Fable - Ask By Moonlight In the Overbright [Elbion]

[Malus]

Malus blinked at Bast's display and suddenly felt very silly standing under the overhang. The wolfman's ears folded back and he took his place at Dahldaera's flank while Bast uncoiled the makeshift ladder.

After she reached the top, Malus gave the ladder a second tug before following up with less confidence. The ropes strained, the planks cracking and groaning under Malus' considerable weight.

As he neared the top, he felt as a rung snapped under his foot, and the sudden shift of his weight caused the entire ladder to fall from the ledge. Malus lunged, stretching at full reach to grip the ledge just above, and just barely managed to secure a hold.

With a low growl, Malus managed to reach with his free hand, and pulled himself up. As he clambered up onto the staircase, the hound gruffly snorted and brushed himself off as he followed Bast and Dahldaera up the stairs into the next chamber.

 

[Dahldaera]

Bast lingered near the top while Malus moved to climb after the Sovereign and would have made to help him as he struggled had he not managed to catch his own self.

"I do not believe these passages were made for creatures such as ourselves," the dryder said gently to him, lower four eyes squinting in solidarity of their own beastly natures, "this College is not known for diversity beyond human kinds."

"Are you saying they are xenophobes?" Daera lofted a dark brow in intrigue as she glanced back over her shoulder. How novel, slava believing themselves to be lofty enough to judge other slava.

"It is not so blatant as Vel Anir," Bast explained as she followed after Daera down the adjoining passageway, "but, yes. In this city, non-humans have very little in the way of consideration or opportunity. I would likely not be granted passage lest I carry a great value with me of coin, power, or knowledge."

 

[Malus]

"Seems not," grumbled the hound in response as he composed himself and moved to lead the party again.

He had to duck through the corridor and closely listened as Bast lent her knowledge.

"What a waste," Malus said plainly, "So much more good can be done."

At the end of the passageway stood a door. Malus loudly sniffed at it and stilled himself to listen for what was beyond it before slowly pushing the door open. It quietly whined at the hinges and took them to a scenic yard between separate lecture halls. Malus stepped out, allowing his companions past his massive frame.

"We should move quickly, My Lady. This place is rife with slava scents. Where to next?"

 

[Dahldaera]

Daera would have liked to comment that this is what happened when slava were left without oversight - but the fact of the matter remained that the Priesthood had essentially done the same thing to her own people. It was an affront to society she meant to rectify in the coming years. For now...

She withdrew her curious compass and held it flat in her hand, watching following the gemstone point until it spun in place. Since they could go no further downwards she tipped her gaze toward the ceiling, "Up."

"There is a set of stairs just here," Bast indicated with a gesture of a spindly leg, "I believe they lead all the way up the levels of the main tower."

With a short glance to Malus, Daera silently indicated for him to lead the way and followed shortly after up, up, up the levels. It wasn't until the third door they passed by that the first stirrings of activity within the college happened upon them. They could hear footsteps on the steps above - soft, like leather soles, and not heavy like an armored guard. She exchanged a look with Malus and nodded to him to intercept, "Subdue them and bring them to me."

 

[Malus]

There was a nod from the wolfman before he was off. Then, up the stairs he went, and his hulking frame disappeared around the bend. Moments of silence passed when suddenly Malus' snarl sounded up and down the stairwell. There was the loud, clamorous rattling of armor, a sharp gasp, and a thud. Malus returned down the stairs with a man of middling age kicking as he was dragged along. One of the hound's gloved hands clamped over the man's mouth, and the other effortlessly pulled him along. A stream of blood trickled from a cut along his hairline.

Malus yanked the man forward, between himself and Dahldaera, and forced him to his knees.

"You'll be silent," the wolven swordsman snapped his jaws in the man's ear, and he slowly peeled his hand off of his mouth, "Or you'll see just how sharp my teeth are."

 

[Dahldaera]

There was no preparation in the world that could have equipped her for this meeting. Despite her several centuries of life, Dahldaera had never once yet come across a slava human face to face in such ... close proximity. Slava were not even allowed within the confines of the capital palace of the Underdark. To breath the same air as them, to smell their stench, see their hideous countenance ... Daera greeted the man with an impression of unfettered disgust.

Yet this was a direct consequence of the overreaching hands of the Priesthood. Had it not been for them, such lows need never have been met. Daera reminded herself of this, lip curled and eyes narrowed in the dimness of the stairwell as the huffing wretch was set on its knees before her. The instant Malus removed his large clawed hand, the creature made to snivel and screech, but the Sovereign Heir was faster than the air in his lungs ever would be.

A dark, gloved hand flickered up before his face, ensnaring his head in the clutches of an unseen grip. He quaked where he knelt, a dreadful sound of pain and fear stammering up from his throat and out through his gaping jaw. What followed was a strange silvery mist coiling up through his teeth like the tendrils of a smoke pipe. It furled momentarily between them and his eyes pinned as they strained to watch and focus on it, the color draining from his face.

The wisp warbled and pinged a slight ringing tone before gliding obediently toward the Eleth's hand. Daera curled her fingers around it and claimed it for herself, the shadow of loathing filtering across her stark facade, "Avert your gaze."

The mage did as bidden and lowered his eyes to the ground.

"Where is the Eldritch Tome of the Dragon Forge?"

 

[Malus]

There was a long rasp of a wheeze, and then, weakly, "Maester... Felwin's... Study..."

***​

Arriving at their destination, Malus quietly shut the door behind Dahldaera as she entered. It was a spacious chamber packed wall-to-wall with bookshelves. To their immediate left was a cluttered desk. But save for them, not a soul stirred within the study.

A bright light was cast from a lantern on the corner of the desk. Ornamental in design, a crystal suspended itself within the lantern. Malus took it, and as his Mistress prowled between rows of shelves, her Hound lit the way.

"Magic is dense here," he said, "I can hardly make out other smells."

 

[Dahldaera]

Indeed it was. Even Daera could sense it, taste it, feel it in the air she walked through. It hung, dense and nearly tangible like a heavy, ancient fog. A miasma of Arethil's many cultures and ages. Even despite the origins of much of it being that of the slava it held her with a certain reverence that no living creature in the overbright ever would. She walked silently through the stacks, touching nothing, following a keen sixth sense that she hoped was leading her to Malus Duun's personal annals of his forge.

To be able to reclaim the knowledge within that tome - knowledge that should have never seen the light of this wretched world above the surface - and give it to Kalavan... something moved within the depths of her disgusted heart. How tickled he would be to have it as his very own.

What great things he would create for her, for the renewed empire of the Underdark, with this book.

Her instincts did not lead her astray, and as she found her way to the end of a row, there greeted her a sealed and locked glass case within which she spied the writing of her people along a spine of red.

"It's here," she hushed to Malus, the red of his lamp pooling in the blue of her electric gaze to turn it a violent shade of purple. Daera honed her gaze in upon it and spoke the command, "Open it."

Back in the center of the room her Shayd, the old mage, shuddered where he stood hunched.

 

[Malus]

Malus bent forward and began to sniff at all sides of the case, the black bead at the end of his long snout wiggling as he inspected it for any magical traps. The wolfman cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

"Pardon the noise, My Lady."

And with a tight fist, the hound smashed his gauntleted hand through the glass. He reached in to retrieve the tome with one hand and brushed shards of glass off of the cover with his other before turning to offer it to the Mistress, dropping to his knee and lowering his head to do so.