Morias: Celestria seemed unmoved by your words. She says, without turning face: "Ah, I know all about this item, and I have great doubt that your order if so imperiled by the risk of annihilation would dispatch one mere cleric to mount the fate of the world on his shoulders no matter what their skill...if that were truly the case, then why not the very high priest himself undertake this world saving quest of yours? Nay, young one. Have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps Lor brought you out of your sheltered existence to taste the pleasures of the world? Or mayhap this device you emphasize is a test of your patience, skill or craft. Whatever it is, I would not bespeak of it or your mission so casually in conversation, you never know what being may escry our activities, or what spies skulk behind us. As you are a disciple of the deity of secrecy you'd best practice more subtlety, it is a sin to be so…openly truthful is it not? After all, what if we here may be tempted to steal this relic for ourselves? It is not entirely a impossibility"
Gildam strode over toward Morganne's side, smiling in a friendly fashion. He said "I noticed your wound has almost disappeared, those wraith-like fell creatures, I've slain before on patrol a week ago, skulking in the woods and asking travelers whether they had seen one fitting your description. I was glad of heart to have sent it fleeing with a blessed arrow that smote its foul essence. I admire your style, you have interesting weaponry" he said, his eyes fell on the glaive at your hip. He continues "I will make a good boon companion to thou, lady shun'ulle, that is in royal elvish lady of the flamed mane. I noticed you bore the standard of House Succundus, is Lord Daynar thy liege?'
Orath: "That he is, Gildam, his lordship pays us in good gold and princely viddles, foodstuffs from all throughout the inner kingdoms, and is mighty in blade, rich in magic. Though he couldn't have done it without Aronis and myself, perhaps you've heard of the great Orath then? Savior of neglected housewives, righter of unwritable wrongs, master gambler and discoverer of arcane secrets?" this drew a blank expression from the Elf, but Hethron couldn't contain his laughter. The ranger said "It's been a long while since I've come across a smart mouthed little dung-eating miscreant rogue from the Black Scorpions Guild!" he leveled in a personal affront at the thief. Orath drunk in the words but shrugged it off, "Huh? How dare you insult me, I'm not one of those low class derelicts you treehugging buffoon! I don't do guilds, unless you consider the merchant house Succundus a shadow guild. What's your beef anyway? We saved your friends asses against those snow haired darling dark elves from getting roasted on a spit, remember?"
Hethron's angry look soon melted and faded, "Good, I didn't want to have to kill you then. Those scum are everywhere, and they've more than on one occasion used my forest for their constant schemes. Only of late there's been less and less of their foul stench in me woods, though"
Orath pointed his thumb at himself "Yeah, you gots me to thank for as I gave the city-lord's soldier's some pretty solid intelligence on the guilds operations in eastern Nyr. Of course I learned it all from the priesthood but that don't matter. I learned the art of stealing information from the bookworm order is a very profitable habit"
Celestria makes a motion for Hethron and Gildam to go ahead of the group, and you can see that the ranger and elf enter into a small clearing ahead thats surrounded by vine covered stone pillars, each having weather worn elfin runes engraved on the surface. As the two draw near, the vines animate like snakes and come alive, but once they touch the Elf the vines recoil and cease their menacing of the pair of warriors. Using wind-speech to communicate, Gildam sends Celestria a sending. Celestria's eyes look incredulous, and she turned to Morganne and said "It seems that you have some 'friends' waiting for you over there!
Once the group tentatively enters into the elven encampment, they immediately see a group of six rather attractive teenagers: two are girls and four males casually lounging about. Two of the boys look to be brothers, and one is obviously a mage clad in black robes embroidered with silver whose eyes are an ethereal gray-blue. His twin brother a young warrior with light brown hair, clutching an impressive 2-handed sword. The other two lads are strikingly opposed in appearances, one has the look of a young Nyriddian by his height and build, and the other more diminutive and agile looking, with clever gleaming eyes and a crooked grin. Of the 2 teenaged girls one is a monk judging by her style of garb with a pair of 'sais' tucked in her belt, and the other young woman wearing a suit of black chainmail looks to be a priestess of Wrath. In the centre of the encampment lies a hogtied man, who wears a sullen and crestfallen facial expression. Though he has a noble countenance his eyes are divorced from emotion, like a soulless hallow man with no real purpose to his existence.
One of the girls, the young female monk stepped forward. Morganne could sense an alarming aura of immense power flowing out of her body, which appeared as white flame in spectral vision. She said "Greetings, Morganne, it has been a very long time. I'm Cybil, pupil of the Lords of Dis and a monk of their noble order. I'm sure you know all about them, as you had rescued us in the sub basements beneath the monastery outside of Corealus many moons ago, when Jor was our only defender. Morganne smelled a faint scent of Dren flesh on the girl, familiar to her nose as was that of her former teacher Elhondra. The girl went on: "These are my boon companions Naga the mage most mighty, his twin brother Reimos the seeker, Agar Braun and his younger brother Gray the sly, and last but not least my younger blood-sister Beatrice, an Elsmyrian priestess of Wrath. Our captive here is a master spy and professional killer who has been trailing you for days now out of Lor. He was planning to assail you when you were weakened and weary from recent battle, but we took him unawares on order from Lord Daynar"
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The familiar scents of the young children she'd rescued so many years ago and had now grown up to be very powerful young warriors in their own right stirred emotions that she'd never felt in a long time. Stumbling forward she breaks into a wide toothed smile and embraces the young girl ".....you have no idea how long I've worried about what had happened to you! I'd spent years trying to find out information about what happened and swore to make wretched the destiny of any who'd done you harm!" Morganne's Amber hued eyes brimmed with reddish-gold tears which began to stream down the sides of her face. Outstretching her arms to motion for the other children to come to her as well "enough of the spy, we will deal with him soon enough! Tell me, how is Master Sindsun? Did she finally make an honest man out of Gorn? Do you know if she sits upon the Iceholme throne yet? And you Beatrice, a priestess of Wrath! those twin lightening bolts on your cuffs look impressive!!"
Morganne uncharacteristically gushes and fawns over the group of children who she'd risked so much to save and protect all those years ago. It'd seem like an entire lifetime since she'd last even thought about them. To Morganne, these children were as close as she'd ever come to having children. She knew of their parentage and of the plots to corrupt them. They became an obsession to her. One that threatened to consume her life until Daynar had finally given her some relief and confided in her that they were safe and well. Still it was one thing to hear that they were safe, it was another to actually see them safe. The Dren monk who she'd swore a life oath to protect these children now seems paid in full. The fact that they had worked behind the scene to protect her made her proud.
Beatrice smiled and accepted Morganne's embrace, and said "Well met, Morganne. It has been many moons since we last saw you, and much has transpired since. Last time I remember we were too vulnerable and ill trained and you wrested us from the talons of the hated ones, those black guardsmen dogged by the armies of Dezloz. And thanks to you we thwarted their plots and traps. Ever since we parted company, our lives have been froth with treacherous traps, clever enemies and constant threats to our very existence. The very air we enjoy now is a gift, and we have been tested, a hundred tests from that time long ago to now, and our hearts have hardened if only a little, and we feed on vengeance as well as survival. Fortunately we have had aid, the Watcher's and your teacher Elhondra who taught us incredible things, and we've dwelt with elves and the Lorian priests blotted out our presence from those who wish us ill. And Elhondra sits on the throne, alongside Gorn but politics is neither of their forte, and thus they weigh heavy on their counselors and advisors. Gorn is a busy king, and is a friend of ice elves. He builds new highways throughout Nyriddia and invites commerce from the southron provinces. But Nyriddia is not an easy or fun place to rule, and the clans still feud amongst themselves constantly and old undisputed feuds remain between the upper clans and the lower"
The others similarly embrace her, and each recounts many different stories or versions of stories, of imposters and assassins they have defeated, of elaborate attempts to kidnap themselves.
"Dezloz is the least of our foes!" Beatrice says, and then adds "Our enemies have assembled a special party of bold, powerful adventurer's who call themselves the 10, and many of them are the offspring of that notorious band from the past age the adventuring company called the 9…named so because their numbers were nine, and they actually been to the nine hells. According to the library of Lor some suspect they even have a fortress in Hades"
To Celestria's departing back, Morias says; "With the amount of trouble following it, the Crystal's custodian will probably be short lived. After speaking with Morganne I have faith enough in Lor to put it into the right hands at the right time, even if this not be the Priests of Lor themselves.
Now you mention a world of pleasure. I have spent my days cooped up in a monastery like a chicken in a cage. What pleasures could there be beside serving ones God as truly as one is able?"
Then Morias watches the passion of kinship that is deeper than any he has ever known, while old friends are reunited. He feels mixed emotions while his heart seems both to leap joyously, high as fire and yet simultaneously sink into despair.
The priest steadies his breathing as he has been taught and feeling tears well up in his eyes, mingles into the background where he can regain his composure. He sits away from the centre, away from the light and finds peace enough to speak for a moment with his God.
And then, watching the beauty in the faces of those gathered around, feels something of the comradeship between these people, and wonders how they make such connections. What drives them to know within themselves so surely that it is safe to let down their wards and embrace in such a way?
Again, as so many times in recent weeks while he was being prepared for the mission and then during his pursuit in the wild lands beyond the monastery, Morias finds himself thinking about Morganne.
Complicated, selfish, pig-headed, foolish, arrogant, brave, voluptuous, worldly, dark, difficult, dangerous bitch that she is. Morias considers what would happen if he were to abandon his quest to protect her. And yet, deep within his writhing heart he feels that she may need him. Although she will perhaps never admit it even to herself. Blinded by his oath and his robes too much to see the Man beneath, and behind that the fire of a passionate soul.
Morias clutches at his Cloak of Nothingness as he asks himself the question; 'what are robes?'
"Lor" he says. "I need a sign, lord. My faith is weak here where the passion of my flesh is tempting me away from my mission and toward, worlds of pleasure. The pleasure of serving a god whose path is so fraught with hardship, is failing. I can see now deeper pleasures are available in life. Morganne..."
She may need him, and this sets his focus. Damn emotions! Morias wraps the cloak of nothingness about him and falls into a grumpy mood, sulking.
having forgotten her conversation with Morias, Morganne feels relaxed enough for the first time in..countless moons to let her guard down and forget about the past few years. "....Gorn and Elhondra will be fine, they have the support of the Elysmerian crown and the Sisterhood as well as a host of others. Gorn would rather be out adventuring than making policy..but then he does love having someone to personally wash his hair every day!!" Morganne laughs out loud with the children for a bit. Telling jokes about their former teacher and her new husband. "...The 9? now the 10? hmm..I fear that something must be done about them as well! I believe a sister of mine dealt with the 9 on a few occasions. Lord Daynar...." Morganne poses for a moment. "...anyway...back to business..you have information for me? I beleive we need to have amore private conversation. Morganne hands Beatrice a Succundus clasp "...focus on me and think what it is you want to say. We cannot be overheard and unless I think about someone else who has one of these, they won't know what we're discussing..."
After the report from the Children. Morganne returns to find Orath to relate what she's learned so far and ask him his impression of Moria and their predicament.
Reimos spoke up then, though young at 17 winters he appeared to be fully grown into an early manhood, and his auburn hair came just past his shoulder length.
He says "Worry not about secrecy here, Morganne, there is a natural elven energy well somewhere beneath us that mutes intrusions for a mile in every direction. Beatrice there is a diviner, a sort of clerical spy in her order, and she was able to find you through her own power. Daynar wrote us a letter and called us into action, whereas he asked that we provide you and yours with assistance in your mission. Finally we're able to serve on the field and not be holed up and babysat by the Watcher's, who are a paranoid worrisome lot considering their ranks are comprised of adventurer's you'd think they'd be a little more relaxed and fun"
Naga interjected then, this blonde haired mage said "The 10 are young and reckless, but they are formidable, resourceful, and utterly ambitious. As Beatrice said, they have a very impressive base of operations, a castle in hades that we were 'guests' of before. Only by our combined efforts we managed to escape with our sanity and health intact, miraculously. We think that they were trying to discover our inherent importance, and they conducted numerous tests, many were cruel and unnecessary, but I think they were keeping us alive just to torment us as vengeance for their parents. For our parents were sided with good, and theirs evil and they were it seems pawns in an elaborate game betwixt the Gods. Unfortunately this wearisome drama grows thicker, as not all of them are corrupt or evil. One is even madly in love with our sly one Gray there, with his annoyingly handsome face. However, if it wasn't for that face and that woman's unanticipated aid we would have all been destroyed and not standing before you here today"
Morganne nods to both Reimos and Naga as each of them relate their stories of their dealings with the group known as the 10. The story of Gray, draws a mischievous smile across her face "....ahh young Gray...you remind me of our own Garrosh and Daynar's older brother Mortiasgus. Through you, the 10 can be beaten but at what cost? Tread carefully, Hell hath no fury to match a woman scorned!" Morganne warns.
Morganne turns back to Reimos, noting how much he's grown in the past 10 years since she'd seen him. "....You all seem to have done very well for yourselves, your past together is what continues to bind you as close as the bonds of blood and kinship. Let no one tear these bonds asunder, the world will have a great need of you in the coming years! It does my...heart great joy to see all of you and to know that you are not only alive but are thriving! I am only sorry that I was unable to save the others..." Morganne says with a note of sadness "....never mind, let me introduce you to the rest of our group here!!"
Morganne like a proud mother showing off her now grown children introduces them to Orath and Ulric first, relating particular stories of interest to the both of them and then to each of her scouts before introducing them to their Elven hosts and finally the newcomer Morias. "
"Bea..our Lorian cleric here could use some time in devout prayer while the rest of us begin to plan our next move. He's pretty new to this sort of life and any insights you may have would be greatly appreciated!" Turning to Morias "These are my greatest pride and joy on this world! They are a great part of the reason why I do what I do! I had thought of going down the path of my order's holy warrior (cleric) but I swore an oath to protect them and see them grow strong and proud! You'll note by their garb what paths they have taken. These....young ones for they are no longer weak children, like me, they have spent years in rigorous training that would've killed most. They have learned much and have much more to learn yet but they also have much to teach as well.." Morganne says "....No more talk of the artifact or it's supposed future. We are safe here but unfortunately, we cannot remain her for long, we've a schedule to keep and a mission to complete.."
Morganne turns to Ulric "...Ulric, what is your impression of your King Gorn? Mind you these children and I are intimately aligned with Gorn and his wife! Queen Elhondra is my sword-sister and he and I..have adventured together for a short time.." Morganne suddenly remembers when Gorn sought to woo Elhondra with a priceless gift..a custom made suit of red dragon hide armor imbued with a host of powerful spells and of course being Gorn, it looked stunning on her. ".....You look a lot like him..perhaps there might be a place for you at court? I could put in a good word for you!!" Morganne laughs, knowing full well that no Northron would trade the life of action for politics willingly.
Orath sat upon a low branch, idly playing with a dagger and yawned as Morganne introduced the children. Ulric eyed them curiously and grinned, nodding as a greeting. Orath said "I know these little brats already, Morganne. It wasn't you entirely who played a role in their safe escape, how seldom you recollect my significant contributions to your successes" the thief spat angrily. Cybil smiled at him then, a flirtatious gleam set in her eye that she tried to conceal. 'I remember!' she was quick to add.
Orath: "Well at least someone around here has half a brain to recount the fruits of my supreme skills" he said while sharpening his short-sword.
Ulric shrugged when asked about the new king of Nyriddia, "Good thing, Ice Queen was an evil whore from hell. As long as king good and hates evil, Ulric likes. But Ulric no serve, just watch and see. And if he is no good maybe Ulric will be king one day, if Daynar helps"
Orath assigned sentries to the outer perimeter, where they were concealed. He did some scouting in the vicinity, returned without anything to report. He spoke with Celestria in hushed elvish, and more than once the beautiful lithe elf smiled and laughed. This drew some jealous stares from Cybil, and Beatrice consoled her.
Orath bades Gray to join him and the elder rogue and the younger one practice their dagger-throwing. Orath gifts the young lad a very striking jewel encrusted dagger, and to the rest of the second party other gifts as well, potions/scrolls, some weapons, a seemingly endless stockpile of weapons he draws out of his own cloak.
"These blades are nice" he explains, demonstrating their superb balance and razor sharpness. Celestria says "Ah, and enchanted to the second level of power. Such impressive generosity for a rogue!" she says, genuinely impressed by the thief's quality gifts. Orath nods, "Nice blades that were owned by bullies and thugs, artless amateurs all"
Morias tries hard to shake the misery from his demeanor as he is introduced to those whose home this is. But it is obvious that something within him is deeply disgruntled.
Nevertheless his tired smile is kind and genuine as he meets and instantly forgets the names of these beautiful people. But he remembers them by feeling, each of them so unique and sure of themselves that he would recognise them again by instinct if not label. And thus no interrogation could pry their names from him, a sly trick and natural talent which Morias tutors of the Priesthood had recognised in him before he noticed it himself.
Morias thinks to the pocket notebook in his breeches with his illegible script, and will mark their names in due time upon hearing them once again for familiarity. As he softens in their groups gentle intimacy, Morias feels himself to be a thorn pricking a baby every time they glance his way. He feels out of place here, where a language of family is so natural tender flowing between the friends.
His speech to them is softly spoken yet aloof and he pulls away from them, wishing with regret each moment that he were some other with better social skills. His background what it is, never having learned such arts, his own training as potential assassin falls into focus and he recalls various barbed comments made by his tutors, designed to steer him at such times, to twist him away from comfort of people and toward a bitterness. It boils in his belly like acid and burns his lungs. A bilious anger, heavily suppressed becomes a focused and sharp spike, a weapon of the heart, cruel enough to kill where aimed.
Bitterness overwhelms Morias as he feels envy eat at him, toward the kinship between this family. These feelings he can control only by shutting off, detaching himself from hurtful emotion and resting in a cold, untouchable, emotionless darkness.
Once again Morias turns away from the group and consoles himself in shadow, making excuses that it is long since time he performed his necessary priestly duties. There are tears in the eyes he hides in shame.
One of the scouts saunters over toward Morias, handing him a wooded goblet full of meade: 'What ails thee, cleric? We see thou weeping without cause, and are perplexed as to why. Your lack of cheer is very visible. Please conceal it, the lady Morganne is enjoying herself a special moment, and by Wrath's blood she certainly deserves one undisturbed'
After a very long time merrymaking, catching up, and exchanges Morganne discovers that the Watcher's had successfully untapped the children's potential, not to the fullest extent but to very high levels of power as they said that they would. Gray unfurls a very beautiful elven crafted map onto the ground, and he starts talking: "We are here" he points to your position on the map with his dagger, "Daynar is bound for this place, Mountainholme, a Dwarf-merchant city at the base of the Gates. It guards the entrance to the imperial road that leads into Ironholme. We head for here, the ruins of castle Zyenghi and explore it. One of Duke Daynar's cousins went exploring beneath it looking for treasure and has gone missing for over a week and it has been troubling him since. Any treasure we might find we can keep as a reward"
Morganne catches the look on Orath's face and simply smiles at his tone.."..oh come now Orath! you know full well I don't mean to discount your considerable talents in their rescue! Besides, we are referring to the very beginning when I first discovered them! You will always have my undying gratitude for helping in their rescue! You have as much a hand in their success and survival as do I and Lord Daynar!" Morganne shoots him a warm smile and continues to share her enjoyment with the children and the rest of the Succundus scouts.
While Morganne takes a moment to visually drink in the moment, she turns to one of the scouts, Darius and confides in him "....all of you who serve house Succundus have my gratitude as well as the children for your oaths of blood and honor! With out your help, their survival would be short lived! We have this one small moment to relax. I will personally take the lion's share of the perimeter watch so that you and the rest of the men can get some rest and a bit of fun for once...for tomorrow, we could all die.." Morganne smiles and jabs Darius lightly in the ribs and slips back to the children to hear more of their tales. she shows them her Black-guardsman inspired armor that she wears and even dances with them and some of the others for a bit before slipping away to relieve some of the Scouts on perimeter watch.
Morganne was in too good of a mood to let anyone dare disturb their fun tonight! The first sign of trouble would be met with merciless fury the likes of which only one blessed by Wrath himself could inspire.
Morganne remembers Garrosh and Tenspells and contacts him via the clasp. "children are here, safe and we are to Mountainholme, from there we will try to find information about Castle Zyenghi and Daynar's cousin."
Morganne ends her report and dons the rest of her gear before relieving the perimeter guards so that they may spend some time resting.
Morganne looks around and takes note of Morias's absence and though she is curious, she doesn't have the time nor inclination to find out what he's up to at the present time.
Morias nods in gratitude at the scout. "Blessings, friend." He takes the goblet. "A drunken cleric may make for an eventful evening which few would desire to remember." He sips the meade and is surprised how good it tastes. "My ails are complex, friend. I yearn for a simple life of easy decisions. And yet the simplest path seems to be the darkest."
Morias realises that he cannot tear his eyes from Morganne, and he realises also that he is drinking the meade more quickly than he had intended. Turning to the scout he steadies himself by placing the goblet on the floor between his feet.
"I am blessed with fine company and a troubled heart. Deep thoughts of complex nature and revelations. I looked inside myself tonight, and I saw fire burning there, and I saw coldness. It was as though all the stars were plucked from the sky at night, and there was nothing but cold as cold as steel. Turned I to the fire and with my cold, could extinguish it with ease. And yet her fire... her fire turns my cold to ease, and I cannot help but laughter, despite it all."
The priest finds that somehow during this speech his goblet is once again in his hand and so he sips from it again. Again he is looking at Morganne as she giggles with her friends.
"She has become my teacher, and has taught me how other men have barbed my mind with thorns. Now that I face these feelings, I am turned in writhing agony upon their sharpness. And though I am more alive for the pain, I am yet more dead from the..." he sighs. And then he turns toward the scout. "Morias is my name, and I ask thee of yours since we travel the same path. What be your story?"
Morias looks down into his goblet and discovers that somehow it has emptied both itself and also the phantom goblet that won't quite come into focus when he tries to look at it. When he looks up he sees that the group are gathered and pouring over an old map. He listens intently but decides on his third attempt to rise that he probably should not try to join them.
"What did you say your name was again?" He asks the Scout, and then checks to see if the scout that he can see sitting beside him is really there or merely an after effect of his blurred memory. He wobbles and uses his long bony finger to pokes the scout's arm, just to be sure.
Focusing her mind, Morganne wills her living armor to blend into her surroundings. taking a black scarf, she wraps around her face and head so that only her eyes, now mere golden slits can be barely perceived. Leaping straight up into the nearest tree to where the first of two sentries are posted, she approaches silently and touches her clasp to announce her presence to the two...Tarin and Jarrel, so that they would not be alarmed. "....be at ease Tarin, Jarrel, I will take watch this night, join the others and get some needed rest..." She says in their minds via the House Succundus clasp.
Morganne lets her form become more recognizable as the two scouts at first seem slightly startled by being approached so quietly without her even making a sound. Just like they have been trained they communicate via the claps their appreciation and descend the tree as stealthily as any human could. Morganne watches them leave and then she ascends even higher yet. Tonight she wanted to feel the moonlight upon her face, to smell the night air as it played across her skin.
Today had been a pretty good day, maybe 50/50 at best! True she didn't get to kill anyone and one of her men was seriously injured but with Celestria and Morias's help, he should be fine.
Morias,....Morganne thinks to herself as she sits perched high in the tree tops. Morias was just what she'd come to expect from a priest of Lor. Though not as silly as that fool Brion, or as self serving and pious as some of the others, he still had much to learn about the hard adventuring life. She'd caught a mental image of him staring at her from some of the other scouts. Morganne snorted almost out loud at the thought. The boy has spent too much time locked away and his nose in books! One goblet of mead and he's wasted, too drunk to be of any use to anyone should something happen.
"for once it'd be nice to..."
Suddenly, Morganne clenches her jaw "Oh hell...." pressing her clasp against her skin, she sends a message to Orath "....don't get too wrapped up in your fun! we have a prisoner to interrogate! Reimos advised that they'd caught a spy/assassin who thought to take them by surprise. interrogate him then end him! Find out who sent him and when..no loose ends!" Morganne sends a visual picture to where she is to him before checking in with the other scouts.
No one is going to ruin this night...tonight my friends, those children will enjoy the first peaceful sleep in 10 years if I have to stay up until the sun rises to make sure of it!
Morganne returns to her duties.
Orath: *quit being so damned bossy, sweetheart. Who the hell put you in charge ahead of me? Don't worry your pretty little noggin about this charmer, if he knows anything I'll make him flip his lip. Now get some sleep and stop your fussing its giving me a headache"
Orath spent nearly an entire hour bragging about his many exploits and impressing a very smitten Cybil, the thief saunters over to where the prisoner's being guarded by two alert scouts who are engaged in a heated argument. The rogue grabs the prisoner and hangs him by his feet suspended over a low branch with very thin but strong silk rope. He then splashes some water on the mans face to rouse him, casually moves toward the fire-pit, heating the tip of his dagger until it glows orange. He said to Morias "Come with me and learn something useful. You are a cleric of knowledge, well then here's a free lesson in interrogation"
Orath brings the dagger menacingly close to the prisoner's eye, pressing it to the mans skin. The prisoner doesn't so much as bat an eyelash, unperturbed. The thief smiles "Well you have discipline, I'll give you that, but so do I, and I'm gonna break you open like an oyster, bet on it!!' he added, kicking the man hard in the face with his leather boot. The prisoner sneered then laughed, spitting blood on Orath's boot in defiance. A small but sharp looking blade shoots out of the tip of the thief's left boot, and he slices a thick line across the prisoner's right cheek with the concealed blade. The thief sets the man spinning, then he starts examining the spies belongings, discarding most of the items. "Who are you working for, you piece of orcshit?" the thief knelt down on a low crouch and placed his hot tipped dagger against the spies chin, saying "I know you're trained to withstand this, but trust me this is simply fun. Have you ever been tortured by dark elves? I have seen their handiwork, not like mine at all. My technique's considered artless by comparison. See the drow those guys are some heartless bastards, they'll flay your skin right off of you just to see how long you can last without skin. They don't even CARE if you tell them anything useful, they just do it for laughs, some sick puppies, don't cha think?" the thief spun toward Morias and says "Well, wanna have a turn? You Lorians are the experts in torture, I defer to the best!"
This seemed to visibly make the prisoner spies face grow pale. Orath looked pleased, "Yessss, we brought in some special talent to get your tongue wagging, cur!" he hisses, kicking dirt into the mans face. The women were escorted to a nearby stream in order to bathe, with Succundus scouts backs turned and on guard.
The rogue looks to Morias and said "Hold on, I'm not done yet" he then grabs a leather drinking skin and empties it down the mans throat, "This is a bloody waste of perfectly delicious whiskey, but it'll free your tongue of its secrets then I'm all for it!'
Several more mentally disturbing yet highly effective torture techniques and the spy breaks under Orath's pressure. "Hells bells thought this turd would never crack. Well then, I don't even know what to ask, oh dear...how embarassing. Hmmmm, who was the first girl you kissed?" he asks jokingly, drawing chuckles from the onlooking scouts. Hethron tried to contain his disgust for torture, and he and Celestria went for a stroll away from camp to talk in private. Ulric ate more meat and yawned, dozing off.
Orath spent nearly an entire hour bragging about his many exploits and impressing a very smitten Cybil, the thief saunters over to where the prisoner's being guarded by two alert scouts who are engaged in a heated argument. The rogue grabs the prisoner and hangs him by his feet suspended over a low branch with very thin but strong silk rope. He then splashes some water on the mans face to rouse him, casually moves toward the fire-pit, heating the tip of his dagger until it glows orange. He said to Morias "Come with me and learn something useful. You are a cleric of knowledge, well then here's a free lesson in interrogation"
Orath brings the dagger menacingly close to the prisoner's eye, pressing it to the mans skin. The prisoner doesn't so much as bat an eyelash, unperturbed. The thief smiles "Well you have discipline, I'll give you that, but so do I, and I'm gonna break you open like an oyster, bet on it!!' he added, kicking the man hard in the face with his leather boot. The prisoner sneered then laughed, spitting blood on Orath's boot in defiance. A small but sharp looking blade shoots out of the tip of the thief's left boot, and he slices a thick line across the prisoner's right cheek with the concealed blade. The thief sets the man spinning, then he starts examining the spies belongings, discarding most of the items. "Who are you working for, you piece of orcshit?" the thief knelt down on a low crouch and placed his hot tipped dagger against the spies chin, saying "I know you're trained to withstand this, but trust me this is simply fun. Have you ever been tortured by dark elves? I have seen their handiwork, not like mine at all. My technique's considered artless by comparison. See the drow those guys are some heartless bastards, they'll flay your skin right off of you just to see how long you can last without skin. They don't even CARE if you tell them anything useful, they just do it for laughs, some sick puppies, don't cha think?" the thief spun toward Morias and says "Well, wanna have a turn? You Lorians are the experts in torture, I defer to the best!"
This seemed to visibly make the prisoner spies face grow pale. Orath looked pleased, "Yessss, we brought in some special talent to get your tongue wagging, cur!" he hisses, kicking dirt into the mans face. The women were escorted to a nearby stream in order to bathe, with Succundus scouts backs turned and on guard.
The rogue looks to Morias and said "Hold on, I'm not done yet" he then grabs a leather drinking skin and empties it down the mans throat, "This is a bloody waste of perfectly delicious whiskey, but it'll free your tongue of its secrets then I'm all for it!'
Several more mentally disturbing yet highly effective torture techniques and the spy breaks under Orath's pressure. "Hells bells thought this turd would never crack. Well then, I don't even know what to ask, oh dear...how embarassing. Hmmmm, who was the first girl you kissed?" he asks jokingly, drawing chuckles from the onlooking scouts. Hethron tried to contain his disgust for torture, and he and Celestria went for a stroll away from camp to talk in private. Ulric ate more meat and yawned, dozing off.
[Orath...enough of the playing around! find out what his mission was, how he was paid and by whom, What proof was he to give of the success of his mission and every code phrase he was given! Hell ask what his last mission was before this one too! When your finished....bleed em!]
Morganne says with growing irritation more at the situation than for Orath's toying with the man. It was probably a good thing she wasn't too close with the smell of pain and tortured flesh and of course...blood. Still through the senses of the sentries and Orath himself, Morganne could still feel the pull of temptation upon her.
Morganne ignored the rest of the interrogation and instead used her Dhampiric abilities to scout the area. Occasionally she would simply imagine herself lighter than a floating feather and let the wind carry her up high above the trees. Her vision being as acute as it was, she'd find another tree and simply land atop it's highest branch.
Morias sobers up astonishingly quickly when faced with the torture situation. His face is expressionless and his eyes glittering black. That cold hard dead place inside swallows him up and leaves the priest feeling like an animated husk, programmed only to act out its training. Memories return, of barbs twisted into his psyche by his temple mentors, barbs opening like seeds ready to grow into new skills as he experiences certain situations. Barbs designed to twist his emotional and psychological responses for a specific outcome. Personality shift and development of talents, abilities, far beyond the normal mammalian consequences.
"The skies devoid of stars." is all that he can think to say at this point as he watches with a white face as Orath interrogates the prisoner. Morias voice is cracked and rasps dryly. He finds no excitement nor nausea at watching a fellow human being treated in this way. Not even a curiosity. The meat hanging from the tree is already dead; every burning, overly-intense sensation of pain given to it now will merely take the soul to new heights of awareness before the ultimate body death.
Of course it might survive, but if it does so it will never again be the man it once was. Broken, knowing of its limits, the creature will forever be scarred. Morias realises that perhaps this itself is the greatest torture. Prolonging the victims revelation of this breaking point's imminence, through the tool of fear, of physical pain to create mental anguish, is a technique that he learns while watching Oraths ministration.
Morias grows bored and wishes simply to kill the creature quickly and put it out of misery. He finds no enjoyment in partaking in anothers suffering, in feeding on its anguish. He yawns loudly, allowing Orath to know what he thinks of his fun.
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