Vinvit qui se vincit – Merla – 27.07.2021

Merla looks up from the parchment in her hands to Varis, her lips a tight line. The pale warrior’s face is stark, the jagged line of the scar cutting across his beautiful features almost seems raw, fresh. His eyes are distant, trying not to see the memories vying for the light as they close off to become cold, hard millstones. The foreboding she felt when the Squeak from the Compound found her just moments after Merla saw her family off at Portal Plaza has only been growing. But she knows it is nothing compared to what Varis is going through.

BB silently moves through them, giving each sprigs of yellow goldenrod and creamy-white calla lilies. Varis silently accepts the floral gifts. Baine throws him a glance.

“Do we want to go to Aurelia just to save our magic reserves?” he asks the group.

“Probably,” Varis answers.

Baine’s jaw becomes stone and he swallows hard. “Yeah, we are going to need everything we have.”

“Merla will be our rip-chord,” the grandmaster says, with a nod to the fae-bard

“I’ve got us. Try not to worry,” Merla says, the smallest of reassuring smiles.

“I’ve never seen the grandmaster like this,” Astra observes to her. “Is this enemy really that dangerous?”

Merla takes a moment before she responds.

“Before I returned to the Summer Court from my one year and a day agreement with my Mother, Varis was killed in battle.” Astra’s shock is palpable across their bond. “I had met him only once before then. I barely knew him in those days. I stayed with him whilst Baine and some of Varis’ other friends went into the Hells to get his soul back from this Sanguine Rose.”

“Who is she?” Astra inquires just as Baine asks, “Ghesh was there last time but do you guys know about who she is?” to Merla and BB.

“Vaguely,” BB says cautiously.

“A little. I remember hearing through the grapevine that you were… with her,” Merla says, looking at Varis. “But only vague bits, not specifics.”

“I know she’s not a nice person either,” BB adds.

A memory tickles at the back of Merla’s mind.

“Am I remembering correctly that someone said she is Fey?”

“Yes,” Varis answers. “I believe she was once one of your mother’s people.”

It was Merla’s turn to be shocked. Her mind races, trying to remember if she heard any gossip or stories about a Fey who was banished or left for the Nine Hells, but the history of the Feywild is vast, and as she has become increasingly aware, there is so much Merla still does not know. It could be the Sanguine Rose is someone not widely talked about or the name itself is obscure to Merla because it is so ancient.

“A thread to follow at another time,” Astra advises.

It does not take long for their group – five of Daring’s strongest adventurers – to find Aurelia Archselon. She meets them at Portal Plaza, understanding quickly where they needed to go, and why. It was hard to believe barely two hours ago Merla was here, seeing her family off, passing more books of fey lore and magic to her younger brother Marto whilst promising to visit soon to plant a field of flowers so her Papa could start beekeeping. The peace she had been experiencing for the past tenday with the Copperkettles was well and truly over.

Aurelia lifts her wand, pointing it at the teleportation circle, pauses, and looks back to the grandmaster.

“Come back this time. You have got this.” She looks at the rest of them. “Between the five of you, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

Varis, still looking unwell, just gives her a nod.

“Is he going to be alright?” Astra asks her mistress as she glances at the silvery stag. Tueval has never looked so otherworldly than today, and he is standing beside the sparkliest of unicorns Merla has ever met. The fae-bard wonders what sort of comfort he offers Varis at this moment.

Aurelia gives Varis a look and says, “There is something else I can do for you. Would you like some additional protection?”

“I will take anything I can get at this stage, councillor,” Varis confides.

She puts a hand on his shoulder, tracing a small sigil right in front of his face and Merla recognises the Mind Blank spell.

“Your mind will always be your own today,” Aurelia says.

As the archmage finishes preparing the Plane Shift spell, Merla finally answers Astra’s question.

“Once this task is done, he will be.”

Varis steps off the dias that the teleportation circle is on, bending down to the dirt below his feet. He takes some of it with his fingers, rubbing it between his hands. Then he stands up and walks through the portal.

“We will see him – and everyone else – return home.”

---

There is a story told around campfires to weary travellers on the road about a wandering carnival troupe of ghosts lost in the Hells. This troupe travelled across rivers of lava and rocky barren hills. But no matter how far they walked they were never able to pass the low mountains encircling them and they never gave up trying to find a way out of the Lower Planes they were trapped in. When this troupe was alive, they had tried to entertain a Lord of Hell, but were slain – for amusement or because they failed in their performance, the accounts are never clear. Still, even in death, the carnival troupe tried to entertain any devil, lord or otherwise, they came across, for that was their calling, whilst desperately trying to find their way out.

Word of the wandering carnival reached a particular manipulative lord of hell. He observed them for a time, enjoying their performances until one day he ensnared them, catching them in tethers. The carnival troupe were bound to this devil for a decade, a century, an eon, it is hard to say – time is hard to quantify in the Hells when a moment can be made to last a thousand years.

But one day, a hero descended into the Hells. With love and hope, this mighty warrior freed the troupe, and the carnival was able to finally escape to a better afterlife.

---

Black stone, twisting vines, and wilting roses were everywhere they really should not be. Beyond the unnervingly lush garden they have come to was a more hellish landscape. If a place could feel as if it was meant to be the location of some grand societal garden party this would be top of the list – if you were going for a certain, macabre and harrowing aesthetic.

The last time Merla had been in Avernus was at the peak of the Rift War, fighting alongside the cavalry of the Order of the Crimson Fist, holding back wave after wave after wave of Zariel’s infinite horde. The Stygian Docks and Sundered Chains were far off in the distance, but the memories of that batter were at the forefront of her mind. It was for all of them.

BB is behind her on Astra, looking around at all the dead and withering flora, surrounded by crispy, brown grass as they make their way deeper into the garden. There are some flowers that look a little too alive though and Astra stays well clear of those. But none of them look quite right.

“This is like a perversion of the Feywild and I do not like it,” Merla confides to Astra.

It’s not long before they reach the main chamber.

Thorny vines wrap around the black stone pillars and creep across the immense walls. There are huge blooms everywhere, some are vibrant red roses, others are deep purple violets. Both kinds are at least ten feet across with their petals fanned out, beckoning. At the back of the chamber is an enormous orange and pink rose that is easily double the size of every other bloom in the chamber. It is painfully vibrant in the same way that lava is, and it smokes with bits of ash falling from it’s vivid petals. A singular figure stands just below the ash falling like snow, platinum blonde hair reaching the floor and tangling with the vines and thorns around her feet. She wears an off the shoulder shirt and long skirt combo that has a tasteful slit up it’s side, and is adorned with bones and talons.

Like a host turning to greet her guests of honour, arms opening wide in welcome, the Sanguine Rose smiles with allure and charm as only the Fey can do as she looks at Varis in a familiar way.

Merla does not like it at all.

“I see you have brought a stable with you, ha! Well, Varis- and Baine! Even better. I knew you’d come.” She grins. “Oh! Let’s not forget your friends, before you get too worried.”

She raises a hand. In front of the Sanguine Rose rank after rank after rank of the ghosts of the Order of the Crimson Fist begin to emerge, filling the room. Faces Merla recalls seeing as she and Astra retreated to the Rift. Faces Baine recognises. Faces Varis knows as only a commander who wrote letters to their families personally does.

From each of their backs is a thin, ethereal chain linking them to the Sanguine Rose. They gather into a wispy bracelet that is wrapped around her wrist.

“I will make this quick, Varis. I can’t imagine you enjoy being back here, despite the fact it’s practically a home away from home.” She lets out a soft chuckle. “I need something, and I have something you want. So no grand contract. Although if you simply want to trade a life of service for all of them then I wouldn’t object. Would any of you want to pledge yourselves to me?”

“Fuck off,” is Baine’s simple but all encompassing reply.

Merla glances at her friend. Varis has never appeared more cold, almost like how he was after he came back.

The Sanguine Rose shrugs nonchalantly. “I have another offer that might be more amenable. A piddly little job. Because you see, Varis, what I learned with you is that having someone so very pure and noble fighting on your side is delicious but problematic.” She looks at Baine. “It comes with baggage.” She looks at Ghesh. “Strings attached.” She looks at BB and Merla. “I’d rather have someone who is already evil. And so I want you to fetch me your replacement.”

She describes a man that sounds like the kind of soul any Lord of Hell would desire – a man without conscience, who led armies on campaigns of slaughter, killing indiscriminately in the name of conquest. The Sanguine Rose can not influence this man’s death directly, the bidding for this human’s soul was too high amongst those interested parties in the Hells already. But if Varis and his friends agree to do this job, then when Varis kills this man, his soul will go directly to the Sanguine Rose, and she will release all of the Order soldiers she has captured.

One soul for many. The lesser of two evils, one might say. It seems like an easy job.

“Who is this man?” Varis asks, deadpan.

The Sanguine Rose licks her plump, red lips. “Does the name Sir Lannith mean anything to you?”

---

It is a grey sky overhead with the faint smell of smoke in the air. The area, though green with a few trees, somehow looks unhealthy, almost desolate. There are villages off in the distance with farmlands surrounding them. Merla is sure no one in their right mind would actually enjoy living here.

“The man we seek, he is what I could have been had I not had friends like you.”

Merla tears her eyes away from the desolate fort she sees up on a rising hill a mile or so away. The grandmaster is still tense, but he doesn’t look like he is ready to break at the slightest touch. She comes a little closer to stand next to him.

“Had I never known love.”

Her smile is tender as their eyes meet. There is the smallest glimpse behind the curtains of ice and steel, before Varis continues, looking at the rest of them.

“She is right. He has done evil.”

“Is he the one that made you do it?” Baine asks. Merla doesn’t know what it is but Baine looks like he’s fighting to swallow past a lump in his throat.

“In the end, Baine, we must carry the weight of our own choices,” Varis answers. “He set me on a path that led me to where I stand now. He is as much responsible for the man I have become as anyone. I would give him an opportunity to be better than the man I knew, better than the man he tried to make me.” Varis looks at them each in turn. “For what is justice without the possibility of redemption?”

On the outskirts of the fort where Ser Lannith lives, residing over the region with some kind of iron fist, Varis tells them what he would like to do. He does not want to kill his old commander, rather Varis’ goal is to help him. What that will mean or how that will manifest will entirely depend on how well Varis can convince Ser Lannith of the situation.

“Here, let me give you a little something to help…” Merla had started speaking but by the time she was halfway through her sentence her words blended into a soft melody that brushed like feathers at the sharp angles of Varis’ face, giving him a little extra spendor. “You are strong, Varis. You’ve got this.”

They begin to make their way toward the fort. Varis seems to have a moment where he is looking off into the sparse woods, lost in a memory or thought when Frankie comes up beside him and softly clears his throat.

“I just want to put it out there… We are pretty hench. We fought Zariel and survived. Could we just go kill her?”

Looks are shared between Ghesh, who is sitting behind Baine, BB and Merla. The smallest divot appears between Varis’ brow but it’s not of concern.

“I just want to float the idea,” Baine says.

Varis still says nothing.

“I mean, honestly, that had occurred to me pretty early on too,” Ghesh puts forward.

“See? Ghesh is game.”

Merla glances back at BB who half shrugs half nods. Seems they all would be okay with doing that plan.

“That is… certainly an option,” Varis intones, the divot deepening slightly. “Let me speak with him first.”

“Alright, cool,” Baine nods. “Plan B then.”

“Plan B,” he agrees.

“The only trouble is if we do go with Plan B before getting the Order back from her, the Sanguine Rose will use them against us,” Merla speculates to Astra. “And that could make everything harder.”

---

“You have strayed from the path of righteousness. The Lords of Hell bid for your soul.”

Resounding, bellowing laughter echoes all around them. All of Ser Lannith’s men have thrown their heads back at Varis’ words. But not the man himself. Merla cannot see it from where she stands with Astra, but she knows the look that must be in Varis’ eyes, the one that has a weight to it beyond his years. That, coupled with the gravity of his words, has really unsettled his old commander.

“What do you want?” Ser Lannith finally asks, listening more intently than he had five minutes ago.

“To save a friend,” Varis says. “I once bound my soul to a Lord of Hell. I was freed by these monstrosities, as you call them.” He gestures back to Baine, Merla, Ghesh and BB. Astra softly stomps her hoof, whilst Frankie lets out a soft growl. Tuevel is as still as the woods. “That same Lord of Hell now holds the souls of those I called friends. She asks me to come here, to take your life, and send you down to serve her for eternity. Believe me when I say that that is not a fate I would wish upon anyone. You have fallen far, Ser Lannith.”

No one moves. No one speaks.

“I must believe not least because of the lessons I’ve learned from you that a man can be better than the worst thing he has ever done. Come with us now. Help us to slay this creature. Redeem yourself. Save my friends. The Lord of Justice watches you now. He whom you once swore to serve. We focus so often on the violence, the punishment of judgement. The One Eyed God is also a redeemer. Save your soul.”

One of the soldiers, a broad shouldered woman with a greatsword on her back, leans over to Ser Lannith and quietly says, “Respectfully, sir, what the fuck?”

Ser Lannith reaches out and lays a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah…” He looks past Varis to Baine again, no trace of the sneer that had been on his face earlier. He takes in the Master at Arms fully and Merla notices he seems troubled very deeply by what Varis has said.

“He hasn’t even begun to deal with the ‘your eternal soul is damned’ part yet,” Merla observes.

“The question is, will such a man deign to work with us?” Astra asks, sounding doubtful.

The man starts to speak, talking about how Varis ran away, disgraced, feeling deeply troubled by the horrible deeds he had done at Ser Lannith’s command. He keeps trying to look away to his own men, but something in the grandmaster’s eyes keeps drawing Lannith back in. Never before has he been so confused by something in his life. Varis has come far from the days when Ser Lannith knew him and has changed so much, even in the one turn of the wheel since Merla has known him. The older commander is not concerned with the fact that he has fallen down a dark path. Rather, he is trying to come to grips with how the boy he knew has transformed into the man he sees before him, laying such truths at his feet that to ignore them would be folly.

“I believe he will,” Merla says. “If for no other reason than to save his own skin.”

Ser Lannith suddenly stands up. “All of you, carry on!” he shouts. His men look at him confused, but he isn’t paying them any attention. Ten long strides later and he is opening the door to the inner keep. “Come on,” he gestures, indicating for them to follow.

“I’ll keep an eye on things out here,” Astra offers before Merla even has to ask. “You keep an eye on things in there.”

Merla nods, following Baine and the others inside.

Ser Lannith barely waits for them to join before he turns around and fixes Varis with a hard look.

“You are saying some wild things, Nailo, for a boy who fled. Start at the beginning.”

---

Things did not go according to plan.

After Varis spent some considerable time going through his story of how he became bound to the Sanguine Rose and his subsequent liberation brought about by his friends, they agreed that a double cross was what they were going to do. Merla would Plane Shift them to the Sanguine Rose’s garden – with her newly gifted tuning fork to the Hells from Aurelia herself – where they would present Ser Lannith to her alive. Once she released the tethered soldiers that was when they would strike, quick as lightning and as fierce as a storm, ending her hold over Varis, and the Order of the Crimson Fist.

Except the moment she had seen they brought Ser Lannith to her lair without killing him she knew something was up. The Sanguine Rose started screeching about how they had a simple deal, that Varis had betrayed her for the last time, and that he, along with all his friends, would die the final death in the fiery pit they now found themselves in, once and for all.

Then the fight broke out.

Merla was too far away, but BB was not. Her big, blue firbolg friend tried to counter a horribly familiar spell, one that would render someone like Merla practically useless on the battlefield. But the gigantic pink and orange, lava-like rose behind the Sanguine Rose pulsed in an unnatural way and BB faltered in her spell casting. An anti-magic field erupted around the Sanguine Rose and Baine, who was already charging in, was suddenly flailing to catch himself on his feet as Frankie disappeared beneath him.

Unsure what to do, cursing her uselessness to her friends, Merla and Astra flew up and tried to survey the battlefield, keeping a spell ready to target the Sanguine Rose should Merla get any indication that the anti-magic field had disappeared.

“You die today!” Baine roars at her as he swings his maul, radiant light flashing with each strike.

Ghesh was suddenly humongous, barely able to fit into the chamber. The spirits of the Order, being controlled by the Sanguine Rose, mostly converge on him, trying to attack his gigantic form. The fae-bard and the winged unicorn dodge around them and their dragon-sized friend as they ascend, their blank ghostly faces horrible to look at. Some start to follow her and Merla prepares to defend herself. But then Ghesh turns to look at her, threateningly, his eyes not his own.

“Ghesh?”

A javelin sized thorn sails through the air, embedding itself into Merla’s shoulder. The force of the impact pushes her back and Astra’s wings pinion frantically as her mistress begins to slip off her back. With her legs gripping as tight as she can, Merla scrambles to grab a hold of Astra’s mane, managing to stay on, barely.

Varis and Tuevel are below her, the grandmaster uttering some words and drawing a quick symbol in the air by Ghesh’s leg that sees the Order spirit that was possessing their gargantuan friend suddenly exercised. Merla thanks him by singing out a few inspiring notes.

“Come Astra! Let us do our part!”

It was a tough battle, but not once did Merla feel scared. Unlike the last time she was in Averus, she and her friends were not fighting against wave after wave after wave of devils. There was an end goal. When the Daughter of Summer called on the essence of her Court, her home, the Sanguine Rose found Merla’s visage a little too much like Titania’s and so either couldn’t continue to assault her with deadly thorns or had to target one of her other friends. It was obvious this vexed her greatly.

But despite how she blurred across the battlefield, regardless of her attempts to walk along the walls and ceilings of her grand lair, for all of her attempted manipulation of Varis and use of the Order’s spirits against them, Ghesh, the same size as an ancient black dragon, brings down his morningstar onto the Sanguine Rose.

Merla, Baine and Varis see the fey turned fiend try to grip the morningstar coming down upon her, arms struggling under the force of Ghesh’s raging blow. She begins to glow from all the various cracks, slashes, and piercing blows she has taken from them. As the Sanguine Rose grinds her teeth, straining to defy the inevitable, all of the vines and flowers in the chamber writhe, matching the shaking in her body from the effort. The edges of her from start to turn to embers, whilst vine and flora turn black, burning into cinders and ash.

The Sanguine Rose turns to look at Varis and says, “It was such a simple request. Just one evil life!”

“The wrong thing is always easy to do,” he replies. “It is the righteous path that is hardest to walk.”

She lets out a cruel, mocking laugh just as her arms give way. The morningstar comes down and the Sanguine Rose explodes in an eruption of fire that makes Merla shield her face. When the flames die only scorch marks remain.

“Merla, look!”

The ghosts of the Order’s soldiers have gone still. Merla dismounts, wondering if she should be concerned or if there is something they must still do. Slowly, they all start to relax, coming back to themselves and they too begin to look around. A tall ghost directly behind Varis puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, sir,” the ghost says, his voice echoing slightly. “I am sorry that we brought you trouble.”

The ghostly soldiers begin to gather in front of Varis, shifting through the space to form up into ranks again, but this time not at anyone’s command, but of their own volition. Ghesh carefully steps out of the way, whilst Baine, BB and Merla come to stand next to Varis. The souls of all those who sacrificed themselves for him, for the Material Plane, for all of existence, stand before the grandmaster, free at last. A few are missing and Merla’s heart catches in her throat when she notices.

Then, starting from the front row, like a wave of wind they kneel to their commander, bowing their heads. Tears begin to gather in Merla’s eyes. Varis looks out over them all. He takes a step closer, then he too kneels in front of them.

“Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, my friends. Be at peace now.”

They all look up at him – Red looks up at him, front and centre, just as she was when she led the charge to protect their retreat to the Portal.

“Thank you,” Red says. Her voice sounds different – slightly distant, detached – and Merla wonders if the others hear it too. “We wandered, trying to find our way out of Avernus. Foolishly, I thought it would be better if we split up. We could briefly communicate when you summoned us. But then we began to realise we were being hunted. And then it was too late. But with her gone, with you here, we know the way.”

Merla thinks she sees the dwarven woman grin but then her spectral form shifts and Red’s face is neutral, at peace.

“If you ever need us we will be there. For all time. We owe you more than our very lives. We owe you our souls.”

Varis is lost for words. The emotions he had been keeping in check are starting to seep past his walls.

“Rest in clay, my friends. You are worthy, for so glittering a sacrifice,” Varis says to them, his voice thick with emotion.

One by one the ghosts of the Order of the Crimson Fist become shimmering lights. It is dazzlingly beautiful, seeing the strength of their belief in the man who would not stand above them, but kneel before them like an equal. Their light gets momentarily brighter, and the tears finally fall freely down Merla’s cheeks as they begin to fade away. Red is the last one to go, her eyes never leaving Varis’ face.

He stays kneeling and Merla comes over, resting a small, but warm hand on his shoulder. After a moment he nods and then stands.

“Well, guess I don’t need to worry about her any more,” Ser Lannith says, looking around. “Good gods, what have you gotten yourself into, boy?” He cranes his head back as he tries to look up at Ghesh, who is sitting down, exhausted from his rage. “And out of, it seems.”

Baine comes over to them and Varis turns. The big lad places a hand on the back of Varis’ neck and leans in close, resting their foreheads together with his eyes closed, pained relief written all over his face.

“Never again,” he croaks, voice almost breaking. “We are never comin’ here again. It’s over.” He opens his eyes, looks at Varis a moment longer before turning to Merla. “Can we please go the fuck home?”

“Of course,” she replies.

As everyone gathers in a circle next to Ghesh, the roses, violets and vines withering into ash all around them, Merla unhooks the Material Plane tuning fork from the chain on her side. She lightly taps it against the hilt of her sword, and a clear, clean C note begins to resonate around them. Her friends take each other’s hands as Merla gathers the sound into a mote of magic that glows like a warm star in a spot just above her head. She makes sure she is the last one into the circle, placing her left hand on Astra’s side and taking Varis’ with her right. Then she breathes in and sings them home.