Chapter 14: The rescue
With the string of his bow pulled back he aimed his arrow towards the man's head as he slowly approached. Riselles heart skipped a few beats when she truly heard the wolf growl at Asathar, who tried to curse her again. It had no effect on her.
The brown leather boots that silently stepped around her when he came from behind the tree could only match a pair of massive orc feet when he walked towards the spot where Asathar lay on the ground. Rena had her full weight on top of the elf. The man did not move, wisely.
Greymur stopped close to him, not close enough to give the elf any advantage. "HURIAS! Help Riselle!" The orc called out the command without taking his eyes of his target, his fingers keeping de bowstring tensed. From his disposition Asathar tried to glare at the orc with blue blazing eyes that would devour him to ashes if he could help it."It seems you have two pets orc, call off that stinking fleabag or yours and she may yet live to be your pet for another day!" he said, sounding angered. Greymur looked down on him. His face anything but sympathizing for this man.
Hurias hurried to Riselle. "I thought I was a dead person," she shrieked, her mouth dry and her limbs aching with the pain of her cramped muscles.
"You ARE a dead person Riselle! I promise you!" Came the hissing reply from Asathar. It made her tremble, Hurias could feel it when he touched her arm. He helped her up, cutting her free from the ropes with a small knife he carried. Riselle was so glad to see the young man she spontaneously flung her arms around him and embraced him. Hurias blinked uncertain for a moment before he grinned. His heart racing when she let him go a moment later.
"We're here now," he said, taking her hands into his as he squeezed them to give her comfort. Hurias only stared at her, this strange smile on his lips as he only nodded, still holding her hands in his.
"Quit your ranting Hurias, take her at least a couple of meters out of his reach. Warn the others we found her. It seems Zanak's invention was useful…for once," she heard Greymur grunt. So they did set out a search party for her after all. Riselle looked at the transmitter around her wrist, thanking the sun again and again they came. "Use the flare, they will know where we are," Greymur ordered Hurias.
Hurias urged Riselle to follow him. Riselle stared at the scene in front of her. Greymur with his arrow pointed to shoot Asathar in the head if he had to. Rena on top of the elf, her jaws around his neck to keep him down. Asathar cursed something in Thalassian at her, which roughly translated into 'burn whore' that made her look pale. Hurias heard it as well, frowning, his eyes fixed on the elf on the ground. She shook her head when he opened his mouth to say something. Instead he pulled her back and opened his bag to take out a long tube he put in the sandy ground. Pulling off the top it started to smoke instantly.
The puffs of bright red smoke that emerged every few seconds from the tube filled the early morning sky with a red damp above the tree top. She counted ten before it stopped and all that remained was white smoke to burn up any used powder inside the tube. She watched it burn out, wondering if it had done its job.
"I can smell your stench a mile away orc, you were lucky the wind was in your advance, or I would have killed you before you had the chance to sent your fleabag to do your dirty job," Asathar boasted. Greymur grunted in an unamused tone. "For an elf you sure are a noisy man. Maybe as noise as any goblin in Ratchet," he said in that same unamused tone. "Insolent creature…I….," the man hissed and wanted to look up. Rena barked a warning. Greymur looked down on him. "A word of advice...I would lay still if I were you, if you value your neck that is," the orc said as Rena snarled at the man, caused a strange snorts coming from the elf on the ground.
"Noble stature does not suit you orc! Honor must be something undervalued by your kin," the man said between a gurgle and a terrible cough in. Greymur gave him a half smirk. "Sure, your actions seemed very honorable, kidnapping the lady," Greymur mentioned. The man was silent for a moment.
"Honorable," Greymur agreed in an ironic tone. "What do you know! NOTHING! You are a watchdog housing a fugitive orc, did you know that?" The question meant to provoke him. "You're only so lucky your damned wolf sniffed us out," the man said sarcastically, trying to sound indifferent to the fact they were found after all. He tried to move his arm a bit more forward. Rena jaw clapped tighter around his neck when he moved. He uttered a painful cry when she did. She did not persevere the skin yet, but he probably had teeth marks in his neck by now.
"Rena at ease," he told his wolf. The she-wolf let go of his neck, placing her paw between the man's shoulder blades. It allowed the elf to get his head up in an uncomfortable way. The first thing he did was spit over Greymur's boots, black saliva dripping of the dark leather side. "This is what I think of you….goblin dog!" The hunter didn't give so much as a blink for the offence the elf tried to make. He could have kicked the man in the face for it, but that would be cruel. If he would still be in Twilight Highlands his commanding officer would have expected that from him. He would have been told off for not taking up the opportunity to do so. But this wasn't Twilight Highlands was it. This was Ratchet. Asalt did not look kind on people abusing prisoners, or he would have approved of Hazer's ways long ago.
Instead he looked at the elf, observing him. This was indeed the same man that threatened to club in his head when he was swinging that staff around. He also recognized him from Gazlowes office now.
When Hurias came back in panic earlier that night, holding the alarm-o-bot in his arms, blabbering something incoherent that didn't make sense and he saw the flashing headlight on the robots head, he knew things weren't right.
He felt guilty at first. Mostly because he allowed the two of them to take off in Ratchet, thinking it was alright for a moment to have her guarded by Rena and Hurias instead of watching her himself. It didn't take Asalt long to have somebody fetch him. The alarm had reached the headquarters by then. The knock on his door didn't exactly come as a surprise when he was rounded up for the search party. He had to give it to Asalt he was quick in arranging a search party, but it lacked discipline. An unorchanized chaotic bunch they were, keeping him up. It took them so much longer to start before they had a clue where to find her.
"So the goblins sent out their brave watchdog. Ironic isn't it. The grey watchdog keeps himself a wolf companion and has no clue what it is they want him to guard!" The way he said it made it sound as if he tried to make a joke. Not that Greymur considered it offensive, he only smirked at the try. Watchdog, guard, he had been called worse.
"Seems you have nothing to say for yourself? Maybe best if I get back at you eventually. But I'll honor you by dealing with you last, while she is watching if I can help it," Asathar told him when he did not respond. Greymur frowned. "Honorable," Greymur said again, chuckling this time. Wondering how the man would get out of this.
"I would think, considering you current situation, that it doesn't exactly give you rights to lay claims to what you plan to do," he gave it another thought, smirking slightly. "I don't see anything happening, seems to me you still have the disadvantage here," he told the elf. The elf snorted. "You have no idea what I'm capable off," the man said in a low tone. If the elf could look the orc in the face he would probably have been smiling in a vicious way. Greymur could only guess how dangerous this individual in front of him would prove to be, but he had a hunch.
Somewhere in the distance they heard the noise of a lot of loud persons, screaming, shouting, laughing, undoubtedly goblins who were making their way over. Now it was Greymur's turn to smirk.
"Do you hear that? That's the call of your escort," he said with a grin. The man let out a guttural cough. "As if I didn't escape their 'escort' before. You'll have to do better than that orc, they are no match for me," he heard the elf say, muffled by his head to the ground. He hoped for Asalts men their noise would drive away the raptors. It would not be the first time to result in agitated animals chasing the noisemakers he knew from experience. Most goblins were natural loud people by heart, or so he knew. Those who weren't usually were humble in their ways, reserved, timid perhaps. But looks could be deceiving.
The noisy group announce themselves soon enough. Seven they were. Some dressed in Bruiser gear, others in robes or normal clothes. Greymur looked at them, they looked like they were going for a bleeding picnic instead of a search party. One waved at him, he could see the wicked grin on the face of the man leading the party his way.
He sighed, being ever so glad he managed to talk Asalt around and allow him to go ahead. The group would meet up and warn the rest with flares if they found anything. Then he hurried Hurias to accompany him in finding Rena. It took a while before they found the wolf near the wharf. She was found by one of the bouncers, panting, tongue lolling from her jaws. She had been running as well. He figured she too had been caught by the spell Hurias had described. With Rena added to their party she picked up the scent easily enough. Wolves had keen senses he knew. Leading them to the hide out. There Greymur still had to wait for the right moment to sent out Rena. By then it already turned into morning and he had no idea what he was expecting to find when Rena caught Riselles sense.
"Do you really think that all this will stop me?" he heard the elf claim. "I do, for now," Greymur said. They were well prepared he knew, unorganized or not. "Then you are as stupid as your unworthy green cousins," the man said to Greymur. "Ha," the orc laughed while he glared at the elf. "First time I saw you I knew you meant trouble. Especially after I saw you swing around that damned staff of yours. When you came out of Gazlowes office I knew for sure you were a troublemaker," Greymur told him, keeping himself at ease as well. The man only snorted contemptuously after that. The hunter did not trust the elf, mostly because the man seemed to remain so calm under his circumstances. It almost irritated him.
"Bravo orc, you seem to be trained well enough to answer simple questions, they chose well in a bodyguard for Riselle I suppose," his voice thick with sarcasm. "I hope she was worth your trouble orc, because she is a lot of trouble, more than you can handle." Greymur shrugged. She told him something similar, and he didn't take it as a reason to ditch the job. The man seemed satisfied after giving him that information. Greymur wasn't impressed. "You know what elf, they are right, most elves mean trouble anyway, you're no exception," Greymur simply stated, to Asathars dissatisfaction.
"Your goblin boss should have known better. I offered him to deliver her to me instead of going through so much trouble trying to keep her safe. This will instantly make things worse for her and those who have nothing to do with this," he warned him. "Eventually we all get what we want ... it's only a matter of time," the man chuckled while he tried to look passed the booted feet into Riselles direction.
"Really? I think we will prove different," the orc said, raising his brow. "Do not try to be smart with me orc, I know now I may look defeated, but I will return. And then I will claim to what is mine," the elf said to him. Greymur glared down at him. "Perhaps it is time you shut your mouth," he advised him. Asathar coughed. He saw Riselle staying close to the youngster. She froze when she felt his stare into her direction.
Rena whined when she felt the man's limbs tremble as if he had an attack of some sort. He coughed so horribly Greymur was certain he was about to die. Instead the man recovered, spitting out mucus that came from the back of his throat. It looked slimy, trails of blood mixed into it. Greymur didn't flinch, but the elf seemed to be able to breathe better after that.
"It seems," he said with another one of those sudden sickening gurgles," that I have not counted my options," his remark was meant for her as his bright eyes nearly piercing through her when she dared to look into his direction. "I told you to shut up!" Greymurs tone suggests that he had little patience left. Asathar felt it was a shame that Greymur could not see the pitying look he was giving him.
"I do not think so." As the reply. The orc kneeled in front of the man, his arrow tapping the man's forehead. All he could see was this half faint grin on his face. Before realizing what he did the elf read the last rune aloud that was scribbled on his scroll. There was the sound of crumbling paper, a sudden magical disturbance that gave everybody goosebumps, it was setting a spell into motion. Greymur swore loudly when he realized that the man had done something.
"Mother always gets what she wants, sooner or later ...we will meet again!" While the scroll lit up, the runes burned while they faded away, readying the man for the irreversible magical travel jump he was about to make. The nasty laughter remained as he gloated over his triumph.
The wolf yelped when she felt the intense tingling of magic the spell caused. It seemed to consume the man's body. Greymur let go of his arrow, the wolf jumped up when the man dematerialized underneath her.
He was gone…leaving the arrow to quiver in the ground where his head had been... missed .. the only thing that remained was the empty piece of parchment of the scroll itself. Leaving Greymur grunted loudly and swearing about anything he could think off because he had not been quick enough.
The whole town of Ratchet seemed to be alive with strange stories Gazlowe noticed. Since the incident in the tavern it had been a little restless in his city. More like a madhouse lately. Though there had been murders before, unfortunate killings from a bar fight, injuries from an alley row. But it seemed the town was stirred by this incident.
How he was in need of coffee to think about this in a straight way. Fortunately, his stern-looking assistant had kept a close eye on his coffee need.
He was also curious what Asalt had tell him. As the man stood in his office. Now the human hunter finally decided to talk there were a few things clearer. "What did he want?" Asalt looked frugal when he looked at Gazlowe. "A deal," Asalt said. Gazlowe ran his hands through his hair and then grabbed the mug where a final layer of dark goo was visible. It seemed Zef had not refilled it yet. "What kind of deal?" Gazlowe wanted to know. "I have promised him nothing yet,"Asalt said with a grin. "Or at least I have not given my word for it yet," he said cunningly.
In his hand he held the report he had written in response to Gazlowe about his talk with the hunter. "There are however a few things you might find interesting to hear," the Chef of the Bruisers mentioned. Gazlowe sat himself down, taking a big gulp of the dark goo while he shivered for a moment, looking horrified by the taste. The bottom of the coffee did not taste as good as fresh coffee. "Apparently, the hunter had two accomplices with him. They received a nice amount of money if they would bring a specific young woman to a specific person, listen to the description," Asalt said, reading back in his report to rephrase what the hunter had said. "Slender young woman, small, long brown hair," he read out loud, placing the report back on the table. "The specific person described as a rather agitated male elf. It is becoming a strange story isn't it boss," Asalt said honestly.
"I know exactly what you mean," Gazlowe agreed. But he had known that the moment he talked to the elf woman after she walked of the ship and into his office she had more to her then a case. She had a problem. A person in need she was, requesting refuge in Ratchet. He wasn't blind to that. Nor to the woman in her jade outfit with the large two handed sword on her back. He wasn't the worst of persons, but he could not offer her sanctuary in a neutral goblin town. She had hoped to find protection here from whatever it was she was fleeing from. Pleading her case to him he heard her, every detail. He could not offer her help in the way she requested. Helping out others in return for a small favor worked wonders he had found out over the years. But all he could do for her now was offer her the advantage of his neutral port. From here she could take a ship to another destination. He offered to sent her on her way to Booty Bay, Winterspring or even Gatgetzan. And she would be received with equal rights there. He would make sure of that.
Not the Horde nor the Alliance could lay claims to sides in neutral areas, not unless they had to. One could gain reputation with the town he had explained to her. There were many that worked for him and were not of goblin birth. They all earned themselves a status that gave them different rights. Like Greymur. Goblin neutrality guaranteed both factions to visit and make trade if they wanted. Or to seek whatever they wished to find. But he could not give her the refugee status. Not here. But if she resided in Ratchet, he told her, he could ask around for her case, with his contacts in Booty Bay. And if she was going to remain in Ratchet, she might wish to reconsider his offer of helping out when he had work for her. He could always find use for a well trained paladin he told her. Gazlowe never lacked work for others either.
He told her to take a room in the Broken Keel Tavern, if he had news he would make sure she would receive it.
After the incident in the tavern that night she got arrested and things became a little different. She pleaded her case to him again. Asking him to let her go. He could not do that ofcourse, not after what they found in the Broken Keel Tavern. And not with her involvement, accidental or not. She had been ashamed when she told him about things. The best thing he could do for her was what he had done so far. Leave her to the care of somebody who would do his job properly and protect her. Greymur seemed more then the right choice for that task, unwillingly as it now Asalt came back with news of the human hunter that had tried to feign his own death in the bathroom with the elf woman and the corpse. It became more complicated by the day.
"About that human, he told me a lot of things, too detailed to be a real lie, but you never know," Asalt said. He had told Asalt very precisely what he wanted to know. The way he described how they were approached by the elf, all the details up to the moment they left the room with the young woman in the care of the blond haired elf. They went downstairs, brooding on a plan to turn against him and rid the elf of the money he so carelessly showed. How they met up with 'a friend' who talked to them about some interesting facts. What were they after? Asalt had asked.
After being summoned back upstairs they were stuck with the body, and left with no money. Their plan to double cross him didn't work out very well after their rogue friend got the bright idea of stealing the armor of the woman in the bathroom where they dumped the body.
The job had been too easy the hunter had admitted. Too much money for such an easy job. He should have known it would get him into trouble. When Asalt had asked him to give a description of the assignment the elf had given him, the human hunter briefly gave him a description of the woman they had taken. The human hunter had found the elf quite obsessive the way he spoke of the woman. Being caught was the answer he said, he should have known there was a fishy smell to the offer the pink skin had for them. He should have directed him to Ratchet authorities instead. He described the elf as careless, aggressive, very nonchalant and sure of himself.
"What about this liquid he mentioned?" Gazlowe read in Asalt report. "He didn't have it on him, but Helbrim is running tests on the corpse for Adinna." Asalt remembered him. During the interrogation the human hunter described the result of the potion as if the woman had drank every different type of alcohol she could find in Ratchet, consuming it in less than ten minutes. After that she collapsed and they had to carry her. The hunter also mentioned the elf said she would be transported without problems and that it was all they needed to know. The human hunter had tried to convince Asalt all this had been a grave mistake. Business men like him would never get themselves involved into murder he assured him. He was lucky his Bruisers weren't Hazers jailors, or he would have had two black eyes after his interrogation.
The summary description written down in Asalts terrible handwriting said: Slender young woman, small, long brown hair Gazlowe read again. Presuming there would not be many of those around. "Add a pair of pointy ears and I think we have his match," Gazlowe said, Asalt nodded. "You talked to her after I had her collected from Hazer right?" he asked. Asalt nodded, he had dinner with her. "I used every courtesy I could find to make her feel she was with people she could trust," he declared. Asalt had observed her, like Gazlowe had instructed him to do. If he could make out anything new to her behavior. He could not make anything more of it then he had then. But that she was afraid of something and had enemies was sure.
"Those tree, they didn't do the woman any favors when they left her in the elfs care. After that she was dead he said," Asalt remembered. The Chief of the Bruisers had listened with contempt to the confession of the human hunter. How the man told him that his other friend lock picked the bathroom door to dump the dead woman in. Though the bathroom had been occupied. They found a naked woman in the tub that made threads for them to get out when they quickly came in. That she had a sword with her, that was a bit unexpected the human hunter had to admit. Asalt chuckled, nobody took a sword into the bathroom, not unless they expected something horrible. He had taken Riselle for a fool, but not anymore after this.
That she had proved to be a bit harder than his friend had thought was her rescue. It alarmed the innkeeper who alerted the Bruisers. It helped to put some of the pieces to the puzzle in their right place. "Whatever it is, it is no beautiful story," Gazlowe remarked with a shake of his head. Asalt agreed."What was the deal the human wanted?" Gazlowe asked eventually. His thoughts milled.
"He first wanted immediate release from prison, or at least community service. He was also ready to sell his friends out if that would help his case. But he mostly wanted our word we wouldn't hang him for the dead woman. Nor sent him off to Stormwind,"Asalt said with a sly smirk. "No SI:7 or Stockades," Gazlowe grinned. "Well, at least the man gave us some clarity on the incident in the tavern between the woman in the bathroom and the corpse we found," Asalt mentioned.
"Yes, now the question is ... what will we promise him in return?" The boss inquired. "Nothing yet. A saving promise, I told him. In which I would speak with you first. He still holds back information, I'm sure," he said, knowing the hunter was probably smart enough to play it dirty. "I need to puzzle with this information, but I'll figure it out. After that I will cut a deal with the human hunter," he heard Asalt say. Gazlowe nodded. "Where is the woman now? Cause I understood you had some trouble to take care off?" Gazlowe said.
"I have sent the orc out for that," he mentioned. "And a group of my Bruisers to take care of the trouble," he said. "Any further plans?" Gazlowe asked as Asalt shrugged. He did not know. But it was a complicated matter still. "Anyway, I'll have Greymur and his pretty friend come in for a talk afterwards," Asalt said to his boss before he took off.
It left enough for Gazlowe to ponder about.
Zef had been standing in the corner, in his hand he held a large mug of coffee. Gazlowe saw him standing there, looking over his half cut goggles. "Ah, coffee," he mentioned as Zef gave him the large mug with a grin. Coffee…he needed more coffee to ponder more over this trouble.
With a bright green flash he materialized in one of the side rooms of their summer mansion. He struggled to breathe thanks to the intense magic that had moved him home again.
A year ago it would have given him a kick to feel the surge of such magic. Today it provided him with more miserable side effects then he could use. Trembling limbs were one of them. As well as feeling tired. It did not help him forget he had a problem. Knowing very well he was finding it increasingly difficult to not become aggressive while doing small things that involved magic. It agitated him on the edge between reason and simply giving into a barbaric lust to slam somebody's head in.
It made him feel fearful to realize he was losing grip over himself. That he was very dependent on the use of siphoning magic or draining somebody's energy for his own needs to keep control over his own handling. He felt his heart pound heavy in the temples of his head as he breathed deeply and gurgling.
The predominant smell of the flowers in the floating pots was almost sickening for him when he balanced himself and leaned against the wall of the round chamber. Like most chambers in the elf architecture most building were round. Floating flower or plant pots were one of the many characteristic and magical decorations found in many houses. But the floating pots were the only decoration in this room, as this space was mainly used to create portals when mother needed it. Or providing a silent way to visit, away from prying eyes of any servants if any 'guests' should arrive and be escorted. Now he was apparently the only one who returned here.
"I thought it was you," he heard somebody behind him say. Asathar did not have to turn around to know who it was. "I would really swear that you are starting to look worse … little brother, more freak then brother," the remark came from his older brother, who was leaning himself in the doorway. The short spiky hair of the man styled in near perfection, mostly to Asathars annoyance. "Give me a crystal and spare me your comments," he said, sneering. Feeling his trembling limbs. His brother only smirked.
"Perhaps you should have taken up on meditation like those other idiots ... instead of going over the top the way you did," he said, looking as if he was almost truly sorry for his younger brother.
"Give me a freaking crystal ... NOW!" the commanding tone was answered with a shaking head from his brother.
"Go and see that damned alchemist of mothers, he will probably still has something lying around that you can suck out," the arrogant tone in which he said it only irritated Asathar more. "This can also happen to you …dear…brother," Asathar warned him grimly. Lohurin could not control himself and burst out in a spontaneously hysterical laughter when his younger brother said that. He laughed at his brother in a sadistic tone. Asathar wished he could hit his brother in the face.
"I do not worry about things like that, because I have been assigned with a different job. Where you ... never mind you dear brother," Lohurin said with a snort. "Mother will make sure that it won't happen to me," he claimed with a devious smile. How Asathar wished to wipe that confident smirk off his face. It made him furious. "I would not count my victories yet, it happened to others that thought they were save the humiliation of becoming this. Siphoning too much arcane magic from any alternative sources can still turn you into one of them…as we all noticed," he said wry.
"Yes, it does not help your appearance does it?" Lohurin noted dryly. Asathar rolled his eyes when his handsome brother stroke his hand over his hair. Asathar was handsome once, not anymore. And not a day went by where he was not reminded of that.
"Why don't you stick to what you do so well," he said, eying his brother. "Especially since you've already 'accomplished' so much with your wife! All mother seems to do of late is clean up after you. Which leaves me stuck with the dirtiest job of all," he said, the sides of his thing lips pulling down. Asathar spat a piece of black slime to the ground. Lohurin wrinkled his nose to it. "Now you are being plainly rude…dear brother! I am very capable of cleaning up my own mess. Mothers ways are…handier," Lohurin said.
"Handier? You think mothers little rituals are convenient don't you? You and your stupid goons. Is there any hole you won't stick your member in?" Asathar didn't wish to know, but he knew it would hurt Lohurin's feelings. Anything to make him stop smirking. "As I recall those rituals mother does do not only solve my problems dear brother," Lohurin said, narrowing his eyes. Asathar looked at him. "What do you mean?" Lohurin merely smirked again, satisfied he seemed to have knowledge about something his brother did not.
"No telling you is too easy. It would defeat the purpose of having you know everything that goes around here dear brother. Let's just say that during your absence mother came up with a new trick. You're such a smart ass, you go and find out for yourself what mother does in her private cavern with that cult of hers and my little problems. You will see it's all in your benefit as well. And who sais I do not look out for my little brother? You should be grateful me and my 'goons' have the lust you lack," he grinned. "You be a good little brother and stick to your end of the deal with mother and everything will be alright," Lohurin snickered. Asathar stared at him, curious.
"Then I advise you to start performing and produce what the monster requires, or she will not forgive nor clean up after you anymore. Perhaps you should try to woo Anayis a bit more instead of forging her, you might get what you want sooner," Asathar said, feeling bitter. Reminding Lohurin about their mothers explicit wish. "Brother ... brother... you make it sounds so nasty! It's your own stupid fault that you're assigned to these tasks, as you cannot do what I still can. But you could have stopped yourself from turning into this monstrosity you seem to become more and more everytime I meet you. You could have made a difference for yourself," Lohurin said in a triumphantly way.
"You're no different," Asathar sneered again. Lohurin flexed his muscles, while challenging his younger brother by glaring at him in a specific way.
"A man can only do what a man does best, wouldn't you agree... dear brother? I'm good with women ... you are good at hiding in the shadows nowadays. Oh no wait…you are good at something! You're the best at stealing mana and energy from others I heard," he joked and stroked his well shaved face casually. Asathar growled. "I will hurt you someday…if it is only to wipe that grin pasted to your face ," Asathar promised him almost inaudibly. Lohurin laughed out loud now.
"What was that brother? Duty calls you say? What excellent timing you have. It seems I have to collect Anayis from the pit mother dumped her in again this morning after their little chat, seems she is in a foul mood…and it seems the alchemist is calling for you to visit…you better not let our nice forsaken wait..he might get impatient with you. Then again, you would not want mother to get impatient? You know she does not like to be waiting," he said, half laughing before he left the room. Asathar saw him walk away.
"Anayis will have your head and that of our mother on a silver plate if she ever gets out of here," Asathar called after him.
"Anayis knows better than to displease mother… as should you!" he heard Lohurin yell back at him down the hallway. Asathar gritted his teeth. There were moments he felt sorry for Anayis. But he could not always rely on his old feelings. Not now his transformation seemed to speed up. If there was one thing he knew it was she did not deserve this, nor had any of the others. But there were also the moments he did not care about anything anymore, only to think about his own needs. Such as now. Some day…he kept telling himself.
He went off to the damned alchemist.
The alchemist also brought release for the moments he needed it so badly. The man always kept a secret stack of magic imbued crystals in his laboratory. One of the few things he appreciated about the man. As Asathar walked on his wobbly legs around the huge house in the direction of the west wing, he realized he could make it easier. But with using the orb of translocation to transport him from one end to the other end of the house it would also made him instantly have to deal with more side effects of the magic he would have used. So he saved himself some unnecessary trouble, glad the alchemist was not stationed in the tower of the house.
The man was located in the west wing of the huge house. His laboratory on the second floor. One window gave a view of the ever preserved healed woods of Eversong Forest, which was always shrouded in eternal fall. And the other window giving the discouraging scene of the deathscar. A large strip of dead-burned country that went straight on to the very gates of where now lay the ruins of the old city of Silvermoon. A gift left behind by that accursed scourge. Even now there were still remnants of them on the deathscar, reminding them of the invasion that had led to the destruction of the glorious first city. Even though the new Silvermoon was rebuild next to the ruins of the old city, it still left a bitter aftertaste that their civilization had fallen so deep.
Although with the deathscar so close to your doorstep it also offered opportunities.
By the time he opened the creaking door to the laboratory, he was glad he had not taken the orb. If he had a manawyrm to drain or to tap into a crystal he would need all his concentration to feed his addiction from it. Siphoning required focus. He did not want to use the last of his precious energy to fight for the many side effects that made him spasm and gurgle more than usual.
"Ah ... the youngest brother... I thought I heard somebody emerge in the portal room earlier," the sepulchral voice was almost motionless. The man had emotions, but he used them in a rather strange way. Although the man no longer gave him the jitters when he looked at him. The forsaken alchemist looked even worse than Asathar did. Several of his body parts were half decomposed by the decaying state in which he would always wander about. Not that he could help it.
Cursed from the moment he was raised from his grave and brought back to his unloving state of life again in Undercity made him wander around in this decaying state. His gray hairs peaking out of his scalp where large gaping holes were showing in his skull. Asathar could never discover if the man still had a brain in there or not, though he presumed he did, or he would have dealt with a deranged version of a forsaken instead. The deathscar was full of them.
"A crystal, perhaps?" he inquired in a monotone voice, accompanied by a sinister grin. He played with a small crystal between his fingers. Asathar could almost could feel the magic circle around in it. Almost smell it. He grabbed the crystal out of the hands of the forsaken, ready to empty its stored magic at the first crack.
It felt amazing! First there was the chill of the earliest touch, feeling the magic spreading through his limbs. It warmed him like a fire. A renewed boost of energy overwhelmed him while all the tiredness fled from his body. Leaving his heart to stop beating so fiercely and his limbs from trembling. The world looked bright again when he drained the crystal, tapping into its stolen magic. Siphoning every bit of it into his system. Receiving the kick of the vibrations over and over again with every sip he took. The energetic aftertaste left a tingled sensation in his head. It was almost like devouring a good meal.
His brother would have compared it to a good night of heavy sex. One where he would let his dominating side roam free, not caring whether his partner would experience pleasure or not. But sex was something Asathar hardly have anymore. Not only because he was ashamed of his own appearance. There was always the lurking sensation of the wretched side that tried to force its way out. By now he was in the phase where he could no longer pretend he did not suffer from turning into one. His skin seemed to be thinner lately, filled with sudden holes. He did not dare to show others he was starting to…rot? Disgusted about the idea of decaying alive he tried to stop giving into his addiction. But could not. It made him aggressive if he deprived himself from siphoning magic, unable to control himself he found out. The need to hurt somebody was great when he was in that state.
Ofcourse he tried to do feed his desires in other ways, giving into a night of fun with some of the unwilling victims who 'remained' here in the mansion. Those who made their unfortunate entrance in his mother's home. The last time he tried it he ended up cursing himself when he could not perform. Although sexual harassment never had been his thing, his readiness wasn't what it used to be when he was still healthy. He remembered how Riselle had gasped at him in disgusted awe when she realized he was her old classmate. That had been long after he started to change.
Riselle and him used to be semi friends. Never too close to share a lot of personal information and to distained from each other to realize if the other had a problem or not. They simply studied together. Asathar always liked Riselle. She was smart, had a sweet voice and was nice to look at. He wished he had known more about her then…perhaps then he could have been the one that would have been there for her. Undoing her night of drinking and ending up with his brother.
Although he had been aware of his brothers escapades he would never have guessed that Riselle and him ended up in bed together. How he wished he could have been the one she would have shared her problems with, but she didn't. When he was still healthy…he might have saved her from his brothers clutches.…leaving his mothers deranged idiotic ideas of that explicit wish she uttered to her sons.
But it was too late now.
Now he could no longer show his face without wearing the hood of his cloak. Not around Silvermoon. Even here at the boundaries with Ghostlands he did no dare to walk uncovered when he would go out in the woods.
In Ratchet it was different, mainly due to the multicultural crowd that did not seem to notice him. He cursed the port in his mind while he emptied the crystal of its last magical content.
Feeling renewed for the moment.
"Perhaps you might find it interesting to hear that I have made some new progress with one of the elixirs I have worked on," the man said out of nowhere. Asathar looked at him doubtfully. "With one of the ... subjects," the alchemists' half-baked grin predicted little good. "Someday there will be an idiot who no longer is stupid enough to believe that his family was killed on that cursed deathscar," he heard Asathar say.
"Perhaps young master, very possible. But until that time we will use the resources we have ... that provide us with travelers that will never return home alive. It is indeed a very sad case ... for their family," the alchemist laughed dry. "But it's for a certain charity shall we say? And I may say that they provide excellent test subject sometimes," the man grinned in a monotonous tone.
Asathar knew it wasn't only travelers that suffered the faith the alchemist talked about. Lately it were also the 'problems' provided by Lohurin and his lust that kept in the basement of the mansion. Mother took care of them all. Most of them were meaningless young girls from low born families. Mother didn't bother to offer gold to them. Peasants she called them, meaningless cattle. Test subjects, he added in his mind.
They were brought down to the basement, into her cavern, where her cultist locked themselves in for days. Doing who knows what.
Ofcourse not all of Lohurin's bed partners had been lowborn. He could not use the negative attention if one of them would complain. He would lose his status as a Champion. Champions were the protectors of Silvermoon. People looked upon them with respect, they were the first the people turned to in time of need. Or so they always made him believe when he was a young boy.
Lohurin made a proper shining Champion. But Lohurin could also not control his urge, nor his desire for women. Some of his mistakes included bedding those of better families. And those threatened to speak to the council. They were all summoned by mother, one by one, to cut a deal and keep them silent. They were bought off with gold. She silenced those who would not be convinced. Riselle would have been silenced if she did not carry Lohurin's bastard.
"Young master?" The alchemist asked him. Asathar let his train of thoughts slip as he gazed at the forsaken. "What have you found?" Asathar still wanted to know. Secretly hoping for great news. "I have been experimenting with the forbidden plants and added some of it to the sleeping elixir. You should see the effects young master. Your mother wished me to test it on one of the subjects. It instantly granted the drinker a dreamless sleep, the man never felt anything during the ritual," he announced, almost sounding thrilled. Asathar wondered what had taken place during his absence.
"Ritual? What ritual?" Was that what Lohurin meant?
"Why have I not been informed?" He looked bitter. "Best go and speak to your mother young master, she has things she wishes to discuss with you in private. You would not want to keep her waiting," he said, his jaw cracked when he tried to smile. He looked terrible when he smiled.
The man knew things, his mother had not hired him for nothing. He was involved in finding a cure for his addiction. But why it had to be a forsaken? His mother would not tell him. Like she would not tell them many things.
He would not question her. That was the promise he made when she offered him her protection. She made him an oath to find a cure for him that would return him to his old self again. He had not right to question her about how she was going to do that. She made him a deal, sealed with her own blood. It was the only way for him to believe her.
He wanted to believe her. Every word she promised him when they brought him back to her after they found him on the deathscar. That his part of that deal was to return Riselle to his mother was something he could have guessed when he signed his part of the deal in blood. If he wanted hopes for a possible cure he would do what needed to be done. And since he was the cause of Riselles escape he was the one to get her back. To make right what he did wrong.
"Your mother is expecting your return, perhaps you would like a crystal for after your talk?" The man offered a red crystal to him. Asathar took it without saying anything. Preparing for his climb up to her chambers he could use it he supposed. She would expect him to report back to her instantly. He would not tell her all he knew he decided. Or he would have to face her wrath of why he did not take her back with him. Not something he could use right now. He needed more time.
Motivation wasn't his greatest virtue anymore. Not since he changed. Life was too short for that if you didn't have an eternity anymore. An eternity as a wretched, that was what he was. Not what he wanted.
But his mother was motivated. Her drive was family, fortune and favor. Whatever that meant to her. She would not tell him what she needed Riselles bastard for when he asked her. It wasn't all about being a grandmother that was sure. Expanding the family meant that all the far away cousins could never get their greedy little hands on the Whitemorn fortune. And the favor, he didn't know what she meant by that, but she seemed to have a specific reason for that.
Asathar didn't care much for that knowledge. But their obsessive mother did.
"Has there been any other discoveries you managed to find while testing the potions?" He asked, hoping for better news, stalling his visit to his mother. The forsaken alchemist sighed as he took a few bottles from the rack on the table. Holding one over a fire. When the dark red liquid started to bubble he chuckled. Asathar looked at the man's back, bones of his spine sticking out through his robes. So far the man had come up with little that could help him. In any case, not the things he did not already know. He did not hate the man anymore, only when he was on the edge.
"Well?" The forsaken said, turning around and sighing. "No proper cure for your health yet, young master, but everything helps. It just seems I need to experiment a bit more," the man said with a cruel grin and turned away from Asathar again. Nothing…again.
The alchemist never heard him leave, as he was engaged in a bottle of dark red colored liqueur which he held over the small fire again. Mixing it with another one turned it into a murky purple-looking substance. It smelled of rotten eggs when Asathar closed the door.
Asathar left for his mother's chambers.