Just Another Delroth Devotee (Modded)

[Ryder]

51st Ymiden

Orange eyes burned through the dark underground, as the man changed his hair to be shorter and blonde, as well as making his face change ever so slightly. Ryder, admittedly, wasn't used to the ability yet - so the transformations felt strange to him. But he had used it before, and while it wasn't perfect and his hair looked rough and messy, it would do. Nobody would recognize him. Not until he needed them to, at least. After all, with the involvement he had with Al'Angyryl, the fight with Gangui and all the other crimes he'd become potentially known for - remaining unknown was crucial.
Eventually the man emerged from the dark underground and entered the city in the dark of night, wandering through. Rocky sat on the mans shoulder lightly, before Ryder gave a small whistle, the familiar taking off and flying overhead. Etzos was dangerous to travel at night, Ryder had learned. With Rocky, the man would get small flashes of what the bird saw, meaning if anyone tried to sneak up on Ryder it would possibly be the last thing they ever did.

Eventually, Ryder arrived at a pair of guards. He'd heard from many Al'Angyryl members that the man he was looking for, Patron Lerrik, was found near the library. Of course, at this time the library would likely be shut, so the guards stationed nearby would have to do. After all, Ryder was unarmed - or so it seemed. Only one weapon would be found on Ryder, but it wasn't one easy to spot. Up his sleeve was his spring-loaded dagger, just in case shit went South.
"Excuse me, gentlemen" Ryder started, smiling a polite smile. It wasn't a fake smile, not completely at least. But the truth was, Ryder always had some level of spite for the Blackguard. They stood in the way of his mission, after all. But what level of Spite he had should be hidden, he imagined, by at least one of his blessings. After all, both seemed to have an effect on people that they liked, one that made him more attractive to seemingly everyone. Delroth's mark had done it before, and he'd only noticed an increase in it since the encounter with Syroa.

"I'm looking for Patron Lerrik, you wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you? I'm due a meeting with him but can't seem to find the man."

[Maltruism]

Although these guards were not of that highest elite level tasked to guard such vaunted political paragons as the Chief Advisor to the High Marshall, or even the High Marshall himself, they were, nonetheless, of much higher grade than the common street watch trooper that would be sealed into that all-inclusive can labeled "Black Guard".

Their discipline would not be compromised by any aspect of charm radiating from the commoner before them now. In fact, it could be a danger to him were they to suspect the play of Immortal blasphemies upon their perceptions. This discipline did however, also extend to preventing them from reading offense into any odd tones of voice with which the stranger made his request. He was not important enough to give offense, or be of concern.

Still, it would be fair to say that the name of the man he then stated that he was there to meet did lift an eyebrow or two. "If you mean Patron Calloso, whose first name is Lerrik - a name you should not be bandying about with such an excess of familiarity - he is in the Library..." The guard who spoke waited just long enough for Ryder to think it was time for him to pursue a follow-up question, when he continued, "...which is closed."

Every mannerism of the two sentinels appeared to give the unspoken confirmation that the matter was now as closed as the library, and that the visitor should be wasting no further time in turning on whichever heel he chose, so long as it was to hasten his departure. Fortunately for Ryder, if the glares of two of Etzos' elite guards was ever truly good fortune, there were the muffled clacks of doors being closed emanating from beyond another set still closed.

The guards looked at each other, then levelled expressions of greatly taxed patience as footsteps echoed from the same quarter in ever increasing volume. Finally, the sliding clicks of locks being turned sounded from this same set of doors, and they swung open to allow a robustly chubby and bearded old fellow, who swung a broad smile at the three men.

"No books this time, sir?" one of the guards asked in a casual tone, as he left his post to accompany the elder down the hall. The other guard took the opportunity to take what steps were required to position himself in Ryder's way, as if to deliberately prevent him from following after. The escorting guard continued with an unbroken stream of small talk, except where he paused to give the old fellow a moment to answer with some of his own.

All at once, the venerable diplomat stopped dead in his tracks with a sigh. The escorting guard placed a hand on his back as if to urge him to continue his course, but the old man batted to away and turned around to face Ryder and the guard who'd remained behind to block his access. Patron Calloso turned a sour look to the guard and folded his arms with an air of belligerence. "Really, Crolley! Has it come to this? Are you under actual orders to stymie my clients' attempts to see me, or are you doing this of your own accord?"

He did not wait for an answer, taking a rather pointed step forward with a twist that put his back in the face of the now-scowling guard. He beckoned to Ryder, "Come along, son. These men have a job to do, and we really must not be keeping them from it..." He turned a sarcastic smile back to his escort, "...isn't that right, Sentinel?" There was no specific tone to the word, but it still came off as an insult.

The old fellow led Ryder around a corner, where his mood lifted once again to joviality. He plied the young man with small talk as they made their way through an impressive regimen of stairs and hallways, culminating in a location that was not as far from the library as the travel time would suggest. It was mostly vertical travel that accounted for the effort.

For the most part, his chat was surprisingly in defense of the guards' actions, advising Ryder to see it as evidence that guards are most often going to behave in a manner that reflects the policies of the day. There was just a half-trill of a look that said the young man should take that as fair warning of what to expect when one comes to see the representative of Immortal tolerance in a town such as Etzos.

He opened a not-overly-ornate set of doors and bid his client to step inside. Ryder would immediately sense that it was much colder in Calloso's office than the outer hallway. The old man waved the younger to silence as he scanned the room with an odd cone-shaped device held to his eye. A bit later he was satisfied and replaced the cone in a drawer in his desk, locking it for good measure. He then also lit a stove to begin heating the room again.

He sat back in his chair and steepled his hands at his chin, "Alright, no unwelcome eyes or ears. Now what can I do for you, young sir?"

[Ryder]

Date

Ryder let his eyes remain on the guards at all times when they spoke, one blocking his way. His eyes glanced at the two men, sizing them both up. Chances were he could take them both down in a fight, it would barely be a challenge. He knew he was an exceptional fighter, after all. But what benefit would it give him right now? He'd kill them and be further from his goal, not closer.
As Ryder went to speak, however, he heard the door opened and his eyes averted elsewhere. The man walked out, Patron Calloso, and began to walk with the guards at his side - and a guard separating them. But it was just a trill before Ryder was gestured to, nodding and following beside the man with one small smirk to the disgruntled guard. Overhead, Rocky subtly made sure to keep flying around, checking for any potential attacks or risks to Ryder. Fortunately, as of now, it seemed there were none.

Ryder answered the small talk and nodded when the man defended his guard, understanding. While he didn't like the Black Guard, or any of the law enforcement in Etzos, he had to agree. Marked were dangerous, unpredictable and many were lethal. A threat to the society Etzos was founded on, and to any that stood in their way. After all, wasn't Ryder? Able to change his form at will, to control an Avian to assist him in fights. It was just the beginning and yet here he was, powerful and dangerous.
Ryder did as was bid and took a step inside, eyes looking around the room just in case. He wondered how to handle this. Persuasion wasn't his thing, subtlety wasn't either. Simple was the best word for him. Not stupid, just not complex. When something came around that he wanted then he had a simple method of obtaining it - ask or take.

In the cold room, Ryder watched as he sat in his chair, the mercenary still standing. When asked what he could do Ryder held out his arm, watching as Rocky appeared from seemingly nowhere, landing on his shoulder. "I was looking for some help with a shrine, a subtle one. I was told you were the man to go to."

[Maltruism]

"Subtle, is it?" The Old man's hands remained steepled, while his eyebrows took a noticeable rise. "That suggests one of the less-popular Immortals. Even here in Etzos there are big differences between how such a tribute will be viewed. You're going to have to be out of sight of both the gate and the Towers for any of them, even for someone like Ethelynda or Ymiden. People will still come across them out riding. But as long as they're out of sight of the city, there shouldn't be any backlash."

"I'd go further afield, two or three trials out, to even try someone like Thetros or U'frek, or any of the other seasonal ones. They're well known, but not generally considered hostile. It's always the talk of 'this one's enemy' or 'that one's jealous lover' that will bring trouble if someone does something to bring honor to one of them. It's rarely the one actually being honored that is the caution here. It's the one that then comes to demand equal deference, 'or else', that makes it a problem."

He shook his head as he stood up from his seat. "That damned Doran...Stabs Xiur in the back, and we make him ambassador. That puts us at odds with a number of otherwise benevolent ones. Which in turn leaves us open for mischief from the rest..." he sighed, "...which just feeds the paranoia."

he checked a wall map, "Someone like Chrien or Delroth is going to be more trouble down on the coast, like at Foster's Landing, than inland. Wind and water play a big part with those sailors, and they're all hard core for or against. The admins there don't want shrines to either of them as it just starts fights. But I'd say if you go a good five or six trials out, you could be left alone. I can smooth some concerns, but I can't perform miracles."

He directed a skeptical look at his guest, "I trust you're not hoping you'll be allowed to do anything for Faldrun or Lisirra. They'll never get through here." his expression turned more to puzzlement, "Strangely, Audrae, as a leader, is not as unpopular as usual, though her Naerikk have been getting picked on the last couple seasons. I can only assume it stems from events in Oscillus. I had hoped her turning on Lisirra and Syroa there would bring some relaxing of the rules. Oh yeah, Syroa...There's another one you can forget about."

Shrugging off his disappointment, he let a smile crawl back to his features, "Keeping track of the ebb and flow of these alliances, and the effects on local tolerances, is part of my job. Well, all this aside, yes, if you have a spot in mind, we're certainly the organization you'll find to be the most agreeable to aid such a cause, but the theme of each Immortal can vary greatly, which of course, affects the cost of construction."

He was already moving now to retrieve a sketch book of designs he himself had drawn up during his free moments. "The Immortals all have three or four spheres of influence attached to them. And some of them don't really have good representative symbols or statuary for all of them." He set the sketch book down on the table before the young man, "You often have to give less prominence to one or two than the others. So, who are you looking to bestow this tribute to? And do you already have a design in mind?"

[Ryder]

"Delroth" Ryder eventually spoke, after hearing every opinion the man had about the different Immortals. Nothing to Syroa was important to note, but that would just mean he needed more subtlety. Besides, Syroa seemed the kind to have things destroyed for her, not erected in her name. All Ryder would want made for Syroa would be a whore house, and owning one would be bad for him - he knew it. Ryder was much more of a customer for them than he was an owner, and the power of having that many women work for you would mean his office would be busier than the rooms themselves.
Rocky nuzzled his small head against Ryder, the raven then turning to look at the elderly man in the room. It wasn't likely that many would have come to him with regards to Delroth, due to the selective domains Delroth possessed. Few people liked admitting to their greed or vanity, but not Ryder. He knew was vain and he was aware of his cravings for power, money, and fortune. In fact, he was proud of it. Why shouldn't he be? He'd become powerful, despite being raised and born in the low town of Rynmere, treated like dirt. Now? He was a diamond in the rough, and he knew it.

"And I know where I want it to be, too. Nowhere near to Fosters, I don't trust the place enough" he admitted to the total stranger. Though many liked Fosters Landing, Ryder worked there secretly for Al'Angyryl, meaning he knew the dangerous and illegal things that went on there. He was, after all, a part of them. "If I'm to have this shrine built, Southguard is where it should be. I know the place well, and the people there know me. You may, perhaps, have heard of me. I saved them from a Sessfiend threat, hunted it down."
If this man knew anything of the Immortals, he would perhaps know that feat was hard. It would either prove a doubt for him, or he would buy it completely. Many others did. After all, rumor must have spread about him by now to certain places. Hero of Southguard, Beast Slayer. It was a title that he had been addressed as by a select few, especially those in Southguard. None of them knew that it was not true, that he had slain Commander Norris instead. Then again, he had killed a Sessfiend, one way or another.

"And I want an Aviary. Fancy, masked as a place to store birds, with the shrine resting in the middle. A place where I can leave valuables in Delroth's name" he explained, letting Rocky take off and land on the desk in front of the elderly man. It was clear the bird wasn't hostile, just curious as he moved around and looked up at the gentleman. "And I'm willing to pay anything it costs."

[Maltruism]

A pained look escaped Calloso's attempt to stifle it, at the mention of Delroth. But it was then tempered by some detail that had obviously just come to mind. "Well, actually, there's rumor on the streets that the Windy One turned the bandit chief, Noth, into a bird, as some sort of lesson. You know, the one they call the 'Prince of Everlasting Mercy' or something." He let a few chuckles slip, "A lot of folks around here were glad to see the Prince get taken down a notch or two. So a shrine to Delroth, a few trials out of town, may not be opposed too strongly, if we can get on it right away; before public opinion finds some reason to sway back on him."

With the next set of details the young man revealed, one might have assumed that Patron Calloso's mouth and eyes had dropped open as far as shock was likely to cause. The old man had clearly heard of events that had transpired in Southguard. "You...You are HE? the avenger of Commander Norris?" he stammered, his legs giving him rise, seemingly of their own accord. "The Beastslayer? Sir Ryder of Southguard? Oh sir, it is my honor, sir to make your acquaintance! Would that those Tower guards had been told, they would have groveled for your forgiveness. In some circles, you have supplanted even Ambassador Doran as the toast of the town."

By the time the word 'honor' had passed his lips, he already had his guest's left hand firmly clutched in both of his, shaking them absently as he mixed additional praise with assurances that there would be no problem erecting whatever sort of shrine he wanted. He then seemed to catch himself, clearing his throat and straightening his collar and hair, as the need for dignity reasserted itself. Some new thought even brought his exuberance lower, his eyes looking off and narrowing as his hand started stroking his chin.

As Ryder described the precise nature of the shrine, Calloso nodded, but still had a worried look. Even the young man's express willingness to foot the entire bill did not appear to faze the man. "Hmmmm....It occurs to me that associating your name with it would be a dicey prospect. At first I had just assumed you'd attach your grand name to it. The less fervent, or zealously anti-immortal, types would flock to it. There's kind of a double edge to that sword though. On one hand, you're giving tribute to an Immortal, always a touchy deal in these parts. But on the other hand, your current fame would go a long way to bringing people to see that Immortal adherence, if not outright worship, can be embraced by a genuine mortal hero."

The actual logistics of the proposal were of little concern; the man seeming to doodle the figures down as he spoke of other matters. He went on to express his concerns over the possibility of a vengeful Syroa disliking anything related to honoring someone who killed one of her fiends; as well as the inevitable Etzori fanatic looking to make name for himself by killing someone famous, that he would view as a traitor. In the midst of this talk, he injected a few tidbits of costs and distance concerns, finally coming to sum of 4,000 gold nel for a wide, two-story, tower-like structure, with strong, but decorative stonework, polished, with many openings to allow vistas and fresh air for the birds within.

The top would be open, but like the windows, it would be covered with a tight wire mesh, which would be alchemically treated to be rust-proof. As well, the wood of the structure, notably at the top, where the wire would be attached, would be made from wood grown with the water-proofing benefits of 'Carpenter's carpet', an oddly beneficial fungus.

He went on to assure Ryder that workers from among his own faction members would be more then glad to help with construction; not only to further their own philosophies about immortal tolerance, but also to help the new hero in town. "I can not promise you that you will not run into detractors and vandals that will oppose you. And though I would love to see the social impact of attaching your name to this project. I would have to defer to your decision on that. You could even be bringing Syroa down on your head. It's up to you. What do you think?"

[Ryder]

Ignoring the pain in Calloso's eyes, Ryder listened intently. When Calloso talked about Noth Ryder kept his mouth shut. This was for the best for everyone, hiding the fact that he worked for both Noth and Delroth. It was an interesting duo to work for to say the least, and neither were liked remotely in Etzos and among her people. Then again, Ryder had never been one to care about the opinions of others. His pride was rarely damaged, and when it was the person that would dare to damage it would end up in a position worse than they had been before. Perhaps him and Delroth shared more traits than he realized, an unbreakable pride to match his unhealthy vanity.

"Sounds like a good plan then" he smirked before the man looked at him with awe. Apparently announcing his stature as the Hero of Southguard was a good idea, as Calloso had heard of him - and with a lot of positive things. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he looked to the Patron and patted his hands as they held his own. "Please, just Ryder. I'm not that level of heroic. I just did what I had to do to protect my people" he said humble and modest. It wasn't as if he had actually saved Southguard, not in the way they knew. But then again, he had taken Syroa's wrath away for a while and gained power from it. Everyone had won one way or another.

When the man said the pros and cons about associating his name with the base, Ryder considered for a moment. "Perhaps it could be risky, but risk can mean a lot of reward. Immortal acceptance is going to be risky, no matter how it's tackled. But from that risk might come a big reward. Isn't that work a little risk of vandalism?" he raised an eyebrow to the man, knowing that it was true. If you wanted something done you had to take risks, especially something as volatile as the immortals in Etzos. Perhaps it would be a risk for Ryder, someone might come after him - but let them come. Ryder had fought off much worse than whatever lowlife in Etzos wanted to attack his shrine to Delroth.

"I think it's perfect. When can we make it happen?"

[Maltruism]

The Old Guard Patron smiled in respectful admiration. Ryder looked to possess the precise blend of modest self-effacement and bold intrepidness he expected to find in a hero. The young man both downplayed the growing renown of his name, while nonetheless endorsing the risk of dropping it in order to draw more notice and attendance to his shrine.

The old man delighted in such a pragmatic compromise of humility, and recognition of the practical use of one's fame, to achieve a desired end. "Of course, of course. One must know when too much modesty will be a hindrance to accomplishing the greatest degree of enlightenment. For instance, while it is somewhat of an embarrassment to me to say it, It will be tremendous boon to my own work to be able to attach your name to a project from my organization."

The slight flush on his face did not quite stop him from continuing, "I mean, I certainly am sufficiently well known in this city, but even though I frequently have to stand opposed to popular opinion and policy, I am rarely viewed as anything resembling a hero."

He cast a disparaging look back toward the outer halls as he set a card file on his desk. He began flipping through it as he went on, "You saw the none-too-subtle dismissal with which those tower guards treated me. Yet I have had to run for cover more often than any of them. Being the face of an 'Imp-loving' faction like The Old Guard is rarely met with the support of the mob out there. Even though a good third of them have personal shrines in their homes, next to their Lighthouses, thanks to my group's efforts, those would-be liberals won't go against the negative majority."

He'd set three cards aside as he packed the first file away and lifted out a second one. Flipping through it with a second-nature demeanor, he scoffed at a likely wealth of supportive memories. "Ahhhhhh. yes..." he sighed as he pulled the last of three more cards. He looked up at Ryder with a sudden look of renewed hope. "But if a man of your obvious courage and resolve can be seen to support an Immortal, maybe a few of these closet radicals will come out of their shells to call out the zealots as the closed-minded thugs most of them truly are."

He put the second file away, jogging the six cards flush and gently setting the stack before him. "These craftsmen and laborers will be available to start within the next few trials. But more importantly, they will keep it to themselves until it is finished. Now, we at the Old Guard will provide their wages, but you must unfortunately still pay us." The pained look was back for a brief instant. "Much as I'd love to, I can not possibly be seen to cut you any slack on billing, or it will backfire on the whole scenario, and turn your renown against us."

He pursed his lips and settled his chin on a steeple formed of his hands. "If you could put five hundred up front, I can probably manage to stretch it out to a 'per-cycle' billing schedule of the same amount. Will that work for you?"