An Audience with the Dead - Igrainne (22/6)
Jun 26, 2021 10:22:39 GMT
Jamie J, Queen Merla, the Sun-Blessed, and 2 more like this
Post by Igrainne (RETIRED) on Jun 26, 2021 10:22:39 GMT
The Flourished Hook, Port Ffirst
After a few gentle knocks, the door to the flat swung open. Igrainne blinked a few times as she beheld the sight of Jaezred, dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, a red waistcoat, and black trousers. His long, white hair was tied into a ponytail with a black ribbon.
“Hey! Jaezred. You look…” Like a surface-dweller, she thought. “...different. Uh, good different.”
“Thank you,” he replied stiffly. His eyes did not meet hers directly, as if he was a little embarrassed. “What do you want?”
Well, his attitude hasn’t changed. “This is gonna sound weird, but I’m just here to make sure you’re alive.” The half-drow shrugged. “I was doing a job, saw some scary things. Got a little worried.”
Lord Jaezred sighed and opened the door wider. “I’ve made tea,” he said.
Igrainne ambled into her cousin’s very comfortable, very spacious, very expensive flat behind him. She peeled off her piwafwi to hang it on the coat rack, next to an elegant black jacket, and dumped the rest of her equipment unceremoniously on the floor. There was already a tea set sitting neatly on the table on the balcony. Outside, the sun was setting, and the warm orange sky thus made for a comfortable setting for both dark elves. Jaezred used a mage hand to pour a cup of tea for Igrainne and handed it to her as she sat down. The mage himself remained standing, holding his own cup and saucer, looking out to the Sea of Swords, and the ocean breeze blowing gently in his hair.
“So,” she began after a sip of the (admittedly delicious) tea. “We answered a call for help from this city called D’Avalon. It’s close to Harnash — you’ve been to Trecorvum, right? — and it’s real nice. I think you’d like it. Clean, old cobblestone streets, pretty buildings...Oh, and there’s this massive cathedral in the city centre. It’s got bells that, when they ring, the entire city could hear. Apparently it’s actually a big magical amplifier or something. I don’t really get it, to be honest. Anyway, they had a problem with the undead horde crawling out of their catacombs and wanted us to find out why. There’s this retired adventurer lady, Madam Miriam, she’s an innkeeper these days but she used to be a warrior back in the day. She single-handedly fought the horde so we could sneak in. It was badass.”
“I wish you wouldn’t speak in such a pedestrian manner. It is unbecoming,” was all Jaezred said, still gazing out to the sea.
Ignoring the comment, she continued, “Okay, we got into the catacombs, and almost immediately, Elias started hearing voices whispering to them, but it’s the voices of the Lady of Silence and their other mother, who’s, like, frozen in ice. As we were walking inside, we passed a room and I saw...you, standing inside the room! But...in your old outfit. Then it spoke with your voice — exactly like your voice — and told me to ‘join’ it. It was some kind of charm magic to get me into the room. When I resisted it, the illusion got all messed up in the face, then it turned into a shadow and disappeared.”
Now Jaezred had turned to face Igrainne. He looked a little disturbed. “Nefarious magic,” he remarked.
“Yeah, it was creepy! The others heard the voices of the people in their lives when the…the thing spoke to them, or they saw the illusion of those people when it appeared. Eventually, we found the royal burial chamber — that’s where they figured the origin of the disturbance is.” The ranger paused to bite into a scone and gulp down more tea. “In the chamber, there was this huge, glowing, green crystal protected by an arcane circle. The inscription around the circle said something about twin kings of D’Avalon taking a ‘Heart of Devellos’ — that’s Abyssal, by the way — as loot from their conquests. And the creature was there, too, feeding on a corpse. Again, it looked different to each person in the room. Arkadius saw his fiancée, Elias saw their sweetheart, and I...I saw Mum, looking like an undead monster.”
At this, Jaezred quietly sat down on a chair. The mage hand poured more tea into Igrainne’s cup.
“Well, the creature’s dead now,” she said with a shrug. “The crystal exploded when it died. The explosion knocked me out for a couple of seconds, but other than that, I’m fine.”
“Are you really?”
“Yeah, really. Just...needed to confirm that it was all a stupid illusion.”
“Then you may rest assured, cousin, for it is the one and only Lord Jaezred Vandree sitting before you here.”
She smiled and flicked a crumb of bread off the table. “So what have you been up to lately?”
“I dealt with the devil that was pestering Fort Ettin some two weeks ago. Other than that, nothing exciting,” came the answer, but there was a palpable uneasiness in his voice. Is there something he's not telling me? “This D’Avalon doesn’t sound half-bad. I might visit, should I find the opportunity.”
“What’s up with the new look?” she asked, changing the subject after an awkward silence.
“Ah.” He put down his empty cup on the table. “I have been living on the surface for a while. I thought I should accept it as my new home, and therefore look the part.”
“Wow,” Igrainne murmured. “So you’re not incorrigible after all. Hard to believe.”
“You, on the other hand…” he grumbled back. She grinned in response and asked for more scones.
After a few gentle knocks, the door to the flat swung open. Igrainne blinked a few times as she beheld the sight of Jaezred, dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, a red waistcoat, and black trousers. His long, white hair was tied into a ponytail with a black ribbon.
“Hey! Jaezred. You look…” Like a surface-dweller, she thought. “...different. Uh, good different.”
“Thank you,” he replied stiffly. His eyes did not meet hers directly, as if he was a little embarrassed. “What do you want?”
Well, his attitude hasn’t changed. “This is gonna sound weird, but I’m just here to make sure you’re alive.” The half-drow shrugged. “I was doing a job, saw some scary things. Got a little worried.”
Lord Jaezred sighed and opened the door wider. “I’ve made tea,” he said.
Igrainne ambled into her cousin’s very comfortable, very spacious, very expensive flat behind him. She peeled off her piwafwi to hang it on the coat rack, next to an elegant black jacket, and dumped the rest of her equipment unceremoniously on the floor. There was already a tea set sitting neatly on the table on the balcony. Outside, the sun was setting, and the warm orange sky thus made for a comfortable setting for both dark elves. Jaezred used a mage hand to pour a cup of tea for Igrainne and handed it to her as she sat down. The mage himself remained standing, holding his own cup and saucer, looking out to the Sea of Swords, and the ocean breeze blowing gently in his hair.
“So,” she began after a sip of the (admittedly delicious) tea. “We answered a call for help from this city called D’Avalon. It’s close to Harnash — you’ve been to Trecorvum, right? — and it’s real nice. I think you’d like it. Clean, old cobblestone streets, pretty buildings...Oh, and there’s this massive cathedral in the city centre. It’s got bells that, when they ring, the entire city could hear. Apparently it’s actually a big magical amplifier or something. I don’t really get it, to be honest. Anyway, they had a problem with the undead horde crawling out of their catacombs and wanted us to find out why. There’s this retired adventurer lady, Madam Miriam, she’s an innkeeper these days but she used to be a warrior back in the day. She single-handedly fought the horde so we could sneak in. It was badass.”
“I wish you wouldn’t speak in such a pedestrian manner. It is unbecoming,” was all Jaezred said, still gazing out to the sea.
Ignoring the comment, she continued, “Okay, we got into the catacombs, and almost immediately, Elias started hearing voices whispering to them, but it’s the voices of the Lady of Silence and their other mother, who’s, like, frozen in ice. As we were walking inside, we passed a room and I saw...you, standing inside the room! But...in your old outfit. Then it spoke with your voice — exactly like your voice — and told me to ‘join’ it. It was some kind of charm magic to get me into the room. When I resisted it, the illusion got all messed up in the face, then it turned into a shadow and disappeared.”
Now Jaezred had turned to face Igrainne. He looked a little disturbed. “Nefarious magic,” he remarked.
“Yeah, it was creepy! The others heard the voices of the people in their lives when the…the thing spoke to them, or they saw the illusion of those people when it appeared. Eventually, we found the royal burial chamber — that’s where they figured the origin of the disturbance is.” The ranger paused to bite into a scone and gulp down more tea. “In the chamber, there was this huge, glowing, green crystal protected by an arcane circle. The inscription around the circle said something about twin kings of D’Avalon taking a ‘Heart of Devellos’ — that’s Abyssal, by the way — as loot from their conquests. And the creature was there, too, feeding on a corpse. Again, it looked different to each person in the room. Arkadius saw his fiancée, Elias saw their sweetheart, and I...I saw Mum, looking like an undead monster.”
At this, Jaezred quietly sat down on a chair. The mage hand poured more tea into Igrainne’s cup.
“Well, the creature’s dead now,” she said with a shrug. “The crystal exploded when it died. The explosion knocked me out for a couple of seconds, but other than that, I’m fine.”
“Are you really?”
“Yeah, really. Just...needed to confirm that it was all a stupid illusion.”
“Then you may rest assured, cousin, for it is the one and only Lord Jaezred Vandree sitting before you here.”
She smiled and flicked a crumb of bread off the table. “So what have you been up to lately?”
“I dealt with the devil that was pestering Fort Ettin some two weeks ago. Other than that, nothing exciting,” came the answer, but there was a palpable uneasiness in his voice. Is there something he's not telling me? “This D’Avalon doesn’t sound half-bad. I might visit, should I find the opportunity.”
“What’s up with the new look?” she asked, changing the subject after an awkward silence.
“Ah.” He put down his empty cup on the table. “I have been living on the surface for a while. I thought I should accept it as my new home, and therefore look the part.”
“Wow,” Igrainne murmured. “So you’re not incorrigible after all. Hard to believe.”
“You, on the other hand…” he grumbled back. She grinned in response and asked for more scones.
