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The Hunt: Part One
Posted: Tue Dec 10, 2019 9:44 pm
by Taelian
38th of Glade, Year 114
You heard from him, he said.
From the Jailor himself. From Aldrin. They're trying to recreate another one -- another blasted, sodding Huntsman. Replace what they lost with Dalen. They think they can do it.
...Are you sure? It took them hundreds of years, they--
They can. They know exactly how it works, now, the curse. And they only had one mouth to feed, no longer six.
...But they're still trying to grow. I heard they want to evolve past Huntsman; they think they can. It's absurd.
Right now, he continued, they need to stop the bleeding. They're losing their ground. Our people are crowding to us by the thousands, and for once, Dranoch hegemony is being questioned. They need to replace what they lost; to show us that they can surpass our attempts to oust them. So we need to show the people of Sil-Elaine, again, that we can oust them even without the use of deception and sabotage. We need to kill Lady Glairen, and we need to kill her soon.
. . .
On one fateful silver-clouded morning, with Silfanore's usual shimmering fog cleaving suspensefully through the wind, Taelian was awakened by the most urgent of knocks against his door.
"Wake up, Cleric," the voice commanded. He recognized it.
"Darnan...?" the young Ebon Knight called, rising from the firm foundation of his poorly-built bed. He immediately began to stretch his neck as it was in discomfort, as it too often was, and the suddenness of his awakening made him feel only worse for wear.
"Wake up," commanded the Ashwraith. "They've decided they're going to hunt Lady Glairen before she evolves. And you're on the mission."
Taelian had listened intently; curiously at first, wondering who they had decided to dispatch to handle the decimation of the powerful Cardinal. Aldrin, perhaps? A league of his Black Revenants? Curiosity immediately became doubt as he was answered, and doubt twisted within him almost immediately into a descending spiral of negative emotions. Why him? . . . Why me? He stopped himself as he realized Darnan was likely lying to him. Joking. He only rarely had a sense of humor, but that only made the gravitas of his jokes all the more. He tended to sweep people from beneath their feet whenever he played his jests.
"I get it. Who's actually on board?" Taelian asked.
"...Taelian," the man began. He twisted the door knob and slowly opened the door, the burly silver-haired warrior facing Taelian with an utterly sobering expression. "I'm not lying to you. Aldrin himself has cleared your position in the group; you will be with me, Temiril, Vilara, Irina and Vendrael."
Vendrael.
His old mentor. The one who had recruited him to the Remedy as a child -- who had done so knowing he was an orphaned boy with nothing left to lose. The one who had explicitly denounced his value to Aldrin, ensuring his path towards becoming a Famished, only for the strain of guilt to force him to try and salvage the wreck he had left behind. Of course. They would not only put him on a death run, they would tether him to the man he wanted to pretend had died the moment Taelian woke up with a mutilated soul.
"...Fuck that," he said. "Fuck Vendrael. If Aldrin wants me to die on this mission with a man that I hate... he can come and command me to go himself." Taelian seethed. He was so angry -- at the audacity of it all.
"You're not as important as you think," Darnan replied. And he was right -- he wasn't. Taelian was a low rung, better-than-nothing fuck on the Remedy's scales. A Cleric. He wondered if Aldrin had even known his name before plastering it onto his public list, and if he still remembered it thirty minutes after.
"Fuck this," he repeated, angrily shaking his head. "Fuck the revolution. I don't want to die."
Re: The Hunt: Part One
Posted: Wed Dec 11, 2019 7:45 am
by Taelian
Of course, in time, Taelian did the only thing he could do: submit to Aldrin's command, join ranks with the other five who had been sent to dispatch the emerging Cleric. Temiril, Vilara, Irina, Vendrael, Taelian and Darnan. A total of six hunters for one prestigious Dranoch Lord, and together in the courtyard they were briefed on who she was and what the impact of her ascension could be. The five lower ranking Siltori stood in line in a single, horizontal row, while the ranking member - Vendrael - stood before them. He was a tall and robustly built Siltori with somewhat long hair, running near to his shoulders with a portion of his hair tied into a short ponytail. There were scars all over the surface of his complexion, tearing through his stubble and the edges of his jaw. He was blind in one eye, but he kept the white pearl-like globe open for others to view, unashamed of his supposed deformity.
Taelian remembered him differently than he was now. Scars had been added to his complexion over time, and he hadn't always been missing his vision. The many hunts had worn on him. He could not recall: if Vendrael died and reanimated through the Bedchamber, would all of the damage he'd sustained melt away as his form regenerated anew? Perhaps even the prestigious Black Revenant before them did not want to experience the sensation of death. Or perhaps he wore those scars like badges of honor. In a way, they were; the Revenants could live fearlessly and pursue their objectives without worry. Their number of scars displayed what sort of streak they were on -- how many Dranoch they had slain, almost, without needing to return to the Citadel Gallows to come back alive. Vendrael had never died yet. He was one of the best of the best; some imagined he was Aldrin's successor, if the time ever came.
But Taelian was certain that the Remedy would die with Aldrin, if the time came indeed. Far too dependent upon his power, the organization would brittle and collapse without the munitions he provided them. Aldrin's connection to Wraedan and the blessings he offered were the bare necessity for their ideological project.
But Vendrael primed them to listen, and the man never wasted his words. The Siltori all looked to him for guidance in their curiosity, the same question circling around their thoughts.
Re: The Hunt: Part One
Posted: Wed Dec 11, 2019 7:50 am
by Taelian
"...All of you," Vendrael began to speak, "are here because I selected you. Some of you may have been informed that it was Aldrin who brought you here -- but he deferred the selection to me. So, of course you ask: why choose you? This is a dangerous mission with untold consequences, integral to the continued success of our movement. If Lady Glairen is allowed to live, and if she indeed becomes the new Huntsman, not only will we have lost the progress we made with Courtier Dalen's death -- we will show the people of Sil-Elaine an inherent fragility in our organization. The inability to uproot the machinations of the Court; we will provide the Dranoch the sense of acquisition they need to regain their confidence in Elainian affairs. On the inverse, Glairen's death sends a clear message: that even the favorites of these malignant leeches are not protected, and thus the Dranoch themselves. That if they aspire to become members of this forsaken Court, they will only be culled at the closest moment to their ascension, left to rot in their fallibility. If we succeed on this mission, we are striking a blow almost as deep as the one struck when Dalen died."
Taelian did not know about that. But his logic was sound: this was a mission of utmost importance, one of the most important the Remedy had ever undertaken. And yet he, a moderately skilled Cleric, had been selected for it. He felt that he owed it to himself and his peers to ask why.
"Why did you choose us?" he questioned. "Darnan is a new Ashwraith, and I'm a Cleric. I don't have the skills necessary to deal with the number of Dranoch surely protecting this woman. I'm not even certain I could handle a Botchling on my own."
He had only been on two hunts before this one. The first was a Botchling, but it was one that was brand new. He'd felled it with the assistance of another Cleric, and was constantly impressed by the ferocity and speed it displayed. The second was a Cleric, and Taelian had almost died in pursuit of him. It was only because Darnan and another Ashwraith were with him that they had eventually managed to win, and more importantly fell it before it managed to gather allies in the fight. Even one Botchling would have turned the tide to their defeat.
And that was one Cleric, and one that was not nearly as powerful as Glairen. Or surrounded by progenies like Glairen surely was. This mission seemed fatally insecure.
"Because, Taelian," the man spoke again, "I recruited you for a reason. In fact -- perhaps you did not see the line until now, but all of you were my recruits into the Remedy. I taught all of you how to be Ebon Knights and I instilled all of you with the conviction to become what you are today. If anyone can and should lead you, it should be me; to becoming the instruments of this organization you deserve to be, filled with potential as you are. I know your skill and your potential, even if one of you is only a Cleric and the others, relatively young. You are all skilled fighters, and brothers and sisters in this cause."
The Silver Elf still wore his frown, though in time it flattened to nothing but his often worn, blank stare.
"I understand," he said. "Though I wonder what those platitudes will soon mean."
Re: The Hunt: Part One
Posted: Fri Dec 13, 2019 9:30 pm
by Nyx
Come Get Your Rewards
Experience Earned: 5/5
Magical?: No
Lore Earned:
Deception: Spotting a supposed lie
Deception: The correlation between sarcasm and deception
Tactics: Forming a solid group
Tactics: Infiltration Squads
Hunting: Dranoch
Hunting: Hunting Group
The Black Remedy: Ashwraith
The Black Remedy: Black Revenant
The Black Remedy: The Jailor
The Black Remedy: Aldrin
Dranoch: Huntsmen
Silfanore: The Court of Dusk
Silfanore: Courtier Dalen
Silfanore: Lady Glairen
Silfanore: Gratiana Sil'Elan
Ills and Ailments: None... yet
Loot: No
Reviewer Notes: Taelian''s rather ferocious hatred for Vendrael also makes me hate Vendrael even though I haven't particularly seen anything distaste from him yet. Directly at least. A dick move to snag out boy off the street and put him under Aldrin's knife, but what else are the Sil gonna do in this hell hole? Still, poor thing. I feel so bad for Taelian already and it's only the first post in this little series. I can't wait to read the others. I know I'm going to adore them. Best of luck to poor Taelian though. Love you, thanks for the read. Enjoy your rewards~!