The Keepers of Chaos: A Vault of Hell

Vaelle Lurval: CXX

"Shut up!" Riu chirped, but even she laughed a little bit. "Are we all ready? Like seriously can we just go or?" She took a mental note; they had the brew, they had the bar, but the keys were a set of three.. Which meant the hand..

"Yup." Markos exclaimed excitedly. He reached behind the counter moving some stuff around until he produced a jar of salt. Inside it was a cloth wrapped.. Thing. Her heart sunk, she wanted to avoid puking and continued to advert her eyes. The.. prostitute she had escorted in.. had he..? She felt slightly sick. Her head started to bounce, how was this different from the cult?

Alongside, the trident normally strapped to Markos's back was a cloth enwrapped pole of some kind it look cylindrical but very large and wide. "Oh, Vaelle!" He rushed over, she noticed in the corner of her eye Riu seemed distant moving in a wide arc out of the way for Markos. She looked uncomfortable. "Here." He reached over his back pulling free the cloth-covered package. "While I was at steam and steel.. I picked up something I had commissioned for you." Commissioned for her? She felt at a loss for words what.. Was he even talking about?

"I... Thank you, what is it?" She breathed hesitantly. Was trusting gifts from cultists a good idea? Her hand drifted to Tròcair for a second. Markos unwrapped the long object revealing dark black Damascus metal. She spotted a tall sharp silver blade embedded on the top leading down to a mix of wood and steel to make up a handle. Standing before her was a seven-foot-tall silver-tipped spear. Her arms trembled she reached out speechless gripping the handle, she admired its craftsmanship it had outer wooden sections for the handle with dark steel at its center the top of the spear cascaded outward with a large blade embedded with runes. She flipped it around on one side she spotted the symbol of Asmodeus except it was completely inverted a sign of disrespect.. On the other, was the odd branch-like symbol Markos held on a necklace she'd seen. The metal looked awfully familiar however beaten into it she saw odd angles and weird rifts in the pattern. "Its.. beautiful.." She whispered running her hands up and down its shaft.

"It's made from the daggers of the cult.." He mentioned as if reading her mind. She looked up at him speechless. The daggers of the very cult she'd left were now constituted into a spear? Flipping the weapon over and over in her hands, it felt perfectly balanced for her size with a beautiful design. "The tip is silvered meaning you can actually fight the demons.. I learned in my own travels.. Poetic irony is great." He spoke while staring at his own trident not as well made, but beautiful in its own way. Markos's effeminate face twisted like he was in pain his eyes turned murky for a moment before snapping back to their violet hue.

"I.. don't know what to say.. Thank you." Vaelle settled on a response. She reached out to give Markos a hug but he simply flinched away giving her a wary look. This weapon was her's.. It was time to end the cult with their own blades, reforged and beaten by heat and trial.. Steel once used for evil would now be wielded to extinguish that very evil. She grinned a little. 'I am not the same helpless girl Donna.' She cursed at her old friend despite the fact some part of her still missed the woman. It was like Adleth said, she was going to cut all of them out. Finally bringing her attention away she noticed a series of silhouettes moving outside the windows. "And who.. Are they exactly?" Markos spun around as did some others.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Yeah, that's cannon fodder." He chuckled. 'Huh?' Vaelle gave him a horrified expression.

"Whore cannon fodder?" Herod requested clarification. Vaelle felt even more mortified. "I like the sound of cannon fodder."

"Shall I be calling the Exitium house? Are we expecting the need for an army?" Vestus inquired. Vaelle peered through the window noticing five of the figures were dressed in studded leather armor held shields and various weapons. The last figure was dressed in heavy plate with a modified guards uniform. In their back pockets were distinct pam- oh fucking damnit. They were his cultists from around town.