Beneath the Surface (12/5) - Jaezred
May 18, 2022 16:10:03 GMT
Velania Kalugina, Andy D, and 2 more like this
Post by Jaezred Vandree on May 18, 2022 16:10:03 GMT
Co-written with Anthony.
In Imryll’s absence, it is Margotin who opens the doors to the Mountain Palace’s ritual chamber for Jaezred. The drow butler bows his head in greeting and says, “Lord Jaezred, the Queen will see you now.”
“Thank you, Margotin,” Jaezred replies stiffly. He has not spoken directly to Margotin since returning from the Underdark until this very moment, but this is not the time to examine that. He sweeps the divination bones laid out on the bench into a black, silken pouch, picks up two journals lying off to the side, stands up, and marches past Margotin into the room.
The giantess queen stands on the raised dais in the middle of the vast, octagonal chamber as usual, under the massive quartz jutting out of the vaulted ceiling that glows softly with moonlight. She inclines her head as he enters and kneels before her. “Lord Jaezred,” she says. “I trust this pertains to your excursion to the Anuhlin Ruins?”
“Yes, Majesty, I fear I bring distressing news. The culprit behind Spriteswell and Lostbell has made her mark there; she has casted a spell of lethargy over the entire settlement, not unlike the effects of the mist of the Witching Woods. Your subjects languish in bed all day, unable to do something even as rudimentary as feed themselves.”
Peering up slightly with his head still bowed, he sees Nicnevin’s moss-green eyes narrowing a little. “I trust you have rooted this poison out?”
“We disrupted the system she was using to channel negative energy from the site of the ruins into a demiplane she’d made, but I do not think the effects would have gone away immediately, my Queen. However, we got out before we could get direct confirmation.”
“And this necromancer? What do we know of her?”
Jaezred finally rises to his feet and lifts his head to look up at her. “She is human. Red hair, fair skin, black eyes. Wears a blue cloak. Most recently seen in the cemetery of Daring Heights on the twentieth day of Tarsahk, raising corpses and letting them loose — she called it ‘experimenting’. I have heard that she marked a warrior who fought her there and briefly fell unconscious with her personal brand.
“In Anuhlin, she had robbed the local cemetery and tried to use the castle’s past to channel negative energy from it, like she did in Lostbell, but apparently it was much too forgotten. So she resorted to testing out a new method — luring and torturing a group of amateur historians to death in order to fulfill her goal.
“I have here with me the journals of the necromancer and one of the deceased, who lingers as a ghost on the site,” he finishes, holding the two books out towards her. One is a simple, leather-bound journal, the cheap kind that can be purchased from half a dozen shops in any town; the other has thick animal hide for a cover, stitched around roughly-cut, odd-shaped pages that makes it look like a homemade scrapbook, and appears more rolled-up and beaten than the first.
Nicnevin waves a hand and the journals float up and off his palms to float in front of her, flipping open seemingly on their own accord. “A human?” she says as she flicks through the pages of both books with a single, large finger whilst simultaneously scanning through them. “And she was seen in Daring Heights?”
“Yes, Majesty, one of the mercenaries who was with me encountered her there. I consulted the spirits and confirmed that they are one and the same.”
She continues to scan the books for a moment before they snap shut and gently float off to one side. “I see. I take it she was no longer at the site?”
“She was not seen at all, Majesty. I hesitate to say that she’d abandoned Anuhlin entirely as she’d left a lot of things behind, but at the same time, as her journal shows, she is quite wily and cunning.”
“Quite. No indication of a name yet? You mentioned a mark on a warrior?”
“Indeed, my Queen.”
“Have you seen the mark?”
“Not up close, my Queen. I believe I know who this person is and I plan to seek her out later in the Material Plane.”
“I note her journal seems to lack any description of what she was actually up to in there. What was in this demiplane?”
“Both in the demiplane and the underground vault she repurposed into her lab, there were the dark purple gems we found in Lostbell, only much bigger. The one in the vault formed an undead chimaera of skeletons from the bones around when we entered. After it was felled, the magic gradually faded from the crystal and the portal to the demiplane closed.”
“Such curious design. Torturing people is hardly necessary to reanimate bodies, as shown by their activities in Daring Heights, nor does it explain the demiplane in the ruins. It seems your curiosity has paid off, Lord Jaezred, though I never expected such discoveries from you so close to the palace.”
The archfey turns to Margotin standing by the doors and with a wave, sends the the journals floating across the room towards him. “Margotin, see these are picked apart for anything else they might offer. And make sure someone stops into the Anuhlin Shambles and checks on the residents. The graves should be restored and the exposed rooms investigated immediately.”
Margotin bows deeply as he takes the books from the air and then sweeps out of the doors.
Queen Nicnevin turns back to Jaezred to address him again. “Thank you for bringing this forward. It seems allowing you the space to arrange this yourself has paid off. Was any of your group injured?”
“Yes, but nothing that cannot be healed. And for their troubles I have rewarded them with some items, gold, and trinkets found in the vault.”
“Good. What of the people in the town? Is there any other damage we should be aware of besides the effects the people are under?”
“None that I am aware of, Majesty.”
“Excellent. You have done well, Lord Jaezred. Whoever this is seems to be moving further afield than just the Witching Court if they are already in the Material Plane, however. If you do hear any more about this particular thread, here or abroad, I will, of course, look forward to your reports on the matter.”
“I am humbled by Your Majesty’s praise,” he says, and bows deeply. After a pause marked by silence and stillness in the room, he slowly straightens up and looks up straight into her entirely green eyes. “Your Majesty… May I enquire as to where the Lady Imryll has been sent off to on her errand?” he asks carefully.
Her gaze settles onto him and remains there for what feels like a long, stretched-out moment, seemingly weighing his question. “I have asked Imryll to see to some old acquaintances who require some help. Knowing their proclivity for theatrics, she will likely be gone for a few days. You need not worry about her, Lord Jaezred. She has managed this before and will be quite safe.”
He hesitates for a few seconds before deciding to push a little further: “Do you mean the Unseelie, my Queen?”
“No. Merchants, Assassins, Raiders and Painters.”
In an instant, the concern he was feeling turns into utter bemusement. For a brief second, he thought he’d misheard her. “I’m afraid I do not follow, Your Majesty. Her ladyship is helping…merchants, assassins, raiders, and…painters?”
“Or so they call themselves. I’m sure Imryll will recount her trip with you on her return, Lord Jaezred, but unless you have more information on this necromancer, I do have other matters to attend to.”
“Yes, of course, my Queen,” he says hastily, bowing and backing out of the chamber. “Thank you.”
Nicnevin bows her head to him as he slips out of the doors.
Jaezred has often found that he likes Imryll’s bedchambers less when she is not in it. He pours himself a goblet of wine at the alchemy workstation (making sure that it isn’t some corrosive chemical stored in a wine bottle for whatever reason) and plopping down onto the plush sofa with a satisfied oomph.
The fire in the pit crackles quietly. The musical angel’s trumpet flowers are silent. Jaezred finds himself falling into a state of drowsy relaxation, but it’s not the same — not without Imryll’s warmth pressed into his side, the floral scent of her hair, the melodic peals of her mischievous giggles.
He summons the tome of witchcraft to his side and writes one last sending to her for the weekend: Queen told me what you’re up to. I hope to hear about it all when you’re back. I love you.
As with before in the Anuhlin Shambles, there is still no reply.
With a heavy sigh, he drops the quill onto the book and dismisses it with a wave, putting his feet up on the cushions and taking a big gulp of wine from the goblet. As Nicnevin said, Imryll is more than capable in doing her job and he ought not to trouble his mind with unfounded worries. Better to just rest and relax.
After all, he is meeting with one of the hags of Haspar Knoll tomorrow, and he would need a clear and well-rested mind for that…
(To be continued in Entr’acte 20.)
In Imryll’s absence, it is Margotin who opens the doors to the Mountain Palace’s ritual chamber for Jaezred. The drow butler bows his head in greeting and says, “Lord Jaezred, the Queen will see you now.”
“Thank you, Margotin,” Jaezred replies stiffly. He has not spoken directly to Margotin since returning from the Underdark until this very moment, but this is not the time to examine that. He sweeps the divination bones laid out on the bench into a black, silken pouch, picks up two journals lying off to the side, stands up, and marches past Margotin into the room.
The giantess queen stands on the raised dais in the middle of the vast, octagonal chamber as usual, under the massive quartz jutting out of the vaulted ceiling that glows softly with moonlight. She inclines her head as he enters and kneels before her. “Lord Jaezred,” she says. “I trust this pertains to your excursion to the Anuhlin Ruins?”
“Yes, Majesty, I fear I bring distressing news. The culprit behind Spriteswell and Lostbell has made her mark there; she has casted a spell of lethargy over the entire settlement, not unlike the effects of the mist of the Witching Woods. Your subjects languish in bed all day, unable to do something even as rudimentary as feed themselves.”
Peering up slightly with his head still bowed, he sees Nicnevin’s moss-green eyes narrowing a little. “I trust you have rooted this poison out?”
“We disrupted the system she was using to channel negative energy from the site of the ruins into a demiplane she’d made, but I do not think the effects would have gone away immediately, my Queen. However, we got out before we could get direct confirmation.”
“And this necromancer? What do we know of her?”
Jaezred finally rises to his feet and lifts his head to look up at her. “She is human. Red hair, fair skin, black eyes. Wears a blue cloak. Most recently seen in the cemetery of Daring Heights on the twentieth day of Tarsahk, raising corpses and letting them loose — she called it ‘experimenting’. I have heard that she marked a warrior who fought her there and briefly fell unconscious with her personal brand.
“In Anuhlin, she had robbed the local cemetery and tried to use the castle’s past to channel negative energy from it, like she did in Lostbell, but apparently it was much too forgotten. So she resorted to testing out a new method — luring and torturing a group of amateur historians to death in order to fulfill her goal.
“I have here with me the journals of the necromancer and one of the deceased, who lingers as a ghost on the site,” he finishes, holding the two books out towards her. One is a simple, leather-bound journal, the cheap kind that can be purchased from half a dozen shops in any town; the other has thick animal hide for a cover, stitched around roughly-cut, odd-shaped pages that makes it look like a homemade scrapbook, and appears more rolled-up and beaten than the first.
Nicnevin waves a hand and the journals float up and off his palms to float in front of her, flipping open seemingly on their own accord. “A human?” she says as she flicks through the pages of both books with a single, large finger whilst simultaneously scanning through them. “And she was seen in Daring Heights?”
“Yes, Majesty, one of the mercenaries who was with me encountered her there. I consulted the spirits and confirmed that they are one and the same.”
She continues to scan the books for a moment before they snap shut and gently float off to one side. “I see. I take it she was no longer at the site?”
“She was not seen at all, Majesty. I hesitate to say that she’d abandoned Anuhlin entirely as she’d left a lot of things behind, but at the same time, as her journal shows, she is quite wily and cunning.”
“Quite. No indication of a name yet? You mentioned a mark on a warrior?”
“Indeed, my Queen.”
“Have you seen the mark?”
“Not up close, my Queen. I believe I know who this person is and I plan to seek her out later in the Material Plane.”
“I note her journal seems to lack any description of what she was actually up to in there. What was in this demiplane?”
“Both in the demiplane and the underground vault she repurposed into her lab, there were the dark purple gems we found in Lostbell, only much bigger. The one in the vault formed an undead chimaera of skeletons from the bones around when we entered. After it was felled, the magic gradually faded from the crystal and the portal to the demiplane closed.”
“Such curious design. Torturing people is hardly necessary to reanimate bodies, as shown by their activities in Daring Heights, nor does it explain the demiplane in the ruins. It seems your curiosity has paid off, Lord Jaezred, though I never expected such discoveries from you so close to the palace.”
The archfey turns to Margotin standing by the doors and with a wave, sends the the journals floating across the room towards him. “Margotin, see these are picked apart for anything else they might offer. And make sure someone stops into the Anuhlin Shambles and checks on the residents. The graves should be restored and the exposed rooms investigated immediately.”
Margotin bows deeply as he takes the books from the air and then sweeps out of the doors.
Queen Nicnevin turns back to Jaezred to address him again. “Thank you for bringing this forward. It seems allowing you the space to arrange this yourself has paid off. Was any of your group injured?”
“Yes, but nothing that cannot be healed. And for their troubles I have rewarded them with some items, gold, and trinkets found in the vault.”
“Good. What of the people in the town? Is there any other damage we should be aware of besides the effects the people are under?”
“None that I am aware of, Majesty.”
“Excellent. You have done well, Lord Jaezred. Whoever this is seems to be moving further afield than just the Witching Court if they are already in the Material Plane, however. If you do hear any more about this particular thread, here or abroad, I will, of course, look forward to your reports on the matter.”
“I am humbled by Your Majesty’s praise,” he says, and bows deeply. After a pause marked by silence and stillness in the room, he slowly straightens up and looks up straight into her entirely green eyes. “Your Majesty… May I enquire as to where the Lady Imryll has been sent off to on her errand?” he asks carefully.
Her gaze settles onto him and remains there for what feels like a long, stretched-out moment, seemingly weighing his question. “I have asked Imryll to see to some old acquaintances who require some help. Knowing their proclivity for theatrics, she will likely be gone for a few days. You need not worry about her, Lord Jaezred. She has managed this before and will be quite safe.”
He hesitates for a few seconds before deciding to push a little further: “Do you mean the Unseelie, my Queen?”
“No. Merchants, Assassins, Raiders and Painters.”
In an instant, the concern he was feeling turns into utter bemusement. For a brief second, he thought he’d misheard her. “I’m afraid I do not follow, Your Majesty. Her ladyship is helping…merchants, assassins, raiders, and…painters?”
“Or so they call themselves. I’m sure Imryll will recount her trip with you on her return, Lord Jaezred, but unless you have more information on this necromancer, I do have other matters to attend to.”
“Yes, of course, my Queen,” he says hastily, bowing and backing out of the chamber. “Thank you.”
Nicnevin bows her head to him as he slips out of the doors.
Jaezred has often found that he likes Imryll’s bedchambers less when she is not in it. He pours himself a goblet of wine at the alchemy workstation (making sure that it isn’t some corrosive chemical stored in a wine bottle for whatever reason) and plopping down onto the plush sofa with a satisfied oomph.
The fire in the pit crackles quietly. The musical angel’s trumpet flowers are silent. Jaezred finds himself falling into a state of drowsy relaxation, but it’s not the same — not without Imryll’s warmth pressed into his side, the floral scent of her hair, the melodic peals of her mischievous giggles.
He summons the tome of witchcraft to his side and writes one last sending to her for the weekend: Queen told me what you’re up to. I hope to hear about it all when you’re back. I love you.
As with before in the Anuhlin Shambles, there is still no reply.
With a heavy sigh, he drops the quill onto the book and dismisses it with a wave, putting his feet up on the cushions and taking a big gulp of wine from the goblet. As Nicnevin said, Imryll is more than capable in doing her job and he ought not to trouble his mind with unfounded worries. Better to just rest and relax.
After all, he is meeting with one of the hags of Haspar Knoll tomorrow, and he would need a clear and well-rested mind for that…
(To be continued in Entr’acte 20.)
