A Gift Fit for a Queen (1/6) - Jaezred
Jun 5, 2021 10:31:30 GMT
Jamie J, Queen Merla, the Sun-Blessed, and 3 more like this
Post by Jaezred Vandree on Jun 5, 2021 10:31:30 GMT
As The Four Fair Winds slowly creeped towards last orders, one group of patrons remained in the dimly-lit tavern. Six noblemen and women had gathered around Lord Jaezred of the House Vandree, who was sitting in a stool and leaning against the bar, one arm casually draped over the polished countertop. He took a puff from his pipe before telling his tale. “So he said, ‘I have secured a royal audience with Queen Nicnevin of the Witching Court. With my great negotiating skills, I shall persuade her to make a deal with me!’ Then, one of the adventurers asked him, ‘And what do you plan to give the Queen in return, my lord?’ He replied, ‘Why, a bag full of gems of gold, of course. If that isn’t good enough for her majesty, I have great negotiating skills!’”
The aristocrats burst out laughing. Jaezred grinned. “He did not see but I could tell the adventurers were stifling their laughter. And so off he went to the Witching Court. You might have seen him parading through to Portal Plaza in that ridiculous outfit. To my surprise, the fey didn’t kick us out of their palace — in fact, Queen Nicnevin came to see him herself. She glided over to us and said, ‘Where is this KARL?’” More giggles. “You’ve got to give credit to the man. Despite nearly pissing his breeches, he went through with the deal. Nicnevin made him talented and famous. And then he started dancing. But he couldn’t stop. Oh no, he pranced around the court with tears in his eyes and no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop dancing.”
Laughter again. A red-headed dwarf in the “audience” cried out as they wiped off a tear with a finger, “By the gods! What, then, did you do to save him?”
“Well, there was this hag who came along and offered to lift the curse if we would complete a task for her. Neverwoods promised us that bag of gems and gold to do it, and so we did.”
“You are too kind for not letting him dance to death,” a human woman piped up.
“It was supremely entertaining, but a job is a job. Anyway, we were tasked to steal a magic circlet that lets the wearer command an army of animated skeletons. We sneaked and fought our way through a mausoleum and slew the warrior-monk in possession of the circlet. It was a tough one to be sure, but few survive the might of my spells. We acquired the army for the hag and she agreed to remove the curse. However, the plucky little adventurers decided they deserved more; they asked the hag to give them each a portion of Karl’s newfound talent in dancing. Thus, Lord Neverwoods made it out alive with all his fame — and half the talent.”
“Ah, that explains everything!” exclaimed a gnomish man. The barkeep’s call for last orders was barely heard over the peals of laughter. The gnome paid for a final round of shots for everyone. “To Karl Neverwoods, the fire-footed idiot,” he toasted.
“To Karl Neverwoods!” the crowd chorused before downing their glass. Jaezred scoffed and finished his too. His mask, the rictus of a smug and mocking grin, did not falter until he was alone in his room.
Days ago, the drow mage was leaning into a comfortable sofa in a lounge within the Mountain Palace of the Witching Court. His cheeks were also well-flushed then as he gazed into the eyes of the spring eladrin next to him, a glass of dark maroon liquid in hand. “I felt, I think you call it empathy, for him,” he said in a low voice, almost slurring. “I understood how he felt. To be insignificant. To want significance. Karl was his father's seventh son. I was the third son of the matron mother's second cousin...”
Imryll gave him a long, appraising look, her own cheeks slightly flushed, before softly speaking. “And is that still what you want? To be significant?”
“No, no, no,” he laughed, then his voice dropped to a near-whisper. “You see, I prayed...every night...begging the Spider Queen to make me important. I was terribly pious. Am terribly pious. And one day, I woke up...with divine magic. This doesn’t happen to male drow, you understand? My sisters began to hate me. My brothers shunned me. Others, they had agendas. They made me into a figurehead for their politics. I wanted no part in it.”
“Yes, I’m aware...Margotin has mentioned how rare that is. Still, it seems branching out on your own affords you some freedom from that, no? I know that's why some of the drow here decided to follow Nicnevin. She affords them the liberty to be more than a society would otherwise allow them to be.” She flashed Jaezred a playful grin. The same one she put on when they danced in the Pierre-Vielle ballroom, he recalled.
He gave her a long look, his red eyes boring into her green ones. His brows were deeply furrowed. “I see what you are trying to do. But I can't do that. She watches me. I can feel it sometimes.”
"What I'm doing? Why, I'm not doing anything! We're just talking... drinking..."
Jaezred shook his head. “Karl thought his deal was good. I thought mine was, too.”
“Karl got exactly as he asked for. You must remember, he sought out Nicnevin, not the other way around. But that buffoon is soon to be wallowing back in his own insignificance. I’d much rather hear more about your deal!”
He opened his mouth but his tongue was quickly stilled by a sudden chill that crept down his spine. It pricked his skin like spider legs. He was silent for a moment, before murmuring, “I truly enjoy spending time with you.”
“Of course you do, I’m a delight! I must admit, you’re not completely awful yourself. But does that mean you’re leaving, then? I could banish you back to the Material Plane if you like? Save you the commute. Or...we could try another bottle?” The roguish grin returned to her face.
A dark-skinned finger went up and lazily traced Imryll’s jawline down to her chin. “I’d like to stay here, with you, for a while. I can’t go home, you see.”
Imryll bit her lip. “Oh? And why is that?”
“If you cast banishment on me, I’ll be home...in Menzoberranzan. The matron told me to leave for a time. She didn’t say I couldn’t come back, but everyone knew what she meant. I...I’d rather be here with you. Please.”
She slipped a hand under the top of his robe and traced her finger across his collarbone. “Hmm. That is interesting. Guess I know how to be rid of you then if you prove to be...disappointing.” The hand swung up and pulled his face closer. “But you are already here with me. So...what do you want, Lord Jaezred?”
Jaezred sighed and closed his eyes. “I've already said too much.” And he leaned forward to press his lips against hers.
Thanks to Anthony for roleplaying Imryll!
The aristocrats burst out laughing. Jaezred grinned. “He did not see but I could tell the adventurers were stifling their laughter. And so off he went to the Witching Court. You might have seen him parading through to Portal Plaza in that ridiculous outfit. To my surprise, the fey didn’t kick us out of their palace — in fact, Queen Nicnevin came to see him herself. She glided over to us and said, ‘Where is this KARL?’” More giggles. “You’ve got to give credit to the man. Despite nearly pissing his breeches, he went through with the deal. Nicnevin made him talented and famous. And then he started dancing. But he couldn’t stop. Oh no, he pranced around the court with tears in his eyes and no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop dancing.”
Laughter again. A red-headed dwarf in the “audience” cried out as they wiped off a tear with a finger, “By the gods! What, then, did you do to save him?”
“Well, there was this hag who came along and offered to lift the curse if we would complete a task for her. Neverwoods promised us that bag of gems and gold to do it, and so we did.”
“You are too kind for not letting him dance to death,” a human woman piped up.
“It was supremely entertaining, but a job is a job. Anyway, we were tasked to steal a magic circlet that lets the wearer command an army of animated skeletons. We sneaked and fought our way through a mausoleum and slew the warrior-monk in possession of the circlet. It was a tough one to be sure, but few survive the might of my spells. We acquired the army for the hag and she agreed to remove the curse. However, the plucky little adventurers decided they deserved more; they asked the hag to give them each a portion of Karl’s newfound talent in dancing. Thus, Lord Neverwoods made it out alive with all his fame — and half the talent.”
“Ah, that explains everything!” exclaimed a gnomish man. The barkeep’s call for last orders was barely heard over the peals of laughter. The gnome paid for a final round of shots for everyone. “To Karl Neverwoods, the fire-footed idiot,” he toasted.
“To Karl Neverwoods!” the crowd chorused before downing their glass. Jaezred scoffed and finished his too. His mask, the rictus of a smug and mocking grin, did not falter until he was alone in his room.
Days ago, the drow mage was leaning into a comfortable sofa in a lounge within the Mountain Palace of the Witching Court. His cheeks were also well-flushed then as he gazed into the eyes of the spring eladrin next to him, a glass of dark maroon liquid in hand. “I felt, I think you call it empathy, for him,” he said in a low voice, almost slurring. “I understood how he felt. To be insignificant. To want significance. Karl was his father's seventh son. I was the third son of the matron mother's second cousin...”
Imryll gave him a long, appraising look, her own cheeks slightly flushed, before softly speaking. “And is that still what you want? To be significant?”
“No, no, no,” he laughed, then his voice dropped to a near-whisper. “You see, I prayed...every night...begging the Spider Queen to make me important. I was terribly pious. Am terribly pious. And one day, I woke up...with divine magic. This doesn’t happen to male drow, you understand? My sisters began to hate me. My brothers shunned me. Others, they had agendas. They made me into a figurehead for their politics. I wanted no part in it.”
“Yes, I’m aware...Margotin has mentioned how rare that is. Still, it seems branching out on your own affords you some freedom from that, no? I know that's why some of the drow here decided to follow Nicnevin. She affords them the liberty to be more than a society would otherwise allow them to be.” She flashed Jaezred a playful grin. The same one she put on when they danced in the Pierre-Vielle ballroom, he recalled.
He gave her a long look, his red eyes boring into her green ones. His brows were deeply furrowed. “I see what you are trying to do. But I can't do that. She watches me. I can feel it sometimes.”
"What I'm doing? Why, I'm not doing anything! We're just talking... drinking..."
Jaezred shook his head. “Karl thought his deal was good. I thought mine was, too.”
“Karl got exactly as he asked for. You must remember, he sought out Nicnevin, not the other way around. But that buffoon is soon to be wallowing back in his own insignificance. I’d much rather hear more about your deal!”
He opened his mouth but his tongue was quickly stilled by a sudden chill that crept down his spine. It pricked his skin like spider legs. He was silent for a moment, before murmuring, “I truly enjoy spending time with you.”
“Of course you do, I’m a delight! I must admit, you’re not completely awful yourself. But does that mean you’re leaving, then? I could banish you back to the Material Plane if you like? Save you the commute. Or...we could try another bottle?” The roguish grin returned to her face.
A dark-skinned finger went up and lazily traced Imryll’s jawline down to her chin. “I’d like to stay here, with you, for a while. I can’t go home, you see.”
Imryll bit her lip. “Oh? And why is that?”
“If you cast banishment on me, I’ll be home...in Menzoberranzan. The matron told me to leave for a time. She didn’t say I couldn’t come back, but everyone knew what she meant. I...I’d rather be here with you. Please.”
She slipped a hand under the top of his robe and traced her finger across his collarbone. “Hmm. That is interesting. Guess I know how to be rid of you then if you prove to be...disappointing.” The hand swung up and pulled his face closer. “But you are already here with me. So...what do you want, Lord Jaezred?”
Jaezred sighed and closed his eyes. “I've already said too much.” And he leaned forward to press his lips against hers.
Thanks to Anthony for roleplaying Imryll!
