I can't say we left Uirrigan's study pristine. By the end of the no-holds-barred encounter, a chair was broken, a wooden table was split, one of the torches had been splintered due to being used as a weapon, two racks of scrolls were blood-spattered, and one unidentifiable glass vial of something wound up shattered on the floor. My hooves got wet and the center nerves began to burn, but the Dragonborn had glass slivers in his feet and tail stump. The burning didn't bother me- I was on a roll, and going to deliver a final blow when I found I could not move at all.
"Just a moment," Uirrigan interjected. With a quickness, he disappeared from the top of the dais and reappeared beside me, jabbing something into my arm. My eyes widened in anger and pain, and without thinking, I tried to move to strike him back. He, looking at his newly filled vial, merely grunted. "You're paralyzed, my dear. But as far as this testing goes, do feel free to continue your rage-"
Just that quickly, a second small vial had been filled.
"-because I'll need to quickly compare both of these samples to the original one."
The Dragonborn panted, spent on the ground, an unhealthy smell coming from his tail. For a few fleeting moments, I was insane with anger at not being able to move a muscle to finish my kill or harm the thing that had just harmed me. Uirrigan, absorbed in his work, passed right by the damaged furniture and scattered scrolls to get to a set of glassware near the back of the study. Struck suddenly by the fact that I was being studied like an animal, I lost all anger. Uirrigan appeared at the Dragonborn's side a few seconds later with what appeared to be a glass of water in his hand.
"The find is very intriguing. It seems there is a distinct, magicka-related reaction in your blood. Much more activity than when you're dealing with a non-bloodied target. Then, it seems as though there is not as much- moving around, as it were." As he spoke, he poured the liquid substance on the Dragonborn's wounds. The liquid dried and hardened quickly, like some sort of wax. "Don't worry, the compound is just irritating the flesh under your scale. It's not really burning you, but it will be quite uncomfortable, if any has seeped in. Never mind that it's spilled. It's not difficult to remake, either- nothing up here is, or I would have taken care to move it to some other place before I asked you two to do this for me."
The Dragonborn grunted a pained response.
"How are your hooves?" Uirrigan asked me without turning around. "Look at them, you'll find your range of motion has returned."
"So you've deemed me calm enough to move?" I asked with an edge of bitterness, finally able to put my arms down.
"It's not polite to answer a question with a question," Uirrigan tutored gently, as though he were speaking to a child. "Now, that compound is irritating. I have seen it work on flesh, fur, feather and scale, but not hoof, so I need to know whether I need to quickly develop a cleansing agent for you or not. It may seem unimportant, but it may wind up being quite serious indeed." He moved his right hand over the dried goo that he had poured onto the Dragonborn's wounds, and his hand glowed slightly.
"I thought hoof was just a thicker scale," I responded, massaging my sore and stiff arms. I noted with a sigh that I had sustained some serious bruises and scrapes in the name of scientific inquiry.
Uirrigan turned his head over his shoulder and smiled at me. "And your wit returns. It must not burn so much, then." He stood up and turned to check me over, and as he did, the Dragonborn got up and rolled his shoulders.
"It is good fight," he offered with a pained smile. He turned every which way to allow his functional eye to see what was going on with his body.
"You said you've been here a while," I managed as Uirrigan poked at a bruise. "I haven't even had a decent jail stay in ages."
Uirrigan put his hands under each of my own, noting that two of the fingers on my right hand were crushed and bloody. Without saying anything, he moved toward the back of his study.
"You maybe question the winged one, yes? I understand. He is maybe not well. My mother's sister is working with the weak-mind ones, who cannot live on their own any longer- I am seeing this as a child. The winged one's magic is strong, and he is strong, but he is not thinking he is strong. He is thinking he is trapped. I do not completely know why, but- this cleric dying- how he is acting now is very different. I am thinking Tiamat is calling my blade again, but I am different too. Bahamut is making me humble."
A humble Dragonborn? I thought to myself. Let that be so, and I will have seen everything.
"You said you would tell me who you were when I earned it- have I?" I asked, sitting down. Just as I did, Uirrigan appeared at my side with some strips of cloth, some paste, and some splints.
"Of course," the Dragonborn smirked, picking up his sword and sheathing it. "I am Aleksei. From the mountains, very used to cold. But I am being sent away, because of no more use in battle." He poked wryly at the permanently shut eyelid. "I maybe am turning a few seconds too slowly when I see small Tiefling child sitting alone in the dust. They are saying always to kill Tiefling children, and although I am blindly killing many others, I cannot do this. So, exile. No honor."
"It wasn't the nicest of tactics," I frowned, remembering why people would have suspected me even as a child. Uirrigan had slathered my cuts with the salve that he had, and was beginning to bind my fingers together quite tightly. "Mi'ishaen. And in my opinion, honor is a lie."
"Don't bother, Alek, your blade daughter is bitter," Uirrigan muttered as he looked over the rest of my injuries.
"I am not bothering, I am listening," Aleksei chuckled indulgently. "It is experience speaking to me."
And Uirrigan looked from me to Aleksei. "You two have much to discuss, and you will do so while I ask my dear Ylyssa a favor."
"It is well," Aleksei agreed, turning to go. "May I put back all these things in later time?"
Uirrigan vanished from my side, but didn't seem to immediately reappear somewhere else. "We'll see, Alek, thank you."
26 March 2011
20 March 2011
Empire Sized Shadows 1:10 In the name of fairness.
Uirrigan fell silent after that part of our conversation. As though someone had called him to some other task- and I suppose his scientific inquiry was the one calling him- he got up and began climbing to the top of the dais. I was confused at his sudden departure up to this height until I heard footsteps behind me- heavy ones. In an instant, I was on my feet and turned around toward the sound.
"I am living here a long time," the heavy-footed shadow sighed as he stepped into the light. "You have little to fear from me. The last one- his death- it is much changing things."
His testimony was made true in the dim light of the few torches that burned on the walls. His left eye was scarred shut, his bare arms and chest kissed with horrible witnesses to what must have once been painful wounds. His heavy, worn kilij was carried, although the tip nearly touched the floor, with knowledge. In an instant, I knew, that blade could be flicked up to my neck and clean through. The last third of his tail had been hacked off, it seemed, and his right leg, bare to the upper thigh, sported scales of an entirely different color than the rest of his body.
"I do look a sight, do I not?" he laughed in a throaty baritone. At last, I noted that his Common was heavily accented. For the first time, I wondered what my own Common sounded like. "I am child of war. Most of these scars are older than you. You look to me as though you are seeing twenty harvests- please to correct me, if I am wrong."
"You may be right, for all I know," I responded briefly.
"Tell me," he continued as he lifted his sword slightly to consider it. "Are you a good thief?"
"If I were, you wouldn't know it," I replied, completely confused by the question. I noted, out of the corner of my eye, that Uirrigan had taken a seat atop the dais. I figured that he would instantly step in if either the Dragonborn or I made a move that would damage his experimentation.
"You are correct," he responded from up above as though he had heard my thoughts. "And your friend must be doing something that is taking her attention away from protecting you. I will distract Syjen shortly, to preserve our accord. You understand, however, that I must not appear as though I suspect him. Even if I were to know his intentions, I must be careful to appear as though I approve."
"If you can, can he?" I asked, turning my head just enough to see him without taking my gaze completely from the Dragonborn. I had a feeling he would know what I meant, even though the old warrior before me seemed a bit mystified.
"He may not think to try, but Ylyssa would," Uirrigan responded, a scoff stuck in his voice. "My plight is unenviable."
The room fell silent with a shared knowledge, and I turned my attention back to the Dragonborn.
"So, for years? Why hasn't the experiment finished?"
"There is no more experimenting," the warrior replied, lowering his sword again. "Now I am only unwanted cargo. But I owe a great debt to the winged one, who is saving my life through miracle."
"The miracle of which he speaks is no miracle at all," Uirrigan protested, seeming to have made this argument before. "I merely took samples from previous uncompleted Dragonborn specimens and restored his leg. Some magic, a bit of stitching, and a healthy dose of scientific know-how, but no deities involved. So, no miracle. You want an act of the gods, go see if they will revive that woe-be-gone cleric."
"Who among them will move, if even Iratis is not convincing him to spare his own life?" A brief, bitter chuckle, and then another consideration of his blade. "You are probably preferring not to know me, since you are about to fight me. So I will make introduction after you are earning it." With a slowly released breath, the clearly experienced fighter widened his standing base for a prepared stance and lifted his blade to the ready. "Fight hard. Though you are a good thief, there is not one step you can take without my hearing it."
I simply nodded, taking my daggers close to my arms and getting familiar with my surroundings. I would not be so stupid as to charge a prepared fighter. The Dragonborn nodded his understanding, lightened his stance, and roared as he came at me himself. His initial attack pressed my blades so closely to my arms that my wrists hurt.
"Again, blade-cousin. Give me no mercy. Looks deceive."
A few tense moments of looking him straight in the face were followed with a drop to the floor and a slide between his legs. He turned and pinpointed my location in seconds, lunging forward to take advantage of my insecure, transitioning footing. Without thinking about it, I sprung, put one hoof lightly on his sword and used the moving energy to take the front of my other hoof to his face. He took one step back, a little stunned, but I wound up on all fours for a few moments. I scrambled to get up before he could take advantage of that- I'd already seen enough of the edge of that huge sword.
"I am living here a long time," the heavy-footed shadow sighed as he stepped into the light. "You have little to fear from me. The last one- his death- it is much changing things."
His testimony was made true in the dim light of the few torches that burned on the walls. His left eye was scarred shut, his bare arms and chest kissed with horrible witnesses to what must have once been painful wounds. His heavy, worn kilij was carried, although the tip nearly touched the floor, with knowledge. In an instant, I knew, that blade could be flicked up to my neck and clean through. The last third of his tail had been hacked off, it seemed, and his right leg, bare to the upper thigh, sported scales of an entirely different color than the rest of his body.
"I do look a sight, do I not?" he laughed in a throaty baritone. At last, I noted that his Common was heavily accented. For the first time, I wondered what my own Common sounded like. "I am child of war. Most of these scars are older than you. You look to me as though you are seeing twenty harvests- please to correct me, if I am wrong."
"You may be right, for all I know," I responded briefly.
"Tell me," he continued as he lifted his sword slightly to consider it. "Are you a good thief?"
"If I were, you wouldn't know it," I replied, completely confused by the question. I noted, out of the corner of my eye, that Uirrigan had taken a seat atop the dais. I figured that he would instantly step in if either the Dragonborn or I made a move that would damage his experimentation.
"You are correct," he responded from up above as though he had heard my thoughts. "And your friend must be doing something that is taking her attention away from protecting you. I will distract Syjen shortly, to preserve our accord. You understand, however, that I must not appear as though I suspect him. Even if I were to know his intentions, I must be careful to appear as though I approve."
"If you can, can he?" I asked, turning my head just enough to see him without taking my gaze completely from the Dragonborn. I had a feeling he would know what I meant, even though the old warrior before me seemed a bit mystified.
"He may not think to try, but Ylyssa would," Uirrigan responded, a scoff stuck in his voice. "My plight is unenviable."
The room fell silent with a shared knowledge, and I turned my attention back to the Dragonborn.
"So, for years? Why hasn't the experiment finished?"
"There is no more experimenting," the warrior replied, lowering his sword again. "Now I am only unwanted cargo. But I owe a great debt to the winged one, who is saving my life through miracle."
"The miracle of which he speaks is no miracle at all," Uirrigan protested, seeming to have made this argument before. "I merely took samples from previous uncompleted Dragonborn specimens and restored his leg. Some magic, a bit of stitching, and a healthy dose of scientific know-how, but no deities involved. So, no miracle. You want an act of the gods, go see if they will revive that woe-be-gone cleric."
"Who among them will move, if even Iratis is not convincing him to spare his own life?" A brief, bitter chuckle, and then another consideration of his blade. "You are probably preferring not to know me, since you are about to fight me. So I will make introduction after you are earning it." With a slowly released breath, the clearly experienced fighter widened his standing base for a prepared stance and lifted his blade to the ready. "Fight hard. Though you are a good thief, there is not one step you can take without my hearing it."
I simply nodded, taking my daggers close to my arms and getting familiar with my surroundings. I would not be so stupid as to charge a prepared fighter. The Dragonborn nodded his understanding, lightened his stance, and roared as he came at me himself. His initial attack pressed my blades so closely to my arms that my wrists hurt.
"Again, blade-cousin. Give me no mercy. Looks deceive."
A few tense moments of looking him straight in the face were followed with a drop to the floor and a slide between his legs. He turned and pinpointed my location in seconds, lunging forward to take advantage of my insecure, transitioning footing. Without thinking about it, I sprung, put one hoof lightly on his sword and used the moving energy to take the front of my other hoof to his face. He took one step back, a little stunned, but I wound up on all fours for a few moments. I scrambled to get up before he could take advantage of that- I'd already seen enough of the edge of that huge sword.
09 March 2011
1:9 The captive's choice.
Syjenge nearly had to drag Ylyssa out of the cavern. Silveredge meekly followed behind them, not even requiring a command to do so.
"He's very fond of that spell," Uirrigan sighed, moving toward his position at the center of the room. "Makes it so he only has to deal with one out-of-control situation at a time."
I merely snorted.
"You'll note all the equipment lying around. I'm not a- well, a slave trader. Ylyssa treats all my subjects as though they should be scrubbing the floors clean with their hair, and Syjgen... well. I am a chronicler and a biological scientist. I'd be an archivist too, if there were any more archives here to attend to. As it is, only half of my library remains." He began to busy himself with a standing rack filled with scrolls that sat beside a desk to the left of the giant stone dais near the center of the cavern.
"So you're going to what, slice me apart and study my biological functions? How I differ from the previous Tieflings?" I asked cautiously. I didn't want to touch the apparent loss of his archives, or ask who or what he was archiving for. What was important was the immediate danger to my person.
"Very direct. I can appreciate that." Uirrigan apparently lit upon the particular scroll for which he had been searching and spread it out on the desk- or rather, the flat carved stone structure that I was hoping was a desk, and not an operating table.
"I have taken apart enough Humans to be intimately aware of what they look like. Prototieflings, likewise- and, unusual innate magical abilities aside, they may as well be Human. For true Tieflings, evolution has gone past giving you greater magical affinity and bloodlust; now it crowns you with horns, thrusts a tail out of your back, and turns your feet to hooves. It has been some years since the rather violent suicide of the last subject, who seemed to be very ill at ease with his heritage, once he was made aware of it. I didn't allow his sacrifice to be in vain; I sketched his innards. Actually, his spinal cord may be around here somewhere; that may be useful. He had no tail, and I am quite interested in how you are managing with that leathery little fifth limb of yours. However, even with these skeletal and muscular departures, I do not believe there is sufficient difference between a Human, a Prototiefling and yourself to warrant taking you apart, especially in light of the fact that you are the first of this latest mutation that I have been graced to see and speak with."
Evolution? Graced? Mutation? Clearly the creature before me was absolutely insane, driven mad by centuries of being cooped up in a space with an entrance so narrow, he could not have possibly forced himself through. Not with those wings, anyway.
"Two centuries, you say? Bael Turath stood for two centuries?"
I dragged myself out of my own musings on my questioner's sanity. "The actual empire might have lasted longer. I didn't get many history lessons when I was young," I replied, shrugging. "Can I sit down?"
"Do, please; they must have marched you like cattle to get you here as quickly as they did," Uirrigan replied, waving a hand toward me while staring down at the scroll. "According to my old studies, the Human kingdom-turned-empire of Bael Turath, already extant, penned the first of their fiendish contracts approximately one thousand and thirty years ago. At that time, devils and demons rose up from the Nine Hells to seal their agreements by mating with the women- and of course having a bit of cheeky fun with the men, you know how it is."
Sure, sure.
Except for the fact that I did not know how any of that was.
"I was very young then, having just emerged from my training in the warrior class. My time among the academics had not yet truly begun. But even then, I was supremely fascinated with Humans so desperate to maintain control of their conquered lands that they quite literally bargained with the devils- the greatest of whom was Asmodeus himself, I was told. Are you taught anything about Asmodeus, or which house managed to get his attention?"
I figured it didn't make sense to lie to a creature truly interested in scientific study. He didn't look up from his scroll until I paused before I spoke.
"I was taught to respect him, but that's about as far as it went. We didn't worship him, like others did. I was always told that those who call upon him will meet him, one way or the other."
"I see," he responded with a frown. "So I take it you did not study your post-demonic pact culture too deeply?"
"My family was ripped at the seams while I was still playing pretend, so I didn't have much time to do a lot of studying out of books." I set to rubbing my ankles, which weren't nearly as irritated as my feelings were.
Uirrigan leaned back away from the table and crossed his arms.
"Do you speak Abyssal or Infernal?"
"Just Infernal- and it's pretty bad. My brother could only do so much before the Dragonborn tore him to pieces."
"Ah, a wound long healed, hmm? I hope you have some anger left in you, dear," Uirrigan smiled as he moved away from the desk. "While I'd love to pick your brain, I can see from your manner that you're not particularly interested. Don't protest; academics simply aren't your area of expertise. But this-"
And he walked past me to a chest just at the side of the narrow opening. From the chest, which he seemed to open just by waving his hand over it, he pulled my daggers and my tail knife.
"This indicates that you will make a much sturdier subject to study than the last poor wimbly sap who wandered through here like a lost soul. He was a monk, repenting for sins he knew nothing about." He tossed all three weapons in the air, and it took some effort to snatch them down without cutting myself on something. "Yes indeed. Hellfire blood, as I'm told it's called. The irrepressible urge to harm something that's teetering on the edge between death and recovery. A remarkable find; I was glad to document it, even though the subject was trembling when I discussed it with him. I'd like to test that hellfire blood, if you wouldn't mind. But I will make a proper offer. Either you can chat about the multitude of chronicles I've saved about your race's fairly unattractive history, or you can fight my Dragonborn specimen so I can get a blood sample."
"I think m'lord already handed me my choice," I sneered, fitting my tail knife back in its place. "Why would I pass up the chance to peel the scales off of one of my family's murderers?"
"Well said, Daughter of Dis!" Uirrigan exclaimed. "Here's the trick- don't kill him. Just bruise him up nicely, right to the bloodied point. Then stay your hand, and I will study the reactions in your body."
"When do I get my freedom?" I asked, holstering my blades politely.
"Ah, yes, that. Fair question. Most of my specimens are released- or at least I hope they are- when I've completed their testing. Like I said, I already know how most of your body works, I'm only charting any chemical reactions to severely wounded creatures." Uirrigan flitted to my position, stuck me with some sort of vial filling device, then sat down before me, looking me in the eye with the clearest of intentions. "You've been frank with me, and I feel I must thank you by being frank with you. I have no idea what those two hooligans do with the specimens once I'm through with testing. I don't pay them anything for the specimens, you understand. I usually simply whip them up some ridiculous potion or repair their meager weaponry. But I've become concerned, very concerned, about what exactly Syjen is doing. Ylyssa follows instructions, usually, but he's the real problem. The only creature, aside from myself, that has given him pause has been a Drow who either will not or cannot leave this cave- I'm not sure which. As I'm sure you've deduced, I cannot get out of here by anything less than a step into the Feywild. With the way this cavern, which used to be a center of learning for thousands of voracious minds, has degenerated over the last few centuries, I'd be lucky not to step into some slab of solid rock."
"You're leading up to something, but you'll lose me soon," I whispered, somehow feeling the need for secretive measures.
"Ylyssa is dangerous, but she's just another slave, that's the point," Uirrigan concluded, not bothering at all to lower his volume or change his tone. "Your friend, as I perceive she must be, by the protection spell she placed upon you, is quite squarely in Syjen's clutches. I want no quarrel with you, and no blood on my hands- no more, anyway. When I conclude my research, you will be free, as far as I am concerned. But in addition to getting yourself out, you must find some way of getting your friend out with you, or she will probably die here, a casualty of either ridiculous jealousy or unreasonable fury."
"If they're so dangerous, why not do something about them? You must know more about magic and potions than they do."
And he laughed, with that same strange sad happiness that had first greeted me.
"I am old, Mi'ishaen. Tired. And weak, believe it or not. I may have perhaps another decade or two in me, but that's it. I'd like to live my last few years in relative peace."
I'd never felt more confused.
Uirrigan, this near millenia-old Avariel, had somehow managed to be little more than a captive in his own laboratory.
"He's very fond of that spell," Uirrigan sighed, moving toward his position at the center of the room. "Makes it so he only has to deal with one out-of-control situation at a time."
I merely snorted.
"You'll note all the equipment lying around. I'm not a- well, a slave trader. Ylyssa treats all my subjects as though they should be scrubbing the floors clean with their hair, and Syjgen... well. I am a chronicler and a biological scientist. I'd be an archivist too, if there were any more archives here to attend to. As it is, only half of my library remains." He began to busy himself with a standing rack filled with scrolls that sat beside a desk to the left of the giant stone dais near the center of the cavern.
"So you're going to what, slice me apart and study my biological functions? How I differ from the previous Tieflings?" I asked cautiously. I didn't want to touch the apparent loss of his archives, or ask who or what he was archiving for. What was important was the immediate danger to my person.
"Very direct. I can appreciate that." Uirrigan apparently lit upon the particular scroll for which he had been searching and spread it out on the desk- or rather, the flat carved stone structure that I was hoping was a desk, and not an operating table.
"I have taken apart enough Humans to be intimately aware of what they look like. Prototieflings, likewise- and, unusual innate magical abilities aside, they may as well be Human. For true Tieflings, evolution has gone past giving you greater magical affinity and bloodlust; now it crowns you with horns, thrusts a tail out of your back, and turns your feet to hooves. It has been some years since the rather violent suicide of the last subject, who seemed to be very ill at ease with his heritage, once he was made aware of it. I didn't allow his sacrifice to be in vain; I sketched his innards. Actually, his spinal cord may be around here somewhere; that may be useful. He had no tail, and I am quite interested in how you are managing with that leathery little fifth limb of yours. However, even with these skeletal and muscular departures, I do not believe there is sufficient difference between a Human, a Prototiefling and yourself to warrant taking you apart, especially in light of the fact that you are the first of this latest mutation that I have been graced to see and speak with."
Evolution? Graced? Mutation? Clearly the creature before me was absolutely insane, driven mad by centuries of being cooped up in a space with an entrance so narrow, he could not have possibly forced himself through. Not with those wings, anyway.
"Two centuries, you say? Bael Turath stood for two centuries?"
I dragged myself out of my own musings on my questioner's sanity. "The actual empire might have lasted longer. I didn't get many history lessons when I was young," I replied, shrugging. "Can I sit down?"
"Do, please; they must have marched you like cattle to get you here as quickly as they did," Uirrigan replied, waving a hand toward me while staring down at the scroll. "According to my old studies, the Human kingdom-turned-empire of Bael Turath, already extant, penned the first of their fiendish contracts approximately one thousand and thirty years ago. At that time, devils and demons rose up from the Nine Hells to seal their agreements by mating with the women- and of course having a bit of cheeky fun with the men, you know how it is."
Sure, sure.
Except for the fact that I did not know how any of that was.
"I was very young then, having just emerged from my training in the warrior class. My time among the academics had not yet truly begun. But even then, I was supremely fascinated with Humans so desperate to maintain control of their conquered lands that they quite literally bargained with the devils- the greatest of whom was Asmodeus himself, I was told. Are you taught anything about Asmodeus, or which house managed to get his attention?"
I figured it didn't make sense to lie to a creature truly interested in scientific study. He didn't look up from his scroll until I paused before I spoke.
"I was taught to respect him, but that's about as far as it went. We didn't worship him, like others did. I was always told that those who call upon him will meet him, one way or the other."
"I see," he responded with a frown. "So I take it you did not study your post-demonic pact culture too deeply?"
"My family was ripped at the seams while I was still playing pretend, so I didn't have much time to do a lot of studying out of books." I set to rubbing my ankles, which weren't nearly as irritated as my feelings were.
Uirrigan leaned back away from the table and crossed his arms.
"Do you speak Abyssal or Infernal?"
"Just Infernal- and it's pretty bad. My brother could only do so much before the Dragonborn tore him to pieces."
"Ah, a wound long healed, hmm? I hope you have some anger left in you, dear," Uirrigan smiled as he moved away from the desk. "While I'd love to pick your brain, I can see from your manner that you're not particularly interested. Don't protest; academics simply aren't your area of expertise. But this-"
And he walked past me to a chest just at the side of the narrow opening. From the chest, which he seemed to open just by waving his hand over it, he pulled my daggers and my tail knife.
"This indicates that you will make a much sturdier subject to study than the last poor wimbly sap who wandered through here like a lost soul. He was a monk, repenting for sins he knew nothing about." He tossed all three weapons in the air, and it took some effort to snatch them down without cutting myself on something. "Yes indeed. Hellfire blood, as I'm told it's called. The irrepressible urge to harm something that's teetering on the edge between death and recovery. A remarkable find; I was glad to document it, even though the subject was trembling when I discussed it with him. I'd like to test that hellfire blood, if you wouldn't mind. But I will make a proper offer. Either you can chat about the multitude of chronicles I've saved about your race's fairly unattractive history, or you can fight my Dragonborn specimen so I can get a blood sample."
"I think m'lord already handed me my choice," I sneered, fitting my tail knife back in its place. "Why would I pass up the chance to peel the scales off of one of my family's murderers?"
"Well said, Daughter of Dis!" Uirrigan exclaimed. "Here's the trick- don't kill him. Just bruise him up nicely, right to the bloodied point. Then stay your hand, and I will study the reactions in your body."
"When do I get my freedom?" I asked, holstering my blades politely.
"Ah, yes, that. Fair question. Most of my specimens are released- or at least I hope they are- when I've completed their testing. Like I said, I already know how most of your body works, I'm only charting any chemical reactions to severely wounded creatures." Uirrigan flitted to my position, stuck me with some sort of vial filling device, then sat down before me, looking me in the eye with the clearest of intentions. "You've been frank with me, and I feel I must thank you by being frank with you. I have no idea what those two hooligans do with the specimens once I'm through with testing. I don't pay them anything for the specimens, you understand. I usually simply whip them up some ridiculous potion or repair their meager weaponry. But I've become concerned, very concerned, about what exactly Syjen is doing. Ylyssa follows instructions, usually, but he's the real problem. The only creature, aside from myself, that has given him pause has been a Drow who either will not or cannot leave this cave- I'm not sure which. As I'm sure you've deduced, I cannot get out of here by anything less than a step into the Feywild. With the way this cavern, which used to be a center of learning for thousands of voracious minds, has degenerated over the last few centuries, I'd be lucky not to step into some slab of solid rock."
"You're leading up to something, but you'll lose me soon," I whispered, somehow feeling the need for secretive measures.
"Ylyssa is dangerous, but she's just another slave, that's the point," Uirrigan concluded, not bothering at all to lower his volume or change his tone. "Your friend, as I perceive she must be, by the protection spell she placed upon you, is quite squarely in Syjen's clutches. I want no quarrel with you, and no blood on my hands- no more, anyway. When I conclude my research, you will be free, as far as I am concerned. But in addition to getting yourself out, you must find some way of getting your friend out with you, or she will probably die here, a casualty of either ridiculous jealousy or unreasonable fury."
"If they're so dangerous, why not do something about them? You must know more about magic and potions than they do."
And he laughed, with that same strange sad happiness that had first greeted me.
"I am old, Mi'ishaen. Tired. And weak, believe it or not. I may have perhaps another decade or two in me, but that's it. I'd like to live my last few years in relative peace."
I'd never felt more confused.
Uirrigan, this near millenia-old Avariel, had somehow managed to be little more than a captive in his own laboratory.
06 March 2011
1:8 Sociological inquiry, and all that.
Syjenge, Ylyssa, the kobolds, the Elves, Silveredge, and I all marched across what seemed to be the sheer face of the mountain for some time. First we moved west, until the ground cover changed from bushy to grassy, then north, until there was no ground cover at all. The sun inched along in the sky, seeming to want to prolong the torturous quick march as much as the Eladrin did. I don't consider myself delicate, but after about an hour and a half's worth of trudging so far north that frost was kissing my ankles, my back and calves began to wail their agony. Once or twice I thought of Silveredge's discomfort, but attempts to glance backward were rewarded with solid smacks to the back of my head. On top of it, the brief glimpses of her emotionless face rewarded me with a sensation that hopped over fear and flew headlong toward actual terror.
"What, are we going to be catching the Griffin Express to the Feywild?" I howled at last, standing still. I received a sharp, cold jab in the back, but turned around and spat. "Forget it, I'm tired and sore. Where are we going?"
"We don't answer to the likes of you, witch," Ylyssa sneered. "You'll do well to turn around and keep moving."
"I'm tired and sore, I said. I'm sitting down right here and taking a break. If you don't like it, you can kill me. You think I'm scared of a fireball?" With that said, I snorted and down right where I was.
"It's not much farther," Syjenge consoled, an odd tone for a captor. "Perhaps about another hour further on, considering the way you've been hobbling of late."
"Right, well, unless you intend to carry me, we're taking a rest," I crabbed.
"How dare you! You'll move until we tell you to stop!" Ylyssa cried angrily. "There's little doubt in my mind that this twig was yours, and you failed to properly subdue her. I'd have so much fun melting what was your property, you mannerless snit!"
"My property?" I retorted, royally insulted. "I had a use for a slave in Vor Kragal? I'm not so lazy or so self-absorbed as you prancing Elves, who can't be bothered to wipe your own asses after you've dropped a shit. I live in the real world, I thank m'lady so kindly!"
"Enough!" Syjenge roared. For a moment, I thought he was going to get violent, but he simply took a deep breath and looked away from me. "Get up and I'll cut the cords between your ankles."
"Cut my tail free as well so that I have something that faintly resembles balance, and I'll go quietly," I reasoned. "Otherwise, you'll have to find a way to drag me, or kill me."
"I say we kill her," Ylyssa sulked, clamping her hand tightly around Silveredge's upper arm. Silveredge didn't so much as gasp in discomfort. I pursed my lips. "Uirrigan will enjoy poking at her guts- much more than he enjoyed... oh, what was his name? Vhayesh?"
The name- obviously of Tiefling origin- was spat out of her mouth with the greatest of enmity. Since Silveredge's natural born name had been reguarded with the same measure of disgust not long before, I realized that the Drow shadow that it cast was not the most distasteful thing about it.
"She'll be more useful to him alive than dead," Syjenge replied as he cut the ties between my ankles and loosened the bind on my tail- while managing to not look at me somehow. It was suspicious, and disturbing.
"Slide the noose of it right up to your ass, then hand me the strap," he commanded.
"That's-" Ylyssa began.
"Do it," Syjenge interrupted fiercely, "or I'll freeze the whole thing right off."
I looked from Syjenge to Ylyssa, then back to Syjenge, who still wasn't looking at me. "Will you at least give me a few minute's respite to rub the soreness out of my legs?"
"You can rub your ankles while I fix the strap; that's all the time you get," Syjengen replied simply.
For once, I did what I was told. And surprisingly enough, I heard-
"Thank you."
- and I looked up at Syjenge to make sure the courtesy had come from him. Sure enough, even though his haughty eyes were turned in another direction, he held out his hand to help me back to my feet.
"And we'll march more slowly- that is my command."
I could almost hear Ylyssa glowering behind him, but march more slowly we did. The sun had gone completely down before we made it to the jagged mouth of a cave. The kobolds were dismissed with a half-hearted wave, and they scuttled down narrow, branching pathways that seemed to wind farther underground. We pressed forward, past oddly ornate torches that were embedded in the walls. After a while, we had moved farther into the cave than the light of those torches could reach, and the darkness grew oppressive. Each time my eyes attempted to adjust to it, a brilliant flash of light suddenly appeared. It took me some time to realized that Ylyssa was creating images of mageflame torches with prestidigitation, only partially for the purpose of actual light. I refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing that her little trick was hurting my eyes.
Silveredge seemed to completely disappear from one shadow to another, and Ylyssa's frustration with that made me smirk. After nearly a half hour of this diversion, though, the pathway became too demanding for me to continue to turn around and look at the two of them. It grew steadily narrower and narrower until it seemed to have been cut by some underground stream that had gone dry before our forefathers were thoughts in the minds of the gods. We turned down this corridor and that, winding deeper into what rapidly appeared to be an old city. Just at the point where we had to turn sideways and walk one by one in order to fit, the walls jumped back to reveal a gigantic cavern. The place was filled with bottles, bookshelves, cauldrons, cages, scrolls, and various instruments of study. At the center, on a raised stone dais, sat a fair skinned Avariel, smiling sadly at the troop of us. Somewhere along the way, the other Elves had been dismissed, and only Silveredge stood with our two captors.
"More subjects for me, or just toys for you to play with?" the Avariel asked in a disinterested tenor. "How kind of you to at least bring the specimens that you said you would bring." He sat up and flew toward me- although it seemed more like he simply disappeared from where he was and appeared before me- then hovered about an inch above the ground as he inspected me.
"There weren't many travellers on the way along which we'd camped," Syjengen admitted. "These two were the only things we saw that even vaguely fit what we needed. I believe the town has been sealed up again- fear of criminal activity, or something."
"This one is a slave, already broken," Ylyssa crowed. "That other one is a burr that we found climbing trees."
"One can only expect burrs when climbing in trees, Ylyssa, what madness brought you to that? No civilized creature is worth the blood lost- or at least none that I have yet had the pleasure to meet." In moments, the Avariel turned and spanned the distance between the hunting party and the dais, then returned just as suddenly. He hovered about an inch above the floor for a while, then landed to come close to me. "What do you call yourself?" he asked me, apparently ignoring his servant's information.
"Mi'ishaen," I replied, taken aback by this large-eyed creature's rapt attention.
"Ah, yes, I am called Uirrigan," he smiled, again with some phantom discomfort in his looks. "And I shall most certainly call you by that most interesting, if a bit sour, name- 'Miserable,' I believe it means. But I meant your race. What is your race called? I've never seen anything quite like this."
"Tiefling. Been around some two hundred years," I answered, thinking briefly on my parents' lack of horns, hooves and tails. "But we may have changed a bit."
"A bit? Goodness me, you seem to have evolved into a whole different creature," Uirrigan sighed. "Of course, pacts with the Nine Hells are sure to have their effect. Just look at these things sticking out of your skull- gracious. Still, your forefathers' mistakes did nothing to mar your precious young face."
"Precious?" I must have looked absolutely aghast. No one had ever complimented my beauty. The Avariel gently patted my head, which wasn't insulting so much as just plain weird.
"Yes, precious, despite the horns- ah, how unfortunate. Quite lovely, otherwise. But I apologize to seem so offensive. You see, I haven't been outside in... a few centuries. I often fail to be politically correct. How fares the kingdom these days? I am rather old, as you can imagine, and it's been quite a while since a Human peddler has tried to foist an eternal life potion on me."
"The kingdom?" I laughed in spite of the situation. "The Turathi Empire is gone. Vor Kragal disappeared into shadow, I heard- I didn't see it for myself, though, so..."
"Destroyed by the Arkhosian Empire, is more likely. Just like the dragons who tore my people out of the sky. One can't expect the fruit to fall very far from the tree, as they say." He turned back to notice the faces on what I now assumed were his little helpers. "All wars are ruinous, to say the least- well. I must apologize, my dear, for the bad joke. Is there a reason why she's still bound up like a farm animal?"
Syjenge wordlessly cut the bonds on my tail so that I could stand normally. "She's not yet enthralled."
The winged Eladrin looked at me and shrugged, which seemed odd for some reason. "Rarely a true need to do so, but if one arises, leave me to it. Corellon knows you were probably scared to death to try it yourself."
I tried not to display my complete surprise at that comment.
Uirrigan took his eyes off me and focused on Silveredge. "And another race who thought it would be a good idea to sign documents in their own blood- I won't be so crass, this time. How fares the Plane of Shadow these days, my dear?"
She didn't respond. Not a single muscle so much as twitched.
"You enthralled her right away, didn't you?" Uirrigan sighed, turning his back on the situation.
"Yes, but-" Ylyssa began.
"You will call our master Uirrigaen," Syjenge began. "You will tell him how the citizens of the Shadowfell are doing."
"They stir and fight, though some give in to the call of shadow," Silveredge replied tonelessly without looking up. "Shar, from Her tower, laughs at our slow, but furious decent into nothingness. She will be unsatisfied until she has dragged all of us down to a hopeless death."
The Avariel seemed truly struck to the core at this. "Ah, moon daughter- would that you had been born on our plane! Instead, here you are, looking for all the world as though you might crumble into dust. I wonder who taught you how to hang your head like that." Flitting over to her, he put a firm hand under her chin and raised her head, studying her eyes. "What did your mother call you?"
"You will tell Uirrigaen your name," Syjenge instantly commanded.
"Jyklihaimra."
"Oh? Somebody knew somebody who knew somebody who knew a Drow?" Uirrigan smiled grimly.
"Her mother owned a Drow servant," Syjenge explained wearily, apparently tired of his own spell.
"Curious; most Drow I know would kill themselves before serving anyone else," Uirrigan marveled. "Perhaps it was a stray male. You might place her with Bahlzair, see how they get along. You might take off that accursed spell too, unless you intend to use her as a vassal for your own-" and the Avariel cast a glance over his shoulder toward Ylyssa, "-needs."
I couldn't help but giggle as the winged thing spirited himself back toward his throne, which was really nothing more than a raised desk. "The Tiefling stays with me?"
"I imagine you have much to do," Syjenge answered with grit teeth.
"What, are we going to be catching the Griffin Express to the Feywild?" I howled at last, standing still. I received a sharp, cold jab in the back, but turned around and spat. "Forget it, I'm tired and sore. Where are we going?"
"We don't answer to the likes of you, witch," Ylyssa sneered. "You'll do well to turn around and keep moving."
"I'm tired and sore, I said. I'm sitting down right here and taking a break. If you don't like it, you can kill me. You think I'm scared of a fireball?" With that said, I snorted and down right where I was.
"It's not much farther," Syjenge consoled, an odd tone for a captor. "Perhaps about another hour further on, considering the way you've been hobbling of late."
"Right, well, unless you intend to carry me, we're taking a rest," I crabbed.
"How dare you! You'll move until we tell you to stop!" Ylyssa cried angrily. "There's little doubt in my mind that this twig was yours, and you failed to properly subdue her. I'd have so much fun melting what was your property, you mannerless snit!"
"My property?" I retorted, royally insulted. "I had a use for a slave in Vor Kragal? I'm not so lazy or so self-absorbed as you prancing Elves, who can't be bothered to wipe your own asses after you've dropped a shit. I live in the real world, I thank m'lady so kindly!"
"Enough!" Syjenge roared. For a moment, I thought he was going to get violent, but he simply took a deep breath and looked away from me. "Get up and I'll cut the cords between your ankles."
"Cut my tail free as well so that I have something that faintly resembles balance, and I'll go quietly," I reasoned. "Otherwise, you'll have to find a way to drag me, or kill me."
"I say we kill her," Ylyssa sulked, clamping her hand tightly around Silveredge's upper arm. Silveredge didn't so much as gasp in discomfort. I pursed my lips. "Uirrigan will enjoy poking at her guts- much more than he enjoyed... oh, what was his name? Vhayesh?"
The name- obviously of Tiefling origin- was spat out of her mouth with the greatest of enmity. Since Silveredge's natural born name had been reguarded with the same measure of disgust not long before, I realized that the Drow shadow that it cast was not the most distasteful thing about it.
"She'll be more useful to him alive than dead," Syjenge replied as he cut the ties between my ankles and loosened the bind on my tail- while managing to not look at me somehow. It was suspicious, and disturbing.
"Slide the noose of it right up to your ass, then hand me the strap," he commanded.
"That's-" Ylyssa began.
"Do it," Syjenge interrupted fiercely, "or I'll freeze the whole thing right off."
I looked from Syjenge to Ylyssa, then back to Syjenge, who still wasn't looking at me. "Will you at least give me a few minute's respite to rub the soreness out of my legs?"
"You can rub your ankles while I fix the strap; that's all the time you get," Syjengen replied simply.
For once, I did what I was told. And surprisingly enough, I heard-
"Thank you."
- and I looked up at Syjenge to make sure the courtesy had come from him. Sure enough, even though his haughty eyes were turned in another direction, he held out his hand to help me back to my feet.
"And we'll march more slowly- that is my command."
I could almost hear Ylyssa glowering behind him, but march more slowly we did. The sun had gone completely down before we made it to the jagged mouth of a cave. The kobolds were dismissed with a half-hearted wave, and they scuttled down narrow, branching pathways that seemed to wind farther underground. We pressed forward, past oddly ornate torches that were embedded in the walls. After a while, we had moved farther into the cave than the light of those torches could reach, and the darkness grew oppressive. Each time my eyes attempted to adjust to it, a brilliant flash of light suddenly appeared. It took me some time to realized that Ylyssa was creating images of mageflame torches with prestidigitation, only partially for the purpose of actual light. I refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing that her little trick was hurting my eyes.
Silveredge seemed to completely disappear from one shadow to another, and Ylyssa's frustration with that made me smirk. After nearly a half hour of this diversion, though, the pathway became too demanding for me to continue to turn around and look at the two of them. It grew steadily narrower and narrower until it seemed to have been cut by some underground stream that had gone dry before our forefathers were thoughts in the minds of the gods. We turned down this corridor and that, winding deeper into what rapidly appeared to be an old city. Just at the point where we had to turn sideways and walk one by one in order to fit, the walls jumped back to reveal a gigantic cavern. The place was filled with bottles, bookshelves, cauldrons, cages, scrolls, and various instruments of study. At the center, on a raised stone dais, sat a fair skinned Avariel, smiling sadly at the troop of us. Somewhere along the way, the other Elves had been dismissed, and only Silveredge stood with our two captors.
"More subjects for me, or just toys for you to play with?" the Avariel asked in a disinterested tenor. "How kind of you to at least bring the specimens that you said you would bring." He sat up and flew toward me- although it seemed more like he simply disappeared from where he was and appeared before me- then hovered about an inch above the ground as he inspected me.
"There weren't many travellers on the way along which we'd camped," Syjengen admitted. "These two were the only things we saw that even vaguely fit what we needed. I believe the town has been sealed up again- fear of criminal activity, or something."
"This one is a slave, already broken," Ylyssa crowed. "That other one is a burr that we found climbing trees."
"One can only expect burrs when climbing in trees, Ylyssa, what madness brought you to that? No civilized creature is worth the blood lost- or at least none that I have yet had the pleasure to meet." In moments, the Avariel turned and spanned the distance between the hunting party and the dais, then returned just as suddenly. He hovered about an inch above the floor for a while, then landed to come close to me. "What do you call yourself?" he asked me, apparently ignoring his servant's information.
"Mi'ishaen," I replied, taken aback by this large-eyed creature's rapt attention.
"Ah, yes, I am called Uirrigan," he smiled, again with some phantom discomfort in his looks. "And I shall most certainly call you by that most interesting, if a bit sour, name- 'Miserable,' I believe it means. But I meant your race. What is your race called? I've never seen anything quite like this."
"Tiefling. Been around some two hundred years," I answered, thinking briefly on my parents' lack of horns, hooves and tails. "But we may have changed a bit."
"A bit? Goodness me, you seem to have evolved into a whole different creature," Uirrigan sighed. "Of course, pacts with the Nine Hells are sure to have their effect. Just look at these things sticking out of your skull- gracious. Still, your forefathers' mistakes did nothing to mar your precious young face."
"Precious?" I must have looked absolutely aghast. No one had ever complimented my beauty. The Avariel gently patted my head, which wasn't insulting so much as just plain weird.
"Yes, precious, despite the horns- ah, how unfortunate. Quite lovely, otherwise. But I apologize to seem so offensive. You see, I haven't been outside in... a few centuries. I often fail to be politically correct. How fares the kingdom these days? I am rather old, as you can imagine, and it's been quite a while since a Human peddler has tried to foist an eternal life potion on me."
"The kingdom?" I laughed in spite of the situation. "The Turathi Empire is gone. Vor Kragal disappeared into shadow, I heard- I didn't see it for myself, though, so..."
"Destroyed by the Arkhosian Empire, is more likely. Just like the dragons who tore my people out of the sky. One can't expect the fruit to fall very far from the tree, as they say." He turned back to notice the faces on what I now assumed were his little helpers. "All wars are ruinous, to say the least- well. I must apologize, my dear, for the bad joke. Is there a reason why she's still bound up like a farm animal?"
Syjenge wordlessly cut the bonds on my tail so that I could stand normally. "She's not yet enthralled."
The winged Eladrin looked at me and shrugged, which seemed odd for some reason. "Rarely a true need to do so, but if one arises, leave me to it. Corellon knows you were probably scared to death to try it yourself."
I tried not to display my complete surprise at that comment.
Uirrigan took his eyes off me and focused on Silveredge. "And another race who thought it would be a good idea to sign documents in their own blood- I won't be so crass, this time. How fares the Plane of Shadow these days, my dear?"
She didn't respond. Not a single muscle so much as twitched.
"You enthralled her right away, didn't you?" Uirrigan sighed, turning his back on the situation.
"Yes, but-" Ylyssa began.
"You will call our master Uirrigaen," Syjenge began. "You will tell him how the citizens of the Shadowfell are doing."
"They stir and fight, though some give in to the call of shadow," Silveredge replied tonelessly without looking up. "Shar, from Her tower, laughs at our slow, but furious decent into nothingness. She will be unsatisfied until she has dragged all of us down to a hopeless death."
The Avariel seemed truly struck to the core at this. "Ah, moon daughter- would that you had been born on our plane! Instead, here you are, looking for all the world as though you might crumble into dust. I wonder who taught you how to hang your head like that." Flitting over to her, he put a firm hand under her chin and raised her head, studying her eyes. "What did your mother call you?"
"You will tell Uirrigaen your name," Syjenge instantly commanded.
"Jyklihaimra."
"Oh? Somebody knew somebody who knew somebody who knew a Drow?" Uirrigan smiled grimly.
"Her mother owned a Drow servant," Syjenge explained wearily, apparently tired of his own spell.
"Curious; most Drow I know would kill themselves before serving anyone else," Uirrigan marveled. "Perhaps it was a stray male. You might place her with Bahlzair, see how they get along. You might take off that accursed spell too, unless you intend to use her as a vassal for your own-" and the Avariel cast a glance over his shoulder toward Ylyssa, "-needs."
I couldn't help but giggle as the winged thing spirited himself back toward his throne, which was really nothing more than a raised desk. "The Tiefling stays with me?"
"I imagine you have much to do," Syjenge answered with grit teeth.
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