RP:Background Noise

From HollowWiki

Part of the Unforeseen Consequences Arc


An Unknown Location In Vailkrin

Navarian blinked, for what felt like the first time in ages. Countless coloured spots flickered across his vision, painting the sparse room that served as his cell in a nauseating sea of colour. Try as he might, blinking further seemed to do little to those splotches- nor did looking away from the half-lit lantern, which hung ominously in the midst of that chamber. To even -try- and lift his head feels like a monumental effort, so he's almost grateful when he feels callused fingers tip his chin up so that he could take in more of his surroundings, not that they were really distinct. As near as he could tell, he was in some form of rudimentary dungeon- an idea that the large cage in the room seemed to support, with some additional credence lent to it, by virtue of the scent of blood and sweat which hung heavy in the air.



It's the jarring, sudden contact of knuckles against his face that snaps him out of his contemplations- his vision exploding into a blinding plethora of colours. With his chin no longer supported by someones fingers, the weight of the world seemed to fall heavy upon his shoulders- his head tilting down drunkenly, as his body sags forward. The pinch and burn of ropes upon his arms, serve as a stark reminder that he's bound in a chair- and that there was no easy escape from the questions they were soon to ask again.



"I'vf tol' you wut I know... Please..." The words spill clumsily from Navarian's lips, the process made difficult due to lips long since bloodied and swollen. Anxiously, he'd run his tongue across his lips, hoping, beyond hope- that perhaps this time, the answers might be enough. They were the same answers he'd given them the last few times, after all. And they were the only ones he really had.


It's well past two days, before Lord Derrick Asharam is finally satisfied. Sparing only a moment to contemplate the things he's learned, he takes his leave of Navarian's cell. A departure that is met by an entourage of his vassals, albeit for different reasons. Whilst some were guards, stationed for obvious reasons, others had more menial duties, such as the lady who bore a basin of water for him to wash his hands in, or the man who held his evening coat. Others, still, were there simply to learn- to see if Lord Derrick would impart his wisdom upon him, or allow them to witness him at his art.

He is, after all, very particular about his craft, especially when it relates to something which demands the utmost care, such as the extraction of information. The apparent gravity of the situation had necessitated a different approach than what he would have preferred, and required his direct involvement, but still...

Between his workings, and the careful ministrations of a team of healers- some significant results had been made, though mister Navarian has since become.. unresponsive. Results which were destined for not only the house of Azakhaer, but also the institute of the Black Library, and all those involved in research related to the 'Vailkrin Rift'.



Black Library

As you climb down into this room its immense size is the first thing that strikes you. The old wooden ladder creaks un-nervingly as your foot rests on it. This dimly lit room is huge and filled with dusty ancient bookshelves. On examination you can see the shelves are carved from solid black oak, strong sturdy and known for its arcane properties. Lining every shelf is thousands of books all colors shapes and sizes. All the books appear to be about necromancy and black magic and thus the whole subterranean chamber is filled with a most ominous evil aura that seems to sicken right to the soul of any who enter. The smell here is of stagnation for not much fresh air reaches this place; it seems to invade the nostrils like some strange miasma adding to the sickly sensations the room seems to invoke. On the walls hang various ornaments from candle stick holders that bring a tiny tinge of light to certain areas and preserved skulls of all kinds of creatures from Human to Dragon, Drow to Centaur and things even stranger than that. Faint but heavy footsteps can be heard against the cold stone floor distantly so it would be wise not to stay too long without sound reason.




Rupert D. Markan was upset. Whilst normally, This couldn't be considered a change from the norm, the sheer extent of his ill humour and stress had officially reached all new, apocalyptic heights. And that was only due to work related stress, the lack of any recent breakthroughs, and the scaling severity of what the rift was spitting out. When he finally received his copy of the 'Navarian report' due to his role within the research team, the depths of how 'upset' he was became quite difficult to quantify.


Nyles, one of the 'noble' Librarians of house Mahara, didn't even bother to try. Quantifying the level of bitching he was currently being subjected to wasn't going to change just how much was going on. Instead, he simply leaned back in the seat he was occupying and gave the report another look over. A long time was spent scrutinizing the contents, before he finally offers the simple statement of, "You know, it could be worse. We at least ascertained what this is, before it culminated into..well..."


Rupert bristled noticeably, if only to caustically state, "The Apocalypse? The end of Vailkrin -is- still swiftly approaching, if this is to be believed. And House Asharam has a reputation for being thorough." The alchemist's fist clenched at that point, crushing his copy of the report into the fascimile of a tube- which he proceeded to waggle at Nyles. "Hundreds of years went into... into planning this calamity. And between the supposed predictions within this letter, and our calculations- we are given what? A month?" Once more, his face was turning red- his expression oddly contorting between rage, panic, and simple frustration.


Nyles calmly cleared his throat, before adding, "You forgot dumb luck."


Rupert turned upon his colleague the very moment those words had escaped Nyles' lips, "I will not have my work. My life's work, and that of my house, reduced to mere chance." The Alchemist couldn't even help himself at this point, his hands found themselves at the collar of Nyles' vest, and began to jerkedly shake him back and forth, "Now you listen here, Mahara. If we are to come to a solution, it will be through studiousness, hard work, comprehensive experimentation and dogged determination. We will not blindly blunder about, groping for some solution to rain from the sky and drop itself into our lap."


Nyles spends the majority of Rupert's rant mirroring his speech with the aid of a shadow puppet.


Rupert scowls murderously at the Librarian, and gives him another shake for good measure- the capacity for speech currently lost.


Nyles takes this moment to place a finger between them, "Tut. A moment please? The dumb luck was not, and likely won't be, ours. I'm referencing our opposition. Those 'cultists'? The ones who spent 'hundreds' of years preparing? Only managed to contact that...'otherwordly entity' of theirs after a few hundred years in the first place. More than that, it was solely their high priest, Elarick Kikei, that was contacted. If we take that into consideration, their efforts before hand were simply the aimless zealotry, in the name of Vakarash. Or even just grotesque, violent debauchery, in the name of boredom." Nyles can't resist making air quotes with his fingers, at all the appropriate moments.


Rupert's hands relinquish Nyles' collar, though he still looks all but prepared to smack the Librarian for his prior antics, "Yes, yes. The origin is hardly noteworthy- a suicide cult, so devoted to Vakarash that they desired to exterminate the rest of the world along with themselves, in a form of twisted tribute. Yes, it took them a long while to actually.. well..."


Nyles raises an eyebrow at the Alchemist, before pointedly remarking, "To get results. Because let's face it, whilst House Kikei had lent its 'support' to the endeavours of this cult from the start, it was only because their gift enabled them to manipulate their...acolytes. I'm sure those Psychic Wankers couldn't resist getting a constant supply of lackeys who had nothing to live for. Probably was nice to collect on all their valuables after they died. It took them -quite- a while to get a true believer, in Elarick, and even then- contact was not established for awhile. What's more? If this report is anything to go by- his..dissapearance was not even intended. He was trying to commune with it. As it stands, they -bumbled- that operation, and got him stranded in that..'pocket space'."


Rupert frowns for a moment, before he simply shrugs, "So? I don't see the relevance."


Nyles allows himself a moment to look irked, before recomposing himself, "Their progress only came because they -bumbled- their attempt at communication with this thing. What's more? Whilst they proceeded to worship Vakarash, and cling onto this idea, as a means to achieve their end? They focused their efforts on bringing Elarick back, not that entity. Yes, their machinations certainly weakened Vailkrin's dimensional boundries, but it was that rampaging necrotic dragon that precipitated these events. Asofar, that brings the count up to 3 strokes of dumb luck, which just happened to help hurry these events along. " Nyles inwardly counts again just to make sure. Botched Commune? Check. Inept Retrieval? Check. Dragon? Check.


Rupert's face is a peculiar shade of purple at this moment, whilst his features seem unable to decide whether he should laugh, cry or consider this an, "OUTRAGE. I refuse to acknowledge that this city's end might be heralded by...by. There's. There's no words for it." Taking in a deep breath, he manages to wheeze out the question, "Is that why House Kikei..fell during the Civil Revolution?"


Nyles looks pensive at that, "I've heard a few rumours about that, actually. It's said that House Asharam had..gathered intel on their actions, and ..distributed it to affected parties. It makes sense, really, and it wouldn't be the first time. There's another theory, though. Whilst a lot of people were apparently on board with this scam? The Lady Kikei herself was against it, according to the grapevine. Apparently, she was trying to deal with the thing personally. Thing is, she was clearly failing. So, when push came to shove? She took those most loyal to her, and left- but only after having tipped off the other houses. Basically ensuring that the traitors get wiped out, at no cost to those who were still loyal to her. What's more? She'd get to leave during all the confusion, then set up somewhere else. Once there, she'd ideally be able to evade all the ramifications of this little scenario." A pause, and he'd chuckle, "Ideally. But then, if that rumour's out there, you can only bet House Asharam has sent someone or another to go and investigate whether it's true."


Rupert blinks, his expression displaying a look of utter perplexion. The peace doesn't last however, as he gestures broadly towards Nyles, "What does it mean, however? I don't see how you can just... just sit there!"


Nyles gives the alchemist a look that's at once incredulous and amused. "Hrm. Good news? Or Bad news? ...You look a little stressed." With a shrug, Nyles leans in and flashes Rupert a grin, "I'll start with the bad news. The cultists aren't as inept as they used to be. With house Kikei gone, the vampires who were a part of their group are able to be support them in a much more public manner- so we have psionic ponces mingled in with their lot. And on top of that, they have their leader back- who, according to reports, is some sort of powerful sorceror type. That's some pretty bad news, right there. Oh. And there's a fairly large number of cultists running amok, as well as those horrible creatures raining out of the sky. Fliers, and what not."


Rupert is looking pretty horrified (and terrified) right now. Slack jawed and pale as paper, the Alchemist's coat had more colour than him, if only because of the various splotches on it.


Nyles continues, as though utterly oblivious to his colleague's state, "That being said, We also know our enemy now. Furthermore? Those horrible creatures falling out of the sky? They don't like those cultists, as much as they don't like us. The only one they seem to ignore is that Elarick fellow. So, our enemies aren't exactly..on speaking terms. And then there's this delicious tidbit. That portal in the sky? According to that Navarian fellow that house Asharam interviewed, its existance may be tied to our elusive high priest of 'Camp-Kill-Yourself'. You see, Elarick felt it necessary to pass on the word of his ...'otherwordly benefactor' to his followers during his sermons. Amongst these 'revelations' was a noteworthy tidbit that kept cropping up. He's apparently some sort of..harbinger for his lord. A vessel of his power brought here- and that so long as he walked the world, the portal would be unable to close."


Rupert's still looking a bit slackjawed, but a fair bit less than he was a few moments ago. Still, he doesn't quite seem able to properly formulate a response still.


Nyles casually adjusts his shirt, before continuing, "Given our failed efforts in closing this portal, as well as our detection of some sort of..intereference, that we could not localize to one region- this idea makes a fair bit of sense. Which brings us to the final point."


Rupert's forehead has since creased into that ever familiar strained expression. "Which is..?"


Nyles can't help but smirk, "We have a problem that can be at least partially solved by killing it. Something which not only places the brunt of the responsibility on House Azakhaer, and its ilk- but also keeps people like us off the front line."