Another one: XXI
"Poskol thamar bezhim ath... beskenochnosti thamar sarzhat." Alekzandr read to himself. It was a quiet day, the outside morning air was damp and cut with a cold clarity he hadn't felt in months. Summer was rough, Alekzandr thought, the hot sweltering sky always threatened his comfort. He preferred the winter, he preferred anything other than hot sunny days. Though he couldn't be sure he hated the heat that much, afterall.. she always wished for warmer days, and more sun.. He reminded himself. He wondered if she would enjoy Waterdeep.
"How is it?" Alekzandr was snapped from his daze with Rishall's words who stood behind him happily, Rishall's draconic eyes blinked with their two lids
"I've made progress," Alekzandr stated. "I have gone through over five chapters now, you will not believe the things recorded in this book. Masha Lobodovshki's chapter on moving water without the use of a pump! Now that is something that has been truly lost to time." Alekzandr let out a pained laugh. "Though the mixture of old and ancient technology is... jarring for me. It is like this book was not written all at once, or if it was, someone had a strange taste of what order to place my people's advancements in.." He said bitterly, hating to be reminded of the war. Alekzandr thought of his people, he had chosen to remember them fondly for the people they were before the war. Yet it was impossible to shake the dread he felt in his heart.
"Alekz.. Is.. something wrong?" Rishall pulled out a chair and brought it to Alekzandr's side sitting down on it next to him. "Tell me. What troubles you?" He swallowed, staring into Rishall's golden dragon born eyes. "This book, I can see you enjoy it.. Yet, you are uneasy." He looked down as he took a swig of his flask. Was this a tale he could tell? Was this a thing he could share with another? His pain and misery. Rishall was a trustworthy soul, and someone who had offered Alekzandr work on something so private to his culture.
"I was reminded of the war." He replied softly. "This passage.. Poskol thamar bezhim ath beskenochnosti thamar sarzhat." Alekzandr said in his mother tongue of Rushik. "It means; For we run from a terror. We shall fight. It was a common saying during the war, a justification for our actions against the Ercelan people." Alekzandr looked up at Rishall with a veteran's stare, he was overcome with grief and sorrow.
"I.. will admit, I have not heard much of the war my friend. Yet I am sorry.. I can see it in your eyes. Trust me, neither of us are proud of our pasts." Rishall concluded. Rishall looked at him with an inquisitive expression, Alekzandr could sense he wished to ask a question.
"The terror." Alekzandr could hear his own voice croak. "You are wondering what Terror could drive us to fight, drive us to a point where even I regret the actions? It is a terror unlike anything you have seen.." Alekzandr winced as its image reformed within his mind its.. Its long claws... No! he bit back, he would not think of this creature's form. He would not torment himself. "It was horrible enough, for our war." Alekzandr said solemnly. "Trust me on that." Alekzandr's mouth tasted bitter.. Justified, he nearly cackled at that idea.
"I thought it was the Ercelans who attacked?" Rishall replied. "Was it the Rushiki instead? Who.. declared this war?" Alekzandr shook his head. The truth was both in plain sight to all yet tucked away.
"The Ercelan's declared war." Alekzandr confirmed, "They were angry with us.. We were.. Expanding on their land they said, but we needed to. We were running, Rishall." He met the book keeper's eyes. "We were running, and they were too prideful to listen, and we were too arrogant to explain.. Or perhaps too foolish." Sometimes he wondered which.
"Elves.. Attacking.. Elves are not normally aggressive. Well except for ofcourse.." Rishall murmured. Alekzandr only started laughing.
"HA!" Alekzandr said. "Another day, in another time, I could explain to you how these.. Were aggressive, what they were. But that is for another day, comrade."
"Well I-" Rishall started but a bell for the shop went off behind him.
"Attend to your customer's comrade.." Alekzandr tried for a smile as he closed his eyes, still picturing her face. "The crimes of the Rushiki can wait for another day." he opened, greeted by Rishall's concerned face, his expression worrisome.
"Take the rest of the day off Alekz.. Look through the books here." Rishall reached into his breast pocket and set down a pouch of coins, Alekzandr could only assume were a few pieces of gold. "You can take one of the books you find.. Take care." Rishall hurried from the room as he could hear him talking to an array of individuals.
'Markos.' Alekzandr thought to himself, one of the many crimes of The Marrow war, its name after its placement near the spine of the world. Children of the Marrow. Those were their names. He felt embarrassed, the Rushiki looked down upon the Ercelan's yet they bred with them, they spawned children with them. Not that many survived. Alekzandr knew too well what happened to Rushiki defectors, and Ercelan traitors. He could still hear the screams, even now. Alekzandr decided he would stroll to the sections on religions scoffing at them as he passed by, religion was not a tenant he needed to live by after all where were these gods when Marrow children were hunted for sport? Focusing on a shelf of mystic history Alekzandr noticed the books on infernal knowledge were missing. Not just one but an entire row of over twenty books were gone. Someone was really curious about hell. He pulled a small leather bound tome from the fifth shelf.
"Uliard's mysteries of the old ones.." Alekzandr chuckled, Uliard was such a half wit trying to find knowledge and magic in places it clearly didn't exist. Parsing his way through the front cover of the light blue book he read its opening passage.
'Not for the faint of heart, the knowledge here is forbidden.' Alekzandr laughed. "Uliard.. You did have a love for theatrics didn't you?" He mused as he began to turn pages.
"That he did." A cold malonic voice came from Alekzandr's right. He furrowed his brow, the only thing to his right was the backroom of the shop. Alekzandr looked over catching only a glimpse of blue skin, before whatever figure was there vanished. He turned to look to his left before a new book appeared on the shelf. Where the infernal section was once empty sat only a single black book. Alekzandr read its title.
"A history of mystical weapons.." Alekzandr read in its undercommon writing. "What.."
"In fact, I believe Uliard had a deep love for the dramatic.. Wouldn't you.. Ikorov." Alekzandr spun around. The cold voice was behind him now but again he caught nothing, no glimpses, no images. "He wrote on a subject he knew nothing about.. And labeled them beings of power, with no knowledge of true power." He felt his spine tingle a cold feeling running down it. The voice was far now, but it spoke in barely a whisper.. Alekzandr slowly turned around, as he felt his own heart beating, desperate to know who was talking to him.
"Who.." Alekzandr started but in an instant he felt the book shelf behind him buckle.
"You will find out soon enough." Alekzandr felt a voice whisper into his ears as he collapsed, his eyes closed cringing from the slithering feeling that invaded his mind. "The real question is how you interrupted that one's plans.. Marvelous.. Interesting.." Alekzandr fully closed his eyes and moved out of the way of the collapsing bookshelf. Alekzandr collected the fallen books, arranging them back on what was left of the bookcase, before slowly inching back to the front of the shop, to tell Rishall of what had happened. Alekzandr felt the sensation of unease settle within him. Not fear, not even anxiety, simply unease. He was unsure what to make of that encounter, whispers on knowledge of Uliard the scholar before making a bookcase collapse on him? It made little sense to him. Alekzandr told Rishall of the mess in the back, to the Dragon borns own disappointment, as he sent an elven employee to go fix it up.
"There was something else.. A.. voice. Who was talking to me in riddles really." Alekzandr noted, still confused about his encounter. "Pretty sure he made the bookcase fall. No idea though. Kept talking about Uliard." He held up the book he had taken.
"Uliard? The elven scholar from the Rose tythes?" Rishall asked in response. It was true, Alekzandr thought. Uliard was a scholar from hundreds of years ago, but still his writings had still somehow earned merit among the modern people, regardless of how foolish they were!
"Yeah.. him, it was random if I'm being honest, but really I have no clue what it was about. Anyway I guess-" Alekzandr stopped as he watched Rishall's eyes go wide and his mouth grimace in irritation.
"What the hell is He, doing here?!" Rishall pointed behind him, he looked over at the shop window. Standing behind it was Markos's squashed face against the glass, his wide purple eyes staring deep into Alekzandr's.
"I.." Alekzandr felt at a loss for words. "I have no.. idea.." He handed the book to Rishall. "I'll take care of it." He shouldered his rifle before walking through the shop and out the front door. "Markos, what on Toril are you doing?" He tried to ask nicely.
"Oh, uh hi Alekzandr, well I'm not allowed in the shop. But everyone's wondering about you, we need you to come back to the manor something happened." Alekzandr looked down at the short half elf, how anyone could ever take him seriously only Lobodovshki could know.
"Markos.. I'm at work, I need you to head back to the manor we can talk about this later-" Markos reached into his back pocket which could only have been magical with how low he could reach. Pulling free Alekzandr watched as Markos produced a large bottle of premium Griffon brand Vodka.
"Thought you would say that, Alekzandr, so I brought this." He could feel his mouth practically salivate at the sight of the brew. "How about you come with me, I'll tell you everything that's happened."
"Ok." Alekzandr responded instantly as he reached out for the alcohol.
"Ah,ah!" Markos responded holding it further out of reach, "When we get back." Markos replied.
"Fine." Alekzandr shot back "Then we move." He pushed Markos forward a bit as the two of them headed back to TrollSkull Manor. The boy seemed childish, yet at other moments he seemed almost leveled headed and intelligent. It was most likely his insanity Alekzandr concluded. The half elf was bouncing between thoughts and ideas as his insanity whispered to him. It was the only theory that fully made sense to Alekzandr, but to go mad at such a young age..
"How old are you Markos?" He asked, he thought of it, Markos was a half elf so his age was difficult to pin down, he looked young no older than twenty or so. Yet his eyes.. His purple eyes were not bright like that of a youth. They were old as if they had seen so many years he had lost track.
"I.." Markos looked down for a second like he wasn't even sure of his own age. "Twenty five." Markos concluded. "I'm twenty five." The half-elf said again. This made sense, if he was a child of the Marrow he couldn't be much older, in fact he was just about as old as the war itself, most likely a last minute baby. "You?" Markos asked softly.
Alekzandr chuckled. "Forty three.. Maybe forty four at this point I'm not sure.." it had been Twenty or so years since he had left the war, god it had been so long..
"What's the rifle for?" Markos asked slyly. Alekzandr looked at Markos with a funny expression.
"Segiri? Have you not been listening to me? This Rushiki rifle is built to enhance magic control." He remarked. He studied Markos's face, it wasn't stupidity he found but instead intrigue.
"Oh no! I've been listening.. but why a rifle? How does that help against... say a wand?" Markos shot back, it was clear he didn't know a single thing about Rushiki's advancements but how could he? He was but a baby when the war was at its end.
"Well, for example, you can mount certain things on it, like a stand to help you balance your aim, rather than dinkley holding a wand or even a spyglass!" Alekzandr said longingly "Which I yearn for but that is an unsavory amount of gold..."
"Drink?" Markos asked suddenly as he pulled a cup of ale from his bag, somehow holding an uncapped mug.
"I.. questionable, but sure, I can't refuse a drink" Alekzandr gripped the glass and took a long sip from it.
"Ya know.. Asher has something similar... to your Sigiri.." Markos added. Alekzandr nearly spat out his drink. Something similar to Sigiri?! No. That was impossible as the Rushiki were unable to produce the ASX's after his departure.. And for a man who was not of Rushiki origin? He had fought in the war, that he knew, but how..
"Asher? The one with the mask right? Your fellow cultist?" Alekzandr asked as he downed another sip from the ale. It was good ale. He was well aware that Asher wasn't a fellow cultist, but the joke brought him bemusement, he knew Asher already.
"Yeah.. hey wait we're not a cult we're an organized religion of..." Alekzandr tuned Markos out as he tried to convince him he wasn't part of a cult. He had no doubts Asher wasn't in a cult, afterall he seemed far too smart. He was probably just lying to get Markos to listen to him.
"You will always be a cultist in my eyes Markos. Nothing more." Alekzandr added as they stepped to the front of TrollSkull Manor. The half-elf didnt have any reply to that, his eyes were off in the distance with a thousand mile stare, one he knew all too well he grew a sullen look. He'd been through hell.. And so Alekzandr suspected had, Markos.
Alekzandr opened the door to utter chaos. The inside was about what he expected after all no real renovations had been made yet, he couldn't help but flinch to all the screaming and yelling as they all argued with each other
"We just have to expect that something is about to go horribly wrong, if we contact some priests-" A bottle flew from one side of the room to another. "Fine, no priests, maybe some kind of magic, anything we've got. We may have a chance at stopping him." Asher yelled into the room. Alekzandr frowned at the flying bottle before looking at Markos.
"What.."
"They think I'm about to cause World War three." Markos told Alekzandr gleefully. He pondered if anyone back home ever looked as crazy as Markos.
"World war three?" Alekzandr asked. "What the hell is.. You know what.. Never mind." He pulled out a flask of vodka directly in front of Markos taking a long swig. Before being handed the Griffon bottle.
"Ok, he can't have gotten far, it's been like three hours!" Herod shouted. In a panic it seemed to Alekzandr though he slowly felt the effects of his alcohol take over, hopefully numbing him from the commotion.
"Seriously, do you guys actually think that scrawny little half-elf can really do any of that?" Adleth shot back.
"Look you don't know him like I do, seriously he's fucking-" Asher paused as he stared over at the door. "Right god damn there." Asher sighed and shook his head. "We gonna die, Markos?" He asked in an exhausted tone. Alekzandr looked at the two of them before flicking the cultist's head.
"No. you are all not going to die, its a fucking half-elf who doesnt even know magic." Alekzandr concluded as he strode over to the bar. "Was there a reason you brought me home?" He asked, taking a seat.
"Oh yeah.." Markos replied. "I was bored, and thought we could all use your amazing presence." Markos testified quickly.
"You.. you told me something was happening." Alekzandr replied "there was a-" Alekzandr stopped as he saw Markos's smug face.
"Something did happen.." Asher admitted as he sat down at the bar. "Markos was missing." Asher muttered with a small chuckle. Markos looked over at Alekzandr who held a small grin on his face.
"What an emergency.." Alekzandr spat sarcastically. Markos held up his hand smiling as he was handed a bottle of beer from a floating grip. "What da.."
"Oh." Markos replied to his inquiry. The cultist took a sip of beer from the bottle in his hand as he cringed instantly. Fucking lightweight Alekzandr thought. "Yeah that's.. Ghosty Non-believer." Markos added. Alekzandr frowned.
"Ghosty... oh, you mean the ghost, Lif right?" Alekzandr seemed to ask into the air. "Nice to meet you spectral comrade, I drink." He took a sip of his vodka. "Can someone please rid me of the cultist?" He asked politely.
"Yeah uh.. I guess it's my turn." Riu announced as she strode over to the bar, Alekzandr smiled as Riu led the cultist away with Herod.
"Don't worry Markos, we'll uh.. Teach you magic.. Or something." Herod claimed loudly. "A few spells can't hurt your arsenal." Herod added as he tried to lead Markos away.
"Wait but Cthulhu said I can't-" Riu held up her hand as Alekzandr got a lovely show, the two of them trying to get Markos away.
"Shh, Cth.. your god isn't here Markos now lets learn how to summon a lightning bolt!" Riu grabbed Markos, pulling him from the room. Alekzandr watched as the pair packed the cultist into the backyard.
"Oh thank, Lobodovski." Alekzandr sighed as he grabbed his vodka. "Look he's lovely to talk to at times but I cannot deal with that brain!" He exclaimed to Asher and Adleth who had just sat down at the bar on opposing sides.
"You get used to it." Asher commented as he looked up. Alekzandr studied him and then Asher's back where the cultist had mentioned.. It.
"The cultist.. Uh.. Markos.. Mentioned you had something.. Similar to Segiri.." Alekzandr paused and wasn't sure how to phrase the sentence. "Do you? I know you fought in the war but.." He stopped and looked down at his drink.
"Yeah." Alekzandr looked up at Asher who began gazing off in the distance tiredly. "You mean Dmitry right?" He felt at a loss for words as Asher unshouldered the white wrapped package he was always seen wearing over his back. Slowly inch by inch Alekzandr watched as Asher unwrapped the piece within. "It was my general's.." the masked soldier continued as he unveiled the weapon. Alekzandr held bated breath before leaning in, as the cloth unfurled he saw a three piece segmented rifle, similar to his Segiri yet.. So different.
"That's an ASX-3.." He felt himself out of breath, the rifle was long with a short stock and was definitely split down the middle of its barrel, its once handguard was a separate piece where its barrel was shattered. "What on Toril happened to it?" Alekzandr could feel the concern rising in his throat, another rifle another.. ASX.. He thought he had the only one left.
"Ercelan spectral arrow down the barrel." Asher admitted bitterly. "My.. general.. Dmitry Vikirir.. He didn't make it." Asher was gazing at the floor, or maybe just facing it? It was hard for Alekzandr to know when the man wore a mask. "Most of our men didn't," Asher stared at the rifle.
"Was.. Was it the battle of Grenar?" Alekzandr asked sheepishly. He had heard of Dmitry's death, General Vikirir was a good man he thought to himself just too dedicated to the Rushiki war machine. Asher's blank mask gave no emotion, nothing for him to study.
"Yeah it was." Asher stopped as he looked behind him at the door. "Man, what are they torturing him?" Alekzandr could hear it too, Riu and Herod were beating Markos up as they taught him magic, probably out of catharsis. The soldier across from him gave no indication of emotion nor any flinch. of pride. He simply sat there with his shoulders high like a man. "I wanted to repair the damn thing but unlike my.. dad, Vestus.. I was never an amazing smith, just alright." Asher admitted. Alekzandr smiled a little, fixing it? Asher wanted to fix it? He wondered if the man could even cast magic.
"I can try to help you." Alekzandr blurted suddenly, he had doubted he would ever find any of his technology again, so to have it right in front of him? It was incredible. "Even if we can't repair its spell casting functions we could always use gunpowder like many of the new weapons I hear about." He leaned forward with excitement
"Heh." Asher chuckled lightly. "Yeah.. let's do that. Man, if only my bitch of an ex-wife could see me now, I told her I'd fix this thing eventually." Asher was laughing now, a chaotic happy form of laughter. He was sure under that mask Asher was smiling.
"You and I have a lot to discuss.. About this gun." Alekzandr added softly as he stared at a creation.. His design. His.. next project, ready to be repaired.