Fate - First Reply Rabbit's Foot on The Run

[Erren Serris]

"You're really not giving me much of a choice here, are you?"

Erren Serris stared back into the beady, angry set of eyes of the grey-skinned elf sitting across the table from him, knuckles white around the handle of his mug. Of all the places Serris traveled, all the dangers he had to endure for the sake of his job, his own home city of Elbion was supposed to be the kinda safe haven where he could grab a mug and a woman to keep him warm for the night without having to worry about a knife in his gut. He'd walked into this joint, a little hole-in-the-wall tavern called The Blue Ribbon because anybody who'd used to associate with him wouldn't have any reason to be snooping around here anyways.

He hadn't taken criminals into account, apparently.

"You have something we want, Serris. We know where you're coming back from, and we know what you've got in the case. Give it to us, and we'll let you walk out of this place with all your fingers and toes."

'We' huh? Funny, there was only one wannabe artifact smuggler sitting in front of him, but now that he mentioned it Erren did feel quite a few sets of eyes burning his skin. So, brought the whole team along did he? The case in question was under the table, between Erren's feet. Sure enough, there was something pretty damned powerful inside. Old and dark magic. Not some curse that'd kill you in a week or a hex that would make your life a living hell, this was worse. This was the kind of magic you really didn't want to be fooling around with.

Now, who the hell had tipped these goons off that he had such a thing with him?

Taking another long drink of the bitter-tasting grog they'd served him here, Erren let out a sigh as he took a mental note of how many he was dealing with. At least four of them. Conspicuous by their sudden absence were any of the barmaids or the bartender. Probably paid off to go home early for this, he imagined. There were a couple of other patrons sitting around too, but they all seemed to be minding their business. "You folk wouldn't know what to do with this even if I did give it to you. You shouldn't know I have it in the first place. So that means somebody hired you for this. Getting paid pretty good for it, I bet?"

His pale friend didn't say anything, but the crooked, toothy smile that spread on his face gave him all the answers he needed.

"Well, my friends, I'm sorry to say that despite your very convincing argument, I'm not at liberty to give you anything. It's property of the College now, you see. Not mine to give." As Erren spoke, one of his hands lowered underneath the table, his fingers twisting as his pupils dilated. There was no chance he could take on all four of them as it was, but Serris was not the kind of man who had to accept things for how they were. He was a mage, one who specialized in 'adjusting' the odds.

"That's a damned shame, Maester."

Serris swung his hand down to the case, grabbing it and quickly standing from his table. The grey elf across from him attempted to stand and grab for his dagger, but the old tavern chair he'd been sitting on gave way, collapsing underneath him and dropping him to the floor. Bad luck. Or perhaps it was that little adjustment Erren had made.

The other three that had been watching him from seats around the tavern stood up, drawing their weapons and licking their lips like bloodthirsty mutts.

Erren didn't know if he should run or fight, but he'd better figure it out pretty damned soon.

 

[Kallach]

Kallach had a thoughtful expression on his face as he regarded his cup.

A man who was unquestionably a magician was sitting a few meters away from him. The man in issue was presently the victim of a severe robbery. Armed thugs had surrounded him and were probably planning to slit open the stranger's throat or to open him from his belly to his brain and feed him his own entrails, but not before stealing whatever it was that he was so fervently guarding.

While inhaling cold perspiration through his flared nostrils, Kallach trembled at the idea. The attackers and the stranger were both on the edge of their metaphorical seats. They wanted to move on from this as soon as possible, Kallach thought.

He gave the other customers a somewhat accusatory glare. Although it was obvious that they were all aware of what was going on, they all pretended not to. Some turned their heads away in embarrassment as Kallach's gaze ran over them.

None of these men or women were going to say or do anything in response to a robbery.
In his imagination, Kallach imagined himself rising to assist the stranger and unintentionally blowing out half the pub. Not that he gave a damn about the people inside. They were not particularly kind folks.

Nevertheless, it'd be a tremendous hurdle if he did that.

There had to be another strategy to accomplish this without causing a large number of casualties.

With his resolve steeled, Kallach stood up, pushing his chair aside. He looked at the group of ruffians with his eyebrows knit into a contemptuous scowl.

He was a good bit bigger than them, the same way he was a good bit bigger than the unfortunate mage they were intending to rob.

A part of him hoped that his raw brawn alone would be enough to deter the bastards, but that was unlikely to be the case.

Whatever had emboldened them to attack a magician would most certainly dispel any fear that a particularly large man might've otherwise invoked in their shrivelled up hearts.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren didn't blame the patrons of the Ribbon for not intervening; they weren't in a particularly good part of Elbion, and there was no way of knowing what this little gang of smugglers had in store for him. Not everybody was so willing to lay down their life for a stranger.

That's what made it so surprising that on this day, there was somebody who evidently was. Even before the flustered elf who'd been sent to his ass could scramble back to his feet, another rose from his seat across the Tavern. For a split second Erren was worried there were even more of these idiots than he'd thought, but this was no elf.

He was a rather large fellow, with hair as black as the eyes of the ones trying to gut him. Serris felt his eyes narrow, fists clenching even as his attackers back up a bit at the sight. Yes, he was intimidating, and Erren certainly didn't trust him, but any backup was backup when it was four-on-one.

Erren just hoped the big man was as smart as he was burly. It was time to bluff.

"A sight for sore eyes, sir. Though I certainly didn't expect to see you here."

Serris fixed an intense gaze on the stranger, hoping, praying he would follow along so the Ribbon didn't have to get torn to pieces over what he had in his case. The elven smugglers all seemed to turn their heads towards Kallach at once, Erren's apparent recognition of him had them weighing their options now.

Erren reached down, slowly, and wrapped his fingers around the handle of his case. He could almost hear the hands twitching on hilts as he raised it up, holding it over the downed thief and towards Kallach.

"Gentlemen, this is Maseter Fredricks of the First Order. Now, it would look awfully bad of you to be stealing College property in front of such a powerful fellow wouldn't it?"

Of course, there was a significant chance that a Maester had hired them to do this, in which case Serris just had to pray they still weren't bold enough to stir the pot.

"I've brought you the package, just as requested Maester. Shall we be going?"

So far, the teeth-gritting smugglers seemed unenthusiastic about stopping them.


Kallach

 

[Kallach]

Kallach's azure blue eyes glared at Serris, "Incompetent as ever, Serris." They appeared to faintly shine and give off a blueish color.

"Selecting this location—in the middle of nowhere—to meet."

His mouth's corners curved upward into a mocking smile. Overall, the situation was hilarious, and Kallach couldn't help but reveal some of his innermost feelings.

With each unhurried step, he drew nearer to the gathering, becoming brasher. They appeared affronted by his presence, even somewhat frightened. He experienced a delicious sense of intellectual supremacy that flowed over him.


"And Serris, I think I've told you more than once now to stop calling me by my full title. I hate it. It makes me feel every bit as snobbish as those upstart nobles. "

Kallach hunched forward to leer at the crowd of thugs and knaves. His heavy fingers pounded on the table's wooden top, stirring up months' worth of dust.

"You may address me as Freddie, fellas."

He grabbed Serris' huge metal mug and, to put it simply, crumpled it like a piece of paper.
Under the pressure, Steel groused and protested, but offered little resistance to his vice-like hold. Sharp metal fragments jumped in between his fingers but managed to avoid slicing Kallach's skin.

"You see, I possess certain knowledge of physique-enhacing magic. Although you probably don't care much about that."

He threw the gnarled sphere of metal down at their feet. It had shrunk to the size of a tennis ball.

"Allow me to dumb it down for you: Make yourselves scarce, or I'll go out of my way to make sure that there isn't enough left of you for your families to properly bury."



Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Well, Erren gave the burly man an inch, and he'd taken a mile. Not that he was going to complain about "Freddie's" apparent love of the theatrical arts, as it certainly helped their case here. Serris couldn't help but smile as the ones who had been so eager to get their hands on him spread out to give the hulking man his room, some of them stumbling over their own legs.

"Apologies, 'Freddie'. I do hate to make you travel this far out, but I wasn't expecting so much company here, and I do know you like to conduct business in some semblance of privacy."

Then he dialed it to eleven, slapping a meaty hand on the table and crushing a mug in his hand with a sickening crunch that made even Erren flinch at the brutish display. Phyique-enhancing magic his arse, there was nothing arcane about the power behind those hands! Serris took a moment to thank his luck that this stranger was on his side, at least for now.

"Indeed friends..." Erren added to the fire as 'Freddie' dropped the ball of crumpled metal to the ground, with a thunk that echoed like thunder in the now dead quiet tavern. "A Maester is an enemy you most definitely don't want to have, take it from me..."

The elf who'd been seated across from Erren, seemingly the leader of the group, licked his thin lips in frustration, still holding his dagger out towards the both of them. The False Maester's act had done the trick though; instead of advancing, he held his hand out to draw his men back, the lot of them slowly moving towards the exit.

"We won't forget about you, Serris. Not everybody in Elbion is so keen on you being around."

With that ominous warning, they all shuffled out of the Tavern and made tracks to whatever armpit of the city they'd come from. Erren couldn't hold back the huff of laughter from his belly at their attempt to intimidate him. "Tell me something I don't know, boys."

With that out of the way, he, at last, turned to his newfound acquaintance, a grateful smile playing on his lips. "Thank you for the assist, and stellar acting too, I must say. That would have been a lot messier without your help, Freddie."

Kallach

 

[Kallach]

Kallach grinned triumphantly as he saw the thugs go. There was a hint of mischief in the new expression. He wished he had the ability to reach out and turn their mortal vessels inside out. Yes, and it would have been a lesson the fools would never forget. So did the old saying go: dead men tell no tales.

He swung around to face Serris. The man was incredibly proud of their lackluster performance. Kallach had different plans. He was upset, mostly because the name Serris used to address him.

"Frederick—are you serious? Could you have chosen a name that was any blander?"

He positioned a chair in front of Serris and sat cross-legged in it.


From out of his sleeve he produced a long smoking pipe. He put the stem of it in his mouth and chewed on it. His eyes never left Serris' face.

"You are none other than Erren Serris, if I'm not mistaken, which I rarely am."

The expression on Kallach's face changed from irritation to amusement. In an effort to see what Serris was so jealously guarding, he cocked his head to the side and bent down a little. All he saw was a locked chest.

He sat back up with a grimace on his face and resumed playing with his pipe.


"You are the guy who got his position revoked for...reasons."

"But nevermind that. Tell me, what did you find that was important enough to get you targeted by a bunch of cut-throats?"

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren stared back in amusement at the man who'd admittedly saved his hide. Indeed, he'd gotten the wrong impression of this fellow initially. Serris had pegged him as the brawn-over-brains type that so often dwelled within these back alley pubs, but perhaps that had been quite unfair of him indeed. This man was educated, even knew his name.

Which wasn't shocking, given his ugly reputation...

"It did the trick, didn't it? Plus I had to make sure the name I used couldn't be connected to any actual Maesters. That was what came to mind." Serris smiled, sitting back down across from his fate-bound partner, his legs conveniently moving to shield his case from curious hands. "I see my reputation proceeds me, as seems to be the usual here. Yet, you helped me anyways."

Most who knew of him in Elbion wouldn't give him the time of day. To help somebody so disgraced by the great College could be construed as an act against the School itself, even though he was technically still under their employ. Fragile egos, all of them.

Erren reached out to the table that had been haphazardly pushed aside, gripping his mug and downing the last of his swill with a light sigh of relief. Of course, the gentleman was curious about his parcel, but there were still rules to be followed. As he drank, he trained one eye on the stranger.

"I hope you don't think that helping me puts me at liberty to tell you anything about what I've got with me." It did seem rather cold of him, though didn't it? Even those elves had some idea. A pause, then placing his mug back on the table, Serris nodded. "It's dark magic, friend. Old magic. The kinds you hear about in stories, cursing entire bloodlines, ripping souls from bodies, summoning creatures from beneath. The kind we really don't need street-thugs dipping their toes in."

He would have to be happy with that answer, for now.

"What about you? Who are you? Why help me, knowing who I am?"

Kallach

 

[Kallach]

"Yadda, yadda, yadda."

Kallach yawned and tilted his head to the side.

"Spare me the theatrics, Serris."

"I'll have to disappoint you. Your stories of ancient evils and whatnot won't deter me."

He snapped his fingers, ostentatiously beckoning one of the barmaids to come closer. He issued a series of commands to the young woman.

"Food and drinks," he said and glanced sideways, assuring himself no one was eavesdropping on the conversation. The last thing he needed was for some assassin to slip poison into his meal.

That, and, well, the maid had nicely developed ass-ets on her rear end.

The girl bobbed her head up and down before turning to leave. Kallach watched her trail away, resuming the conversation only when she was well outside the earshot.

"So, as I was saying, I'm not in the slightest intimidated by your attempt to dissuade me. I've seen it all now, demons, aberrations, extra-dimensional parasites, vampires, homunculi, human experimentations, and so on and so forth."

"And whatever it is that you got there," he pointed at the space between Erren's feet, "I want to know more about it."

"It's in the nature of my work to be that way," he added, with a hint of finality lacing the statement.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

It seemed that Erren had traded one captor for another. At this point, he just wanted to leave this blasted tavern and head straight for the College to be done with this wretched cargo, but he was getting the impression that this stranger wasn't going to let him just walk away without a bit of conversation.

Conversation that he really didn't want to have.

The man set about ordering drinks and food for the two of them as if nothing had just happened here, the buxom barmaid shuffling off to accommodate them in an equally nonchalant manner. Erren gripped the edge of the table and paid only a momentary glance to the ridiculously revealing outfit she wore before flittering his eyes back to his tablemate.

"You misunderstand me. I'm making no attempt to intimidate you in the slightest. You asked what it was, and I gave you some hints. Are you always so confrontational?" Erren raised an eyebrow as he spoke, seemingly unfazed. "Very easy for you to demand such information of me when you so conveniently dodged the simple questions I have already asked you, isn't it?"

Make no mistake, Erren was grateful for the man's help. That was not an excuse for this fellow to act as though he held any right to press him in such a way. Arrogance was a quick way to lose his trust, and the large gent hadn't even gained it yet.

"I know not what your 'work' is, or who you believe yourself to be, but that doesn't change the fact that I've already told you far more than you are supposed to know. If it is truly important, you should have no trouble explaining to me the reason behind your request. Surely you don't expect me to just give secrets away to a stranger on their word?"

Serris could have been playing with fire. It was entirely possible this man would decide not to be so kind and push Erren into another fight, but against one was far better than against three.

And despite his smaller size, he'd once been a Maester. Erren Serris was no pushover in a fight.

Kallach

 

[Kallach]

"Think Serris, think."

Kallach tapped his temple.

"Walls here have ears AND eyes. Or do you think those thugs found you by accident?"

He folded his arms and leaned over the table. A looming expression graced his face. Kallach wanted to leave the question hanging, to jab the older man under the ribs, but he dropped it. With a sigh of resignation, he flipped his pipe over, emptying its black content all over the floor. He stomped on what little remained of the embers, fully extinguishing them.

There was something pleasant about the way it smelled. Even now, the sooty remains exuded an earthy, redolent aroma.

After a moment of mulling, Kallach wetted his lips and decided to go off the initial tangent.

"But I digress. Let's have it your way."

"I'm Kallach. De-iure, my area of expertise is field research. I'm supposed to go out into the world and document and/or apprehend a specific supernatural phenomenon."

"Speaking de-facto, I conduct various experiments on said phenomenons , preferably far away from the prying eyes of the college."

Erren Serris​

 

[Erren Serris]

Serris was beginning to think this fellow, Kallach, had a higher opinion of himself than the thugs he'd just helped him disperse did. He wasn't necessarily wrong, however. Erren had to admit that the chances of randomly running into a group that sought what he had were slim.

"I'm no fool, Kallach. I've a very good idea of where those ruffians got the word to look for me here. There is no shortage of people who would prefer to see me dead, I assure you." If the man sitting opposite of him wasn't bloody massive, Erren would have already broken this conversation off. Kallach was obviously operating far outside of College jurisdiction, and to even be talking to him would be seen as trecherous by those in power.

Even so, a drink and a plate of tender-looking meat placed in front of him by that buxom barmaid was enough to convince him to stay just a while longer. "Mr. Kallach, I assure you there is nothing supernatural about my cargo."

Erren took a large bite out of the strip of beef, still steaming with warmth. "Because I'm beginning to suspect you won't stop prying until I give you a bit more, let me ask you something." Turning the fork around to point its prongs at the large man staring him down, he continued. "What do you know about Allita?" Serris said the last word of the question quietly; the mention of black curse magic fueled by hate and vitriol might attract the wrong kind of attention. "Ever have somebody despise you enough to create one?"

Kallach

 

[Kallach]

He frowned, knitting his eyebrows together as contemplation shadowed his face. Kallach raised one hand and brought its palm to his mouth, undoubtedly to stifle a laugh bubbling in the pit of his chest.

"It's a special kind of familiar born from a curse with the sole intent of targetting and eventually killing whoever the curse aims at."

The blue eyes smoldering under his heavy, jutting brow grew intense, locking onto the hunk of meat. With a leisure movement, Kallach nabbed a piece of beef and dropped it into his maw.

"I wouldn't like to brag, but I studied it. As I'm sure you know, most familiars are pre-existing creatures bound to the will of their keeper by a contract or a spell."

"Whereas those familiars are easier to come by, a particularly crafty mage can make theirs out of scratch."

 

[Erren Serris]

Ah. Well, maybe he wasn't the single-minded musclehead Erren was beginning to take him for. An Allita was an old magic. Not something one encountered very often. In fact, there were very few who knew the exact methods of casting such a terrible spell in the modern world.

Which is one reason why this case was so important.

"If you've studied familiars, you know that one cannot simply channel magic through them without risking the body of the creature itself. A pre-existing creature cannot be turned into an Allita. Only one made by a talented and knowledgable mage is capable of channeling such hatred, such vitriol."

Erren taps the case.

"This is the first one we've seen in over a decade. They've fallen out of favor due to the skill it takes to create them, as there are so many easier ways to kill an enemy."

That wasn't why Serris had captured it though. No, an Allita was an oddity, but nothing so crucial that it was to be delivered to the College. The being he held in his case was indeed an Allita, but there was something that made it special.

"This Allita's target is already dead."

Certainly, Kallach understood the implications. When an Allita's mark dies, the familiar is killed and dispelled as well as the curse's power dies. Nothing is left behind but ash.

That this one lived implies it was now somehow unbound. A living curse without a target. A bow without an arrow.

"Curious, is it not?"

Kallach

 

[Kallach]

A familiar with no goal or master was no different than an unstable concoction waiting to react. But did he care? Of course not!

He had no real use for the Allita, and even if he did, he wouldn't be asking questions about it in the first place. The way he saw it, the Allita was a critter whose danger far outweighed its benefits. He'd have nothing to do with it, sans possibly destroying it and absorbing whatever energy was left behind it if it ever got loose on the world.

"That's one way to put it."

He chuckled, conjuring a mental image of whoever it was that created the thing in the first place. It was funny to think that many centuries ago, some old fart with a long, scraggly beard threw such a hissy fit that his latent emotions birthed a literal hell spawn on the material plane.

"Well, nevermind that. There are creatures out there manifesting independently that are, at least on the superficial level, similar to an Allita."


"There are dark places in this world, Serris. Places where the basest of emotions have been scorched into the fabric of reality by terrible suffering: ancient battlefields, plague pits and forgotten graveyards."

"If left unsupervised, magical energy can tap into this congealed essence and give rise to all manner of shambling horrors."

He decided to omit, for better or for worse, the fact that his familiars operated on a similar, albeit less dangerous principle. What people didn't know couldn't hurt them, right? And Kallach saw no point in laying all his cards on the table just yet.

Erren Serris