RP:A Crown of Great and Terrible Price, Pt 1
Part of the Venturil's Bane Arc
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
East of the Causeway, Venturil
Tenebrae was once more stalking the outer limits of Venturil, boots crunching on loose rock and dry clods churned up by the Burrower. There was no real purpose to her pacing other than it gave her thoughts momentum. And uppermost in her thoughts was the Burrower itself.. The close-fitting, black armour she wore shifted its outer plates slightly, a pair of dark chitin daggers sprouting from the casing which covered each wrist. Tene's feet stilled, and she stood in silence. Something.. someone.. was coming.
Eboric might possibly be that someone. He is, as ever, out on patrol, never trusting the job to his scouts alone. He is once again backed by a small knot of his men, and they seem to be focusing mainly on the city to the south, while the warlord himself divides his attention between that and the area of shattered ground where he had seen the Burrower. Thus, he sees Tenebrae, and raises a hand in greeting.
The woman's war-garb seemed to bristle further with every step she took toward the were-bear, until he'd hear her muttering sharply at it as she gained his proximity. The armour ceased adding new spines and barbs, but did not relax the ones already present. "Forgive it," she told Eboric, raising her own razor-tipped fingers to wave them in return. "It's new. The armour. Most irritating. Anyway, here you are, and I was just about to go seeking you. Regarding your dead rellies, over there in the barrows."
Eboric glances at the armor, and nods approvingly. "Not to my liking, but it looks functional enough. And, what about my kin?"
Tenebrae paused before speaking, and when she spoke it was more carefully than usual. Which was never a good sign. "They're guarding something down there. Never mind the traps, there's ten kinds of guardian spells that even I would dread to barge into. What is of interest to me is that the Burrower will not touch those barrows. And I wish to know why. So I'll need your help, Eboric." Here, she smiled - but there was an aura of extreme shiftiness about it.
Eboric raises an eyebrow at the woman. "If they are guarding something, then I'll not be the one to take it from them, nor to help in its theft..."
Tenebrae 's own brows buckled in a frown. "Really, very dense.. listen to me carefully. The Burrower will not touch the barrows. And .. unless you wish your little troop out there to cuddle up to your ancestors forever, you're going to want the Burrower gone from these lands, lest it pick off any more of your men. Face it, you've not that many you can afford the loss. And here am I, offering you aid." Her smile returned, a little more grimly now. "Besides, what's to say they weren't merely looking after some grand artefact for... you? Now, I have poked about the wards surrounding the deeper barrows and I have found a key of sorts that will vanquish many of the worst spells. Which is why I believe your lineage might be the rightful owners of whatever's down there. It's all in the blood, you see. And the key.."
Eboric tugs at his beard, perhaps intrigued by the thought of personal gain. "So...we return to the barrows, then? This time, I think, I am better prepared for such a venture."
Tenebrae chuffed her impatience, "Yes, we return to the bloody barrows, Eboric. I wanted you to ask about the key." The small woman took a breath, held it and released - all for show, of course, regarding her infinite capacity for dealing with Eboric's lack of subtlety. "The key, as far as I can ascertain from the ghastly mess of runes your elders left behind, is blood. More specifically, the blood of your line." Here, the Necromancer's smile appeared again, full of faux cheer. "And more specifically than that - the blood of an innocent."
Eboric raises an eyebrow at the woman. "If they are guarding something, then I'll not be the one to take it from them, nor to help in its theft..."
Eboric narrows his eyes at that. "My blood, I have in abundance, and I do not mind spilling some as a gift to my ancestors. But I think that I am far from an innocent, and I have no young siblings, unless my father has been unduly busy in my absence. Explain what you mean."
Tenebrae stared at the warrior, her gaze cool and green as tundra ice. "What about a child of your lineage?"
Jerica with Aethelric swaddled comfortably and carried easily in a sling-like contraption that left her hands free made her way along the causeway to where she had an idea Eboric would be with his men. Of the latter most knew her by now and made way as she approached with murmurs going down the lines of her and the baby's arrival. Chances were that Eboric would know of her coming before she even gained his side. Unaware of the serious discussion or what has happened in recent history, the assassin flicks her gaze between the werebear and Tenebrae, of whom she'd already met just once. Aethelric gave the smallest of infantile grunts when she curved an arm around him and held him closer out of mother instinct to protect her offspring. For the moment Jerica remains quiet but her brown eyes take in everything.
Eboric does not reply to Tenebrae's words at first, choosing instead to cross to where Jerica stands, offering her a smile in greeting before looking down to the child, a flash of pride showing in his smile. It disappears quickly, however, as he turns to the necromancer once more. "There is a child of my lineage, but I will allow no harm to come to him." His words are delivered in a cold, hard tone.
Tenebrae said, "Then you will never be King. Nor will your son. Oh, you can try, but there are already so many odds not in your favour." She spared Jerica a nod, though her attention was primarily on the bundle the woman held. "And who said anything about harm? I'm not proposing we slit your wee one's throat. Though, ideally.." the last was just to be cruel, and with a thin smirk, the Necromancer abandoned the sentence.
Jerica leaned that much closer to Eboric when he stepped to her side. Once she had been afraid of the woman standing there talking about spilling innocent blood and the look she was giving the bundle held so close and protected was unnerving at best. "Then what did you mean?" she spoke up in her soft almost whispery voice that had often put people at ease around the assassin.
Eboric smiles, and not exactly pleasantly. "I can easily be king here, or anywhere I choose. If this city is destroyed by the Burrower, I could just take another." He shrugs his shoulders. "But I like this one, so you may explain your words, as Jerica has asked."
Tenebrae 's smirk widened to a baring-of-teeth that would put Eboric's to shame. "Save your bluster for those dull enough to be impressed by it, were-bear." She shot Jerica a green glance, now. "No offense to you. And what I mean is... Many of the rituals of death employ - no pun intended - an element of overkill. In that all those gouts of gore spilled for the sake of the magic are often unecessary. All mages love theatrics." One of those razor-fingered hands rose, its chitnous casing shrinking back as plates receded, until her fingers were bare, and these made a flippant gesture. "A few drops may be all that is needed, is the point."
Jerica tilted a glance up at Eboric before returning her gaze to Tenebrae. It was certainly easy for the other woman to say wasn't it? "If it isn't?" No, Jerica was not entertaining the idea of letting any of Aethelric's blood be spilled. Not in the least.
Eboric is quiet for a long moment. "It is his birthright, and mine also, to be king. But I mislike magic, in any form, and I would rather not risk my son's life on it. And," he adds to Tenebrae, "no offense to you, but I do not trust you much at all. I also saw what happened to that goat of yours. There is nothing to assure me that, once a drop of my son's blood has been had, that someone or some thing might not come back for more."
Tenebrae shrugged. "Then there is no going to the barrows. There is no chance of me petitioning your ancestors for aid, on your behalf. Less chance of finding a way to quell the Burrower, which is annoying for both of us..." she looked between the couple, "Your choice. And I am not offended by your fear of me, Eboric. What offends me is that you mistrust my power to keep your child from harm, over some .." another dismissive wave, "Fusty bit of juju your own people put in place."
Jerica looked first at her son then at Eboric knowing his ambitions but not how far he would go. She didn't trust Tenebrae and would have said so but tact kept her tongue still on that matter. Jerica didn't know all that had transpired before her arrival but she also did not think that spilling even a few drops of Aethelric's blood was the only way. Superstitious as she was, Jerica was fairly certain whatever Tenebrae wanted to do would work. The question was, what other prices would there be? "For your help, what are you asking?" Jerica asked this as calmly as she could while inspecting her son's coverings.
Eboric cannot help but snort at the word fear. "But how do I know that you intend to keep my child from harm? And Jerica raises a good point as well...what do you gain from this?"
Tenebrae addressed Jerica first, and that the question posed by both parents irritated her was plain in the crackle of a chill blacker than any Frostmaw had to offer, "Oh, I'd want all your souls, of course. On a stick, so I might wave it about triumphantly, as I cackle over your doom." To Eboric, she said, allowing no pause for commentary, "I have already told you. I seek knowledge - of why it is the Burrower will devastate every part of these lands, but it will not touch your blasted barrows. This is what I want." Pointed teeth made the snap of her words sharper. "If your son is to be King some day, he'll shed a lot more of his blood than a few drops in the process. Just as you shall, Eboric. Sort of goes with the job, doesn't it? Now, if you can muddle through your decision before I turn to stone with the tedium of it, I'd be grateful."
Jerica stepped that much closer to Eboric said his name in a question. She had to know what he was going to do first before Jerica did or said anything else.
Eboric shakes his head. "We will discuss it first, Tenebrae, and I will tell you our decision soon. This is not a light matter, so I am sure you understand." With that, the warlord turns to walk away.
"The smart thing to do..."said Tenebrae, to the warrior's retreating back, "Would be to harvest the blood and get your son to high ground while chaos ensues.." she flipped the hand again, and turned on her own heel, her sigh a blast of mist in the dry Venturil air. "Gods grant me that thickness is not catching."
Jerica followed behind Eboric, glancing back once only at the vampire walked the opposite direction. Jerica narrowed her eyes at the woman's back thoughtfully before she was again trailing after the bear.