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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 2730065" data-attributes="member: 2323">Morier stood in the doorway of the Manor house, squinting into the brilliant red-orange glow of sunrise. Even at this early hour, maybe a dozen or so workers had already appeared from their quarters to continue the work of transforming the manor from a place of unspeakable horror and evil into a livable shelter. For now they had crowded themselves into stables and makeshift lean-tos to sleep, for none who had seen the place as the Defilers had left it could yet bring themselves to sleep within its walls. He spotted Demetrius among the flurry of motion out on the front lawn, struggling with a huge rolled tarpaulin and what appeared to be several feet of sail rigging spooled onto his arm. Feln appeared from below the steps of the house and relieved him of his burden, tucking both items under one arm and picking up a huge bucket of water with the other to boot. Demetrius smiled at the half-orge's strength and drive in making this project a reality. It had been Feln's idea to turn the manor into a training academy, and he had been tireless in his efforts to make it so once the work had begun.  Demetrius continued up the stairs to the front door and laughed as he approached Morier. "Supervising the worker bees are we?" Morier, snapped from his thoughts, smiled back at Demetrius and said sarcastically; "I'm feeling rather like a Lord, looking out over my subjects as they go about their work." "Lord Morier, your humble servant Demetrius Wyverneye at your service..." he chuckled and made a grand gesture of bowing. "I didn't expect that there would be this many so soon," Morier said "so many, so eager to turn this place into something." "If half of them stick out the first week of training it'll be a miracle, but it's possible. The work they've done so far has been either gruesome or backbreaking or both, and we've only had three leave so far. I just hope we can turn them into real fighters in time to do something about things in the village down below." Wyverneye gestured toward the buildings of Miller's Pond, where exaggerated stories of zombies had mixed with reality to the point that nobody really knew what was true anymore. Both men stopped their conversation as a wagon carrying another twelve or fifteen villagers, presumably from Floxen, came rolling up the road. As it slowed to a stop, most of the men jumped over the sides and took quickly to the task of helping to build the short stone wall around the perimeter of the yard. A single figure remained behind however, cautiously withdrawing from the wagon once it came to a complete stop. She turned and faced the Manor house where she seemed frozen for a moment before she began walking up the path, eyes fixed on the front of the house as she moved. "Is that???" Demetrius started. "Yes, it is," Morier answered as he darted out of the doorway, taking the steps two at a time as he rushed to greet the stunned looking Florian heading toward the house. "Shamalin! You didn't have to come here." Morier tried to soften his voice as he spoke. The half-elf regarded him levelly. "Yes, I did... I did have to come...There's so much to... But I..." she struggled to gather herself, such was the horror that filled her at the mere sight of the house.  Sighing, she began again, stronger this time. "What you're doing here is... it's more than admirable. I needed to see it." "We're trying, and not without a lot of help from these people you brought with you... how have you been able to recruit so many?" Morier asked. Shamalin paused a moment before she answered, "They're mostly Florians, but their purpose is not really one of worship... I think they just want the chance to do something good for a change. We all want that..." Her voice trailed off. "I'm headed back to Floxen this morning," Morier said, "as soon as Demetrius and I get our strategies sorted out. You'll ride back with me then?" "I want to see this place first, in the light. I need to see that it's gone..." "I'll walk with you then if you'd like, just to be sure you're okay?" Shamalin couldn't argue... the idea of Morier's sword just a few steps away would be at least a small comfort as she revisited the site of the macabre prison in which she'd so many times believed she would die... and at times prayed for it to happen. Morier led her through the manor halls, pointing out the various changes which had been made. Shamalin said little, nodding occasionally. As they passed through the dining hall she stiffened, her eyes drawn to the adjoining room. Morier slowed and would have offered to retrace their steps so as to avoid the L-shaped room with it's six doors, but Shamalin was moving ahead without him. He followed her, thankful that Demetrius had seen fit to have the place scrubbed clean. The atrocities they had found in the process were unspeakable. He only prayed that she had not known the half of it.  She walked purposefully from room to room, opening doors. She stood for a long moment in each, her face unreadable. Then at last she turned to Morier and placed a hand lightly upon his arm. "Thank you." She fought to control the quake in her voice. "There is a clearing to the east of the manor - just off the road. Take whatever time you need to finish your business. I will wait for you there." And with that, she turned to make her way out, suppressing an urge to run.-------------------------Gruin Foxtar strained once more against the chains binding his hands, driving the metal cuffs of the manacles deeper into the already raw flesh around his wrists. He grimaced but kept at it."What do you suppose they'll do with us?" Ruull Wicche-sheld wondered aloud. He too was bound by heavy chains, but he'd given up struggling to break them; they were far too stout for him to possibly succeed, he realized. Gruin wasn't nearly so bright, which was probably why he had never grasped the subtleties of combat expertise and so was lagging behind on mastering the Crescent Moon fighting style. Ruull secretly believed that, despite Gruin's obvious strength and skill at arms, the man would never master it.Gruin growled and glared at Ruull fiercely. "What's the matter, Wicche-sheld? Afraid?" he snapped. "I've been locked up here for nearly a moonsdance and all they do is talk to me about their fool goddess. It's all 'mercy' and 'forgiveness' and 'compassion'." He spat onto the floor as if the words tasted foul in his mouth before renewing his ineffectual struggles against the chains. "They're weak! And when I get free, I'll kill them all!"Ruull let his fellow Defiler Initiate grunt and grimace for a while before adding: "Aphyx will cull the weak from Oerune, Gruin. Her touch will spread across the land, leaving only the strongest in its wake." He had a wistful look on his face as he spoke, utterly convinced of his place amongst the strong. "We'll have out revenge on these Florians soon enough. When they are weakened and dying by Our Lady's hand... then... then we'll feast on their flesh! Oh yes... It will be sweet..."He grinned, turning his eyes up to the single open window set high on the wall. It was well out of reach, but it offered a glimpse of the blue sky beyond the dreary walls of their prison.Sparky flew away from the open window to deliver word to Huzair regarding what he'd overheard.Ruull hadn't been back in his cell for very long when he heard someone casting a spell outside his door. He looked up in time to see a dark face leering at him though the narrow view slot cut into the iron-bound portal. He didn't immediately recognize the man, but he was happy to hear him hiss through the slot, "Hold on! I'm going to get you out of there.""Did Callethorn send you?" Ruull asked, smiling hopefully at the familiar scritch-scritching sound on the other side of the door. Before being recruited to the Defilers, he'd spent a great deal of time working as muscle for one of the thieves' guilds in Battle City, and he knew the sound of a lock being picked when he heard it. The man didn't answer, but a moment later there was the blissfully pleasant click of a sprung lock and the door opened.Ruull had never seen the man who stepped furtively into the cell. He was tall and lanky with skin so dark that it verged on ebony. His ears and nose were crusted with hoops and glittering stones, and his skin was covered everywhere with tattoos, just barely visible against his dark skin. He wasn't wearing any armor and didn't have any weapons with him save for a dagger at his hip, but he looked capable, none the less. There was a large grey crescent of fresh scar tissue running along the side of his bald head that could only have come from battle. Ruull had never met him, but he knew immediately that he was a friend."Are you alright?" Huzair asked and the man nodded."As well as can be expected, considering," he turned for the mage to see his hands manacled behind his back. Huzair held up with lockpicks."Let's see what I can do about those," he said and sat down behind him. As he scratched at the manacles - but not at the actual lock itself, - with his pick he asked, "So what do you have planned once you get out of here?""You mean besides killing as many of these Florians as I can?" he chuckled darkly. "Beyond that I don't know. We were just supposed to train at Miller's Pond, you know? Sir Brin was teaching us about being Defilers." He paused for a moment and shook his head. "I can't believe he's dead.""He was weak," Huzair said, using the knowledge that Sparky had conveyed to him about the two prisoners' earlier conversation. Ruull nodded his agreement and half-turned toward the mage."Obviously! But who'd have thought?" he seemed genuinely flabbergasted. "I mean, he was in charge until we dug up the Death Knight. Next to Blackheart himself, Sir Brin was the strongest of the Defilers. I didn't think that anything could touch him in battle. How are you coming with that lock?""It's more complex than the door. But I'll get it," Huzair lied. "Maybe Malengar would know what to do?""Well, I'm sure he would," Ruull shrugged. "But it's not like I can just ask him for help. That'd be weak. And besides I don't even know where he is.""Isn't he at Deathshead?" Huzair asked."Yeah... But I don't know where Deathshead is. Do you?" Ruull said, twisting to look at Huzair over his shoulder."Nope," the mage admitted, keeping his attention focused on "unlocking" the manacles. "I don't even know what powers Malengar has.""Well, he's the Rot Queen's High Priest ," Ruul said. "But it's not just Her power that he channels. I heard from Bevina that he can drain the life right out of the ground to power his spells. It's called Blight Magic, I think and she and Callethorn were supposed to learn how to do it soon. Nasty stuff!" The prisoner grinned at the thought."Yes, I think it would be," Huzair said. "Can he do anything else?""Well, he's got the Rod, of course," Ruull explained. "Not sure what it can do, although Bevina said that as long as he's got it, he can't be killed. I don't really get it, but his spirit can jump to a new body so long as there's one close to the Rod.""Magic Jar," Huzair muttered. Ruull had just described in mundane terms the effects of the Magic Jar spell. The Defiler Initiate shrugged."Like I said, I don't really know what it can do," Ruull said. "I just know that he looked like a half-elf when I saw him, but that he's really human. Magic..." He shook his head in resignation."Must be some pretty powerful magic to create that thing with all the faces," Huzair quipped. "You know, the one full of maggots.""You mean the Vessel." Ruull grew quiet and a small shiver ran through him at the thought. "Callethorn and Bevina made that, not Malengar. Some adventurers got passed the zombies, the same group that killed Sir Brin. The Vessel was supposed to guard Miller's Pond in case they came back. Which I guess they did since I'm here. Are you almost through back there?""Yeah, I think so," Huzair said standing up. He hit the man on the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. "Dumbass! I can't believe you told me everything!"Ruull stared up at Huzair, utterly confused. "Wh- what is this? I thought you were here to set me free?! Didn't Callethorn send you?""Callethorn is dead!" the mage bellowed, drawing the dagger from his belt. "We killed him and everybody else in that stupid manor! And now I oughta do to you what you did to the Speckled Band members!" He leaned forward with the knife until the cell door burst open."Huzair, stay your hand!" Morier shouted and the wizard grinned at him. He spun the dagger back into its sheath and stood up."No worries, my friend. I learned my lesson with the other one," Huzair grinned. "I learned a lot more with Charm Person than I did by cutting on his pal. Never you worry your pasty little backside about me.""You charmed me?" Ruull shrieked from the floor. He started thrashing about trying to get to his feet. "You charmed me, you lying bastard!""Yeah," Huzair said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Get over it.""I'll kill you, you cheating bastard!" Ruull wailed as wizard and eldritch warrior headed out into the hall. "Do you hear me? I'll kill you!""I'll make sure to get scared if you ever see the light of day again, you murdering psychopath," Huzair said and locked the cell door. He grinned though the view slot. "Have a nice day."The incoherent wailing of Ruul Wicche-sheld, one-time Defiler wannabe, followed the two members of the VQS up out of the dungeon.</blockquote>

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