The True Enemy: C
"Seffia.." Ryvvik clutched his chest, he was still reeling from the news, a tragedy to be sure. Something he couldn't cope with, not at all. "She's.. Dead." It shouldn't have mattered, he had known her for some time, even before she had served under the Gralhunds. Yet still, he couldn't help but hold some kind of ache in his heart.
"They have the stone." Lord Cassalanter whispered. Mass had just finished, the two of them sat in the room. For once at a loss for words. He had never seen the lord so down and distraught, a face he most likely wished to shield from the other members. They had been so proactive, investigating their enemies, learning more and more but yet. The adventurers now had the stone of Golorr. Worse, Seffia was dead. "There's no use in this." The Lord stood up swiping his cape to the side he walked to a table in the room. Picking up a piece and moving it forward, occupying his mind. Ryvvik bit back tears, they were for the weak. Children wept, he had to take action. Seffia was dead. A possibility he knew existed but did not want to face. He stood up storming to the door.
"I shall mobilize them at once.. These.. Heroes will be flush out from the inside." He slammed a fist against the wall.
*BREEAOOK* The wall cracked with a spiderweb pattern shooting from it.
He caused the room to shake from his strength. 'Seffia.. How could you be so foolish.. How could you die?' He asked himself over and over. 'I.. needed you.' He thought somberly. The cause they had pledged themselves to.. The bonds they had formed in combat together. He wanted to pull the stone tablets from the floor and hurl it at the house of the adventurers. He bit back rage and anger, he would channel it into his attack. He turned to Victoro expecting an agreement.
"At once?" The lord looked away with a chuckle. "What of it? We lost the stone of Golorr!" He recoiled at the harshness of his lord's words "Seffia is gone my friend, she.. Is gone." His voice bordered on sorrowful. "Dlardrageth, Our chance.. The information we desire.. Everything I have worked for could be for not if we attack now recklessly." Lord Cassalanter sighed setting a hand on the temple walls. "I don't understand.. Is this truly the work of the 'Keepers of Chaos?' how do they thwart us? Are they the only entity? Confirmation.. Confirmation is required.." The Lord mumbled nodding his head.
"What?" He begged furiously. What on Toril could this man mean?! 'I?' Had he not made sacrifices? The things his friends had done?! He grit his teeth, had they not all worked tirelessly to try and further the goals of the faith? The goals of Lord Cassalanter? "Then my lord we get it back! We ambush them at their home!"
"And what if it is not only them? What if they are not the force we are fighting?" His lord spat back. "Who covers their exits? Who mangles the bodies so they may not be indicted on crimes against the city? Do you think they can simply slaughter those they find in wrongdoing without consequence? Who helps them?! Who wants this group to grow?!" The Lord raged, losing his usual calm tone. He reached to his side as if expecting a blade to be ready. Ryvvik hated it. He hated the inaction, and refusal to move. Who cared if they had help? Who cared about these issues? Was his Lord's ego so massive he needed these questions asked before they could make a move? He saw more decisions in Bishtek! "Dlardrageth I employ you to think! For once, look past your rage. Think, if we act recklessly, then we will be cut down. What if they are aided by the city? What if it is not even this group who has the stone? When we find it. We find who killed Seffia, who has harmed us."
"Perhaps.." he started, he did not like it, but he needed to listen at least for a moment. Ryvvik retrieved his black iron helmet and donned it once again. "Perhaps it is the harpers.. They have always attempted to thwart-" He began to suggest.
"No.. no.." The Lord answered amusingly. "No, the Harpers are most probably against us, but are these Keepers of Chaos their main force for dealing with these issues? Perhaps they are spread too thin." He understood what his lord needed. Confirmation that an attack on the Keepers would not be an attack on an organization greater than themselves.
He felt rage, knowing why action was so difficult; troops to spare. "The Gralhunds." Ryvvik growled, "I never trust them.." On top of that.. "They could be conspiring, attempting to get the stone for themselves!" He declared, satisfied with the idea. "They are Ill-fated nobles with a knack of trying to rise further than their station-" His lord simply shook his head, the burning braziers of the temple around them lifted a dreadful smoke into the cavernous walls it felt intoxicating to breathe in.
"Think first, they lost their followers.. So many of them." His lord mused looking along the temple walls with disdain. He was frustrated. Had the Gralhunds not lost so very many members of the faith, they could attack these adventurers. He missed Seffia already, his hand twitched desiring to run it through her brown hair. "They are not in a position to attack us. No. I think it's something far easier, Yalra told me they found the stone on a gnome headed for TrollSkull manor.. The Keepers of Chaos, are there.. The same ones famed for saving Renear Neveremeber from our dear friend... clearly they are in contact with the Harpers, maybe even members." The gears began to turn in Ryvvik's mind, the answer was becoming more clear, the individuals they had to contend with had backup, more forces than he had assumed. The ones who had killed Seffia! Was the band of heroes at TrollSkull manor. Truly they were a force to be reckoned with.
"T-then we attack the Harpers! We flush them out, and confirm they are using the Keepers to attack us."
"Patience!" The priest roared. The lord of the house spun on a heel and gripped Ryvvik by the shoulder. "Patience Dlardrageth.. We cannot act too hastily.. What we have now is a hypothesis.. My spies in the Harpers informed me they were going to be dealing with a doppelgänger problem today.. Spreading their members thin. It is now we must make our hypothesis into a fact.." The Lord reached his altar in the temple and pulled out a dagger from its surface. "We will attack a separate location.. Somewhere far from the Harpers dealings.. If they are overwhelmed and spread too thin. They will have no choice but to request the aid of individuals who most likely have battled these same threats.." Victoro pricked his finger dopping a marble of blood into the altar. "Then we confirm, we are not only dealing with these people directly.. But they are seeking us out to contend with our actions. We pick somewhere far from their home."
"What.. shall I do My lord?" Ryvvik looked to the ceiling of the temple feeling the desire to seek revenge on those who had.. Killed Seffia. He knew it was silly, to hurt like this over his compatriot's death. Yet a part of him had.. Planned to introduce her again to his children. Maybe even given them another mother. Silly plans that were not a distant memory. "I can organize.-"
"No.." The lord waved his hand in dismissal. "I cannot have a fighter- a friend as you participate in this.. Experiment. I require you Dlardrageth, So do not fret.. I will send Gysheer and Kailwill to create the distraction.. We will hurl what they saw at the windmill to a greater extent.. And flush out these so-called Heroes." Panic rose in his chest, Gysheer? No.. no not again. He felt a tightness in his stomach, he did not want to send anymore of these men and women on terrible tasks.. These were his chosen, his friends whom he pledged his services with. Ryvvik desired to speak out and object to this plan which could easily get Gysheer and Kailwill killed, but he bit his tongue. He was living here at the mercy of Lord Cassalnter, and could not jeopardize it. Not any further.. He had spoken out so much, raged so very much. He wanted to scream and grab Kailwail and Gysheer, two more friends he did not want to lose in combat.
"And.. if they fail, my lord? How can we retrieve the stone?" Ryvvik kept his head down now not wishing his Lord to see the furious look in his eyes. He bit back the hatred he had. He wanted to attack, to do something. Perhaps they would ambush the heroes at the vault of dragons. To unleash hell.
"Then we will simply need to try other experiments, the possibility that these.. Heroes are not directly working for the Harpers is low.. But never impossible. I will tend to the crime factions and look to them. Until we find who holds the stone.. And how we are to get it back."
*Click*
Ryvvik tried to not move as the priest paced around the altar, long ago they'd moved into the central room. From the altar, a hand was placed over his head. Despite the fact, he was taller than Lord Cassalanter. "We are at the cusp.. Of pleasing our lord, Dlardrageth.. All we require.. Is the gold.. And when Amalia is... finished. He will be satisfied." His lord walked past him. "I sense.. Anger in you Dlardrageth.. Explain." 'Shit.' He took a deep breath and looked back up at the altar room, where mass had just been held. The room was made silent no more as those on their knees in the back began to murmur a small chant.
"My Lord.. perhaps Gysheer and Kailwill are.. Ill-equipped for such a task.." He fibbed, he didn't want them to die. He didn't want them to charge into something that could be done with all of them!
"They are equipped Dlardrageth." His concerns were dismissed without another thought. He narrowed his eyes, how could Lord Cassalanter claim friendship whenever since he had rejoined the faith he had received nothing but orders?! "I will task them. As for you, rejoin Cersei and Nelius, they need aid in preparing the ritual.." He rolled his eyes. The ritual.
"My Lord, we have so many we can dispatch, I hardly think Gysheer and Kailwail.. If you're going to send them, send all of us."
"I can't." The Lord cursed. Staring at the ground in anger. "I wish I could, but we need this opening. We need to see the results. Both of them will flee the scene. Dlardrageth. Go."
He swallowed his pride and nodded bitterly. He bowed. Standing up he turned and walked down the cross-shaped cavern of the temple. He knew Cersei and Nelius were stood in the small library, preparing rune ointment and more. He wanted to grab his flail at his side and swing it at the walls. He was a warrior being used as a guard dog. He didn't care if he was in debt to Lord Cassalanter, he was a servant of Asmodeus! He should be out there purging the un-believers! He pushed the door to the library open. Instantly his nose was hit by the scent of candle wax, and an odd odor. He peered inside seeing Cersei's entire body laying over a table while furiously scribbling. At her feet was a long humanoid figure covered in a cloak. Brown hair stuck out the top of it.
"Lord! You've arrived." He resisted the urge to smack Nelius's snarky mouth. Saying Lord like it was an insult. He needed peace.
"I have been told to aid you in the ritual preparations.. Er- what are you doing?" He asked. Nelius was in one corner with four open books while he was mixing a cauldron. The room was covered in paste, while pages were littered everywhere on the floor. Gysheer was in the center holding Kailwail upsidedown by his legs while the deep gnome mixed a giant wooden stick into a chamber pot. It was the oddest sight of his day.
"Right.. Ritual things." He commented.
"We're making rune paint!" Gysheer explained. Her voice was more nasally as her nose was plugged.
"I'm working on bringing two new soldiers for us.." Cersei's voice was but a whisper. Her eyes were unblinking, and she stared at the surface of the table like a doctor at a patient he wanted to die. He was tall, strong, and wielded magic as well as his enormous skill. Yet, for a fleeting second. Ryvvik felt the fear of a mad genius.
"And you?" He asked pointing at Nelius who was paging through books. He kept himself distracted, knowing everyone in that room had already heard of Seffia's death. They were choosing not to speak about it.
"I.. am working on memorizing the incantations to cast the ritual. I will be the mystic commander, Dleerdrayjooth." Nelius bragged mocking his name, he did not like the elf.
"..Good." He admitted pulling a book off the shelf. Many of them had been bought from Book Wyrms treasure, by Cersei and Nelius. It was lucky the girl had known the shopkeep from their time as colleagues. Nelius however.. Seemed to befriend him more easily. However, that was possible. They needed a large base of magic; their followers. A ritual circle, a leader to direct the magic to their god. He clenched his fist recalling all the requirements for the ritual. While part of him relished in the idea of... It. He still hated not having a role. He clutched the book and tried to read, blocking out Seffia from his mind.
"Hey Mr daddy's lord, could you read this one and tell-"
"ENOUGH!" Ryvvik yelled throwing the book off the shelf. "Must you fucking insult me at every turn? Every chance?! You're not a member of this faith, you are a fucking street rat!" He screamed finally having enough of Nelius's comments.
"I-" Nelius started. The elf's eyes narrowed and he started to grin.
"Show some respect to me." He growled, feeling his eyes flare-up. He flexed his back letting his wings unfold for the elf to see. His red eyes met blue, and he wanted to wrap his fists around the boy's neck and choke the life out of him.
"I'll show you respect when you earn it. Noble." The elf spat back.
"Ryvvik.. Stop." Gysheer whispered from the room's center. He reached carefully for his mace. He knew deep down how formidable Nelius was. The boy had spells of flight, cleric magic, sorcerer incantations.
"Why? Why does he get to insult me? I must accept it?" He argued against the girl. He was angry and tired of this. "Why then hm?" He looked back at Nelius, why on Toril do you seem to hate nobility so much? Why do you serve or master's if you can't stomach me?" He felt the rage he had leveled every time someone had given him a funny look. Since the days of his collapsed household, he desired to no longer be mocked, or ridiculed. It was never just his house. He looked back at his wings, he was a fey'ri. What Tieflings were to humans, he was to elves. The racist bastard; known as Nelius probably couldnt stomach him.
"You're nobility. I don't need another reason." Nelius remarked. Turning back to his book.
"You supremacist." Ryvvik roared. He batted the book from Nelius's hands.
"Supremacist? This has nothing to do with race. Nobility in this city is scum. You're no better than them." Scum?
"Why would you serve Lord Cassalanter if you feel like that hm?" He demanded, setting a hand on his flail. "Why the hell do you hate nobility? Sad you werent born into it? Does-"
"Born into it?!" Nelius yelled, the elf jumped off the table he sat on. "Nobles are born with silver spoons in their mouths. Knowing only to demand and demand, leaving all those around them behind!" He.. saw anger and sadness fill Nelius's face. "You wanna know? My parents were born into servitude, not nobility. We served under Lord Lesco. A vile and stupid man." The elf was spitting now, in his face. He squinted. What? He hadn't heard that.. Nelius was just some orphan. "Suprised? Well, after six long and faithful generations of servitude. Reed Lesco decided in all his infinite noble wisdom, that assaulting his own servants for entertainment was a fantastic idea! I spent my childhood watching my father get beat, my mother tossed around like she was a rag doll. Worked to death!" Nelius began floating. Ryvvik figured he had cast flight by instinct. "Do you know what happened when they died?" Nelius requested in a whisper.
"This is no reason to take your hatred out on me-" He began.
"Nothing. Nothing happened. Because this city doesn't give a flying fuck!" The elf slammed a weak fist into the bookcase, barely rattling it. "Nobles get off without a single repercussion. They face nothing, they rejoice in their parent's deaths. Satisfied they finally get a turn at the wheel of endless luxury."
"You're wrong." Ryvvik cackled, suddenly finding the boy's spirit to be humorous. "Besides, look at you, you're serving a noble.. And for what?"
"I serve Lord Asmodeus!" He sneered. "Victoro Cassalanter, has never. Looked at me as a servant, always.. An equal, always just another member of his faith. A truly good faith. The church of Selune gave Lord Lesco a grand burial, claimed he was a hero some great man the gods had told them so! Some great man... some great gods." Nelius took in a sharp breath. His fingers trembling, Ryvvik lowered his hands. He didn't like the elf anymore than before but he did not want to kill him. "The gods are useless. They punish no one and turn their backs on those in need. In Asmodeus I found power, the strength to one day take down Lesco's son." He didn't care. Not really. Ryvvik wanted to roll his eyes at the double standard, hypocritical stance the stupid child had. "That's. Why I hate you Ryvvik, you don't worship his grace out of love, need, or even some part of choice. You didn't make a decision to embrace him. You were born into it. Like your titles. Just like all nobility are born into great things. While the gods leave the rest of us behind."