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 )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[126] Verdemar: The Hunt: Drenauw Vaes (pt. 2)
Tue May 12 19:51:25 2015
To: Shadow Ellminaidra Aeryc ( Necrucifer Imm All )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[127] Verdemar: The Hunt: Drenauw Vaes (pt. 3)
Tue May 12 21:20:37 2015
To: Shadow Ellminaidra Aeryc ( Necrucifer Imm All )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[128] Verdemar: The Hunt: Drenauw Vaes (pt. 4)
Tue May 12 21:24:35 2015
To: Shadow Ellminaidra Aeryc ( Necrucifer Imm All )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[144] Aeryc: Research
Wed May 20 19:59:18 2015
To: Shadow Ellminaidra Verdemar ( Ampersand Necrucifer RP Religion Imm )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"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.