RP:A Trembling in the Web

Part of the Venturil's Bane Arc

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Traveling the Causeway, Venturil

Tenebrae hated that her armour was gone. And her familiar, too. She hated that she was here at all, and not soaring over a Barbarian village elsewhere, wreaking terror in the hearts of her foes. But what the Necromancer hated more than anything right now was having to -walk- all the way from Kelay to Venturil in painfully sub-par footwear. She was already halfway done concocting plans for a decent wingbeast and a slow demise for her Haruspex and recently-promoted Thanadule both, as well a certain Vailkrin bootmaker. Rubbing the sole of one small foot, its boot on the ground beside the rock she was perched on here, Tene was clad in lesser war-gear - embarrassingly so - and was grumbling up a storm. Though she did so quietly .. for she had sensed the fallout of her familiar's passing through this place, and it spoke of something... powerful.

Eboric is here, and from the looks of it, has been for some time. To the west of the causeway, amidst the barrows, a large camp can be seen, fortified with a ditch and wooden stakes. Men mill about, continuing to build of the defenses. Eboric, however, stands apart, near the edge of the causeway itself. He is dressed, as ever, in his resplendent armor, the enchanted mithril hauberk shining now silver, now gold, tinged with the red light of the setting sun.

Leifong is nearby, casually stalking Tenebrae from a distance. He was curious to see what the woman would do now, and if there was a way for him to exploit it.

Tenebrae winced at the dying day's fiery reflection off that resplendent armour.. the light was bright upon her sensitive eyes and the very thought of armour was not improving her mood, right now. "For the sake of all gods, Bear-shirt," she called across the causeway, one pale hand rising to ward off that blazing light. "Could you move just a little to your left?" Of course, she had sensed Leifong's lurking, as he ever did, and as ever she ignored it utterly.

Eboric turns, looking down the way at the necromancer. He does move to his left, his hand moving to his sword hilt as well. "It's you," he says, without much surprise in his voice. "It has been some time since I saw you in person." As he says this, he glances skyward, as if making sure that thing is not back, playing its horrid tricks.

Tenebrae didn't miss the warrior's meaty hand closing on his sword hilt. She nodded toward it, "Scared of a girl, Eboric? An unarmed one, at that..." and then grinned, showing teeth that were just a wee bit sharp at present. With the offensive glare of the sun gone from her eyes, she returned to rubbing at the sole of her one bare foot. "And yes, it has been an age. And yes, I suppose I'm back..." she eyed a shady corner over there, somewhere, with unexplained chagrin, "Not anything of my own choosing, but here we are. Must I continue shouting?"

Eboric shrugs his shoulders. "I had thought that...something that was supposedly dead had returned, I suppose." He makes his way toward her, and her shady corner. "You look the worse for wear," he observes, rather unhelpfully.

Tenebrae frowned up at Eboric, "I do not." She narrowed her gaze to two green slits. "It's just these lousy boots. So tell me," she waved a flippant gesture toward the encampment, its bustle of men and rising smoke, "What all this is about."

Tenebrae tugged her boot back on with obvious displeasure, and rose from the rock she'd been seated on.

Eboric glances over at the camp, narrowing his eyes for a moment as he spies a slacker. "Those are my men," he says, simply. "Someone told me of some criminal activity in the area, and as the king seems not to care, I naturally thought it best to bring my forces in to investigate. It is what any good and noble man would do." This last is said in a most innocent manner.

Tenebrae pursed her lips and nodded dubiously. "I see... you ever were a force of righteous good, Eboric." She dusted down the seat of her leathers with both palms, her gaze shifting to the camp. "My familiar was here, at some point. He leaves.. ripples, you might say, behind him. He was here, and in turmoil. That's all I can tell, you didn't see him at all, did you?"

Eboric grins, but the expression soon turns to one of distaste at the thought of familiars and, naturally, magic. "Might be. What does he look like? Because I saw a strange black thing, and it played some tricks on myself and some of my men. It seemed as though we were taken to another place, where I saw you, riding on the back of something equally awful. Then, we were back here, and again I saw you, standing near it."

Azakeal wanders. It's his thing. From the sands to the seas, there weren't many places he hadn't gotten lost. Funny though, his lack of direction seemed trumped tonight by a driving towards this particular place. It had been years since he'd been this close to the causeway... Many many years. But power sought power, and he felt tonight the presence in the land of someone he hadn't felt in a while. So, through the snagging limbs and dense brush of the wood surrounding the road he moved, as silent as the fox he was. That is, until he hears that voice. Tenebrae... An old employer, something of an ally in a few lives past. Indignant... As ever.

Tenebrae said nothing for a moment, but her expression might clue the warrior in to the fact he'd just given her a -very- interesting bit of news. "That was him, alright..." she said, finally, having put two and two together, "Visions, you say? Of Shadowside, no less. That's why no-one's surprised to see me." Her pale lips quirked into a wry little smile. "Sodding creature. I'll put him in a toad next, see if I don't. Eboric," she changed the tack of the conversation swiftly, "Do you recall, a long time ago now... we were poking about in the barrows?"

She raised her voice a bit, then, glancing toward the skeletal remains of what had once been a lush forest, "Do stop skulking back there, will you? It makes my neck-hairs prickle." Whether she spoke to the Haruspex or somebody else was not apparent.

Eboric listens, bemused, to the woman's word, only speaking again when she asks the question. "I do recall, and very well. Would that I had lived in Frostmaw before that, as if we were to repeat that adventure, I would gain more from it."

Tenebrae said to Eboric, "You would gain nothing but death." The necromancer did not look as though she were joking. She dropped fluidly to her heels, both palms splaying on the barren, dry earth. "If you recall, there was a distinct.. feeling.. of something malevolent in those barrows, " beside Tenebrae herself, she meant, "... ancient, and hungry. I couldn't sense it so clearly back then, Eboric. But now..." and she gave him just a glimpse of what she had become, a forked tongue flickering over needle fangs, ".. I can taste it, the power it has brewed below us. Beware of it, warrior. Something... " Maladroit, she suspected, ".. has it stirring from its ancient rest."

Azakeal leans against the nearest trunk to the edge of the road and snorts, "Glad to see -something- I do gets a bloody rise out of you..." Gold rimmed cobalt skim over her form before travelling to Eboric. "Ooo, all bright and shiny we are. In the woods. Hunting... You know not what." The curl of his fingers into a pocket on what had once been a fine forest green coat produced a hand rolled cigarette. Placed in maw, the thing was lit with a rub of fore and thumb to produce a heady scent of spices. The male's eyes would travel between the two others for the next few moments.

Azakeal totally doesn't react to Tene being all... Snakey and shiz...

Eboric frowns. "Those in the barrows are...kin to me. I cannot think that they would wish me harm. In fact, I know that they would not. So unless something else is buried there, I think you may just be mistaken." He turns then to Azakeal, and eyes him up and down with a slight curl of distaste on his lips. "Who the hell are you?"

Tenebrae slid her gaze Azakeal's way, too, her eyes rolling skyward a moment before she voiced reply to Eboric, "It's not moldy old axe-wielders you need to worry about." She stood, then, her features melding back to that demure, feminine face, the lie she wore, "It's .. everywhere. Under the earth here. Immense..." her fangs grit, a moment. "And it's.. hungry, Eboric. Stirring in its sleep, and .. hungry."

Azakeal gives a slight bow, complete with a little flourish and a smartass hop, "Filpien Azakeal Daogata, Connoisseur of fine tobacco and constant thorn in this one's side." He gives a jerk of thumb to indicate Tenebrae, then smiles at the woman, "Joliette, dear, you should never hide your true face. It's far more... Alluring than this mask you've created." A wink, a smirk, and a drag of spicy smoke were all to follow.

Eboric 's frown deepens. "Is it alive? Can it be killed? I have slain many immense beasts, including the monster Ymheshphilun, who could burrow beneath the earth at will. I cannot have such a thing on my land. This land," he corrects, hastily. Another look is given to Azakeal. "Now is not the time to be a thorn in anyone's side. Adults are speaking."

The Necromancer spoke aside to Azakeal a moment, her lips wearing a smirk, "Call me Tenebrae. And you do not want to see my true face, Filpien. Not .. any more. Pray that you don't." Her smirk bled away as she turned back to Eboric, "Can you fight the very ground, itself, Bearshirt? I think you might have trouble, there. As I just told you.. it's everywhere. Everywhere I step, under every stone, every barren mile, this entire area is.. infected.. with it." Hoping she's gotten through Eboric's somewhat obtuse skull, she added, "And you know.. it feels a little bit.. and call me mad.. but I could swear, it feels a little bit like.. home."

Azakeal skims eyes over Eboric once more, "My statement to you was not a jab. You're wearing something that reflects light whilst hunting. Foolish. As for you... "He moves his gaze back to Tenebrae, "You've never been undeserving of your own name. I saw the old darkness, don't think I can't handle something new." His cigarette is clamped between his teeth as he shrugs off his coat, "As for why I'm still here:" The fall of coat and weapon harness to the ground reveals the runes etched into his flesh and the gems buried in the same, "I'm offering you, -both of you- my services."

Eboric gives Tenebrae a look that suggests that he might well wish to call her mad. He looks around at the darkening landscape, long dead and withered. "This area has been wasted for ages. Would the thing that you feel perhaps be the cause of the blight? If it is, it must be removed, so that my people can live happily here." He takes a moment to give the man a disconcerted look. "What exactly is it that makes you think I'd want your...services?"

Tenebrae spoke to Eboric.. slowly. "Of course it's the cause." But her eyes were on Azakeal, the runes.. the weapon, neither mentioned for the moment, with matters of greater import at hand, "And it's not a bit of detritus, which can simply be -removed-." She filled her lungs with unnecessary breath and expelled it heavily. "Alive.. is not the word I would use. I can't even be sure what it is, precisely. All I can sense is it that is.. akin.. to certain things.. on Shadowside. The place I've been, the one you saw..." she added, by way of explanation. "And as much I hate to say it, I do not know how it is best approached - yet. Does the King know about you holding your little sleep-out here, Eboric?" The last was spoken sweetly, a smirk returning to break the tension she felt like tightening wire along her nerves. Then she addressed Azakeal, "I'd not make that sound so much like a challenge, if I were you. And as a matter of fact, I could use some muscle."

Azakeal snorts, "I'd rather stick a wet noodle up a lion's arse in a hailstorm than challenge you to see which of us had the bigger cross to bear." Another drag of that delicious smoke, a slight roll of shoulders, "And you know I've got your back. Always have." Those cobalt rims turn to Eboric, beaming him square in the forehead, "You're going to need all the help you can get."

Eboric deigns to give Azakeal only a derisive laugh, before looking around animatedly, peering into the shadows, and even checking his belt pouch. "The king? I don't see him," he says, grinning. "And from what I hear, neither have the citizens here...for quite some time. A land needs a strong, present king, don't you think, Tenebrae? One born to rule, and connected to the people of the land by blood. That is the sort of king men rally around." Here, a glance is thrown toward the fires of the encampment, numerous and bright. "Men follow brave deeds and war skill."

Azakeal said, "Men -follow- a cause. Soldiers follow bravery and skill."

Eboric said to Azakeal, "Do not be so short-sighted, and follow thoughts to their completion."

Azakeal said to Eboric, "The completion is that men without a cause will wind up leaving. Do you know that every one of your soldiers has stake in this land. Know that for sure?" Eboric said to Azakeal, "Where is your warband? Do you have them hiding somewhere?"

Tenebrae looked a tiny bit flummoxed as she spent a few seconds trying to imagine anyone sticking a wet noodle up a lion's .. anyway., she'd gotten the shifter’s point, and when there was a break in all the man-to-man bickering, replied to Azakeal: "Good. You'll need a shovel. And some men." Another slight frown preceded her next words, "Expendable ones. Meet me here, with those, on the morrow." Then to Eboric, after a momentary pursing of her lips, "Just make sure I have ringside seats, Bearshirt. I would not miss this for the world. Might I also see you, on the morrow? Regardless of .. who.. is pulling the strings here, I will be investigating this.. anomaly... that has bled Venturil dry for so long. If it is, indeed, what I think it is..." she pointedly did not say what that was, and by her expression it were best not to ask, "Tomorrow, then?"

Eboric nods his head to Tenebrae. "I would welcome your aid in a certain matter, as well, which we can discuss tomorrow when we meet."

Azakeal nods to Tenebrae, "Consider it done, boss. I'll ma- round up a few lackeys tonight." He kneels to scoop up his coat and pulls it over his shoulders. As he turns to leave, the mumbled thank you would only be heard by her. To Eboric, a wave is passed. That's about it.

Tenebrae offered a satisfied nod to Azakeal's back, and another to Eboric's front. "On the morrow, then." And she was thus on her way, soft curses about the quality of leathergoods on offer in the Dark Lands these days lost to the wind, the voices of the men from the not-too-distant camp – and the no-doubt ongoing bickering...

Azakeal said to Eboric, "They're all dead. Here, actually."

Eboric snorts in derision. "My men are yet alive, and following my cause."

Azakeal stops. He can't help it. He had learned the hard way, "But is it -their- cause. Do not be so arrogant as to assume unbreakable loyalty. Anyone can be bought... And gold isn't the only currency.”

Eboric 's teeth bare in what might pass for a grin. "Do not be so foolish as to assume anything about me, or my men. They are bound to me in ways that are beyond the likes of you, and they would follow me to death, willingly. You are a fool, full of undeserved pomp, and if the day should ever come that you find the courage to do more than make moronic, uninformed assumptions, then come and find me, and I will gladly drop your body beside those followers of yours that you so nobly outlived."

Azakeal frowns, his body disintegrating on the spot and reforming behind Eboric, though not close enough to be in draw range, "I died. Right here. Beside men I called my brothers, betrayed by the one I was closest to out of necessity for his family's survival. Do not be so foolish as to assume anything about me or my men. I'm just telling you watch your back." He turns then, heading off into the woods.

Eboric laughs once more and, shaking his head, returns to his camp.