, "Goodbye Jo. I love you... always have."
Jolicia grabbed him and kissed him. For a moment it felt as if the world stopped moving, but then she broke away and lowered her head as she sobbed, "I'm... sorry" He lifted her chin with a questioning look, "Doing this... causing this... Everything."
He genuinely smiled to her as she sniffled, her body shaking, "It isn't your fault Jo. It is my own. I pushed you to this... You go and live and be happy." As they each wiped tears from their face, they shared their last words. Then before either could say more, Balam turned and left for the final time.
|
|
|
Post by Jolicia on Apr 5, 2013 9:05:38 GMT -5
*NOTE: THE FOLLOWING WAS WRITTEN BY THE PLAYER OF BALAM, AND POSTED WITH HIS EXPRESS PERMISSION*
As Balam walked out of Mazewood the tears poured from his eyes. He could not bear the life that would be his if it was without her. Even when she returned to Ashencrosse to try and talk him out of it, he would not be swayed. They had come to be in two very different places. Balam sent her away to live her life and as he watched her walk away, he remembered his last promise to her. He headed over to the Barracks in search of his uncle John. There in the shop he found John, like always, hammering against the anvil hard at work.
“Hello Balam. What's wrong?” John always spoke with a sense of understanding.
“I need one more favor from you John, just one.”
“Name it and it is yours Balam.”
“Kill me.” There were no words to explain the look that covered John's face at that moment. "I cannot live like this anymore John. I have already spoken with Jo, so I beg you take up your sword once more and take my life... out of the love you have for me.”
John embraced Balam and sobbed loudly, “If it’s what you truly wish, then yes Balam, I will.”
Balam nodded once and pulled out a vial on a golden chain, “Once it’s done, save some ash in this and give it to her for me. Tell her, I love her more than anything.”
John took the chain and nodded, grabbing his sword from the display case he motioned for Balam to kneel, “I love you Nephew.” With one slice, Balam was gone. As John finished it off, he knelt and scooped the ash into the vial, tears falling his face, “I'll tell her for you my boy.”
|
|
|
Post by Ssin'urn Ssussun on Apr 9, 2013 0:12:25 GMT -5
Dominic grabbed his gear and trodded out of the house. He had no chance of killing Neira on his own, All of his experiments pointed to his own magic being useless against her. He was unable to replicate the skull either, anything equally powerful would be equally impossible for him to get his hands on. He had but one chance....
Deceit was full of warriors, They battled for what seemed like hours driving back the undead horde. Finally after the waves of Liches she arrived, Riding her undead steed. This is however where things took a turn for the worse. From the main entrance many mounted warriors rode in and began to slay those attacking Neira. Soon all those who came to defeat her were gone, except for Dominic who hid quietly in a corner and watched. Soon the group of mounted men slayed the undead wench with little effort.
Dominic sighed in relief and watched as one lifted her skull and grinned at it.
"Oh yeah....there's my wench...." Dominic spoke to himself with a grin.
With a quick burst of speed he ran from his hiding place and screamed bloody murder. The one holding the skull looked over suddenly in shock as a large gravestone smacked into his face. The Warrior toppled over with a grunt onto the cold dungeon floor.
"Well...that lacked Subtlety....but damn if they didn't deserve it..." Dominic spoke as he grabbed the skull. The others had now noticed him and were charging his way. Dominic made a mad dash for the exit. On his way he used his magic to reanimate a dragon belonging to one of the slain tamers. The advancing warriors engaged it, giving him the time he needed to leave the chamber...and Recall home.
Dominic looked over the skull a minute in thought.
"So... this is what being an opportunist feels like.....Sweet"
|
|
|
Post by Jolicia on Apr 10, 2013 12:50:29 GMT -5
Jolicia sat quietly at the table, absorbed in her own thoughts as the others talked and waited on Wolfwood's arrival. Her nerves were already set on high but she received some small comforts from Aingeal's words, the large hug from Alisiea, and the mere presence of John. Him agreeing to go through this with her... there weren't words for her to find to express what it meant for him to be by her side. Ultimately though, it made her think of Balam. She was doing her best to keep it on the inside as there was business to tend to. Renthar was right though, she couldn't be distracted right now or it could prove to be a dire consequence and there had already been too many.
**************
Renthar had set the stage for the ritual with explicit instructions for everyone. Jolicia looked around the dungeon with anticipation at those there for a second chance at life and to those that were there to protect them while the task was completed. As Renthar asked if they were all ready, she was the first to respond with no hesitation. The next instruction was for the four of them to disrobe completely and little to her surprise the two men were the first to follow the order. She looked to Renthar curiously, "Now?" Jolicia could swear there was a slight hint of delight as he answered. Sighing, she slowly untied her dress and let it fall to the floor. She didn't look at the others, but kept her focus on Renthar as he went to each of them and gave instructions. Having finished, he moved to the middle of the Pentagram, "Now, I regret that which I must do... But unfortunately, for us to continue... You must all die."
Jolicia's spirit floated up as her lifeless body hit the floor. Watching as she heard Renthar begin to make contact with this world, she felt a familiar presence behind her. She turned and there was Balam with a serene look about him. Reaching out to him in disbelief, "You're... here?"
He smiled to her with a reassuring look, "I just needed to see you one more time. I needed to tell you that I love you and that I hope you will be truly happy now. I couldn't be with you in the way you wanted, but I couldn't leave you and John alone in this."
Renthar's voice broke through, "Choose Spirit! Breathe the Fire. Choose your fate. The time is at hand." She looked back to Balam feeling torn in two directions as he smiled to her. Then Renthar's voice broke through again, "Join us now! Jolicia!"
Balam reached out to her, "Go Jo. This isn't your time. Return to your body, return to the others and live the mortal life you longed for. I'll be waiting for you when you return."
"Jolicia!" Renthar's voice reverberated through her. Balam brushed her hand away as she reached for him again and then she was suddenly pulled back into her body, the living world. Jolicia coughed violently as she rose to her feet, unsteady and wobbling on what felt like newborn legs. Rubbing her face she looked around the room and her gaze met John's as he smiled to her with that knowing look.
|
|
|
Post by Renthar on Apr 11, 2013 9:12:26 GMT -5
"You may dress now," Renthar ordered the naked Tokuno native standing in the center of the room. It had been important for him to examine the integrity of Mariko's smooth, naked form; he would not tolerate any abnormalities or deformities. Not where his pleasure was concerned. "I long for the day that I am well enough to do what I please to your body."
"Hai Rentha-San," the Geisha quietly acquiesced as she dressed.
"Now, I suppose it's time to see the damage done," he said, more to himself than to his foreign-born audience of one. Nearly a day had passed since he had performed the Restoration Ritual, and his body was still weak. Yet the spell was successful, was it not? Aurelia Bretane, Jolicia, Dominic Wolfwood, and John Reid were no longer kindred, they had been restored to true life. Of course, as always, the strange-eyed mage was mostly concerned with the personal effects. And until he removed the dark shroud that concealed his face and body, he would never know for certain.
When Renthar's initial attempts to leave the bed failed, Mariko dutifully rushed to his side. "No!" He shouted, as he smacked her away. "I am not some ancient or invalid." He would do this on his own, or not at all.
"Please forgive my boldness Renthar-San."
Slowly, and painfully, he finally managed to stand. "Lead me to the vanity," he commanded, and the Tokuno native did his bidding. Step by step, she helped him across the room, until he was seated before the mirror. "Shall we see the results?"
"Hai Renthar-San."
After disrobing, Renthar eagerly gazed at the mirror and was satisfied with the results. The face that peered back at him was one he had not seen in ages. More than a century even. "Well, how do I look? Does Mariko approve? And if you tell me you haven't given it thought, I shall likely slap you."
"Renthar-San looks very ... young."
Yes, his appearance was younger. Overnight, he had transformed from a man of fifty years to one of barely three decades old. With any luck, this was how he would forever remain. Also noticeably absent was the corruption, those dark magicks that had slowly been consuming him. Renthar was whole once more. Like the former vampires, he too was cured. "The way it's supposed to be."
"Hai."
He slowly turned to Mariko with an amused grin. "That's the one good thing about the sort of fools you find here in Ashencrosse. They're so optimistic. So self-centered. Focused only on their own goals. They do not consider the price, or the cost, and how they weren't the only ones to benefit ..."
For there would be consequences in the days to come. They simply would not be Renthar's to bear ...
|
|
|
Post by Judas D'arc on Apr 12, 2013 6:45:09 GMT -5
It was years ago, but the City of Britain was much the same. The old man took his first cautious step and exited the Wayfarer's Inn, his blue eyes clear and alert for any dangers concealed by the night. His clothing and possessions were plain and common, yet his posture and gait were noble and proud. He was careful in how he crossed the street and made his way past the Salty Dog tavern, not too quickly and not too conspicuously. Only a short distance until the one that promised to aid him in his plight. Hope, after all these years, was an unfamiliar feeling. Still, there was nothing he could have done to avoid the guardsmen that emerged from the drinking establishment to obstruct his path. With little choice, the old man slowed his pace and nodded to them. He knew that if he tried to flee, it would arouse suspicion, and ignoring them might prove fatal. Moments later, and their intentions became apparent as they suddenly surrounded him.
"Nicholas Cornigan?" The leader asked, the hand rested on the pommel of his sword an indication that he already had his answer.
The old man's disappointment was obvious, but he did not respond.
"We know who you are, Nicholas Cornigan," the guard continued. "Wanted for murder in Trinsic, a price on your head. You're coming with us."
Their quarry remained silent and dropped his gaze to the ground.
From nearby in the shadows, there was Judas, not yet nineteen years of age. He watched with interest as the leader struck the alleged criminal and knocked him down. The guardsman then barked a command to his subordinates, who, far from gently, lifted their prisoner up off the ground. After another minute of taunts and attempted interrogation, and they eagerly dragged the old man away into the darkness, never again to be seen by the young bard. He sighed deeply, part uncertainty and part regret, and turned to his companion, a short, round man with only a few strands of hair covering his big, fat head.
"Are you certain of his guilt, Cubbins?"
"Ain't 'ever sure o' not'in," the other man garbled a reply. "'sides, is too late fer changin' minds. Wha's dun."
"He did not seem to me a murderer," Judas meekly observed.
"Wha's dun," Cubbins repeated. "'e's a wan'ed man. Think o' tha' 'eward in'sead o' whinin' 'bout it. All tha' gold."
The younger man shrugged. "And my share, as promised?"
"Fif'een percen'. An' a boat ta Magincia. An' yer meet an' greet wif me boss."
The bard nodded, still troubled. "I only wish that ..."
"A bit o' clever, boy," The fat man offered. "Yer ne'er get wha' ye wan' in life, 'less ye take it, wif a fuk all ta tha' rest o' it."
********
"Quite an interesting story," Shelley remarked, once the telling was finished.
"I suppose," Judas replied before resuming his work. Following his confrontation with the Lady Avella Isilian, he had journeyed to Nujel'm to advise Jolicia of the outcome. She was pleased that her sire had relinquished all of her claims, but new troubles appeared to haunt her. Her attempts to convince Balam to participate in Aurelia's ritual had failed, and instead he desired a final death, refusing to endure an existence without her. The bard had offered Jolicia a number of strategies, but ultimately, her former lover could not be swayed. Although Judas was never particularly fond of Balam, the thought of another death, even that of an assassin-turned-vampire, was unsettling. When his time with Jolicia was finished, the bard departed Nujel'm for Trinsic of Felucca. It was his intention to remove all evidence that he and his friends had ever resided in the abandoned Trinsic mansion. Of course, like many things in life, this was easier planned than accomplished.
"I've been waiting for nearly a week," Shelley had half-complained the moment Judas entered the house. "Where have you been?" The concern in her voice was not quite consistent with the insults of their prior encounter.
While inconveniencing his old friend hardly concerned him, he was in no mood for argument or debate. So he told her his tale, both truthfully and completely.
"Still," Shelley mused, "there are things I don't understand."
"Such as?" The bard asked, as he made additional contributions to the junk accumulating on the floor of the front hall. Most of it was empty ale bottles and stray pillows, and he held Quinn entirely responsible.
"First," she began. "Do you think this Avella creature was telling the truth? Did Draven fool all of you? Is he really alive?"
"A fair question, but all I know is this. Months ago, when Draven discovered what I had learned about his Coven, he sent them after me, and I barely survived. This time, he clearly lacked the strength to defeat us. Either he was killed, or he faked his own death in order to avoid confrontation. Both suit my purposes. I never cared about revenge, I only wanted Aurelia to have the freedom she deserved. Whether ashes or in hiding, Draven and what remains of his Coven are no threat to her now."
Shelley nodded. "And speaking of your friend Aurelia, was she lying to protect Draven? If he was the one who turned her into a vampire, why couldn't she tell the difference between the real him and an imposter?"
"Absolutely not," he scowled at the suggestion. "I trust Aurelia completely and without any reservation. Besides, she had no reason to lie -- this was all for her. If the Draven that fell was counterfeit, he must have somehow tricked her."
"And what of you, Judas? Can you be trusted?"
"Me?" He questioned as he removed a small shoe from a potted plant. It clearly did not belong to Alisiea or Aingeal, and he wondered if Paine had unusually tiny feet.
"Well, you were fool enough to remove that talisman that protected you," the once-a-thief reminded him. "And according to what Draven said, there was no outside influence that caused you to attack Ashencrosse. It was all your own doing."
"Trust me, I have considered this," said Judas, "and Draven's words were lacking any logic or sense. My -- those killings -- mirrored the others that he orchestrated around Sosaria. The ones with the upside down bodies and the carvings of swords made into their flesh. How could I come up with this on my own? Also, from what I remember of that night, I felt compelled to punish Aurelia, Jolicia, and Balam for their disobedience. Why would their betrayal of Draven stir me to act? How could I believe myself a vampire yet not be entirely under his control. It is all nonsense. I might bear responsibility for much that happened, but not this." He stopped in order to scoop up yet another trail of cookie crumbs, silently cursing the names Quinn and Alisiea as he did so. "As for the talisman, I still do not understand it. I would have never removed it willingly. Besides, with both Draven and Isabella stalking me in my sleep, the possibilities are too many. I imagine it will always be an unsolved mystery."
"If you say so," Shelley conceded. "But this offering you made to restore the power of the talisman? How can someone sacrifice love? What's it even mean?
"Honestly, I have not an idea, but I will handle it when I need to."
"Good luck," she said, almost mockingly. "What of the dead girl from Ocllo? You and your friends helped her murderer escape justice, and then killed him yourselves. Will her parents ever learn the truth of what happened?"
"I returned there once," The bard sighed. "When I was helping Mei to find Avella. I also intended to look for Isileena's parents. Of course, with the Dark Order conquering the place ..." He frowned as he added one of Cole's silly hats to the pile of refuse.
"So you've abandoned them?"
"I have left the matter in Paine's capable hands," he stated. "Besides, with all the vampires dead or scattered, he needs something to keep him busy."
"You have an answer for everything," the woman teased. "One final question." She gestured widely with her arms. "What is your obsession with this damn house?!"
"This damn house," Judas repeated. He then turned to the two portraits hanging from the wall of the front hall. One was of a man, with black hair and blue eyes. The other of a woman, with auburn hair and dark brown eyes. Both noble and proud and content. "This is Lord Nicholas and Lady Thalesa Cornigan, and this was their home. They were good and honorable people of Trinsic, the rare sort usually reserved for stories. And they shared a bond that never wavered, and was only strengthened after the birth of their son. Unfortunately, there was another nobleman, Lord Anton D'arc, a business rival of Nicholas and former suitor of Thalesa. He never fully recovered from losing her hand, and the years only served to increase his resentment and desire. Knowing he could never have her honestly, he employed a sorcerer to magically disguise himself as Nicholas, and seduced Thalesa while her husband was away from home. Well, as often occurs, the truth of it came out, and there was a confrontation. But Anton claimed innocence, and his accusers had no proof, so his older brother Paul, another honorable man, defended him. Paul D'arc was slain, and Nicholas accused of murder. He fled Trinsic to fight another day and find a way to clear his name. Sadly, it was all too much for poor Thalesa, who took her own life. And all their assets, except for this house, were seized by Anton, who also inherited control of his family's wealthy, and used the incident to increase his own power and standing."
"And the Cornigan son?"
"Nicholas arranged for a loyal servants to take his infant son to safety," he explained. "Despite my research, I never did learn what happened to him."
Shelley rolled her eyes. "It's a sad story, but the world is full of sad stories, Judas. What's the real reason for your interest?"
"Do you remember how we first met?"
"Who could forget the worst day of my life?" She grinned. "You walk off a ship from Britain, with a letter of introduction from Cubbins telling us how you helped him with some business in Britain. He thought you might prove useful. Little did he know."
"Anton D'arc never could forget how his old rival was still free. Every year, the price on Nicholas Cornigan's head increased." The bard swallowed hard. "I ... encountered him while drunk at the Blue Boar one night. For reasons I still cannot fathom, he revealed far too much about himself to me. I let it slip to a mutual friend -- remember that Mazotti cousin with the lazy eye -- and he told Cubbins. And before I knew it, I had agreed to help trap Cornigan and claim the reward. I should have refused, but Cubbins kept promising it would lead to bigger and better things ..."
"You're a terrible man with a terrible conscience. And those are two things that never go well together. But you're holding back something, Judas. 'Anton D'arc?' From what I recall, you specifically requested that surname when I had those identity documents forged. Or am I to believe that it's just another coincidence?"
"I will let you draw your own conclusions," was all he spoke on the subject. For the next hour, there was silence in the abandoned Trinsic mansion, as Judas finished his work. When the house was finally in the same condition in which it had been found, he returned to the conversation. "Why are you here, Shelley? Last time, we did not part on friendly terms. In fact, you made it clear you that you never wished to see me again."
"I've -- I've decided to go back to the old business. The old ways of doing things," she informed him, almost sadly. "And I'd like you to come work for me."
The bard was surprised by this, but he tried his best to avoid appearing so. "But what of your new life? I thought you were quite comfortable and content with your new life. A council member, was it? Vesper or Minoc or one of those places?"
"These are uncertain times," his old friend confessed. "A regime changes in a flash of fire. Or an old face returns to destroy everything you've built."
"And would this old face belong to anyone I know?"
Shelley paused for a moment, as if considering her answer, and then shook her head. "No one you know. From before your time. Or perhaps afterwards."
"Very well," Judas was not entirely certain he believed her. But it mattered as little to him as her offer of work. "I am afraid I will decline, at least for now. My current plans involve avoiding trouble and excitement as much as I possibly can."
"It's a standing offer, Judas," she informed him. "I know I was harsh when I visited before, but I really was impressed by this whole Order of the Silver Sword business. I could use your skills. Misdirection is a dying art. These days, everyone relies too much on force to get a job done, as if it's the only option."
"Who needs sword or spell, when there's a story to tell?" The bard quickly rhymed. Then he reached inside of his pack, pulled out a neatly wrapped scroll, and handed it to Shelley. "Before I forget. Instead of tracking down Cubbins, I might as well deliver it personally."
"One last Order of the Silver Sword poster?" She questioned as she unwrapped it.
"Indeed."
Shelley finished opening the parchment and began to read. As of late, the path of her life had slipped far from her control, and the writings therein brought her some much needed laughter. "I love it," she smiled, and then turned to congratulate her old friend on a job well done.
But he was already gone.
********
Somewhere. Anywhere. A man stands on a beach. The sun upon his face, the sand between his toes, the salty air a taste of freedom. Barely clothed, a touch of color to his normally pale skin. Long black hair a tangled mess, a beard grown natural and unkempt. Dark brown eyes well rested, and a mouth that does not bother to hide its amusement. His attention on the sea, as if he waits for someone or for something to happen. Yet the outcome does not seem to be of much concern. The past no longer matters, and the future holds little interest. Because, for the first time in nearly thirty years of living, he is exactly where he wants to be.
A new world all his own.
THE END
|
|