Releasing the Wind

Fellsgard is the foundation of Khy'eras' history and through reconstruction, it is now a vibrant and lively city. People reside here due to mild climate, opportunities, and safety and stability. Adventures often start from Fellsgard. Read more...
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The Unreliable Narrator
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Releasing the Wind

Post by The Unreliable Narrator »

Cook sighed as he shifted in his padded oak chair. It was a wonderfully comfortable and delicately carved piece, given in exchange for a contract of protection many years ago. The soft crackle of a dying fire poured a lingering warmth into the normally chill room. The thick carpet and wall hangings had done some to take the bite from the cold, but a full hearth was needed to make the office truly comfortable.

The Crown of the Velvet Goose returned his attention to the documents on his desk with a practiced eye. They were all some manner of report, from purchases and sales to requests for aid and contracts. He frowned softly, realizing he’d not been keeping the papers organized to his usual level of care. He began shuffling them around, returning a sense of order to the jumble of information. Between the rustle of parchment there was a soft knock at his door. It was the sort his employees gave when they weren’t in a rush, or were trying to catch him before they went to bed.

Cook grunted and reached under his desk. There was a soft click as the switch released the heavy latch and the door swung open to reveal Robert, the Goose’s butcher and ritualist. The man’s boots were near silent on the thick rug as he strode slowly into the room. His exhaustion was plain in the dark circles under his eyes and slight tinge to his usually pale complexion.

“What can I do for you Robert?” Cook asked evenly, returning his eyes to his pile of papers and quietly organizing them. He didn’t want to waste the man’s time on needless shows of power. He was a critical part of the Goose’s operations and family.

“I want to spend some and put out a contract for Marcy. She’s starting to fade, or lose control, I can’t really tell this far away,” Robert said back, exhaustion clear in his voice. The butcher didn’t take a seat, likely hoping to have this meeting over and done with as soon as possible.

Cook nodded slowly, knowing the toll the man’s daily work put on him. He could understand how having your heartbound missing as well only made things near unbearable. “We can arrange that. Gideous’ estate yes?” Cook asked to clarify as he finished stacking his reports and placed them on the corner of his desk. He reached into a drawer and removed a piece of scratch paper and an unfilled contract.

“Yes, underground, secondary home, I only ask the contractor enter, release a binding, and leave. Nothing more would be necessary at this point unless I’ve woefully misjudged what her heart is saying.”

Cook nodded, patently avoiding looking the butcher in the eyes. It had been Marcy’s own fault she’d been captured. She’d gone off, without permission, to act as a knife, a guided weapon, during a mission that was also not approved. Artemis Black, the boy had borrowed equipment to recover a magical item for his then lover. Sad how that had worked out, him giving so much and the woman choosing to become his enemy.

“Understood, I’ll draft the contract tonight, you can check it in the morning. From your shared funds then?” Cook asked the needless question more out of habit than any sort of expectation.

“My personal funds, I don’t want her to owe anything else. I just want her back,” Robert said with a soft hitch in his voice. Cook nodded solemnly and began to quickly record relevant notes. He’d need to get a floorplan, establish a cost, and submit the contract to be distributed out to proven infiltrators. Robert left without another word, the soft click of the door closing fading into the continuous scratch of Cook’s pen.
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Re: Releasing the Wind

Post by Fëanáro Larkain »

Farro found himself aimlessly wandering the western streets of Fellsgard, the morning after what had proved to be a particularly eventful night in the taverns; though his jaw still felt stiff from a blow he’d stupidly not avoided. Watery winter sunlight bathed his bare face in a warm embrace, the low light setting his fiery red hair alight as he changed direction, making his way east towards the infamous Velvet Goose. He was hoping, perhaps in vain, that they’d have something that would serve to chase away his rising boredom.

The small wooden token, marked with a stylized ham hock, flicked easily between his long fingers while he strode confidently along the final cobbled street, the large oak doors of the tavern imposing as ever and weathered white exterior a stark contrast in the low winter light. Slipping quietly though the heavy doors, he was first hit with a whoosh of clammy warm air and then the mouth watering aromas of cooking meats, stale alcohol and hot coals battering them out of the way and lingering around him like an unpleasant aftertaste.

Letting the door snick quietly closed behind him, Farro took a moment to sort through all the scents and sounds bouncing around within the old buildings walls. There were few patrons around at this time day, no doubt most were still sleeping off last night's escapades. Quickly scanning the faces of the few people either huddled or hunched around the tables and finding no one worthy of note or concern, Farro glided through the expansive room, the heels of his boots making a soft, rhythmic clacking sound as he made for the stairs in the far corner and the second floor beyond.

Cresting the top of the short staircase, his eyes settled on one of the young humans he often saw on his visits to the Goose. "Charlotte! How lovely it is to see you again, my lass." Farro purred, his most charming grin splitting his face as he approached the petite girl who appeared engrossed in wiping down a table within one of the many booths that lined the edges of the upper floor. Her mass of mahogany waves jostling across her back, the movement not dissimilar to a cat’s tail. The crackle of the hot coals in the pits below echoed in the cavernous space where he stood, the air flowing from below was hot and mouthwatering, not pairing well with his winter attire at all.

Charlotte turned to Farro and a small smile curled her pale lips. “Good morning Farro, did you come just to visit me?” she asked in her usual wispy utterance. She continued to wipe the table absently, but her attention was clearly captured by the Kerasokan.

“And if I were to say I had? What would you do to chase away mundane tasks of life that weigh down this elf so terribly?” Pouting, Farro gilded closer and picked up a stray lock of hair from her back ,idly letting the silky strands roll between his fingers as he watched her pale smile spread, faint colour creeping into her cheeks. “Probably not fair of me, as to put such a weight as that onto your delicate shoulders Dilthen’er. Would our mutual acquaintance happen to be around; perhaps they may be able to lighten the load that plagues me.” he said softly, not allowing her the opportunity to respond. He caught up the small hand not tasked with sweeping the table within his own much larger one, wrapping her fingers around the small token with it’s stylised picture of a meat joint to one side and a rendition of a bird on the other. Farro got the feeling the girl may have been a little disappointed by his response but that would be something he could address once he’d satisfied his thirst for action; whatever form it may take.
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Re: Releasing the Wind

Post by The Unreliable Narrator »

Charlotte shook her head with an almost silent laugh. “I will go ask for Chef. You may as well sit here, you terrible tease,” she said, reluctantly pulling herself away before sauntering towards the stairs.

“A tease I may be my lady, but it’s all part of the charm you love so much.” he said to her retreating back, chuckling to himself as he flopped down into the one of the booths.

She returned several minutes later with a mug of cider and placed it onto the table. “They’ll be up in a bit, seems there’s a few interesting things available. I’ve got to return to my work, but perhaps you could come back later and I’ll see what I can do.” She smiled again before turning and walking away to other tasks.

“Who is the merciless tease now, Dilthen’er. How’s a man to work with such promising possibilities flooding his mind?” he quipped, a wicked grin lighting up his face as he watched her move about her work. Taking a tentative sip of the mugs contents, and sighed in resignation, the cocky grin slipping from his face. The drink was weak compared to what he often preferred, which only served to remind him he needed to contact his supplier and have his stores replenished, for a party he’d no doubt be expected to host for the winter solstice in a matter of weeks. The sound of heavy footsteps on the paneled floor brought his attention back to the present with each increasingly loud and resounding thump of boot on old wood.

Chef strode off the stairs with a fierce frown on their usually lively face. The woman was not one to be mistaken for pretty. Her face was framed by a ragged tangle of hair that did little to soften the severe lines and angles, her skin was reddened and splotched with many small cuts and scars. Her eyes were an entirely uninteresting pale watery blue that always seemed just a touch unfocused. Despite all of this, she commanded her domain with unchallenged authority.

The Velvet Goose strongly believed in the separation of powers and, beyond the duties of the kitchen, Chef commanded the butchers. Her’s were the killers, infiltrators, and thugs. Many the sort of folks who might offer you a blade to the gut over a handshake, and yet she remained unharmed and arranged contracting and repayment with ruthless efficiency.

“I’ve got one for you, fits your style I think,” she said as she stopped beside the table. Her voice was cold and firm, cutting through the warmth of the inn’s fires like a cleaver. “Look it over, let the girl know if you’re interested. Otherwise, I’ve got too much to handle today.” Chef placed a folded parchment onto the table and turned to leave.
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Fëanáro Larkain
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Re: Releasing the Wind

Post by Fëanáro Larkain »

Eyebrows now somewhere near his hair-line, Farro pulled the slip of parchment across the table as the bristling woman stomped off again. Carefully unfolding it and examining the contents, a confident smirk replaced the mild surprise he’d felt at the chef’s brusker than normal air. Usually he’d have teased her as well, but thought for the health of all his various extremities, today may not be the day to push the imposing woman. The job she’s laid out before him, really did suit his style of work- if a little less blood than his normal fair.

Scanning the attached maps, he was filled with the quiet confidence that had quickly become his default state. The nobles’ home was one he knew, his double- or triple lifestyle allowed him access to many different factions within the city, which had proved advantageous to his line of work more than once over the centuries.. ‘A human mage’ He snorted to himself, the man was so full of self importance, if Farro’d still had his magic he’d have had fun teaching the man a few lessons in humility. The ‘undetected’ element was a bit of a blow to the possible fun he could have but work was work, the day wouldn’t be another throw away in some tavern tricking humans out of their meager coin.

“Charlotte meleth nín,” He said in a slightly raised voice, his attention still focused on the contract, eyes scanning the script one more time before he rose to his feet, leaving the drink on the table. “Would you confirm with our charming acquaintance that I accept the offer, shouldn’t take me more than a day or two.”

Charlotte jumped slightly, she'd been hovering nearby but had not been entirely prepared for Farro to speak to her so suddenly. "I will let Chef know, if you will tell me what that means," she said with a small nod that caused her hair to fall around her face, framing the pale-lipped smile that brightened her features.

Farro grinned, “Inquisitive little thing aren’t you?” he said, stopping to turn back to the little human. ”It appears a misfortunate soul has found themselves detained by a well known Fellsgard mage, and so require yours truly to help spring their fine backside from their restraints.” His grin widened at the thought of his afternoon or possibly evenings activities, a strange and undetermined gleam glazing his too bright eyes as he spoke.

“I’ll perhaps call by later tonight, only to see you this time Dilthen’er; when my attentions won’t be so divided and I can give you the focus you deserve.” He said over his shoulder, a coy smile tugging at his mouth. The anticipatory tingles had already started to fire through his tight muscles like the lightning across the skies. Nothing gave him a buzz like his work could.
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Fëanáro Larkain
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Re: Releasing the Wind

Post by Fëanáro Larkain »

This morning had been very successful in Farros opinion as he slipped back out of the Velvet Goose. He now had purpose, and something relatively challenging to occupy the long hours of yet another day. He swaggered down the winding streets of the western district, smirking at anyone who met his eye and headed north towards his home for a quick clothing change. What he currently sported was ok for conducting less respectable business in, but in light of who he'd soon have to sidle up to, another outfit would serve his assets and charms better. Lord Gideous was a man he could understand, proud, ruthless and not someone you crossed lightly- unless you were Farro of course. He was confident that this job would be as simple as letting caged birds out of a coup; like really, how difficult could it be to free a little mage?

Running through what he knew of the arrogant mage, he concluded there may actually be a few extra considerations to plan for. Gideous surely knew who the woman he took was, and if not, she had obviously been pegged as someone valuable enough that others would be looking to get her back again. Taking a sharp turn down a narrow alleyway that served as a nice short cut, Farro summoned the power within his ring and donned the blond persona that was his main mask of civility.

His steps faltered for the briefest of moments; the notion that the little mage may possess magic stronger than the magic contained within his ring was a little troublin. He swiftly dismissed that silly thought. He had trusted Pyria with his life for decades now, the chance of a human mage seeing through her elven magic? Preposterous.

The guard standing at the north gate was not one he was familiar with, and the man kept eye contact with Farro longer than he believed was appropriate for a man of his station. Eyes narrowed and green depths blazing he glared at the young man as he strode forward, his strides long and full of unwavering purpose. The guard was very young he noted as the distance swiftly closed between them; shifting uneasily beneath Farro's cold regard the man cleared his throat and went to step into Farros path, evidently intending to voice some foolish line he'd no doubt learnt in training only the week before.

"Don't bother, child." Farro said in a scornful tone, cutting off the young man mid breath. Farro dropped his normal accent with practiced ease, adopting his long perfected upper class twang, the one that plagued all those born and raised within the north district of Fellsgard. "If they didn't tell you who I was then let me enlighten you, my business and subsequent taxes probably let them hire your green ass, and whatever low-brow ale you find yourself drowning the day in later tonight;will only be available to you because I brokered the trade agreements to supply your tavern of convenience." Farro strode right past the man, his mouth floundering as Farro so flippantly threw the words in his general direction without looking at the man. "You get one chance boy, don't test me next time."

A sliver of contentment slid through Farro, as his own much loved and hard won home soon came into view. The impressive structure nestled within one of the many picturesque and sprawling streets that made up the jumbled maze that was the North district. Tall silvery trees lined one side of the prim street, their trunks broad and reaching branches stripped bare by the icy wind that often whipped through the city, commanding they sway to its whims like the conductor commands an orchestra. The house itself was imposing, the pale grey stone front, accented by pillars of snowy granite was a sight to behold no matter the season or weather. Shaking himself back to the matter at hand, Farro jogged nimbly up the icy front paths and slid a key into the lock. The key turned effortlessly, the clink and thud of the mechanism an oddly satisfying sound to him. If he were to keep up appearances he should really have knocked and waited for the house staff to admit him but he was in a bit of a hurry. Silently he darted across the main entryway and up the main staircase, his light leather boots silent on the solid timber floors as he headed for his sleeping quarters.

Gidious had always struck him as a man overly confident, and unlike Farro, he hadn't the years of life experience to back up such an attitude. He was little more than a child in Farro’s eyes. Having settled on what he considered a sophisticated, but comfortable outfit consisting of a tailored and embroidered navy waistcoat over a snow-white linen shirt, satiny grey trousers, black boots, and a grey coat lined in red. He tied a white cravat around his neck, using a complicated knot currently in favor among the upper society. Once he was satisfied with his attire, Farro strode from his rooms and made a beeline for one of the cellars the lay deep within the depths of his home, the one in which he kept his most indulgent bottles of wine and liquor within.

Cool fingers wrapped around the stout bottle, the blue tinted glass looking like a jewel in the soft light cast by the candle he held aloft in the pitch black room. A vague sense of loss flittered over him as he headed back up stairs with the small bottle that was worth more that he cared to consider. Farro wasn't one for handing over product so readily but in this instance, he didn't see another viable option to get immediate access to the lords home- and it could work as an investment. If he found it bothered him that much, he was sure he could slip in and take it back, and it was that thought that eased his nerves when he slipped out the main door again, bottle in hand and certainty in his step
Word count: 1019
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Fëanáro Larkain
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Re: Releasing the Wind

Post by Fëanáro Larkain »

The plan that had begun to formulate in Farros head as he had dressed, and was now a fully formed strategy ready to be put into motion. A smug smirk graced his face as he strode confidently through the quiet North District streets. The guards Assigned to Lord Gidious’ gates knew Farro fairly well, both men leapt to attention and bowed their heads in deference as he sauntered by, “Master Larkain” both men uttered softly, neither making eye contact with the supercilious elf. The lord’s primary home had an imposing front, rising three stories into the air and carrying enough bedrooms to accommodate multiple families, the house boasted a large footprint. Excitement trickled into Farro as he approached the front door, he wondered just how attentive the staff may be, there would be plenty worth pilfering from this home; a small boon to the otherwise simple job.

He let the large brass knocker fall, a deep reverberating boom echoed through the thick wood of the door, and the vast space that lay behind it. His keen elven ears immediately picked up the faint, hurried footsteps of a maid as she scurried to answer the door. Farro glanced around the doorway, his eyes straining to catch any anomaly in the intricate carved wood’s design that would indicate a ward, but could see nothing with a naked eye. The click of the doors mechanism had him snapping his attention back down, and he gave the young maid a wide, warm smile as the door swung open. The woman’s eyes widened slightly in recognition as she stepped back to allow him entry.

“Thank you,” He said softly to the apparently nervous woman, “Is my good friend Lord Gidious in? I have something here that I’m sure he’d love to see.” Farro looked around the overly grand entryway in one, long sweeping arc. Gold accents adorned the wall crownings while a deep green wallpaper with an elaborate texture, swathed the walls. The vast room almost felt cramped with the large bureau and other unnecessary, but fashionable furniture that filled the room. Farro had to fight the initial reaction to wrinkle his nose, the man had no style. It was all far too fussy for his tastes and cost a small fortune to change as the fashions did. He had to concede however, a lot was saved on labour since the man had access to magic, and because of this, the whole house stunk of cherries. “I suspect he and I have some business to discuss as well, in regards to the upcoming festivities.” He finished saying to the woman, having completed his thorough perusal of the entry hall.

“Of course, Sir,” she replied quickly, the voice deeper than one would expect from such a small thing. “Please, follow me. You can wait for Lord Gidious in the second drawing room.” with that, she turned sharply and headed for a wide door towards the back, a long wide corridor visible through it as she held the door open for him.

Farro followed after her with an easy pace, the heels of his boots creating a steady beat on the spotless tiled floors, as his gaze skimmed over the numerous art works that lined the hall he was led down. The deeper she led him into the home, the stronger the sickly smell of over ripe fruits became, and it took all of his hard earned control not to react to the stench. Magic, dark human magic had been used recently somewhere in this home. Unlike many magic borns who could merely feel magic, Farro could smell it - which in itself was a great talent he thought. It meant he could easily distinguish what race had cast it and whether it was of a dark or light nature, as each had their own distinct essence.

The room he was led to was large enough that he was sure it could easily exceed the ground floor area taken up by many townhouses located elsewhere in the city. The decoration in here was less gaudy, he assumed this was down to the fact it was not his main entertaining space. Farro was a little insulted he had been left here, the lack of respect was something he would have to take care of at a later date. The maid had scampered off as soon as Farro had drawn into the room enough to allow her to close the solid door, leaving him alone to the silence of the vast room. A bit foolish really. Farro wandered around the edges, examining and valuing the mass of antiquities and oddities that were so casually left on display. Precious metals and an array of jewels caught the watery yellow light that filtered through the large bay window to the back of the room; it didn't take much for Farro to follow the citrusy tendril that floated around the room, leading him right to its source.

A self satisfied grin spread as the smell got stronger when he stopped before a large stack of shelves. On the shelves was a hodgepodge of nicknacks, some pieces were obviously from the far north, while others clearly bore the tell tale signs of fae craftsmanship. Most of the items were younger than he was, but he supposed those felt old to the humans with their limited life expectancies. However it was a small, beaten up mahogany box that caught his attention, the surface having once been inlaid with a delicate design of vines and what he thought may have been stars; but the metal that had once filled those grooves, was long since gone. The bitter tang clogged his senses, the magic emanating strongly from the box as he drew closer. His graceful, long fingers traced the edge of the box, even after all this time, he still expected the warm power to brush against his skin before seeping into his very soul. His mood soured instantly as he felt nothing from the contact, bristling with the old anger he plucked the box from the shelf, its contents making no noise with the rough movement.

Farro quirked his head to the side, listening carefully for anyone approaching but the house remained deathly silent. Easing open the lid, he discovered a delicate silver necklace lying within it’s padded interior. The metal which had obviously been honed by a master of his craft, the intricate woven design resembled rambling honeysuckle vines. He would have expected the theme to continue with that of Nature and Ixaziel, but instead the piece boasted exaggerated, but still delicate, renditions of the stars while a crescent moon hung down the center. It was an obvious nod to Ny’tha, which only made him more curious as to the purpose of it’s magical element. Realising he’d lingered too long with it in the open, he eased the box closed once more and turned back to the room.

No sooner had Farro slipped the case into a pocket, than a noise from the adjacent hallway caught his attention. Moving silently and with haste, Farro stood beside one of the overly plush chairs , once more pulling on the civil mask he had to wear around these people. The door to his left opened with an explosion of self important numpy letting himself into the room. “Fëanáro!” He exclaimed in a voice far too loud for an elf’s delicate ears, or anyone ears really in a room of this size. “Dear friend, how delightful to see you again. It’s been a mighty long time since you graced us with your presence. Come, sit my fine man. Glenda! Fetch us wine, some of the fine stuff our friend sourced for me last month. Now Fëanáro, let us speak, I had heard you were out of the city again, what news from the outside world do you bring?”
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Fëanáro Larkain
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Re: Releasing the Wind

Post by Fëanáro Larkain »

Farro had to fight to stop his eyes rolling, the man tested his patience even on a good day when he didn't want something from him, today did not seem like one of those days. “I was away on business I’m afraid Gideous,” He said in a long mastered haughty northern accent, “Dreadfully dull trip. I spent a few days scouting out new vineyards and blends in the southern regions of Ninraih-” ‘More like scouting out princes’ he said inwardly, “But sadly it was a wasted trip, nothing new or worth my attention presented itself. I did however bring you a little gift, in the spirit of the solstice and the retreat of the looming darkness once more.”
Gideous held out a large, thin fingered hand and took the small bottle Farro presented. Twisting the bottle in his hand, he examined it, obviously not impressed by the small size and very possibly offended. Farro let out a deep chuckle, “That my Lord, is Sírilanor. Some of the Finest south Ninraih has to offer us.”

The man’s eyes widened before he looked back to the small bottle, handling it as though it may slip through his fingers at this point. “Well now, that was most unexpected but greatly appreciated.” He said, a bit begrudgingly mind you, and set the small bottle carefully onto a side table, then turned back to Farro, seemingly regarding him in a new light.

“Besides the gift I thought to bring an old friend, I actually came to discuss your preferences for the next shipment I’ve to organise, and I wanted to discuss magical wards with you also. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’m sadly unable to wield the magical gifts my ancestors once did, and nefarious magic use in the city has definitely been on the rise,” He said, knowing he was lying through his teeth. The residents were often too afraid to let any magical gift become known, nevermind flaunt it. “And as such, I am considering investing in means to protect my home and it’s many treasures from any magical thieves who may think to make an attempt on it.”

Gideous’ icy blue eyes glittered brightly within his cultured face as Farro watched with no small amount of amusement, the prospect of gold and a chance to gloat registered in the man's thoughts. He held back a smirk as Gidious' face broke into a self satisfied, and indulgent curling of the lips.

“Of course Master Larkain, I would be more than happy to assist you in this time of need, my good man. It is an awful thing that Kerasokan curse, you all have my deepest sympathies.”

The almost pinched expression on Gideous' was a pathetic attempt at empathy, the mage was a terrible liar. It was painfully obvious to anyone with open eyes, that he reveled in the fact Farro had no magic of his own. More fool him to dismiss Farro as a threat due to his supposed handicap. “You are most generous Lord Gideous,” Farro gushed, purposely stroking the man's already inflated ego. “It is most misfortunate indeed, but I get by fairly well despite it I think.” He couldn't resist it, he stroked his long fingers down the front of his fine clothing, earning a barely concealed sneer from Gidious. Oh how he did love to poke fun at the arrogant humans.

“First to business my good man,” He began, pulling a small book from a pocket, along with a travel sized pot of ink and a pen, “Let us see what good spirits and indulgences you wish me to source for the coming season.” Farro smiled at the man, flashing teeth and trying not to grind them together as the pompous fool started to list and debate over what bottles of which years, regions and blends he thought would be best suited. The whole debacle went on too long, the sun was dipping low in the sky by the time Gidious was happy with the compilation they’d settled on. The sky through the windows shone in vibrant shades of pinks, purples and oranges as the sun crept ever closer to the horizon, signaling Farros time to shine.

“Now that we have our business sorted, would you have the time to indulge me by explaining, how exactly I might go about warding my home? I imagine given the opulence of your own, you would have knowledge of the strongest protections known to us?”

Gidious did smirk this time, the gesture full of self importance, an air of arrogance surrounding him that Farro had so often seen in the eyes of the untried youths before they met real battle for the first time. “You’re a clever man Larkain; and you would be right in your assumptions. I do in fact have such wards, I have been told they once helped ward entire cities from unwanted intruders. Paid dearly for them too a few years back from a traveling fae, he claimed they’d come from the west some way, but who can't trust those folk really. All that mattered to me is that they work, and idols do they.” He grinned menically, the sadistic edge Farro knew the man to possess, flashed in his eyes for just a moment before he composed himself once more.

“The more basic ones surround the upper levels of my home, no one manages to gain entry without one of these when they’re active.” He preened, pulled something from his trouser pocket and held it out for Farro’s inspection. The small rock fit neatly in the cradle of his palm, the surface worn smooth like that of a beach pebble, but it was as dark as obsidian and vibrated with a soft, ancient power. Like called to like as his own magic, now bound and useless, contained by the curse in all it's infinite strength, strangled Farro from within. He growled inwardly, his centuries old frustration lashing at it’s restraints. The small talisman rolled around his palm in an almost seductive manner, heady and lulling him into its welcoming depths.

“Intriguing aren't they?” Gidious’ smug voice snapped Farro out of the haze he’d begun to sink into, bringing his head up sharply and sending his blonde hair cascading around his face.

“Fascinating really.” He said, his voice not quite as level as he’d have liked in the presence of this leech, but the lure of magic had not been totally broken.

“But the truly magnificent is reserved for below.” He paused, assessing Farro with a critical eye for a moment, his eyes sweeping the length of his lithe body in a practiced sweep. ”Tell me old friend, how is your stomach for things of a less savory nature? You do not strike me as a man who would shy away from such things, but most lords would not deign to even imagine what happens behind closed doors.”

Farro had to fight back the wide, toothy smile that wanted to erupt at that, instead he managed to give a polite curl of his lips as he spoke. “I grew up on tales of the war, my father had been a soldier and often recited the battles to me.” He chuckled, “At my mother's horror I have to confess, the poor woman was a true lady and had been far from any bloodshed through those years.”

Lies! All lies! His mind screamed at him, multi coloured flashes of magic flooding his internal thoughts. Fae surrounded him, their wings refracting the busts of light radiating from the magic, thenl orbs and splashes of colour originating from elf and faery alike. His own blades nestled in his palms, the cool metal swathed in fire as he swung wildly at the hoard of undead that swept up the hill towards them in a seemingly unending writhing mass.

“Excellent! Follow me then, If you liked the pebbles, you will find what I have to show you quite beyond comparison.” He held his own palm out for the stone to be returned, Farro making sure to note exactly which pocket the stone was dropped into.

Again Gideous’ grating voice had snapped Farro out of his own thoughts, the man's wide back now facing him as Gideous swept to the huge doors in a move wreaking of practiced grace. Farro followed like a good little noble guest, making sure to act more meek than it felt dignified to. The property was vast expanse or rooms.and corridors, but Farro was well practiced in the art of mental mapping, noting each and every hallway, corridor and room they passed by, staircases both hidden and exposed stored away just in case it became relevant.
Word count: 1463
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Fëanáro Larkain
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Spirit of Fire
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02
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Re: Releasing the Wind

Post by Fëanáro Larkain »

The steps that lead downward into the gloomy, were exactly what one may imagine the entry to a dungeon to be. The steps themselves were made of a dark basalt stone, the walls constructed of a cold and damp stone that did not speak of wealth; a stark contrast to the corridor they’d just left and the rest of the estate. Moans and groans emanated from within, their volume increasing with each and every step taken down into the dreary depths. Farro made sure to school his features towards those of apprehension, concern and mild disgust, even though the whole place made him want to purr in pleasure. At the bottom, Gideous came to a thick, steel reinforced door and spun once more to look back at Farro, a quiet look of pride on his face.

“Gilded iron,” He smirked, “Negates magical enchantments.”

Pulling a key from another trouser pocket, he slid smoothly into the large heavy lock and it thudded as the mechanism responded. The smell of rotting fruit hit Farro square in the face as it swung inwards. He scrunched his nose in disgust, unable to hide the reaction. Gideous laughed low, “Not a fan of the smell of blood then?” Farro blinked, it took a moment before the coppery undertones of fresh human blood managed to fight their way through the overpowering stench of dark human magic.

“Not what I often contend with,” he said back, allowing the distaste to ring clearly in his words. Gideous smiled and pointed to the arch above the heavy door as they entered, old glyphs pulsed with an eerie green light as they passed through.

“Tied to me, they alert me of anyone's entry into my dungeon.” he said as though in passing , continuing on into the stout corridor beyond at a leisurely stroll, had Farro been a more normal height for an elf, he may have had to duck to avoid his hair trailing whatever manner of algy grew along the roof.

Farro frowned as he glanced back at the glowing glyphs, he hadn't expected the lout to have so much security rigged for a personal prison- he wasn't sure the infamous mage prison even had this much going on. Unfortunately it had begun to look like Farro’s extraction of the little gosling was going to come with a somewhat short time frame.

Striding forwards, he stayed close to Gideous’s back, playing the part of the innocent, straight shooting merchant, he listened in a polite silence as the man rattled on about the various prisoners and other such chatter, things that didn't really interest Farro in the slightest. There were numerous cells down here occupied, more than Farro would have initially suspected, most of them containing humans; which explained why the whole place stunk, idols save him.

“Down here you will find some of the very worst, disgusting wastes of air in the entire city.” The way he talked, sauntering past the cells from which moans, sobs and stench exuded, was as if he were strolling through a summer market.

He stopped at one of the doors, turning back to the Elf with a big smile; his eyes were twinkling with some perverted sense of self praise. “Take this one for instance! A wily, clever little girl. She thought she could play me! Me!” He chortled. “A witch, which is foul enough all by itself. But this one …” He tapped the door. “The last of a long line of powerful witches. The Frosts. Elusive, careful. I might even have admired them, if they weren’t what they were. But this one was proud and arrogant, and now she is nothing.

Gideous reached up and slid back the little metal window, looked inside for a moment. His face was disturbing to behold. The smile spoke of a perversion of the soul, of a derangement of the mind. There was pride and lust in those eyes. After a moment, he stepped back, and motioned towards the window. “Take a look at my newest guest; Miss Katarya Frost.”

The cell was, of course, dark. It stank of human waste and rotted food. At the back of the small cell a woman was sat with her knees up, back against the wall. Her face was bowed, but one could see the bruises and welts on her face. Her hands were red and swollen. She was shivering … or shaking; it was hard to tell.

Farro took the opportunity to flick a reluctantly curious glance into the dark and dreary cell beyond the heavy door, reflexively wrinkling his nose as the damp musty air brought forth all manners of foul odour in his direction. He looked over the sad, crumpled form within the room, and his interest in the young witch dwindled with each passing second as he failed to feel much magic about the girl, or spirit for that matter. The name Frost had triggered something within him though, something that was buried deep within the recess of his memories. Had he known a Frost witch? He couldn't be sure either way, but why else would the name sound familiar? ‘Still’ he thought to himself… ‘This girl may prove useful in some manner’, connections that he couldn't forge himself, may be coercersed through another after all. He would consider it, and make the judgement call later when the time to act or move on, came. He turned back to Gideous with an appropriate look of haughty distaste, knowing it would please the man to see his agreement in regards to the witch.

Gideous motioned forward. “Shall we continue?”

Farro gave a slight nod and the human turned away from him, traipsing further into the damp underground. Farro hesitated a moment, studying the lock on the door and trying to taste the magic that had been laid within the alloyed metals. He cursed lightly under his breath and moved on, the other scents down here were so thick it was impossible for him to single any individual thread out. Another thing to add to his list- steal the cell keys.

Farro learnt little on the rest of his tour through Gideous’ estate. He reckoned if they were lucky, there would be a five, maybe ten minute window for him to enter the dungeon, release his mark and for then she and he, to flee up the staircase and disappear into the bowels of the house. He had little idea as to how far away the Lord's sleeping quarters may be from the dungeons, but he was banking it wasn't one of the closer suites. He had managed to score one of his many tasks from the growing list however, the cool dark stone thrummed against his breast as he strode through the dark streets of Fellsgard on his way home.

----------------
Thank you to alex for his Input with Gidious and the view into Kat's cell! : D
Last edited by Memoria on April 6th, 2020, 5:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: Shortened the divided in between sections. Messed up mobile view. :(
Word count: 1154
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Fëanáro Larkain
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Spirit of Fire
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02
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16 / 16 MP
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Re: Releasing the Wind

Post by Fëanáro Larkain »

Gidious was one of the easiest targets Farro had come across in a while, the mans’ arrogance and belief in his own power protecting him had left the human wide open to be duped. Feigning comradery between neighbours, Farro had managed to initiate one of those awkward male hugs the humans seemed so fond of in social circles. Wrapping one arm around the man's shoulders, all the while his other hand seemingly accidentally bumped into the humans’ leg, agile fingers twisting and fishing the small stone out of his trouser pocket as they pulled apart once more. Of course an action which Gideous would not discover, he’d merely believe he’d dropped the stone somewhere and then lay the blame upon a servant for being careless enough to allow a thief to come into possession of an enchanted stone.

There was a heavy frost settling across the city's darkened streets when Farro left his residence later that night, the waning moon was high in the sky and failed to cast much light across the landscape, leaving wonderfully dark shadows at every turn for people such as Farro to conduct their trades within.

There was only a scattering of guards visible around the lord’s estate, as Farro sat silent and still within a looming tree on the property's boundary. His merchant’s disguise now shed, replaced by his fiery red hair and dark clothing that blended seamlessly with the heavily shadowed foliage, keeping him well concealed while he made his assessments. The dungeons had been smartly, but frustratingly built beneath the core of the home, leaving Farro to locate a safe entry point and then navigate his way through the sprawling home to the single entry point available to the lowest level. The second level of the home boasted numerous balconies that undoubtedly were left wide open in the warmer months, but were sealed tightly this night. That may have been too obvious anyway.

Dropping out of the tree and landing soundlessly in the frost crisp grass, Farro kept the shadows as much as possible, winding his way through the gardens towards the back of the house and the servants entrance which was in the sublevels of the house, like nearly every other home in the north district, his own included, meaning he knew the door was likely left unlocked for the out of home staff arriving in just a few hours.

The small door was well hidden at the back of the property, the ice slick steps well concealed from view by rough hewn walls and dense shrubbery. Tentatively, Farro peered out around the hedge row that currently hid him from any watchful eyes. The majority of the guards appeared to be posted around the front of the property, the logic of the placement escaping Farro. Like a wraith, Farro’s cloaked form swept across the poorly lit lawn , disappearing down into the maw of the short stair well. Anyone watching may have thought him a shadow or trick of the mind, such were the perks of nightwork.

He examined the handle on the servant's door, noting with a touch of frustration the flaking paint on the surface of the squat door and the rough texture of new rust upon the metal elements. He cursed Gidious again, the money only stretched as far as his guests could see and comment on it apparently. Resigned to the fact it was almost certain to creak, Farro pulled down the worn lever and gently pushed the door, stepping swiftly inside the threshold.

To his great relief and surprise, whoever maintained the house had seen to oil the hinges. At least someone had a brain. The black stone hummed in his pocket for a few moments, the extrinsic power of it holding off any alarm the weaker, external wards may have set off had it failed to fulfill its purpose. Pleased with how things had gone so far, Farro moved around on silent feet, locating and ascending the first most likely staircase he came across. His internal map of the estate was far from complete, but what he had gleaned on his numerous visits to the home and most certainly from the one earlier that day, allowed him to navigate the ground floor corridors with relative ease.

A few minutes of carefully listening, peeking around corners, and swiftly traversing corridors had him one turn away from the corridor leading to Lord Gideous’ private cells. He could hear the faint rustle of fabric and the creak of leather from further down the hall. A careful glance around the corner revealed there to be a human man standing guard, his eyes heavy with weariness and demeanor distracted, obviously wishing to be somewhere, anywhere, but where he’d been left alone to stand duty. Farro wasn't sure what the man was doing there, as if a bog standard human would stand any chance against any established mages. He barely contained the derisive snort that wanted to break free as he evaluated his options, inevitably coming to the conclusion that the best course of action was to catch the man off guard, he could try and knock him out cold, but what if that didn't do the trick with the first blow? Farro had no qualms about taking a life in the midst of a job, the man posed no real challenge, he doubted he’d know what was going on until his life's blood was seeping away, soaking into the expensive rug that lay beneath his booted feet.

‘Idols curse the contract restrictions’ He grumbled internally, quickly checking to make sure the guard was still distracted. He was. Perfect. Slipping his hand round to the waist of his trousers, Farro unhooked the small, and rather dinky sized crossbow from his belt, loaded a small bolt quietly into the mechanism and stepped around the corner into the hall. The well loved crossbow made little to no sound as he squeezed the smooth trigger, letting the bolt fly effortlessly through the air and thunk into the wooden frame of a door past the dungeon stairwell.

The guards head snapped up, his weathered face twisted with confusion and alarm as he scanned the far end of the corridor for the source of the disturbance. He huffed, his heavily stubbled cheeks puffing out as he peeled himself away from the wall and took a few stiff steps, his gait smoothing quickly as he moved further away from Farro and the stairs. Farro wasted no time, bouncing into action like a cat stalking prey, the carpet underfoot silencing every hastey foot step he made. Intending to slip up behind the middle aged human male before he could realise he was no longer alone in the lavish hallway, Farro narrowed the distance swiftly, preparing himself for the critical strike.

The soft sound of the blade leaving it’s sheath at Farros' side caught the attention of the older guard. Farro frowned for the brief moment it took for the human’s mop of muddy brown to snap his direction, the locks of hair cascading around his head and into his stark blue eyes as they met with Farro’s burning ember eyes. The movement then revealed something Farro hadn’t anticipated, slightly pointed ears poked out through the mass of hair - a half breed. He cursed soundly as every muscle in his body tightened, exploding into motion as the guard began to advance.

Like that of the elves, once the guard had a target, his speed and reflexes became much sharper than that of a human. The man wrenched the heavy sword from his belt, brandishing it at Farro in a clear threat and warning, bringin the elf to an abrupt stop. Farro smiled coldly, knowingly at the halfling. The man was obviously an accomplished fighter, his elven blood meaning he could even be nearing Farros age in years and therefore, the threat was not to be taken as lightly as he’d first intended.

Farro was however, nothing if not well prepared when there was coin involved. Concoctions and tonic’s were not cheap, nor particularly easy to come by, so in such situations he was a practical man. A blow to the head was free, uncomplicated and they never saw him coming. This situation was unfortunately going pear shaped on him now, the man stood facing him, face lined with resolve and cool purpose. So Farro dropped the nasty looking dagger held within his left hand, moving to remove another from his right gauntlet, and then one from the left. The movements were so smooth, so practiced, that there were few in the land that could have spotted the slight of hand. Without any indication of his intent, Farro dropped to the floor, legs swinging out in a smooth arc and deftly knocking the man's legs clear out from under him. He was up and looming over the halfling within a breath, pinning the man to the ground, his sword now safely out of reach as he produced a small, slim item and held it where the halfling could clearly see it.

The halfing paled and Farro smirked, “W-What,” The man stammered, his voice tight and higher pitched than it may normally be, “what have you p-put on that?!”
“Oh nothing too nasty, don’t worry you little head halfling.” Farro purred, lowering himself to the man, “It’ll only last a few hours, maybe a day. Your pride may take longer to recover though.”
With that Farro ran the thin, slightly porous blade across the man's cheek, just deep enough to draw blood before he rose and moved off the man. His body already beginning to go limp on the soft carpeted floor, his eyes were wide and panic stricken while he watched Farro calmly pat him down, dislodging the set of keys from his belt. After all, it wouldn't do to have guards within the jail to have keys, just in case.He sidled off to recollect his blades and then disappeared out of the guards sight, down the dark stairwell and into the dungeon beyond.

The heavy door’s lock gave way with a loud, resounding clunk and Farro shoved the door inwards, ensuring he kept his body to the outside of the wards. He wasn't sure just how long they would have once he went through until Gidious or more guards came down here to greet the gosling and he. Uncertain of which cell was Marcy’s, Farro mentally prepared himself for the sprint that was effectively being laid out before him and took the first step over the wards.

The dark hall flared that unearthly green or the glyphs lining the walls and he set to work, deftly sliding back windows on each cell, peering inside and seeing a range of sad and pathetic looking human mages, male and female alike, all huddled in the corners of the putrid interiors. He may need a dozen baths after this to feel clean again, the awful magic stench could cling to your skin for days after. He rounded a bend in the hall, spotting a door a few feet away sitting ajar, a snide male voice echoing from within the dimly lit depths. Scowling, he moved to the next window, triumph rolling through him as it slid back to reveal the blonde haired, young woman he’d been searching for within.

Diving for the jangle of metal within his pocket, he made short work of trying the various keys in the lock before the right one slid in and the door swung open. He was all too aware of the timer slowly counting down on them as he hurried towards the crumpled form on the ground, dropping into a crouch beside her and reaching for the manacle. Striking green eyes met his, a faint sheen of something not entirely sane glittering in their depths while the once beautiful face looked gaunt, filthy and tired with weeks worth of dirt and neglect.

He hissed as his fingers made contact with the steel, the enchanted metal trying to pull at the magic buried deep with him, and then at the array of magical items he kept on his person at all times. He gave the woman an appraising look once more, unsure if it was the cuffs or lack of nourishment that had caused her current state. Gritting his teeth, he took hold of the repulsive metal that banded her ankle and began trying the varying keys once more.

Within moments, the right key slid in and the young mage was free. Farro removed another blade from a shealth at his waist and held it out to the mage hilt first. “Good luck little Gosling, I don't know how long we have until they swarm the place like the locusts that they are.” He paused, looking back out the door through narrowed eyes as the faint sounds of voices echoed through the stone from far above. “My guess would not be long, they’re already amassing.” He gave her a fiendish smile as he spun back to face her once more, “Fly away home little gosling,my job is done.” the elf cooed, stepping back from her.

In the almost impenetrable gloom of the cell, the dark shadow that had been the elf slipped out the door and into the estate beyond.
Word count: 2235
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The Unreliable Narrator
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Creator of Prompts and Inspiration
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Re: Releasing the Wind

Post by The Unreliable Narrator »

Marcy was gone now, or resting, or something, she wasn’t sure. She could hear her thoughts, her private retreat from the pain and suffering this horrific room had forced upon her. And yet, even there she was not alone. Anemoi taunted her, shouting and wailing for release. He was her constant tormentor, her companion, her brother absorbed.

She had lost count of the seconds, hours, days so long ago and they hadn’t even tried to torture her after the first night. Everything they tried simply got eaten if it was magic, or was ignored if it wasn’t. The room did it’s work, sapping away at her strength and control, weakening her without need for effort from her captors.

She felt herself snap back into awareness as someone - or something - came into her cell. It had been so long since she’d heard the groan of metal from the door. She tried to struggle awake, but only managed to moan softly at what could only be her doom.

Then there was a man, or at least something shaped like one. He fidgeted and hissed, touching at her bindings. She thought he might have been speaking, but she could only hear the weak thrum of her heart. Finally, there was a resounding click, and the entire world came into focus.

The fog on her mind was blasted away as though the dawn had broken. She felt addled, exhausted, and the ringing in her ears told her she was terribly wounded. She could hear the man talking, and now recognized him as a man. “Fly away home little gosling,my job is done,” he said, just as he slipped from her cell.

Marcy felt confused, he had done something, she could feel one of her hands. Then the rush of power came, and she whimpered in agony as the crack of her bones resounded in her soul. Her body began to reshape itself, the magic deep inside her suddenly rushing out in a demanding roar to heal her.

Her ragged throat let loose a scream, a sound of pure and primal fury, as she reached over and shattered the second manacle binding her. The second flood of magic was worse than the first, she felt herself being torn apart, becoming only magic. Anemoi hungered, and Marcy wasn’t strong enough to force him down anymore.

Her final thought before Marcy’s mind was crushed into blackness came in a furious torrent of wind.

‘MUST FEED!’
Word count: 418
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