- Messages
- 22
- Character Biography
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Emryc
- - -
It was cold down here, in the undercity. It was a network of old tunnels, man-made caves, and even forests that had been covered by centuries of devlopment. The air was stale, damp, and dark save for the glow stones along the mossy walls.
Eloise was surprised that she had been unaware of its existence for so long. That she, a spymaster of such proficiency, should not noticed a second city beneath her home was astounding. It was also terrifying if one imagined how much power and influence had been needed to keep such a secret.
A secret like the Forsaken, another gap in her omniscience. A race of half-breed assassins, marked and bonded into service of Vel Anir to do tasks too underhanded for dreadlords or soldiers. It had still been a matter of some secrecy after the revolution. After all, news of a secret mongrel attack force would cause even further distrust from foreign powers and loyal Anirians. Their great society was many things; “tolerant” was not one of them.
She moved gracefully with her milky eyes half closed and a luna moth resting silently on her chest. A sphinx moth fluttered about her head and landed on her shoulder, and two small white cabbage moths circled her waist in lazy, bouncing arcs. Several others had already been sent throughout the catacombs to gather was secrets they could, so that when Eloise finally approached a well-guarded door and was let inside, she already knew what lay beyond.
“Dreadlord Libelle, first order, summoner?” A thin man with an overly large mustache sat behind a desk squinting at a rolled bit of parchment. His clothing looked like it used to have medals pinned to it, but there had been no medals lately. Not since the change.
“Yes, I suppose that’s an apt description.” The cabbage moths had settled on her waist, and two more tiny brown things flapped silently to the ceiling and through narrow gaps into adjacent rooms. They had simply appeared from her side.
The mustachioed man introduced himself as a Captain Abel, and seemed to be trying to work out just how the woman in front of him had been classified as a weapon of mass devastation. “Alright, well, you get this one. Emryc was what they called him but call him whatever you like, he’s yours now.”
“You make him sound like a dog, captain.”
Abel looked at her quizzically. “You understand what these are, ma’am? These Forsaken? They’re half-breeds, more monster than human. New guard-“ he caught himself, “er, the Republic does not see fit to execute them, but we can’t just let them roam.”
“I’ve read the declaration, Captain.”
“Yes, yes of course you have. Just…” it looked like he wanted to say “be careful” but thought better of saying such a thing to a Dreadlord. The government may be different, but the sigil at her waist still held meaning. He cleared his throat. “Bring him out.”
- - -
It was cold down here, in the undercity. It was a network of old tunnels, man-made caves, and even forests that had been covered by centuries of devlopment. The air was stale, damp, and dark save for the glow stones along the mossy walls.
Eloise was surprised that she had been unaware of its existence for so long. That she, a spymaster of such proficiency, should not noticed a second city beneath her home was astounding. It was also terrifying if one imagined how much power and influence had been needed to keep such a secret.
A secret like the Forsaken, another gap in her omniscience. A race of half-breed assassins, marked and bonded into service of Vel Anir to do tasks too underhanded for dreadlords or soldiers. It had still been a matter of some secrecy after the revolution. After all, news of a secret mongrel attack force would cause even further distrust from foreign powers and loyal Anirians. Their great society was many things; “tolerant” was not one of them.
She moved gracefully with her milky eyes half closed and a luna moth resting silently on her chest. A sphinx moth fluttered about her head and landed on her shoulder, and two small white cabbage moths circled her waist in lazy, bouncing arcs. Several others had already been sent throughout the catacombs to gather was secrets they could, so that when Eloise finally approached a well-guarded door and was let inside, she already knew what lay beyond.
“Dreadlord Libelle, first order, summoner?” A thin man with an overly large mustache sat behind a desk squinting at a rolled bit of parchment. His clothing looked like it used to have medals pinned to it, but there had been no medals lately. Not since the change.
“Yes, I suppose that’s an apt description.” The cabbage moths had settled on her waist, and two more tiny brown things flapped silently to the ceiling and through narrow gaps into adjacent rooms. They had simply appeared from her side.
The mustachioed man introduced himself as a Captain Abel, and seemed to be trying to work out just how the woman in front of him had been classified as a weapon of mass devastation. “Alright, well, you get this one. Emryc was what they called him but call him whatever you like, he’s yours now.”
“You make him sound like a dog, captain.”
Abel looked at her quizzically. “You understand what these are, ma’am? These Forsaken? They’re half-breeds, more monster than human. New guard-“ he caught himself, “er, the Republic does not see fit to execute them, but we can’t just let them roam.”
“I’ve read the declaration, Captain.”
“Yes, yes of course you have. Just…” it looked like he wanted to say “be careful” but thought better of saying such a thing to a Dreadlord. The government may be different, but the sigil at her waist still held meaning. He cleared his throat. “Bring him out.”