Post by Ser Baine Cinderwood 🔥🌼 on Jan 31, 2020 10:57:45 GMT
Baine gets slapped in the face, Varis plays dragon chess and Frankie is over the whole thing, really. In collaboration with Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar .
The door of the Ettin flies open, banging loudly against its stop. Looking up from where he’s sat over by the fire, Baine winces instinctively, and not because of the noise.
“Aw fuck.”
Silhouetted in the lantern light from the street is the unmistakable figure of the Order’s Master at Arms. Stomping up to his table, Red gives him an unnervingly toothy grin, wedging her right gauntlet under the stump of her left arm to pull it free.
“Aye, fuck is right, Rosey,” she lilts in her gruff brogue, throwing down her gauntlet and picking up the pint in front of him. Looking at the contents with vague disapproval, she nevertheless necks the remaining beer and slams the tankard down in front of the half orc.
“I paid good money for that, you know,” he says.
“Pig swill.”
She winces at an exasperated noise from behind the bar.
“Sorry, Col.”
Turning back to the young soldier in front of her, she gives him a quick once over, seeming deeply unimpressed with what she finds.
“You missed the funeral.”
Baine closes his eyes briefly, makes a pained grimace and nods.
“Yeah, I figured as much. I was, uh- yeah. I didn’t know how to deal with it. At the time. Sir.”
He sighs, lifts his tankard before remembering that it’s empty and setting it back down. He looks around, his gaze darting around the tavern before coming back to rest hesitatingly on Red. He kicks the chair opposite him out from under the table, sliding it out next to the dwarf.
“Buy you a drink?” he asks, with the defeated air of someone who knows they’re grasping at straws. Red’s smile broadens. For a woman who grew up under three thousand tons of rock, she bears an alarming resemblance to a shark.
“Sure you can. In fact, you can buy me two. Then you can trot your well pickled arse over to the compound and report to your commanding officer.”
When Baine makes no move apart from squinting a little at her and making a vague noise of reluctance, Red takes a step forward, barely eye to eye with seated half orc.
“Am I gonna have to repeat myself, Rosey? Or are you gonna stop slinking around like a dog who’s shat on the rug.”
There is a whine of protest from beneath the table. Red ignores it. As she closes the distance Baine makes another vague noise, this one slightly more distressed and frustrated. He jams the heels of his palms into his eyes and scrunches his face up, almost like he thinks he can hide from both his current plight and the frightfully intimidating dwarf in front of him.
“Sir, I know, I know, you’re right, I know I have to go speak to him but I just don’t know what to say, I don’t know how to even begin to start sortin’ this fucking mess, like, is he angry with me? Is he going to-”
Red’s full armed slap interrupts his babbling. As he blinks the spots from his vision she reaches up and pulls his face round till he’s staring straight into her eyes. In a deep, dark corner of his mind a strange voice whispers to him. The only way out is through. When Red speaks, her voice is low but firm.
“Go home, boy. It’s time.”
***
It’s been a while but the sound of Frankie scratching is still familiar to Varis. He stands and moves to the door, opening it onto the midnight yard.
Leaning against the jamb with a studiously casual air is Baine. Varis looks him over, taking in the fresh bruise on his cheek and the gruesome new scar just below his left eye. That whole side of his face is a tapestry of old wounds, intimidating until he smiles and the genial heart beneath shines through.
“What do we actually know about Red’s heritage? ‘Cos I reckon she might be part shark, like on her mum’s side. Way too many teeth on her.”
His gaze shifts around a little but keeps coming back to Varis as if he’s forcing himself to look at the older man. Frankie - moving very slowly so as to achieve invisibility - creeps around Baine's knees to sit by Varis side, leaning heavily against his leg, head gently nudging the Grandmaster’s hand. The half elf absently scratches behind his ears.
“I tried tellin’ her it might be a bit late in the evening to come calling but she threatened to have my balls if I didn’t go see you. Well, she didn’t exactly say that, but you know Red, it was heavily implied. In the eyes and the.. teeth.”
He trails off a little in the face of Varis’ silence, unsure and clearly nervous.
“Uh...Can I come in? Sir.” Baine asks, quietly.
“This is one of your soldiers?”
Only as her voice rings out does Baine realise Varis is not alone. Seated in a luxurious wing-backed chair is a tall, flaxen-skinned woman. A widows peak feeds into long, dark braids, each woven with ornate silver ornaments and precious stones. She holds a silver goblet in one bejewelled hand and a long-stemmed pipe in the other. On the table before her is a strange three-tiered board covered in red and black pieces. There seem to be considerably more red than black.
“If a warrior under my command approached me uninvited and spoke thus to me I would have him castrated and cast naked into the Sea Between Worlds.”
“I’ll take it under advisement” says Varis dryly, giving Baine a mordant smile.
“You would be wise to heed my council, Commander. Insubordination is a weed best pulled by the roots.”
Varis looks back to his guest, face a mask of diplomacy.
“Thank you for this evening’s lesson, Shen’Izera. I am afraid you must excuse me now. This matter demands my attention.”
The woman snorts derisively but stands from her chair, collecting a small stack of coins from beside the game board. As she moves, her braids make a sound halfway between a bone rattle and a windchime.
“Very well, ‘Godslayer’. We will resume your humiliation at another time.”
Nodding a farewell, Varis watches her leave with an unreadable expression; Baine with his eyebrows raised and his interest clearly piqued. Once she has gone, the Grandmaster turns back, indicating the recently vacated armchair.
“Sit.”
Baine quirks an eyebrow at him.
“Yes sir, thank you sir.”
Baine moves into the room, taking care to slide into the chair without upsetting the board too much. Frankie makes himself comfortable on the floor at his feet and Varis takes a seat on the stool opposite, face calm and patient.
“So then. You have words for me.”
Baine sighs heavily and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He reaches out and picks up one of the red pieces from the board between them, turning it over in his hands a few times before setting it down just slightly to the left of where it stood previously.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt. Wasn’t aware you had company. Who is she? She stickin’ around? If so, there’ll be two people around here threatin’ to castrate me on the regular and that’s just not good for my peace of mind, you understand.”
Varis says nothing, waiting for the torrent of words to subside. Before long, the younger man’s bravado fails and he sags a little further into himself where he’s sitting. He rolls his eyes at his own antics and nods a little.
“Okay, yes, fine, I’m avoiding the subject.”
He visibly steels himself before looking directly at Varis, his dark eyes showing an unusual vulnerability and his smile sad but earnest.
“Varis, I’m sorry.” His voice rumbles softly in the quiet around them.
“I’m sorry I left and was too chickenshit to come straight back. I’m sorry I missed the funeral.”
He tugs absentmindedly at the gold chain around his neck, the two rings clinking gently against his hand.
“I’m sorry, for her. For what she said about you and what she was tryin’ to make you out to be. For what she did. For whatever part she played in the Tide and whatever happened to you in it. She did it to protect me and I’m sorry.”
His eyes go a little distant as he speaks.
“Not the legacy I was hopin’ to find, was it.”
Varis is silent for a while, eyes wandering over the board. Finally he looks up, and Baine is surprised to find a smile on his lips.
“Do you know why I came to this place? To Kantas? To Daring?”
He waits until Baine shakes his head before continuing.
“I did something unforgivable. Innocents died by my hand, and by my order. I did it because I believed it was my duty, and because a man I trusted told me it was right. I know that I will burn for it, in the life beyond this one. You have seen the lower planes. You know what waits for those who do evil. This is the great immutable truth of my life - nothing I can do will wash away what I have done.
And yet I must try.
You cannot undo what Sharn did. You are not responsible for her actions, and yet I know you well enough to know you will carry their weight regardless. The Tide slaughtered thousands, burned a city, killed and mutilated my friends. Those wounds can never be healed. And yet we must try. That is all we can ask of ourselves.”
Baine listens, brow furrowed, letting the weight of Varis words wash over him and choosing his own carefully.
“Thank you. For trusting me with that - with your past. Means a lot.”
He cocks his head slightly.
“I don’t agree with all of it though. I refuse to believe that we can’t start over.” He laughs a little. “I’m not a big thinker, never claimed to be one. Never gave much thought to redemption and shit like that. But everyone deserves a chance to start over, if there’s like.. honest remorse in their hearts, or whatever. I dunno where either of us will end up when all is said and done, but I don’t think it’s been decided just yet. So, yeah. Let’s keep trying.”
He looks down briefly at the rings clasped in his hand before tucking the chain back inside his tunic.
“Yeah, I’ll carry that weight. It might not be my fault but it feels like my responsibility. And like - fuck, I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this - it feels like fate. I was meant for this. For this life and this Order. Gives me a headache thinkin’ about it but I reckon this is what clever people call a full circle. I’m gonna spend my life keeping other people safe. Hopefully, better than she did. Seems like a good use of my time.”
He reaches a long arm down and runs his hand down Frankie’s back, taking a moment before forcing the words out of his mouth on a shaky breath.
“Where is she buried?”
The Grandmaster stands, rolling his shoulders.
“Her ashes are in the vault beneath the yard. If you have words for her, speak them there.”
“I didn’t even know we had a vault,” Baine mutters to himself.
Varis smiles.
“This place still has a few secrets for you to learn.”
“Clearly.”
The half-orc’s face grows somber again.
“It’s not going to stop, is it?” he asks. “And it’s not going to get easier, losing each other like this.”
Varis shakes his head. Baine gives him a small, wry smile.
“What a fuckin’ line of work.”
“There’s plenty of it to be done. Welcome back, soldier.”
“Good to be back, sir,”
The younger man stands, Frankie rising with him. He gives the chess board one last curios look, nods at his commander and walks out into the night.
The door of the Ettin flies open, banging loudly against its stop. Looking up from where he’s sat over by the fire, Baine winces instinctively, and not because of the noise.
“Aw fuck.”
Silhouetted in the lantern light from the street is the unmistakable figure of the Order’s Master at Arms. Stomping up to his table, Red gives him an unnervingly toothy grin, wedging her right gauntlet under the stump of her left arm to pull it free.
“Aye, fuck is right, Rosey,” she lilts in her gruff brogue, throwing down her gauntlet and picking up the pint in front of him. Looking at the contents with vague disapproval, she nevertheless necks the remaining beer and slams the tankard down in front of the half orc.
“I paid good money for that, you know,” he says.
“Pig swill.”
She winces at an exasperated noise from behind the bar.
“Sorry, Col.”
Turning back to the young soldier in front of her, she gives him a quick once over, seeming deeply unimpressed with what she finds.
“You missed the funeral.”
Baine closes his eyes briefly, makes a pained grimace and nods.
“Yeah, I figured as much. I was, uh- yeah. I didn’t know how to deal with it. At the time. Sir.”
He sighs, lifts his tankard before remembering that it’s empty and setting it back down. He looks around, his gaze darting around the tavern before coming back to rest hesitatingly on Red. He kicks the chair opposite him out from under the table, sliding it out next to the dwarf.
“Buy you a drink?” he asks, with the defeated air of someone who knows they’re grasping at straws. Red’s smile broadens. For a woman who grew up under three thousand tons of rock, she bears an alarming resemblance to a shark.
“Sure you can. In fact, you can buy me two. Then you can trot your well pickled arse over to the compound and report to your commanding officer.”
When Baine makes no move apart from squinting a little at her and making a vague noise of reluctance, Red takes a step forward, barely eye to eye with seated half orc.
“Am I gonna have to repeat myself, Rosey? Or are you gonna stop slinking around like a dog who’s shat on the rug.”
There is a whine of protest from beneath the table. Red ignores it. As she closes the distance Baine makes another vague noise, this one slightly more distressed and frustrated. He jams the heels of his palms into his eyes and scrunches his face up, almost like he thinks he can hide from both his current plight and the frightfully intimidating dwarf in front of him.
“Sir, I know, I know, you’re right, I know I have to go speak to him but I just don’t know what to say, I don’t know how to even begin to start sortin’ this fucking mess, like, is he angry with me? Is he going to-”
Red’s full armed slap interrupts his babbling. As he blinks the spots from his vision she reaches up and pulls his face round till he’s staring straight into her eyes. In a deep, dark corner of his mind a strange voice whispers to him. The only way out is through. When Red speaks, her voice is low but firm.
“Go home, boy. It’s time.”
***
It’s been a while but the sound of Frankie scratching is still familiar to Varis. He stands and moves to the door, opening it onto the midnight yard.
Leaning against the jamb with a studiously casual air is Baine. Varis looks him over, taking in the fresh bruise on his cheek and the gruesome new scar just below his left eye. That whole side of his face is a tapestry of old wounds, intimidating until he smiles and the genial heart beneath shines through.
“What do we actually know about Red’s heritage? ‘Cos I reckon she might be part shark, like on her mum’s side. Way too many teeth on her.”
His gaze shifts around a little but keeps coming back to Varis as if he’s forcing himself to look at the older man. Frankie - moving very slowly so as to achieve invisibility - creeps around Baine's knees to sit by Varis side, leaning heavily against his leg, head gently nudging the Grandmaster’s hand. The half elf absently scratches behind his ears.
“I tried tellin’ her it might be a bit late in the evening to come calling but she threatened to have my balls if I didn’t go see you. Well, she didn’t exactly say that, but you know Red, it was heavily implied. In the eyes and the.. teeth.”
He trails off a little in the face of Varis’ silence, unsure and clearly nervous.
“Uh...Can I come in? Sir.” Baine asks, quietly.
“This is one of your soldiers?”
Only as her voice rings out does Baine realise Varis is not alone. Seated in a luxurious wing-backed chair is a tall, flaxen-skinned woman. A widows peak feeds into long, dark braids, each woven with ornate silver ornaments and precious stones. She holds a silver goblet in one bejewelled hand and a long-stemmed pipe in the other. On the table before her is a strange three-tiered board covered in red and black pieces. There seem to be considerably more red than black.
“If a warrior under my command approached me uninvited and spoke thus to me I would have him castrated and cast naked into the Sea Between Worlds.”
“I’ll take it under advisement” says Varis dryly, giving Baine a mordant smile.
“You would be wise to heed my council, Commander. Insubordination is a weed best pulled by the roots.”
Varis looks back to his guest, face a mask of diplomacy.
“Thank you for this evening’s lesson, Shen’Izera. I am afraid you must excuse me now. This matter demands my attention.”
The woman snorts derisively but stands from her chair, collecting a small stack of coins from beside the game board. As she moves, her braids make a sound halfway between a bone rattle and a windchime.
“Very well, ‘Godslayer’. We will resume your humiliation at another time.”
Nodding a farewell, Varis watches her leave with an unreadable expression; Baine with his eyebrows raised and his interest clearly piqued. Once she has gone, the Grandmaster turns back, indicating the recently vacated armchair.
“Sit.”
Baine quirks an eyebrow at him.
“Yes sir, thank you sir.”
Baine moves into the room, taking care to slide into the chair without upsetting the board too much. Frankie makes himself comfortable on the floor at his feet and Varis takes a seat on the stool opposite, face calm and patient.
“So then. You have words for me.”
Baine sighs heavily and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He reaches out and picks up one of the red pieces from the board between them, turning it over in his hands a few times before setting it down just slightly to the left of where it stood previously.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt. Wasn’t aware you had company. Who is she? She stickin’ around? If so, there’ll be two people around here threatin’ to castrate me on the regular and that’s just not good for my peace of mind, you understand.”
Varis says nothing, waiting for the torrent of words to subside. Before long, the younger man’s bravado fails and he sags a little further into himself where he’s sitting. He rolls his eyes at his own antics and nods a little.
“Okay, yes, fine, I’m avoiding the subject.”
He visibly steels himself before looking directly at Varis, his dark eyes showing an unusual vulnerability and his smile sad but earnest.
“Varis, I’m sorry.” His voice rumbles softly in the quiet around them.
“I’m sorry I left and was too chickenshit to come straight back. I’m sorry I missed the funeral.”
He tugs absentmindedly at the gold chain around his neck, the two rings clinking gently against his hand.
“I’m sorry, for her. For what she said about you and what she was tryin’ to make you out to be. For what she did. For whatever part she played in the Tide and whatever happened to you in it. She did it to protect me and I’m sorry.”
His eyes go a little distant as he speaks.
“Not the legacy I was hopin’ to find, was it.”
Varis is silent for a while, eyes wandering over the board. Finally he looks up, and Baine is surprised to find a smile on his lips.
“Do you know why I came to this place? To Kantas? To Daring?”
He waits until Baine shakes his head before continuing.
“I did something unforgivable. Innocents died by my hand, and by my order. I did it because I believed it was my duty, and because a man I trusted told me it was right. I know that I will burn for it, in the life beyond this one. You have seen the lower planes. You know what waits for those who do evil. This is the great immutable truth of my life - nothing I can do will wash away what I have done.
And yet I must try.
You cannot undo what Sharn did. You are not responsible for her actions, and yet I know you well enough to know you will carry their weight regardless. The Tide slaughtered thousands, burned a city, killed and mutilated my friends. Those wounds can never be healed. And yet we must try. That is all we can ask of ourselves.”
Baine listens, brow furrowed, letting the weight of Varis words wash over him and choosing his own carefully.
“Thank you. For trusting me with that - with your past. Means a lot.”
He cocks his head slightly.
“I don’t agree with all of it though. I refuse to believe that we can’t start over.” He laughs a little. “I’m not a big thinker, never claimed to be one. Never gave much thought to redemption and shit like that. But everyone deserves a chance to start over, if there’s like.. honest remorse in their hearts, or whatever. I dunno where either of us will end up when all is said and done, but I don’t think it’s been decided just yet. So, yeah. Let’s keep trying.”
He looks down briefly at the rings clasped in his hand before tucking the chain back inside his tunic.
“Yeah, I’ll carry that weight. It might not be my fault but it feels like my responsibility. And like - fuck, I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this - it feels like fate. I was meant for this. For this life and this Order. Gives me a headache thinkin’ about it but I reckon this is what clever people call a full circle. I’m gonna spend my life keeping other people safe. Hopefully, better than she did. Seems like a good use of my time.”
He reaches a long arm down and runs his hand down Frankie’s back, taking a moment before forcing the words out of his mouth on a shaky breath.
“Where is she buried?”
The Grandmaster stands, rolling his shoulders.
“Her ashes are in the vault beneath the yard. If you have words for her, speak them there.”
“I didn’t even know we had a vault,” Baine mutters to himself.
Varis smiles.
“This place still has a few secrets for you to learn.”
“Clearly.”
The half-orc’s face grows somber again.
“It’s not going to stop, is it?” he asks. “And it’s not going to get easier, losing each other like this.”
Varis shakes his head. Baine gives him a small, wry smile.
“What a fuckin’ line of work.”
“There’s plenty of it to be done. Welcome back, soldier.”
“Good to be back, sir,”
The younger man stands, Frankie rising with him. He gives the chess board one last curios look, nods at his commander and walks out into the night.