Private Tales A Midnight Mission

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen tightened his cloak around himself as he walked through the cold dark street of Caroway, a growing town in the heart of the Allir reach. While he hated the chill of the night breeze, he couldn't deny that the shadows offered him no small amount of comfort, especially given his goal. His duties as a warlock were varied, but most of his jobs were much like this one. Find someone who's actions displeased his master and remove them. This time however, there were a few key differences that were sure to make the night more memorable. For one, he wasn't hunting some dime a dozen mortal, but rather a fae who had taken it upon himself to take the delights of forced servitude. For two, he wasn't working alone.

His golden eyes peered up from beneath the cowl, the light they emanated being barely visible as he relaxed in his concentration on the illusions he kept. "Should be the place," he muttered, stopping beneath the hanging sign of a tavern. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what to expect from his contact. He'd been told to find a leprechaun, but also to not assume he had a clue what they being looked like. With a small sigh, the warlock fished a gold coin from his pocket and started to flip it through the air, the steady cling plap sounding again and again as he tossed and caught the shimmering metal piece. It was a simple designator, but Varos had assured him that the one he was supposed to meet would recognize it.

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

"Ah yer gotta be fucking kiddin' me," the big Allirian man opposite Cillian swore and threw down his cards in disgust. There were similar mutterings from around the table as men tossed away their own cards and sharply pushed back chairs to go and get a drink to down their sorrows. The only one not cursing was the leprechaun who reached out and with a chuckle around the toothpick he was chewing on, pulled the more than generous pile over to him.

"You do be cheating, surely," an elf from Tarandel muttered and eyed Cillian from the corner of his eye.

"Nae, tis just good luck gents," he tugged the penny where it hung about his neck and kissed it. "I told ye, these charms work," there was more disgruntled muttering from both but they did eye up the penny with more consideration than they had when he had first mentioned it at the start of their game. After winning three rounds in a row with different decks it seemed they were conceding his point now. "Unfortunately gents, I be off now. T'was great tae play wit' ye both," he swept his hat up from the back of his chair and gave a two fingered salute before waltzing out the pub door. Just, as luck would have it, as a piece of gold went twirling into the air.

Not just any gold piece either.

Cillian threw the toothpick from his mouth and begun to fiddle in his pouch for his tabac.

"Now, ye don' see many o'those round anymore," he said casually and nodded at the golden coin with the odd writing that rimmed the edge and embossed with a four leaf clover.

 

[Vulpesen]

The brogue upon his ears snapped Vulpesen's head to the towering figure that approached him. Catching the coin merely on reflex, the glamoured Zorren's eyes widened and for the briefest of moments, his illusion faltered. You're shittin' me. This was not a small cobbler with a green tail coat. This was a behemoth who could have break his spine like a toothpick.

I told you to leave your assumptions behind. Varos' voice chuckled into the warlock's mind.

Recovering from his shock, Vulpesen turned to face Cillian. "Easier to find when you know where to look or who to talk to. I take it you're the guy I'm lookin for." He looked the leprechaun over, his cloak flapping by his ankles as his invisible tail flicked around. "You're taller than I expected."

 

[Cillian]

Cillian merely held out his hand in answer. When the other handed him the coin he turned it over and even brought it to his teeth to bite into: there were plenty of forgeries around and he suspected a strong fae would be able to create a good enough glamour to fool him. He wasn't so arrogant to assume otherwise but he trusted his teeth and his taste for home. With a nod of satisfaction he flipped the coin back to the Zorren and went back to his pipe. He'd already stuffed it but now he struck a match and lit it and brought it to his lips to breathe in deep. Only after the first long exhale of smoke and a sigh of satisfaction did he answer properly.

"Aye, it appears so," he eyed up the other fae and gave him a grin that was all cocky mischief. "Ye should'na believe teh stories laddie. Or rather, ye should question who made 'em in teh first place," he took another long drag on his pipe and then inclined his head casually to the side and a tavern further down.

"Drink?"

 

[Vulpesen]

Taking back the coin, Vulpesen tucked away, his eyes once more running over the leprechaun before him. The words were certainly something to think on, especially considering the circumstances that lead to him becoming what he was. If there was one thing he learned as he became a warlock, it was that all legends have an origin. "As if I could say no." They had time before the real work began and if he was going to head straight into danger at his master's behest, he'd rather not do it without at least an ounce of liquid courage flowing through him.


"I can only imagine how hard it is to keep those stories alive. Then again, my master has proven that the fae can be full of tricks, especially when it comes to the minds of us mortals. Not that I'm complaining, I'm well aware that you've got your reasons." He kept his voice low as they moved across the path. Not all believed in the fair folk and those that did weren't always friendly. He'd found it was always best to discern openness of his compatriots before speaking openly of their natures.

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

Cillian was the marked opposite of his new found companion. Falling into step beside the warlock the folk out in the evening rush called out friendly greetings to him or spoke his name with marked affection. In return he nodded or waved back, sometimes offering a returning word here or there, but always listening to the words Vulpesen had to say. He had not sold his soul to any one Court as of yet - and was still undecided whether to the fact he would - but when he came into contact with a person who was he liked to keep his attention on them. Courts had their agendas and he only planned to work with them if they aligned to his own. Any word or phrase could tip him off to what exactly that real agenda was.

"Tis surprisingly easy actually. Ye just need tae know who to whisper in teh ear of, then it grows on its own. Teh best rumours are started only wit' a seed. I particularly like 'ow travellin' by leylines turned inteh travlelin' by rainbows," he chuckled to himself.

The other pub was at the opposite end to the one he'd just been gambling in but it was just as busy. Though whereas the other had been full of the rivermen who worked the crossing, this one was full of the farming folk who had come down off the hills for a chance to warm their bones. There was a general good mood about the place and nobody paid much mind to two strangers walking in and taking a seat. The innmistress delivered them two tankards of tap and left them be.

Cillian leaned back in the chair with his pint and sighed like a man who had been parched and not just drinking.

"Me name's Cillian."

 

[Vulpesen]

"I suppose that's much how my master's myth started. A few grand shows and let time do the rest," the warkicj mused as he followed his newfound compatriot. The fae's jovial attitude and ingrained nature to the public was something that was unexpected, though a pleasure to see. It was what the Vitae court hoped to see in the future, a world where fae and mortal greeted each other as friends and equals.

The pub was a cozy enough and Vulpesen couldn't help but take in a deeper inhale as the drink was set before him. It was nothing fancy, certainly not of the caliber that he'd grown up drinking. It was also far from the worst thing he'd ever had on the road. "Vulpesen. Not sure if you were told to expect me or not. My master tends to keep things to himself. He did however, assure me that you were the one who could help me take care of a bit of trouble brewing around here."

Lifting the tankard to his lips, Vulpesen let the cool refreshment wash over his senses, calming him and allowing him to relax. Beneath his constant glamour, his zorren ears would continue to flick to and fro, always on alert for any signs of danger. However, now it was out of habit rather than an actual assumed need. If there was any part of him that he planned to watch out for, it was his tail which was now snugly wrapped around him beneath his robes. It wouldn't do for someone to step on the long appendage in its invisible state.

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

Cillian watched the warlock over the rim of his tankard as he lounged in a seemingly casual manner in his own worn leather chair. You could tell a lot about a fellow by how he drunk his ale. Tiny mannerisms often slipped to the surface when a person drank they might otherwise try to hide. With his Sight of course he could see beyond the glamour the other wore and noted the odd twitch here and there of an ear but his companion seemed relaxed which in turn but the leprechaun at ease.

He hooked an ankle over his knee and took another sip.

"I dinnae get a name, naw. I was just'old tae watch out for yer coin," any leprechaun in the town would have been able to feel its thrum as it had been flipped into the air. Nowdays though there wasn't much chance of there being two of his kind in any one place. Easier and safer that way. It also helped most of the town thought him some kind of elf and not the short green fair folk from the stories. He rubbed a hand through his hair.

"An' I'll help anyweys I can, o' course, but I only really got in touch wit'cha master to alert him tae teh situation," being asked to help had been a surprise though not completely unusual. Cillian sold his services to whoever needed them. "I suggest I take yer to teh sight o'teh last abduction first. Ye might be able teh see somethin' I couldna."

 

[Vulpesen]

He wasn't unaware of the glances sent his way as he enjoyed the taste of his drink, but he didn't mind them either. It was only natural for business partners to take stock of each other. "Always good to know I'll have an extra pair of hands and eyes," He took another long sip of his drank, draining away a good portion. "Sounds like as good a place to start as any. My eyes aren't my only sharp sense, and it wouldn't be the first time I had to piece things together." He placed his tankard down with a soft clack. "That being said, I wonder if you've seen anything. Any ideas or theories on your end so far?"

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

Cillian scratched at his beard. Theories were all he had really - there hadn't exactly been a lot left at the scene to go on.

"Well... I don' like tae start rumours," he chuckled at his own little joke before continuing on in a more thoughtful tone. "I've seen a few o' these cases before an' t'ey all 'ave t'eir reasons. Some o' 'em just like teh look of certain mortals an' want 'em as decorations really. Others are a bit more sinister an' t'ey like tae see mortals in pain... But t'is one... Well... You'll see what I mean when we get there but," he shook his head and took a swig of ale before setting the mug down and reaching into his coat. From within he pulled a rolled up bit of parchment which when he unfurled appeared to be a drawn map.

There were little crosses all across it in a haphazard way.

"I T'ink the fae is lookin' for someone. Maybe t'ey swapped a babe and are lookin' to collect or maybe it's somethin' a little darker. I cannae say... but teh homes they leave behind are all... Marked. Whoever it is, t'ey dinnae want another fae tae find 'em."

 

[Vulpesen]

The zorren continued to drink as he listened to Cillian's theories. It was something he himself had seen on the few fae related missions that Varos had deigned fit for his interference. By the sound of it however, there was something about this that would break the mold. While no mission was routine, it certainly sounded like something interesting was about to happen, and perhaps Varos was finally seeing fit to extend his warlock into more dangerous waters.

As the map was laid out, he leaned over it, setting his drink aside as to not spill it on the intel. "What kind of marking? A rune or recognizable symbol?" he asked, his eyes roaming over to search for any sort of pattern. Random abductions didn't sound like something a fae would do. But if the homes didn't hold a pattern, then it made sense that such would be found in the victims. "What do we know about those that are taken? Male? Female? Age? If they're looking for a mortal they think is owed to them, then they'll be looking for one that matches a description. If we can't find their lair on our own, that could certainly help us bring them to us."

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

Cillian raised a finger and patted down his coat pockets in search of another piece of paper. He chewed his pipe across from one side of his mouth to the other, puffing all the time as he searched until he finally gave a short noise of exclamation and plucked another bit of parchment from a pocket.

"It don' look like any symbol I ever seen before," he smoothed it out to reveal a carefully drawn symbol:

​

"As for anything similar..." he blew out a breath. "Tae only thing I could find was t'at t'ey were all born on tae same day - in tae morning too - but looks, sex, they're not tae same between any o' 'em," he scratched his beard again in thought. Trying to find something similar between them had been one of the first things he had tried too and he had dug as much as he could.

"I t'ought tae symbol was why yer boss agreed tae help."

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's tail flicked behind him as he read the rune, causing a passing barmaid to glance about curiously at the unseen grazing. Thankfully, a minor gust or a sudden itch was often enough of a rationalization to keep anyone from digging too deep when he made such a mistake. [Well?]

[I know it, alright. Not quite an old parlor, but it's been making the rounds. Lots of deals that end with people being sold. They seem to love taking advantage of people that aren't quite aware that they're with child.]

Varos' words were enough to confirm the suspicions already in Vulpesen's head and he lifted his drink for a large draining swig, leaving only a small portion left to swirl about as he placed it back down. "Looks like they made a prenatal deal. Haven't found the right victim yet, but they don't seem particularly picky considering none of these people have made it back. Do we know if this town keeps any sort of birth record? Might narrow down our victims list. If not, we'll be doin' this the hard way." Stakeouts were never much fun, but with only two people and a city filled with possible victims, it meant a lot less running about.

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

"I t'ain't had a look m'self, but most towns have a record round 'ere of Blessings," usually held in the churches. It might not tell them the birth days precisely but it would tell them when the babes had been Blessed, which usually happened two weeks after the birth. In bigger towns or cities that wasn't always helpful because of the different races and religions people held, but in these smaller, country villages it was all the records they had and the majority of the population tended to share the same beliefs.

Cillian took another healthy chug of his beer.

"Yer... not one o' those who can't cross sacred land are yer?" he raised a brow. There were some fae and warlocks construed by odd laws nobody seemed to be able to explain.

 

[Vulpesen]

"That will definitely be a place to go, then." Despite the hopefulness of his words, Vulpesen was staring down into his drink. Even narrowing the possible victims to a week would be beneficial, but nowhere near as nice as a day. "Thankfully, my restrictions have nothing to do with this this area. If they wish to elude me, they'll need to be in my master's own back yard."

Rising up, he brought his glass to his lips one last time to gulp it down. It wasn't his favorite way to finish off a drink, but he wasn't here to relax. There was business to do, and people's lives were on the line. "Though unfortunately, I don't think they generally approve of drinks besides wine." He fished a coin from his pocket and laid it down on the table as a tip. "Hope you ain't either. If we're lucky, there won't be that many possibilities left. If we're luckier, we'll find a pattern and their next target."

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

Taking his cue from his new companion, Cillian also finished off the dregs of his drink and then stood causing the chair to scrape backwards across the strained wood floors with a noise of complaint. Her threw Vulpesen a Cheshire grin.

"Then tis a good thing I'm rather like a walkin' charm, eh?"

The leprechaun took the lead at first but only really because he was the one who knew where the church was. There were no lights on inside and so Cillian assumed most of the priests were tucked up in bed. There was a faint niggle at the back of his neck breaking in to 'sacred' ground but then again these humans had probably forgotten the reason why the ground was considered sacred in the first place - if there had even been a reason. He'd pissed off enough gods in his time if they even did exist, so what was one more to save children's lives?

As luck would have it though neither of them would technically need to break in. Someone had forgotten to put the latch on the door and so it was simply a matter of wandering in.

"T'ey usually keep teh books in a small room in the back," he whispered though the sound still bounced around the acoustic room.

 

[Vulpesen]

The warlock chuckled as the realization of his companions reputation came to him. "Well if luck was enough for us to meet, then hopefully it'll keep going through the end of this."

Vukpewen kept his hood up as they traveled to the church, though it was mostly so that he could relax his glamours. It was set to be a long night and it would be best if he didn't waste all his energy on magic when there was a mundane alternative to keeping his secrets.

His eyes scanned the sanctuary as the pair slipped into the church. Then closed as he focused on sending his focus through the shadows of the darkened building.

"Alright. Keep your head down and I don't know... try to look pious?" He whispered. He felt confident in his ability to keep aware of his surroundings, but there was always that slight chance that something could go wrong.


Keeping towards the library, the warlock whispered a quick prayer. Perhaps it was sacrilege to do so in another god's temple, especially when you knew your own wasn't as divine as others believed. But, there was a purpose to his heresy which was shown by the added brightness to his gleaming eyes. The blessing of Varos could offer several advantages particularly, the ability to see the hidden strings that might point hom to his target. "Hopefully this won't take too long."

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

Look pious?

Cillian had looked many things in his life but pious certainly was never one of them. Oh, he'd looked spiritual in a sense. If you counted having people idolise you and worship you as they had done centuries ago, before the Purge. But he had never been the person bowing and scraping or offering pledges. Not to any blasted Court and certainly to no God. His fortune in life was woven by him and that was that. So whilst he nodded as Vulps slunk off to go find the book they were after, as soon as he was gone he did what he always did in these situations.

"Ahh," he sighed as he settled down on one of the wooden benches having covered it in the odd cushions the humans made so their knees didn't get sore when they prayed from the floor. It wasn't perfect but it would do. He then patted himself down and found his pipe again and begun a leisurely smoke whilst staring at the nice paintings on the ceiling. Humans were fascinating.

* * *
​

Along the outside walls of the church a shadow detached itself from that of a grave and slunk towards the large window to peer inside. Seeing it vacant it stealthily begun to slink towards the door...

 

[Vulpesen]

The warlocks fingers danced over the spines of each tome before him, following the single golden strand that guided him towards his target. As he had hoped, it wasn't hard to find the record of birth which was quickly snatched into his hand. "Perfect," he muttered, opening up and starting back to the sanctuary. With each step, his awareness extended further and further, the shadows of the church providing him with sight beyond his eyes.

He had almost reached Cillian when the hair on his neck prickled. They were not alone. His eyes flashed once more as he expanded another sense, this time feeling out through the ground beneath him track the footsteps of whoever had intruded upon them. Something told him that whoever this was, they were not a priest.

Preferring not to risk detection from the invader, Vulpesen sent out a shadow to his compatriot, tapping the leprechaun on his shoulder. Hopefully, it would be enough for the fae to turn towards the warlock stood at the threshold of the library, one finger to his lips and another gesturing towards the door. A part of him wanted to motion for Cillian to snuff his pipe, but figuring that simplicity was the best course of action, he refrained, hoping his partner would have the sense to keep some sort of low profile with a possible enemy so close to them.

 

[Cillian]

The hairs on the back of Cillian's nape rose up as skeletal, bony fingers curled around the edge of the door though he couldn't seem them from his vantage. It took a lot of effort not to freeze or turn or run which was what his gut was telling him to do. Such a sensation didn't often occur which meant whatever this thing was that was clacking its way through the narrow gap he'd left, was a thing that was dangerous and old. Was it just a coincidence it was here or was it here for the same reasons as they were?

He nearly flew out of his skin when there was a soft tap at his shoulder and he glanced over with a scowl for his companion, a hand over his heart to show exactly why he was mad and no doubt revealing he too knew about the eerie creature which was now beginning to inch its way inside. Dressed in a ragged black cloak all that protruded from it was a skeletal beak and claws which looked like they might have once been hands.

It begun to slither its way down the aisle towards the backroom where Vulps was standing...

 

[Vulpesen]

After sparing an apologetic grimace, Vulpesen returned his gaze to the macabre figure that was now turning towards him. Swiftly ducking behind the wall, he shot a hand down towards his waist, snatching a weapon reserved for such occasions as this. The iron dagger was cool in his hands and even as he stared at its dull surface, he could feel the void where his magic couldn't quite reach. If his senses were tricking him and this was merely a man of the cloth who had skipped out on too many dinners, then this was about to be very awkward. But if he was right, then the tiny blade in his hand would offer quite the advantage.

Shadow, stone, and pointed ear kept the Zorren appraised to his quarry's location and he waited patiently for the approach, his breathing slow and measured until the first foot touched the entranced to the library before revealing himself. Pivoting on his heel, Vulpesen wheeled on the intruder, his dagger raising up to give them a closer view of its fine edge as it pointed between their eyes. "Hello, there," he offered, a polite smile gracing his lips despite the situation.

He could feel his pulse racing, even as he held the apparent advantage. Fae were tricky creatures and filled with surprises. Already he knew of a hundred ways his master could have turned this tactic against him, but Varos was a duannan and with any luck, this was a lesser sort who would find themselves a bit more restrained in their options. "Here for a midnight read?"

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

The Suriel screamed it's blood curdling cry as the dragger was thrust between its snake-like eyes. It's face was indeed that of a skull, with a protruding beak and teeth that didn't fit inside. Its long tongue, which was blue in hue, snatched in and out tasting the air before it. Sensing the taste of iron it disappeared and the creature tried to recoil quickly. Unfortunately for it Cillian was now blocking its entrance. Unlike Varos, the leprechaun was unable to use iron to frighten it. Fortunately he knew the other creatures weakness.

He waved a dead chicken from his hand when the creature turned and it froze, licking lips that were long gone.

"Why don't ye answer our questions, eh?" he drawled pleasantly as though having a discussion about the weather.

"I wasss ssssent for the booook," it hissed, eyes flickering between the two and the book. "It isss my command."

 

[Vulpesen]

It took no small amount of fortitude for Vulpesen to avoid driving his blade forward into the creature's grotesque visage. What the flying hell is that!? As surprised as he was by the hideous creature before him, Vulpesen was equally perplexed by what his companion was waving about in his hand. "The he-" He shook himself from his stupor and returned to the task at hand, keeping his blade in its threatening position. "Who commanded you?"

The fae were strange, this much he knew. It was a truth that warlocks such as himself were forced to come to terms with. This in mind, he often found it easier to focus on the things he did understand. Things like interrogation. Whatever this thing was, it liked chicken. While Vulpesen found that promises of gold and clemency were often a more acceptable bribe, if this leprechaun could do it with a pocket chicken, who was he to complain?

Cillian

 

[Cillian]

"We don't assssk," the beaked fae hissed and a serpent like tongue flicked in and out of the beak to taste the air in front of the dead chicken. Cillian sighed; he hated Suriel's.

"Look, le'ss make a deal," he waved the whole dead chicken in the creature's face. "Yer answer 'is questions, an' yer get this all to yerself," he raised both brows. The cloaked figure seemed to hesitate, wavering from side to side hypnotically in time with the chicken. Then, suddenly, it reached out and snatched the dead thing from his hands and the deal sealed into place.

The Suriel bit into the fleshy white carcass then glanced to Vulpesen.

"The Mottthhhher."

 

[Vulpesen]

Knowing better than to interfere with a boon to his investigation, Vulpesen let Cillian work his dealings, though the sight of teeth sinking into the raw poultry flesh caused him to briefly look away, happy that life as a soldier made suppressing a gag second nature.

Clearing his throat and banishing the image and sounds from his mind, the warlock returned to business. "Describe her. And where did you meet 'the mother?'" Fae were always strange beings and he knew if he so much thought of the idea of Varos selling information for a dead bird, his patron would make the insult to his cleverness very known very quickly. Not that he was complaining. If it worked, it worked.