The Hunt of Drenauw Vaes

[125] Verdemar: The Hunt: Drenauw Vaes

Tue May 12 19:48:27 2015

To: Shadow Ellminaidra Aeryc ( Necrucifer Imm All )

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Finding Vaes was easy.

The man was hardly discreet when he was a Novice. He became boisterously

less so upon his knighting ceremony. Some men never learn. What started

out as a few card games against fellow soldiers on break became a full-blown

gambling addiction. This man, who once held a line of our knights as wave

after wave of yinnae berserkers broke against their pikes, wagered until he

begged for pittances from his comrades to toss at Lady Luck.

His destitution reached its apex one dreary night in the Month of Battle, a

year ago. I remember it all too well.

I sat within the Black Rose, one of my regular haunts, chatting idly with

one of the MacLeod clan. Several tables away, a group of men spoke, far too

loudly, rambunctiously offering their particularly lewd observations of the

passing waitresses to the tavern at large. Ser Vaes had far too much to

drink. You could practically see the amber colour of the man's sweat as it

pored down his overweight face, droplets hanging from that wobbling

triple-chin like an unfrozen stalactite.

He was repulsive.

I would not be surprised if others' repulsion to him drove the man to

gamble. I had never seen Drenauw with a woman, save for the nights he won

big, and the money-hungry floozies flocked to his side, blowing on his dice

with would-be seduction masking the contemptuous pursing of their lips, and

the snide rolls of their eyes when one of his meaty hands found its way to a

shapely buttock.

His lecherous nature, however, was not what drew my attention that night.

It was the distinctly muffled sound of a sheathed sword being drawn, and the

clatter of iron on wood as the large man threw it on the table.

I did not believe he could be serious. Even from my position, three tables

distanced from Vaes, I could feel the aura emanating from that weapon. The

familiar pit of dread, anathema to all that many consider holy. As Captain

of the Guard, it is my duty to perform punitive purification for actions

just like this one. What game was this knight playing?

I settled into my seat, no longer paying attention to the MacLeod girl

prattle on. She continued, heedless, mindlessly chattering about the gossip

of the Highlands. Whose father was irate that his daughter was being plowed

by whom, and who had too much to drink the night before.

My eyes were riveted on the shipwreck happening before my very eyes.

Vaes was not a poor gambler, save that he did not know when to quit while he

was ahead. Vaes was not the sort of man to think beyond his current hand.

This rang true while he gambled and while he lived his everyday life. He

did not seek to educate himself in any fashion, and oft found himself at the

mercy of his peers, when it came to naming our foes.

The Highlands are not merely my home, but also the home of many of the men

and women who are drawn to Gareth and Storm. Something to do with the

martial way we are all raised bends our minds easily to the dedication

necessary of Knighthood. There is something of a pact within the Rose,

enforced by a mob mentality fueled by too much whiskey and too many sheep

stomachs, that those of Gareth and those of Storm may both drink peaceable,

without interference from the other side.

We do not have to like one another, but we hold a mutual respect. For some,

this respect bleeds the line. It is one thing to share a drink in the same

tavern. It is another entirely to freely wager your life's coin with the

enemy.

Thus it came to pass that a member of God's eternal Knighthood did wager his

sword, blessed by a member of the Sanctum, on a bluff fueled by liquid

courage and stupidity. As the men each raised their bets around the table,

Vaes began to sweat a little more profusely, his hands shaking anxiously as

the first man laid his cards down. Nine high.

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[126] Verdemar: The Hunt: Drenauw Vaes (pt. 2)

Tue May 12 19:51:25 2015

To: Shadow Ellminaidra Aeryc ( Necrucifer Imm All )

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His gaze flicked to the next man, a squat dwarf from the halls of

Thaxanos, twenty-six ales in and showing no signs of stopping. He had just

recently ordered another mug for each fist. The dwarf, though, had wisely

folded earlier in the hand, preferring instead to play a quick drinking game

with a nearby teen, slamming back four shots in two gulps, one stacked atop

the other before draining a mug of Skullsplitter each. The teenager had to

be carted off by his laughing friends. The final player in the small group

of gamblers, barring Drenauw Vaes himself, set down his own cards, an

Arkanian flush.

I saw Vaes sink into his chair, his shoulders slumping forwards in defeat,

before I saw his cards. The man had obviously lost.

The portly Knight tried, in vain, to recollect his sword before the man

opposite him had a chance to, but it was too late. As his far-luckier

opponent rose, I had a better opportunity to study his face. He was a

lesser captain of Gareth, a man known to lead a small militia on Tropica.

An outpost against the beasts of Chaos.

I excused myself from the vapid MacLeod girl courteously, leaving coins on

the table to pay for my own meal and drinks, as well as fund hte girl's

drinks for the remainder of the night. Stepping outside without attracting

too much attention, I managed to get the attention of a dark-cloaked man

hidden in the shadows of the general store across the street. With a few

pointed gestures, I explained to him what had happened.

The emmissary of Nordmaar's thieves' guild got the point, and I slipped him

a worn pouch of blue diamonds. Later that night I would return to claim the

sword from him, after he had removed it from the Knight's care, and pay the

man the remainder of his due.

For now, I had hunting to do. I re-entered the Rose, scanning the cardtable

for the traitorous member of Storm, but was unable to find the brazen beast

anywhere. He must have seen me leaving the tavern, and known what was to

come.

I would have been well within my rights to seek out the Captain of

Nordmaar's guard, and have the city locked down until I could locate this

pitiful excuse for a knight, but I will be honest. There is a part of me

that is sporting, and it had been some time since I was able to hunt an

oathbreaker.

I made my way back to Storm Keep, and wrote my letters, seeking the

whereabouts of newcomers matching Vaes' description.

The hunt was on.

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[127] Verdemar: The Hunt: Drenauw Vaes (pt. 3)

Tue May 12 21:20:37 2015

To: Shadow Ellminaidra Aeryc ( Necrucifer Imm All )

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Drenauw Vaes was not the sort of man to go without his vices for a

prolonged period of time. Even before his transgressions where our most

storied of weapons are concerned, I had been keeping an eye on him. Men who

oft visit whores are rarely to be trusted. Something about feminine

lubricant quickly slicks a besotten man's tongue, and they spill more

secrets than they know how to keep.

Many of the letters I sent out in search of Vaes were directed to the

farious madames of well-known whorehouses across Algoron, while some went to

lesser-known brothels bearing more common familial names than any such

establishment has a right to.

Responses did not come quickly, and I am certain that many failed to respond

for fear that their words might bring the wroth of God down upon their

places of business. Thankfully, after about six months of combined patience

and combing the disreputable businesses myself, I received something

concrete. A portly man vaguely matching Drenauw Vaes' description had been

frequenting a pleasurehouse on Tropica, some out-of-the-way two storied

building in a village primarily composed of mud huts. From the way the

letter read, the whorehouse was the primary source of income for the

village, and all girls aged sixteen to twenty-eight were conscripted to work

and learn the 'arts' passed down from woman to woman.

Of course this was where Vaes set himself up.

I maintained written communication with the brothel's madame for over a

month, during which she made the wayward Knight her premier customer,

treating the man like a King, even when he had no coin to spend. Vaes grew

comfortable, complacent. He forgot his vows, thinking himself beyond the

reach of God's Chosen. The runaway was pampered, his masculine needs tended

to day and night. The man grew fat in the lap of luxury, whatever strength

once filling his obese frame sinking further beneath that mask of jiggling

lard. Bears hibernating for the winter would envy him.

I booked my passage on a merchant junk, offering to work my way across the

sea to the south of Storm. I will save you the time and trouble reading

through my accounting of it: know that the time passed uneventfully, and

when I arrived on Tropica it was to little fanfare. I did not bring my

armament with me, wearing instead the uniform of an officer of minor rank in

a well-known mercenary company. The sort of man who wouldn't be amiss if he

were to spend a week or two whoring and drinking.

I spent some of the money I had allocated for this mission paying an

illusionist in the Tropican jungles to mask my appearance. Those who know

me are well aware of the obvious scarring I bear. I am not an easy man to

miss. I took on the babyface countenance of a fresh soldier, given command

by Daddy's money. When I swaggered into The Dripping Candlestick, hardly an

eye turned to me.

Taking a seat by the window, I ordered an ale and offered the half-nude

woman dancing before me a smile, raising my mug in her direction. The woman

made to straddle my lap as I watched Vaes. He was easily the most

recognizable man in the room, and his time away from the Keep had only

served to widen his countenance. Where once a triple-chin hung beneath a

whiskered face, now smooth, rounded jowls hung blubberingly, swaying as he

shoved food into his gullet: truly a goblin king in every sense of the word.

I imagine if the women of the Candlestick had not bathed him themselves, he

would have bore a strench unrivaled by any outside the ogre kingdom's walls.

He laughed raucously as women fed him grapes, pouring wine into his great

maw, though most of it seemed to dribble into the bristling, patchy scruff

the would-be knight called a beard and staining the cloth of his tunic.

He was too concerned with the pleasures of his hedonistic lifestyle to pay

me any mind. This was almost too easy.

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[128] Verdemar: The Hunt: Drenauw Vaes (pt. 4)

Tue May 12 21:24:35 2015

To: Shadow Ellminaidra Aeryc ( Necrucifer Imm All )

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Weeks passed like this, as I made myself known to the people in the inn.

I went at odd times, sometimes int he morning, others at night. I fed them

stories of my life in the mercenary camps, and was greeted with the bought

affectations of a dozen whores. This paled in comparison to the veritable

squadron of women that attended to Vaes at all times, rubbing his skin,

stretched too-tight over a body full of poisons: alcohol and poor

sustenance.

The former knight looked like too-much sausage shoved into too-little

casing.

After a month had passed, I waited for the middle of the week, following my

target's standard schedule. This was the night signaling the apex of his

hedonistic lifestyle. From here until the end of the week, his activities

would lessen, until his cycle started once more at the beginning of the

following week. It had to be tonight.

I had worked out a series of signals with the establishment's madame, one

Cassandra Dean. Likely an acquired name. I made eye contact with her an

exchanged a series of pre-arranged handsignals. The first communication I

had with the woman since my arrival in this God forsaken village. She

seemed surprised, but nodded and spoke quietly with a small, demure girl, no

older than fifteen. The whorehouse equivalent of a Squire in training, no

doubt.

The girl approached me and shyly smiled, offering me her hand as though to

lead me upstairs. I took her hand, rising and ascending the stairs behind

this bare slip of a girl slowly, settling myself into the all-too-familiar

Thrill of the hunt. I felt my pulse pick up before I stifled it, choking it

back down. The girl led me to a room with a closed door, and from within I

could hear the telltale signs of a woman having to pretend to enjoy herself.

Pitiful.

I slipped ten gold coins to the girl before ushering her off, preparing

myself mentally for the road ahead.

"God, hear me now. The man upon whom I am to deliver your Justice has

betrayed every ideal we hold dear. This man must die, that the fidelity of

Storm Keep be maintained. With his death, I condemn all who would gamble

away the gifts God has bestowed upon Algoron. With his death, I solidify as

Your eternal sword upon this world, and those beyond, purifying the faith

from those who would mar it with the impious. Let my sword remove this

traitorous heretic's head while he experiences the peaks of his climax, and

let the unholy power coursing through my veins and blade turn his ecstasy to

unmitigated horror. "

As I finished my prayer, I took a short running start and kicked in the door

at its knob. Splinters of wood sprayed the bed beyond, and I found my

charge tied to the bed, surrounded by well-meaning women of ill repute. I

let the illusionist's spell dissipate from my features and watched as the

man bedded before me realized what fate awaited him. He struggled

fruitlessly against the ropes binding him, his climax ruined, leaving his

own candlestick wetly dripping.

"Drenauw Vaes, former Knight of Storm Keep, for actions against the sanctity

of God's Dawn and a betrayal of your oaths, you are hereby sentenced to

death. " The words had hardly left my mouth before my blade swung, energy

crackling along its length as the unholy power bestowed upon the arcanium

raged in its confinement. The blade bit deep, severing the disgustingly

toad-like protruding neck of Drenauw Vaes, once Knight of Storm Keep.

We watched him bleed out together, the ladies of The Dripping Candlestick

and I, and with a liberal spreading of coin among the remaining women, I was

able to ensure that what remained of the renegade once I had removed and

bagged his head would be disposed of with a minimal fuss. All that remained

was to return his head to the Dark Lord of Storm Keep, and re-assume my

position as Captain with Storm.

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[144] Aeryc: Research

Wed May 20 19:59:18 2015

To: Shadow Ellminaidra Verdemar ( Ampersand Necrucifer RP Religion Imm )

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"You should feel fortunate."

Aeryc traced his fingers across the silver pool inset at the center of the

chamber. The viscous fluid clung to the steel encasing his hand, and

tendrils fought slowly for a higher purchase, tasting the gauntlet offered

it. The liquid broke apart as he stood from his knee, falling back into the

basin and stirring with displeasure.

"When you were delivered, it did not first occur to me what purpose you may

still serve. That you can still be of use to God..."

Setting his hand upon the pedestal rising from the argent pool, the young

features of the man alighted with an amiable smile. A red light bathed the

room, catching the rivets of his slated armor and casting a long shadow out

over the cold stone floor of the Keep. The steady thrumming of the stone

inlaid at the pedestal's center filled the silence, a soft chorus familiar

and comforting to him.

The sound of his heavy boots approaching the southern wall punctuated the

quiet. His voice followed after, his cadence one of unwavering calm and

certainty. "It is odd how things work out, hm? You fought at first against

Finality."

Aeryc settled onto the poleyn covering his right knee, the sharp grating of

steel upon stone echoing in the chamber. He tilted his head, light brown

eyes flashing with the question buried within, and he regarded his

conversational partner with a frown cracking his features.

"You cannot fight God, Sir Vaes. You can only submit to the inexorable tide

of His Greatness as it swallows the world."

He pulled the severed head of Drenauw Vaes from the open sack on the floor

and turned to the southern wall. A thick layer of black mist covered the

portal, dark vapor spilling forth from on other side and then recoiling

after drinking in the air. Aeryc addressed the former Knight a final time,

a sadness for the loss of his soldier drowning out the triumph of research.

"I do not know what will happen to you in the Umbra. Redemption, perhaps.

Though I fear your soul is already lost to God."

The final remains of Drenauw Vaes disappeared behind the impenetrable

black as the Chancellor tossed him into the hole torn in the fabric of

reality. For a moment, the knight thought he saw the vapor embrace the

offering, pulling it in with the greed of a hungry child offered sustenance.

Shaking his head, Aeryc took a seat upon the cold floor, picking up his

journal and a pen left at the foot of the wall. Long into the night, he

stayed in the chamber, watching and writing.