2022-02-25 – Gus'laff gets a holiday – Wren & Heret
Jun 2, 2023 19:51:04 GMT
Jaezred Vandree and Andy Davy like this
Post by Heret Velnnarul on Jun 2, 2023 19:51:04 GMT
A couple of days after The demon who loved me...
Wren speaks the name they were given, looking straight into the mirror, while Heret stands by, ready for trouble. The usual cheery calm of Evenbloom Hill, the air filled by the songs of birds and pixies, falls deathly quiet for a moment... And then bursts into a frantic crescendo, as if to make up for lost time. A polite throat is being cleared behind Wren, (though they couldn’t see it in the mirror) and upon turning around Gus'laff is standing there, stretching his long neck and muscled arms, eagerly sucking in the sweet air.
"Ahhh, wonderful. A bargain fulfilled. Sweet, sweet deliverance!" He smiles at the two young people with a big, white toothy smile. "I thank you for keeping your end! It seems you accomplished whatever you set out to do? Marvelous. The 46th layer of the Abyss is positively abuzz with news of your daring exploits! Bal'taz'narr has his hands full salvaging what remains of his station among the Court of Zelatar. Good. Just as it should be..."
His gaze wanders off to the horizon, and he unfurls his wings. There is a moment when the others are not quite sure whether the setting sun has tricked them or not, but he seems to stand taller now than they remember, and his skin looks much more purplish, rather than charcoal black. They are struck by how handsome he looks in the waning sunlight. But there is a subtle wrongness pervading his beautiful features, though they cannot quite put their fingers on it... "It has been an absolute blast making your acquaintance, but I really must be off to sample the delights of this wonderful new land. One I admit I have not visited before... I am sure, it will be splendid! Farewell, dear mortals! Maybe we run into each other again some time..."
Initially taken off-balance by the spectacle of Gus’laff’s sudden and changed appearance, Heret’s mind catches up with what’s happening as he sees the fiend getting ready to take flight. He’d feared that their former guide would try to go off on his own but hadn’t anticipated it would happen so quickly. How to delay him? Not hostility – Heret and Wren are probably no match for Gus’laff on their own, so aggression will achieve nothing but make the fiend even less inclined to remain. But if he thinks he can gain something from staying…
“But Gus'laff,” Heret calls out, “do you not want a guided tour? It seems only fair when you guided us so generously! And you may find the local populace more amenable if you have our company…”
The fiend is already airborne now, as Wren shouts up: "What he said! Also please don't give us a reason to have to hunt you down. Would be a shame after we've shown you such hospitality."
Heret winces. But this does at least prompt Gus’laff to pause and turn his neck 180 degrees midflight (which is revolting to witness). He laughs, hair flying in the wind. "Most kind of you to offer, but I think I will fly solo on this one. Until we meet again!"
He fast disappears on the horizon, and once he does the frantic activity on Evenbloom Hill dies down again. The others can feel their heartbeats coming back down to normal. Somehow Gus’laff’s mere presence here was exciting.
As they look at each other, they hear his voice once more, faintly on the evening breeze: "Rock'n'Roll, bitches..."
Wren chuckles at that. Heret opens his mouth to say something, closes it again, then shrugs. “Well, we live and learn. Back to Daring?”
"Yeah...Let's. Imma keep an ear out for reports of purplish winged demons though."
“Yes,” says Heret as he puts his foot into Zozo's stirrup and vaults into the saddle. “Perhaps we should let someone at the Fort know. As a courtesy. Can you do that magical communication trick?”
"Yeah perhaps we should. But no I can't do that, my magic isn't that strong. I can head that way though, it's good space for animal training anyway."
“I am sure the residents would be grateful for the warning. If you can get there first, of course. But maybe he is not going there anyway. Perhaps he wishes to see the... what did I hear some hawker call it once? ‘The pearl of the Shield Coast’?” Heret chuckles. “Who could resist such a destination?”
"There's only one person who calls it that, and I pray to Ilmater that Gus'laff and him never meet." And Wren pulls such an teenager unimpressed face at the thought.
“Ha! Well, good speed to you, and good business.” With a squeeze of Heret’s knees and a gentle pull on her reins, Zosifel turns and starts to trot away towards the sinking sun.
Written with Wren Lunaboult and Ian
Wren speaks the name they were given, looking straight into the mirror, while Heret stands by, ready for trouble. The usual cheery calm of Evenbloom Hill, the air filled by the songs of birds and pixies, falls deathly quiet for a moment... And then bursts into a frantic crescendo, as if to make up for lost time. A polite throat is being cleared behind Wren, (though they couldn’t see it in the mirror) and upon turning around Gus'laff is standing there, stretching his long neck and muscled arms, eagerly sucking in the sweet air.
"Ahhh, wonderful. A bargain fulfilled. Sweet, sweet deliverance!" He smiles at the two young people with a big, white toothy smile. "I thank you for keeping your end! It seems you accomplished whatever you set out to do? Marvelous. The 46th layer of the Abyss is positively abuzz with news of your daring exploits! Bal'taz'narr has his hands full salvaging what remains of his station among the Court of Zelatar. Good. Just as it should be..."
His gaze wanders off to the horizon, and he unfurls his wings. There is a moment when the others are not quite sure whether the setting sun has tricked them or not, but he seems to stand taller now than they remember, and his skin looks much more purplish, rather than charcoal black. They are struck by how handsome he looks in the waning sunlight. But there is a subtle wrongness pervading his beautiful features, though they cannot quite put their fingers on it... "It has been an absolute blast making your acquaintance, but I really must be off to sample the delights of this wonderful new land. One I admit I have not visited before... I am sure, it will be splendid! Farewell, dear mortals! Maybe we run into each other again some time..."
Initially taken off-balance by the spectacle of Gus’laff’s sudden and changed appearance, Heret’s mind catches up with what’s happening as he sees the fiend getting ready to take flight. He’d feared that their former guide would try to go off on his own but hadn’t anticipated it would happen so quickly. How to delay him? Not hostility – Heret and Wren are probably no match for Gus’laff on their own, so aggression will achieve nothing but make the fiend even less inclined to remain. But if he thinks he can gain something from staying…
“But Gus'laff,” Heret calls out, “do you not want a guided tour? It seems only fair when you guided us so generously! And you may find the local populace more amenable if you have our company…”
The fiend is already airborne now, as Wren shouts up: "What he said! Also please don't give us a reason to have to hunt you down. Would be a shame after we've shown you such hospitality."
Heret winces. But this does at least prompt Gus’laff to pause and turn his neck 180 degrees midflight (which is revolting to witness). He laughs, hair flying in the wind. "Most kind of you to offer, but I think I will fly solo on this one. Until we meet again!"
He fast disappears on the horizon, and once he does the frantic activity on Evenbloom Hill dies down again. The others can feel their heartbeats coming back down to normal. Somehow Gus’laff’s mere presence here was exciting.
As they look at each other, they hear his voice once more, faintly on the evening breeze: "Rock'n'Roll, bitches..."
Wren chuckles at that. Heret opens his mouth to say something, closes it again, then shrugs. “Well, we live and learn. Back to Daring?”
"Yeah...Let's. Imma keep an ear out for reports of purplish winged demons though."
“Yes,” says Heret as he puts his foot into Zozo's stirrup and vaults into the saddle. “Perhaps we should let someone at the Fort know. As a courtesy. Can you do that magical communication trick?”
"Yeah perhaps we should. But no I can't do that, my magic isn't that strong. I can head that way though, it's good space for animal training anyway."
“I am sure the residents would be grateful for the warning. If you can get there first, of course. But maybe he is not going there anyway. Perhaps he wishes to see the... what did I hear some hawker call it once? ‘The pearl of the Shield Coast’?” Heret chuckles. “Who could resist such a destination?”
"There's only one person who calls it that, and I pray to Ilmater that Gus'laff and him never meet." And Wren pulls such an teenager unimpressed face at the thought.
“Ha! Well, good speed to you, and good business.” With a squeeze of Heret’s knees and a gentle pull on her reins, Zosifel turns and starts to trot away towards the sinking sun.
Written with Wren Lunaboult and Ian