House Dlardrageth: CXIII
"Sir Dlardrageth, -Uhg!" Ryvvik shoved the follower aside, nothing would stop his rapid pace. With a rapid ascent, he threw open the two doors letting light seep into the once dark hallway behind him.
"Sulq fw xe walq zaqyzmyr, dyz zmawy suzm marlw myir. sy wmidd duwzyl ul siuzulq vorv qujy haf xe lys jauty orap myry." The prayer hymn was slow and beautiful to the ears, punctuated only by the furious screams from sacrifices. Ryvvik entered the chamber, the center of the cross-shaped room was full. Fifty-something; brothers, sisters, and siblings alike all gathered around a central pentagram carved into the floor giving prayer. He held out his arms in careful meditation taking a long breath of the incense offerings in the air. The room was bright and full of life, not counting the recently butchered corpses spilling blood and entrails all over the temple's center. However, he wasn't there to join in the rituals, he was there to plan ahead.
"Mm," Ryvvik grunted, he marched into the sacrifice, pushing through any would-be followers. For the briefest of seconds, he indulged in his rage, letting the path of anger guide him.
Arms raised high with a dagger in his hand Lord Cassalanter stood at the opposite side of the temple, directly under the tall golden statue of Asmodeus. The high priest's face was covered by a golden mask and his words were echoing throughout the temple, not that he was listening. No, the time for listening had long since passed. There were too many things at stake now, and far too many losses to justify the course of action which had been planned. With a few grunts and angry huffs, he shoved people aside, gaining access to the temple steps. Lord Cassalanter stood above him like a god, the priest who had for a moment been preoccupied suddenly stopped the speeches and prayers dropping his head and arms.
"Dlardrageth? What is the meaning of this?" The Lord cocked his head. Then the man's voice took on a more sincere tone. "Is.. something the matter? Do you need me, my friend?" The Lord asked it as if concerned, if it was real Ryvvik could no longer tell.
His lip trembled, the priest took a small step down the landing, getting closer. "My Lord.." Every word felt like a rock in his throat, impossible to truly get out without anger. "Gysheer is.. My Lord, she's dead." He glared upward, the burning Pires and charred corpses entered his vision before the house's lord.
"Dlardrageth.." Lord Cassalanter started, the cleric of Asmodeus which his god had tasked him to protect. "I am.. Aware, we are right now giving a prayer to our Lord, to guide her spirit into his great hands." Ryvvik frowned. Spinning around he glanced around the room, he didn't find Nelius or Cersei, neither of them was in the room. A prayer for his subordinate without those who worked with her most?
"And the ones responsible?" He demanded, his wings whisked in the air kicking up the ash and soot from the prayer. "The Keepers of Chaos? They are confirmed now are they not? The ones 'The Harpers' turn to. What is to be done with them? They possess the stone of Golorr!" Ryvviks rage was too much at that point, he had sat and listened, obeyed, and followed orders as much as he could. A Fey'ri did not sit like this! He had to have combat, to do battle with those that would oppose his grace!
"I am well aware Dlardrageth, The Keepers have been confirmed, we will march against them when the time is right.. For now we must think about stealing away the gold they will soon possess."
"For now?" He took a step up the stairs rage brewed in him. "Are you to tell me we will do nothing?!" He demanded.
The room's chants completely stopped. The Lord's head turned sideways certainly judging him under that mask. Ryvvik took a shaky breath and swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. The priest took a step back up the landing.
"Dlardrageth, we are not doing nothing. WE are simply not running at them blindly. I advise you to stop this now, please. You are making a scene."
"Seffia is dead!" Ryvvik screamed, he dug his nails into his palm, fear was overwhelming him but so was anger. "Kailwail is dead, Arn- no one gives a fuck about Arn."
"Indeed, fuck Arn." One brother uttered from behind him, even Lord Cassalanter shrugged in agreement.
"Gysheer is dead. Not even her body remains.. Lord Cassalanter, we must take action-"
"What would you have me do?!" The Lord thundered, Ryvvik heart rate picked up rapidly. The rage was so much, he knew it deep down inside, from his numerous training sessions. Victoro Cassalanter was a demon with the blade and far outclassed himself. "Attack? Now? I guess we could, we know the vault's location.. However, I think you overlook three key issues! Dismissed." The Priest waved away the various members behind him, many of whom scurried away quickly. "The Keepers of Chaos have yet to show us HOW To open the vault. They have the backing of the Harpers and we can presume the city. Finally, if we attack, and it is not perfect, not undetectable in every way. The gold will be completely lost. We shall intercept the dragons when it is to be taken from the vault." Lord Cassalanter marched down the steps getting ever closer to him. The arguments were.. Acceptable. Yet they did little to quell his rage- no. They did nothing to simmer the beating anger he had.
"And if they don't? If they don't transport the gold? What if they choose to keep it inside?-"
"Use your head Dlardrageth! I beg you, use that brain of yours. I wish not to insult you friend but you are treading dangerously close to stupidity. How would they leave it in the vault? With the Harpers behind them, there is no reason to believe such an act of injustice could occur. It will be taken, either to the Harpers, or to the city. We need only wait." With every breath, Lord Cassalanter looked visibly more and more upset. It seemed to drive rage in the both of them.
"Wait for what?!" He cried, he felt like stabbing something, at this point they had waited and waited for so long. "Every strategy you've given has involved waiting! We waited for Nihiloor. We waited for the nimblewright, we waited for the Harpers, we have sat around and waited. I am a Dlardrageth! Blood of Asmodeus himself, a noble family of Fey'ri. We do. Not. Wait." He flexed his wings behind them, pushing them to full size.
"And you are the last of the Dlardrageth nobility, neither of your sons has taken the ritual. Perhaps your lack of patience speaks to that." The comment felt like a dagger in the gut. Ryvvik felt at a loss for words, taking a small step back. What..?
"I..." He searched for words to explain what he thought. Yet, from the reaches of hell to the limits of the heavens, he could find; nothing.
"This.. is a temporary measure. If we attack we lose the gold."
"And what of our compatriots?" He pleaded, for once it wasn't just rage that had him but sadness. A weakness he was told as a child to rid himself of. Not that it was successful. "Is the gold all we care about? Is it EVERYTHING?!" At that, Lord Cassalanter shifted back a bit before leaning forward, without a word.
"Dlardrageth." The Lord whispered, his voice sounded to be trembling with anger. Every sense in Ryvvik's body told him this was a foolish decision that he needed to stop this at once, that this couldn't go on any further. "Promise me. Promise me you will not act recklessly, I swear to you, that after the gold is captured, we will wreak destruction upon these people. I need you, here."
Ryvvik grit his teeth, the arguments with Lord Cassalanter were always good. The gold being captured, the idea of revenge. It was all something he could understand and wish for but yet, it all infuriated him to no end! "I promise.. Lord Cassalanter." He lied. Before his master could speak another word, Ryvvik turned briskly away, folding his wings behind him like a cloak, as many Fey'ri often did. He wasn't sure if he was being called if The Lord was trying to speak out to him while he marched away. It didn't matter. Lord Cassalanter was right, he was the last of the Dlardrageth line, the linage of nobility which hailed for Asmodeus. It meant only one thing, he had to go through with whatever he felt was right.
*BAENSHHH*
He threw open the door to the library. For the past three days Cersei, Nelius, and himself had been raiding the library furiously crafting the components needed for the ritual.
"Ryvvik." Cersei waved from the corner, her eyes were puffy and stricken with tears. In her hands was a small red book with white writing. It seemed to be written in a different language, one similar to dwarvish though he could not exactly place it. "Oh.. I uh. I was just.."
"You don't need to lie Cersei." Nelius drifted from the upper ranges of the bookshelves, pushing something away. "Rishall, is one person, but as snooty of nobility Ryvvik here is. You don't need to lie to him." The elven supremacist was staring at the ground, the shared grief around the room had clearly gotten to him. On the days which he was not commanding spells for the faith, Ryvvik knew Nelius would spend time with Kailwail. How on Toril someone as racist as that elf could stomach that he wasn't entirely sure.
"Gysheer.. Kailwail, they're both dead." Ryvvik whispered, his anger was still overflowing.
"Yup," Nelius replied, the elf never stopped staring at the books running his fingers down numerous spines. Ryvvik frowned, What? The silence in the room was deafening, and only drove his senses mad.
"Well?" He condemned. "What do we do? The Keepers of chaos-"
"Honestly, don't call them that. Word is they don't even know where they got that name." Nelius shifted in the air cussing out random drow figures throughout history while he stirred a pot.
"They have the Stone of Golorr! Lord Cassalanter sees fit to do nothing. Nothing to avenge our friends, we must attack them at once. Rid this planet of their vile stench." he pounded a fist into his palm. For a fleeting second, Nelius glanced to him, their eyes met, and shared that second of grief together.
"We might die.." Cersei trembled, she was sitting at a table. An angry look on her face and a fearful tick on her lips. The girl was wild and insane normally, however now it seemed as if everyone had become feeble. "We probably will."
"And?" Ryvvik demanded. "If we do not then we shall avenge our friends, and earn glory in Lord Asmodeus's grace." He was shocked, did these followers. Brothers and Sisters, really not have the stomach for going the Lord in glory? Yes, death was to be avenged, but they were acting righteously, and should not fear the unknown.
"Unlike you.." Cersei quavered. "I don't have any interest in death.. I.." She stared down at the table full of notes. It was covered in drawings of bodies, iron rods, and designs for new limbs. "I wish to cut out the grip, that is death."
"Victoro told us no," Nelius added. "I'm not dying cause another noble told me to rush in and attack."
"Another.. UGh!" Ryvvik grabbed a nearby chair hurling it across the room. "We need to fight. To stop this absurd threat! Was Kailwail not your friend?" He interrogated Nelius. "Was Gysheer not your confidant?" He pointed to Cersei who's face seemed mesmerized by the work she was looking over, two new crossbows, and a few designs from the book she was holding.
"Don't." Nelius landed on the ground. His eyes were trembling and his face twitching with anger. "Don't do that. You.. you know they were.. Y-you know.. Ryvvik.. I'm sorry." The Elf reached forward in an act of compassion he did not expect, gripping both his shoulders. "Sephia is dead.. I.. understand your rage, and now so is Gysheer, Kailwail. Do you really think we don't want to rush out there? Find whoever the fuck lives at TrollSkull manor and rip them apart limb by limb?" His rage quelled for a second, Ryvvik reached up sympathetically, even in the back Cersei had begun to cry. "But if we do that.. And we betray Lord Cassalanters trust.. How am I any better than the dirty half-elfish biir family who ruined me? Or Cersei, to those who ejected her out of fame and knowledge? Dude, c'mon. We can't just charge in.." Tears streaked down the blonde's face, and Ryvvik knew the rage they felt together.
He steadily nodded. Knowing then and there, one thing. He was the only one who truly cared about Gysheer or Kailwail or even Sephia. With a rough hand, he swatted the elf away, the false believer. Without another word he turned, knocking over the criminal records book which Nelius had stolen for Lady Cassalanter, and marched out the door. He was sure he could find others. A Dlardrageth does not wait.