A Scrambled Mind: VII
Markos strolled down the road. What he had seen, Riu definitely didn't. Warm him to her in a friendly way. He flinched as he tried to ignore the whispering voices in his head. "Jalester is great!" He spouted randomly to Alekzandr and Asher, "If anything is going on, he knows about it." Markos tried to control his volume; it had been a while since he had to consistently communicate with people. Markos closed his eyes and began pushing out the random voices whispered to him in alien tongues.
'We should burn down the shops and take the whore!' Shut up, he pleaded silently.
"He sounds good," Alekzandr said offhandedly as he stared off into the distance. "How did you.."
"He got into trouble like fourteen times.." Asher said, rubbing the surface of his mask and shaking his head. "They quickly learned. They couldn't contain him." Asher added carefully. Markos paid close attention, watching the words. "So, they just had him promise he wouldn't do anything stupid.." Again shaking his head.
"That.. works?" Alekzandr puzzled breathlessly.
"Yeah.. believe it or not, if you let him know what is stupid, he won't do it," Asher responded. He nodded, knowing Asher was mainly correct.
"I've learned-" Markos began trying to explain himself as if the conversation made him appear like a child. "That my uh. Wisdom. It isn't as. On point as others." He concluded. The three turned the corner, reaching the yawning portal. He breathed heavily, "Let's go!" Markos opened the door, and instantly, his mind was flooded; his head constantly shook as he tried to discern what voices were in his skull and which were around him. "I'll be right with you!" He stumbled out before cursing himself; that wasn't a person. He bit his tongue and followed his usual strategy, talking to no one unless he wanted to.
'I say we slit our wrists and bleed on the fifty-third plank of wood.'
"Which one is he?" Markos shook his head as Asher grabbed his shoulder; that was a real voice. He tried to note for the fifteenth time.
"Uh.." Markos looked around as his mind went through various stages of blank and spotty. "There." He pointed to a table before him moving towards it. He singled out a tall, average-looking human man. Jalester had brown hair, brown eyes, and a scared face with a slight stubble of a beard. He was dressed in a large grey overcoat with the insignia of the city watch on its upper right breast. He had a thin face with sharp features and narrow eyes, eyes Markos had learned to understand; they were brighter than you first expected. "Jalester!" He approached Jalester casually as the man locked eyes with him and sighed.
"Oh... h..hi." Jalester sat up and set his drink down as Markos approached with Asher and Alekzandr behind him.
"Hello there." Alekzandr held out a hand. "Nice to meet you. You're a friend of these two?" Jalester clenched his eyes and nodded reluctantly.
"Technically. Sure.." Jalester looked at Asher. "I told you to keep her away from here; I don't need some insane-" Asher cut him off.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. We just need info." Asher replied. Markos looked at Jalester.
"Again! I'm a guy." Markos bleated annoyingly.
"Oh.. yeah," Jalester said, clearly not caring at all. He huffed in response.
"Anyway. Non-believer." He switched from Jalester's name so his annoyance could be known. "Look, we're trying to track down this Floon fellow, we asked around, and apparently, he got abducted at the Skewered Dragon. Do you know anything? Where was he taken?" Markos bounced in place as he tried to ignore various things he thought he heard.
"That's not all," Asher added. "Do you know a place with? Access? To sewers somewhere with mud." Asher leaned in. Jalester sat for a moment, looking at Markos and the two others with a bit of bewilderment.
"Floon, huh? Yeah, Volo said something like that. I'm not sure where he is. But.." Jalester thought for a moment. "The other day, some of my guys said they heard something strange coming from Candle Lane, a warehouse there, black. You can't miss it. The only place I can think of with a sewer entrance." Jalester sat momentarily with a look of hope as he thought it would satisfy Markos.
"That's good enough for me!" Markos jumped up, putting on a small act as he grabbed Asher's hand and dragged him from the bar.
"W-wait, we could ask more-" Asher protested as Alekzandr simply stood up and followed.
"No need; we know everything we need to know!" Markos shot back as they exited the bar; he grabbed his head, shaking it as he closed his eyes; painful pulses wracked through his brain as he saw splitting images in the darkness, saws, a massive cliff... her. He shook his head. It was a good day, he told himself. It was a good day; she was never coming back.
"Seriously, Markos?" Asher said as they stood outside the tavern. Asher looked at the door as Alekzandr exited the building.
"Jalester said if we were going to investigate, he would send the guard tomorrow at dawn," Alekzandr told the two. Markos nodded as he tried to cope with his headache.
"Th..thought he'd do that. Can't have a bunch of idiots going after something without the guard." He smiled slightly as he stood up straight, shifting his cloak a little. A moment of clarity hit him. As his mind soothed a bit. Clearly, he was on the right track. Markos looked up to meet Asher's pale green eyes under the mask and Alekzandr's electric blue. "Any idea what we should do until the others meet up with us?" Alekzandr looked off into the distance.
"Is there a bookstore near here?" Markos thought for a moment.
"I don't know, Alekz. Lets uh. Let's look." Markos walked down the street as random images flashed into his head; what was going wrong? What was he supposed to do? He gripped his hair and started cursing as he tried to focus.
"Markos is you. Alright?" Alekzandr moved to his side before Asher stepped in.
"He's fine just having. An episode." Markos could feel Asher's eyes studying him, thinking the same thing he thought. Ever since they had come to Waterdeep, his lapses in sanity had gotten worse; he started seeing her everywhere they went.
'I'm supposed to be here!' Markos screamed internally, 'You said here, so why are you hurting me!' He shook his head as he tried to walk, bumping into random citizens. He tried to level out his head and look forward. Markos knew what was happening until he found one little thing, whatever he needed to continue, his mind would continue splitting like this it would- Markos stopped in his tracks. As his mind seemed lighter.
"Wow." Alekzandr patted Him on the back. "You weren't even looking, and you found a bookstore!" He looked up to see Alekzandr smiling.
"Yup." Markos looked at the bookstore and got a passive feeling.
"If you need it, it could be in there." Markos snapped in a circle looking for the source of the voice. He felt his heart seize up. That was. He shook it off; it was just another voice in his mind. Markos walked towards the entrance spotting the name on the door, 'Book Wyrm's Treasure.' The sign held a curled gold dragon holding a red book in its clutches. Markos stepped through the glass door.
Where others saw insanity. He found tormenting guides. The voices in his head were not simply random whispers. At least not always, but the voices of. Things. Things from which he had gained some semblance of allegiance, his mind was opened to a cosmic truth and thus was laid into with warp. A twisting corridor of a disease that settled upon anyone who witnessed the things Markos had. But with it came a strength.
He instantly recognized the magic that lay in the shop. The store outside was probably only twelve feet wide, but inside, Markos stared upon row after row of books, stretching thirty. No forty feet to his left and right. He grinned as the inside was sprawled with tables all adorned with books. At its center, around fifteen feet from the entrance, he saw a large dark oak table with a red velvet sheet centered upon it. Behind the desk sat a golden dragon born smoking out of a pipe.
"May I help you find... individuals?" The dragon born's voice was deep yet posh, carrying an accent he had heard before among the most sophisticated but couldn't place precisely. The shopkeeper looked casually at the gaggle of misfits that was Markos and his friends. His soft golden eyes gave Markos a tender stare.
"Yes." Alekzandr pushed his way to the front. "Hello I am Alekzandr. I'm trying to kill some time, and I wanted to inquire on whether or not you may have any books on mystical weaponry." Alekzandr unshouldered his rifle as Markos watched him set the large device down. "You see, comrade. I come from a civilization called the Rushiki, and I'm looking to see what advancements-" The dragon born sat up and marveled over the weapon.
"A Rushiki!" The dragon born set his pipe down and extended his hand to Alekzandr. "I am a huge fan of your culture, I. I have just the thing for you." The dragon born stood up and walked behind the desk into a small closet of a room, which Markos could only assume was also more prominent on the inside. After a few minutes of rustling, he pulled out two large books and set them before Alekzandr on the desk. "Modern mystical weapons." The dragon born said. "But that's not all." The dragon born pulled out a second book; it was extensive with a red cover and small white text. Markos peered around the corner and looked at it, seeing the surface was written in Rushiki, "A tome on Rushiki Advancements." All three party members said at once. The dragon born looked slightly bewildered at Asher, Markos, and Alekzandr. "You speak Rushiki?"
"Yeah.. picked up a bit in the war," Asher responded bitterly.
"I uh. Learned it as a child." Markos said somberly. He stared into his hands, thinking about his childhood; that town was awful.
"Where. Did you get this, comrade?" Alekzandr looked bewildered at the book as he picked up the tome.
"My name is Rishaal." Rishaal, the dragon born, replied. "How I came across it? That's a story for another day, however." Rishaal placed his hand on the book. "I can't read it. I don't speak Rushiki, but if you. Would be willing.." Alekzandr snatched the book up and paged through it quickly.
"I could translate it in a matter of weeks. Incredible, there are recordings here I never expected to see!" Alekzandr's eyes looked hyper-focused as he seemingly tuned Rishaal's words out.
"Oh well, that's fantastic. I could set up a desk any day... uh. What, uh, what can I get you?" Asher walked forward to start talking as Markos stepped away. He'd heard enough; based on Rishaal's voice and nature, he assumed asking him may be a waste of time.
"Oh, Ma'am, is there something you need?!" Rishaal called out to Markos, who was already walking around the store. That's when the first whisper hit; like a snake, something small and fierce crawled into Markos's mind. It spoke with a lisp as it invited him to read.
'To your right.' He strolled casually to his right as he replied to Rishaal.
"No. I'm a fine, smart non-believer.." Markos murmured as he stepped into what could only be called an occult section. Scanning the walls, he closed his eyes as more whispers crept in. "What am I doing..." Markos whispered to himself.
'What you need to do.' Markos's eyes snapped open at its voice. As he felt his body shiver. Scanning the walls, he looked for it.
"Deep speech." He whispered, looking at the wall; he found it, the source of his whispers. The shop's little voice called out for him. He pulled a black leather bound book off the wall, it is cover holding an arcane sign and writing only he could understand. It was completely black with pale white writing on its surface. The title was Deep Speech, a language spoken by the universe itself. The Far Realms. Markos slid his small hand down the cover before grasping the book entirely. The whispers from it had stopped completely, as did his headache. "Not hurting me. That must mean I'm right.." Markos turned on his heels and walked with purpose back towards the counter, the book in hand and his mind out of pain, yet still plagued with random voices.
"Oh yes, erm. You." Rishaal made a strange face as he studied Markos.
"Markos." He offered as he sat the book down on the desk. "I wanted to buy this, Non-believer." Rishaal's eyes darkened, and Markos watched the gears turn in his head.
"Non. Far.." Rishaal murmured to himself for a moment, "Young lady- er man, are you sure you want this.." Rishaal studied Markos's face; he could tell he was smart and quickly learned what was happening.
"Absolutely non-believer! After all, I need it to summon my lord!" Markos said happily, the fun and happy voice crept out of him.
"What.." Rishaal shook his head before Alekzandr shot in.
"Don't pay him much attention Rishaal, he's just some random Cultist of.. I think Cluey or Cathloo or something!" Alekzandr said from behind the desk as he was clearly diligently writing.
"Cultist of.." Rishaal's eyes widened as he gazed at Markos; Markos bit his tongue, 'shit,' he thought. A bad mental day always meant crap interactions. "I Don't think I can sell you this book, son," Rishaal said, reaching for it. "This. isn't the kind of thing you want to get into." Markos set his hand on the book.
"Oh, don't worry about me, Non-believer. I know exactly what I'm doing." Markos saw the look in Rishaal's eyes harden. As he focused on Markos's face, silence passed before he squinted.
"Can't.. message.." Rishaal muttered, sitting up straight and getting a worried expression in his golden eyes. "I think you should look at other material, the child. You seem to be messing with something you can-" Markos felt his body fill with heat as he set both hands on the book and leaned forward.
"I just want to buy the book, non-believer; what's the problem?" He tried to contain himself, and Rishaal only seemed sterner. He pulled the pipe out of his mouth, still studying Markos's face. He felt a familiar sensation of someone trying to pierce his mind; he didn't allow it.
"How.. look, child, you are trying to meddle in power. Things you can't possibly hope to understand-" Markos nearly lunged at him. Moving in closer until they were mere inches apart.
"I understand perfectly, Rishaal; listen to me. My lord will rise; I will summon the great dead god. Cthulhu will raze us; you can't stop that. Now." Markos bit back. "How much for the book." Rishaal seemed to recoil for a moment. His whole face spelled an image of confusion and fear before he narrowed his eyes and leaned back in. Rishaal's golden spectacles showed something behind them, not just fear.. A.. almost burning hatred.
"Five gold. And never step foot in this shop again." Rishaal gritted slowly. Markos smiled lightly, pulling five gold from his pocket, and he set it on the counter.
"Thank you... Non-believer." Markos tucked the large book into his bag before walking towards the exit. "Asher! Alekzandr! I'll see you two outside.." He waved at Rishaal, who seemed to sit down in a slight bit of terror from the exiting cultist. Markos tried to think as he stepped out but could only find voices.