Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Wed Nov 16, 2022 7:36 am**

6th Day of Ash, 122nd Year of the Age of Steel

The gloom at the end of the tunnel was a welcome sight. Masagh sighed with relief and used a hand on the wall to guide his steps. The pact was beating the echos of his fight with the Inquisitors into his mind and body with the unrelenting cadence the Rune maintained since he had received it. The reaving rune was a powerful thing. It was a weapon unmatching in combat, but it came with a toll. You must suffer as you would, and endurance is the only way through.

Masagh endured, though his knees became weak at points. Eventually he slid through the thin side tunnel into the Grand Hall. It was mostly empty now, House Creth having dispersed to their other pursuits. Amongst those that remained were Cyran, Sabrione, and the new family they had rescued. The two youngsters were much more relaxed now. They were constantly playing and their laughter echoed through the tunnels of House Creth. The parents, Edgar and Ellen, too could be seen smiling at something Cyran said.

Masagh set his face and made his way over to the group. He walked gingerly, attempting to not show any of the pain of the pact toll. Sabrione was sitting on the edge of a table facing the table the family and Cyran were sitting around. Cyran had some book open in front of them. Masagh caught him explaining some detail of the house history excruciatingly old and irrelevant. At least the family seemed comforted at the longevity of the house if not interested in Cyran’s musings.

“Weaponmaster. Can I have a word?” Masagh said, stiffly leaning against the table next to her.

“Sir Masagh, are you as old as High Arcanist Cyran as well?” The little girl asked. Masagh had brought her through Sabrione’s slipspace portal along with her brother but he hadn’t learned their names. He smiled with a huff of laughter.

“No, no, I’m a spritely young two hundred.” Masagh grinned at their incredulous laughter. Quickly he shot a significant look at Sabrione though. She caught it and arched an eyebrow.

“Alright, sorry. Pardon us a moment.” She muttered, waving a hand to the family and standing up. She moved off towards the other end of the hall and he followed. When they were out of earshot she turned and looked him over.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Masagh grimaced. “The Mad Goat… and then other places.”

“What?!” She hissed. She leaned in and her eyes flared with anger. “Why did you go back so soon… and alone?”

“We felt people alive who saw our faces, Sabrione!” How could she not understand. She had been at this longer than him, she knew the game. “First it’s rumor, then the Inquisitors are involved, then it’s a hunt.”

“It was just a bar brawl gone wrong.” Sabrione said quickly, eyes flashing towards where Cyran and the family were still talking. “No Inquisition, no problem.”

If only that were true. “Inquisition was there, Sabrione. They talked to the barman. He called us zombies.” Masagh told her. “Then they went to the Siltori’s house and he confirmed it.”

“What?” Fear pooled in her eyes, like blood in water darkening her expression. “How do you know?”

“I followed them, of course. As an animal.” Masagh waved the question off. “They spoke to the Siltori, he’s named Serat. He remembers undead killed his friend.”

“And now the Inquisition knows.” Sabrione was looking truly fearful, or perhaps it was guilt that plagued her face. After years of responsibility for the safety of the Compound, she was sure to be shouldering the fallout of this disastrous event even now.

“Well, no.” Masagh muttered, grimacing and rubbing the wrist of his sword arm gingerly. “I killed the investigators. Toppled their bodies into the Gash.”

Sabrione blinked. Her attention diverted to inspecting him for wounds. She pushed and prodded at him, making him turn so she could see.

“I’m fine. But we’ve got to handle this tonight.” Masagh said, pulling away.

“Why?” She asked, eyes roving the Hall again.

“Investigators with the Inquisition come sniffing around the bar, hear about some murdered Ork, go visit his friend, then the same night go missing? I’m sure their bodies will be found, or what’s left of them. We leave it for another night and who knows who Serat - the elf - will tell. Got to stop it clean, stop it now.” He finished with the finality of a headsman’s ax.

A nasty look had crossed Sabrione’s face, as though it was all too unpleasant to contemplate. Her shoulders were tight and her hands curled into fists.

Laughter carried from the table where the family was. Cyran’s voice rose eagerly as he explained something. They both knew they had to go back out. They both knew why. Masagh turned to look at the family sitting there, happy and safe.

“Alright.” Sabrione said.

“One more thing.” Masagh still watched the family, face impassive. “I’ve got no more aether to use. I’m just old fashioned blade and brawn for a bit now.” He turned back to her, brows creased in worry.

“Stay here, I’ll go clean it up.” Sabrione said quickly. Guilt hung over her like a cloak.

“Oh, where does the elf live? Think you can kill him alone?” He didn’t try to hide the biting tone. “We go together, we end the elf and then we forget it happened. Ork’s dead, elf’s dead, and the two investigators are dead. No one left who really saw us. The innkeeper won’t press it and no one will believe it without the witnesses.” Masagh reaffirmed the plan.

“Are you up for this?” Sabrione asked, eying his sword arm. “He’s not an easy opponent.”

“I just killed a pair of Imperium officers, Sabrione. I think between the two of us we can handle one elf with a pair of daggers.”

“I meant with the fallout of your castings, Masagh.” Sabrione snapped.

“Oh, yes I’ll be fine. Can you get us to the Mad Goat? I can retrace steps to the house from there.”

“Yea, come on, let’s do this out of sight.” Sabrione said, eyeing the family and pulling on his arm. She led him into the entrance hall and under the looming statue of Quetharax. She tore open a way into the slipspace and lead him through. There was a moment of disorientation as his sister guided them along the leylines. Then they were out into the material plane just up the road from the now familiar Mad Goat signpost.

Posted: **Wed Nov 16, 2022 7:36 am**

On the horizon a deep blue was beginning to rise.

“Got to be quick, only about two hours of night.” Sabrione muttered, drawing her blade.

“Yea, right. This way.” Masagh said, hurrying along the road. The dancing goat was like an omen of anxiety and bloodshed now. Twice it had preluded the shedding of blood, and now it would a third time.

The street was empty and quiet as he retraced the steps of dead men. Sabrione followed behind, eyes shifting to every alley and cross street warily. Masagh didn’t bother. Truth be told, he didn’t have enough energy for the vigilance she was displaying. Not today. It had been a long one.

He found the house easily and saw that all the windows were dark. “This is it.” Masagh told Sabrione, climbing the steps. She followed and examined the door.

“Do we go in hard or quiet?” She looked at him.

“I don’t know.” Masagh said. “Can we go in quiet?”

She grunted. “Fair point. I’m going to knock it in.” She stepped back. “We move in and find him before he can get his feet.”

“Right, let’s go.” Masagh nodded, unsheathing his blade as well.

Sabrione reared back and slammed her foot into the front door just below the latch. A thunderous crack rang out and the door shook, but did not come open. “Shit.” She said, kicking again. The door remained closed.

“Move.” Masagh barked, not waiting. He slammed his shoulder into the door with as much speed as he could muster. He and the door collapsed inside. He fell onto what appeared to be a living room’s hardwood floor. The door slammed against he wall.

Sabrione was vaulting over him and thundering towards the stairway that lead upstairs. She was on the second floor by the time he managed to push himself to his feet. Pain radiated from his shoulder, but he had mobility. He ran through the living room and into the next room. Even in the dark he could tell it was a kitchen. There was a small courtyard seen through the small window in the rear. A trapdoor lead to a small underground storage area when he flung it open.

Serat must have a bedroom upstairs.

He headed for the staircase.

On the second floor he found a pair of open doors, the rooms beyond empty. Sabrione was stepping down the hallway with her sword held ready, point down. Masagh come up behind her, lowering his own sword point.

“Bedroom.” Sabrione said, facing the last closed door. He grunted softly, tightening his grip on the sword. Sabrione kicked it open and launched herself inside. Masagh ran in after her.

It was not a large room. The bed was fit for two and the sheets were messed as though someone had just flipped them off themselves. The floor was littered with discarded clothes and there was a chair, side table and dressed. A candle sat unlit on the table. Their swords were starting to seem unwieldy in the tight space.

The room was empty.

“Where the fuck could-“ Masagh began but was cut off when the thinly launched himself onto his back from where he was perched behind the door. Masagh groaned as a fresh hot pain erupted in his side. He dropped his sword and collapsed, pulling the elf off balance as he did so.

He could hear Sabrione yell and turn her blade on the elf. Masagh felt at his side. A deep wound, but low and away from the vitals. It would heal. The scuffle raged above him as Masagh struggled to his knees. The hunger ate at him now, coupled with the pains of aether drain and the wound. He needed the warm, soft flesh of the living. It would solve all his problems.

He stood. Serat was a whirl of blades pressing Sabrione back. She was clearly on the defensive, her footing becoming tangled in the clothes and the bed. Masagh lunged and wrapped fingers around Serat’s face from behind. “Sabrione, kill the bastard!” He rasped.

His sister rushed forward, seizing on the distraction. She ran the elf through, driving her blade through his chest. The claymore in her hand slid in easily. The Siltori dropped his daggers and went limp. A searing pain burned under Masagh’s ribs and he looked down. Sabrione’s claymore had tore through the elf and about five inches of it were embedded in his own side.

“Fuck Sabrione.” Masagh tried to say. He collapsed again, the blade yanking violently free. Ichor spilled onto the floorboards to mingle with the blood of the elf.

“Oh shit, Masagh!” She freed her blade from the elf and he dropped, gurgling but unable to speak. She dropped the sword and went to Masagh’s side as Serat flailed weakly. “Shit I’m sorry. It’s so dark and cramped in here.” She babbled, pressing fingers to his wound.

Masagh opened his mouth and a cough of ichor escaped. Energy he couldn’t spare was draining out of the two mangled wounds at his side. Serat lay dying.

“…Eat.” Masagh rasped, his eyes following the flailing arm he could see in his periphery.

Sabrione’s worried look lit up and she moved out of sight. She returned with her fist tight around Serat’s throat, dragging the dying elf to Masagh’s side. “Eat him, Masagh. Regain your strength.”

It had been a long time since Masagh had indulged in the meal that brought vitality to his kind. Generally, it was considered reckless by Creth standards when not necessary. But everything about the past few nights had seemed reckless. Hot blood erupted into his mouth as he took the first savage bite. He could feel the bone deep hunger sating like a warm breeze on a winter’s night. The pain receded a bit with the second bite. By the third Serat had stopped struggling.

It was a full hour later that Masagh sat, his face no longer decayed or gaunt. Long thick brown hair hung down in curtains around a face with smooth, tanned skin. Brown eyes stared down at the half eaten corpse of the Siltori. The wounds in his side were healed now. The regenerative power within him had been bolstered by the living and freshly dead meat.

“It’s going to be interesting trying to explain this to mother.” Sabrione said, gesturing to him. He had the vitality of the living and was covered in blood and gore. He sat preoccupied and tired, picking gristle from his teeth.

Posted: **Wed Nov 16, 2022 7:37 am**

“So we don’t.” Masagh said simply. Granted, his mind was lethargic and he hadn’t formulated a way not to do it.

“You think that’s an option?” Sabrione said.

“We just tell her we had a nasty run in with some Inquisitors, dead now. I had to eat one to heal.” Masagh said. “Simple is best when lying.”

“This got too out of hand, Masagh…” Sabrione said, not an accusation. It was more self flagellation. She was sitting on Serat’s bed, staring at the opposite wall. “I was a damn fool. She wouldn’t have wanted to risk the house like this.”

“She?” Masagh asked before realizing who his sister was talking about.

“Adrielle.”

Ah, so the weight of the duty weighed heavily for Sabrione this day. The eternal responsibility to House Creth could be tiring, he knew it as well. With centuries of existence it never changed, it never got lighter. They could not forget the importance either. Their whole lives were hiding and staring at the handful of surviving companions. To have lost so much and be bound to protecting what remained was a daunting task. He knew that pain well, for he had taken that same oath.

But Sabrione had done it before him. She had been a seasoned Knight who had stood to her watch since before he was born. Masagh had assumed she had no weak points in her resolve anymore.

“Adrielle.” He repeated. “I don’t think you should concern yourself with what the dead wanted.”

Sabrione snorted. “That is all House Creth is.” She dropped her face into her hands, as if to rub the wariness away. “The dream of those who are dust now. Mother carries them on and now we bear that load with her.”

Masagh grunted, then began to stand. “There are plenty of young ghouls in the house who want a safe community to call their own. Who want change.”

“What’s the difference?”

Masagh shrugged one shoulder. “Methodology. Come on.” He held his hand out.

She grasped his forearm and allowed herself to be hauled up.

“We’re fucked if you can’t Slip us back.”

She invoked her Traversion rune with a grimace. A tear in their reality appeared. “Bring that.” Sabrione nodded to the half eaten corpse of the Siltori. Masagh grabbed it and dragged it through. The room was still when the tear closed and light dimmed.

The bed was ruffled. The door had marred the wall. Blood pooled on the floorboards and bits of flesh disrupted the inky black pool of it. And in the midst a thin trail of ichor, like oil on water, snaked through the blood.

Posted: **Wed Dec 21, 2022 4:13 pm**

R E V I E W

Lore: 6, you requested 2 so have 4 left over.
Two-Handed Blades: Using large swords inside
Two-Handed Blades: Fighting a dual-wielder

Points: 8, may be used for Reaving

Injuries/Ailments: Some, but healed

Loot: Half a Siltori corpse

Notes:

Legend of Ransera

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