Vega
"You will slay the boy. You will burn him to ash, and consume his remains." It was the same voice from when it had the Avriel form. It was different though. Intimidating adjacent. As if it had experienced true intimidation, and was attempting to mimic it. But a mimicry is not a true thing. And it could be felt by the half-breed redhead.
"You are us now. Orphan boy stole from you. You cannot let that pass."
When the woman suggested that she would expel the voices, several of them laughed and laughed, filling her head with a cacophony. None before her had ever removed them, and it was not about to happen now. Not with this one. Nor the next one. Or the thousands after that.
"What you want does not matter. Make us whole, and we will allow you some respite. And when you perish, your soul will burn and we will find another to join us. The boy's life was forfeit the moment he stole from us. And you will slay him."
As Vega entered her meditative kata, the voice changed, to one of a child. "You don't want children. Why should you care what happens to one? You're not a mother. Never will be. If you don't slay him quickly... you'll watch yourself kill him slowly. You'll hear him scream, watch him cry, feel him squirm. And you'll love it. Vega Lei'nox a mother? A protector of children? What a joke."
The voices began badgering her in agreement. Attacking everything about her. Insults, slanders, lies, inner truths were sent at her in wave after wave of assaults. But as Vega continued her meditation, the voices fell away, one by one. It was long, arduous. But eventually there was only one voice left. Of a young man, one she didn't know.
His voice was kind, friendly even. "You must save that boy. I saved him that night. He was playing with his sword in the corner, over there." Vega could feel the sadness in the man's voice, "You can quiet the voices for a while. Many before you have." Vega would be able to hear footsteps, as if the man were pacing about her, but no one was there but her. "Focus on what made contact with the Death Forged Rose. Fo--" and with that, his voice was dragged away.
And it was completely silent.
The fire went out.
And Vega was alone.
She could feel that the voices were still within her, but they were quiet. It was as if they were bugs beneath her skin, that no amount of scratching could drive off. But they were quiet. There was no pull to drive her to their will. It seemed that, for the moment, she was in control.
Arlo "Mama is dead... I killed her when I was born."
The kid looked forlorn. Clearly he'd beaten himself up over this many a time. He held a stiff upper lip though, fighting back tears. But as Arlo continued to speak, he looked up at the man. "Squires haven't earned the right for glory! Becoming a knight is hard work! Takes years of chores and training and discipline! The knight deserves the glory! He saves princesses! Fights monsters and demons and bad guys! He helps those that need it!"
The boy's excitement paused momentarily as Arlo continued to speak. "You'll... you'll be my squire? Really?" The boy's face lit up at this. He understood that he would have to give up his quest, but demons always lingered. He could return to slay it later, with his squire in tow to learn how to be a proper knight.
"You have a deal. Let's go get me healed, squire."
He grabbed Arlo's hand with his uninjured one, before turning toward Mixiebelle. He bowed, and when Arlo didn't immediately bow with him, he elbowed the man in the leg to take the hint. "Milady, I'm sorry for breaking your window. When I'm well, I'll return to help fix it. I never meant to frighten you. If you ever need a favor, you may call on me and my squire any time. Day or night, danger or not."
Mixiebelle bowed her head to the boy, and to Arlo, "Of course good ser. Please make haste in your journey to the healer." Then looking directly at Arlo, "I look forward to seeing you again."
And with that, Ser Danzcek pulled Arlo by the hand out the door, to go on their first quest together, to find the White Mage of East Street.
Roland "Oh this piss water? Nah. This might put steel in my sword, but it ain't for shit for keepin' me warm. Normally it'd be a woman, but not a good night for old Akeeyari with the ladies. The warmth comes from that thing there. My first visitor dropped it."
The man took a long swig of the whiskey, gasping satisfied, "Man that shit is noxious, but it sure do hit the spots."
"Ain't sure what it is. But it's too hot to hold for long. I'll sell it to you for a story, and a few golds. I know just the right deckswabber ro keep me warm tonight. Ol' Josie, she can suck the barnacles right off a keel. Ya interested? Unless maybe you know a lass that will spend a night with old Akeeyari?"
The man stood up, slowly and shakily, as one might expect from a drunk in an alley. He leaned heavily against the wall, barely upright. He took another long swig, then pulled out a leather pouch. He bent down, nearly falling over in the process, and picked up the petal in the small bag. He then scooped up a handful of snow, and stuffed it down in it.
He held it up before Roland, was about to speak, before he held up a finger, signaling the man to wait a moment. He then turned and retched up his stomach's contents into the snow, obscured by the crates. Once finished, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and held the pouch up once more. "Well, interested mate?"
"You are us now. Orphan boy stole from you. You cannot let that pass."
When the woman suggested that she would expel the voices, several of them laughed and laughed, filling her head with a cacophony. None before her had ever removed them, and it was not about to happen now. Not with this one. Nor the next one. Or the thousands after that.
"What you want does not matter. Make us whole, and we will allow you some respite. And when you perish, your soul will burn and we will find another to join us. The boy's life was forfeit the moment he stole from us. And you will slay him."
As Vega entered her meditative kata, the voice changed, to one of a child. "You don't want children. Why should you care what happens to one? You're not a mother. Never will be. If you don't slay him quickly... you'll watch yourself kill him slowly. You'll hear him scream, watch him cry, feel him squirm. And you'll love it. Vega Lei'nox a mother? A protector of children? What a joke."
The voices began badgering her in agreement. Attacking everything about her. Insults, slanders, lies, inner truths were sent at her in wave after wave of assaults. But as Vega continued her meditation, the voices fell away, one by one. It was long, arduous. But eventually there was only one voice left. Of a young man, one she didn't know.
His voice was kind, friendly even. "You must save that boy. I saved him that night. He was playing with his sword in the corner, over there." Vega could feel the sadness in the man's voice, "You can quiet the voices for a while. Many before you have." Vega would be able to hear footsteps, as if the man were pacing about her, but no one was there but her. "Focus on what made contact with the Death Forged Rose. Fo--" and with that, his voice was dragged away.
And it was completely silent.
The fire went out.
And Vega was alone.
She could feel that the voices were still within her, but they were quiet. It was as if they were bugs beneath her skin, that no amount of scratching could drive off. But they were quiet. There was no pull to drive her to their will. It seemed that, for the moment, she was in control.
Arlo "Mama is dead... I killed her when I was born."
The kid looked forlorn. Clearly he'd beaten himself up over this many a time. He held a stiff upper lip though, fighting back tears. But as Arlo continued to speak, he looked up at the man. "Squires haven't earned the right for glory! Becoming a knight is hard work! Takes years of chores and training and discipline! The knight deserves the glory! He saves princesses! Fights monsters and demons and bad guys! He helps those that need it!"
The boy's excitement paused momentarily as Arlo continued to speak. "You'll... you'll be my squire? Really?" The boy's face lit up at this. He understood that he would have to give up his quest, but demons always lingered. He could return to slay it later, with his squire in tow to learn how to be a proper knight.
"You have a deal. Let's go get me healed, squire."
He grabbed Arlo's hand with his uninjured one, before turning toward Mixiebelle. He bowed, and when Arlo didn't immediately bow with him, he elbowed the man in the leg to take the hint. "Milady, I'm sorry for breaking your window. When I'm well, I'll return to help fix it. I never meant to frighten you. If you ever need a favor, you may call on me and my squire any time. Day or night, danger or not."
Mixiebelle bowed her head to the boy, and to Arlo, "Of course good ser. Please make haste in your journey to the healer." Then looking directly at Arlo, "I look forward to seeing you again."
And with that, Ser Danzcek pulled Arlo by the hand out the door, to go on their first quest together, to find the White Mage of East Street.
Roland "Oh this piss water? Nah. This might put steel in my sword, but it ain't for shit for keepin' me warm. Normally it'd be a woman, but not a good night for old Akeeyari with the ladies. The warmth comes from that thing there. My first visitor dropped it."
The man took a long swig of the whiskey, gasping satisfied, "Man that shit is noxious, but it sure do hit the spots."
"Ain't sure what it is. But it's too hot to hold for long. I'll sell it to you for a story, and a few golds. I know just the right deckswabber ro keep me warm tonight. Ol' Josie, she can suck the barnacles right off a keel. Ya interested? Unless maybe you know a lass that will spend a night with old Akeeyari?"
The man stood up, slowly and shakily, as one might expect from a drunk in an alley. He leaned heavily against the wall, barely upright. He took another long swig, then pulled out a leather pouch. He bent down, nearly falling over in the process, and picked up the petal in the small bag. He then scooped up a handful of snow, and stuffed it down in it.
He held it up before Roland, was about to speak, before he held up a finger, signaling the man to wait a moment. He then turned and retched up his stomach's contents into the snow, obscured by the crates. Once finished, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and held the pouch up once more. "Well, interested mate?"
