Quest Shipment Recovery

[Lilette Blackbriar]

"Stupid," she whispered, "Stupid girl!"

Lilette pulled the stable door shut behind her and collapsed onto her knees.

Then and there her fangs came forth like the assassin's knives, and she knew she would have to feed soon. All around her horses stamped their feet anxiously, their elevated pulses screamed to her, but she had already tried this once before. That dirty flavor would only last so long, and the cries of those innocent beasts would surely alert the entire tavern.

She sighed through grit teeth and stood, knowing this must be her fault.

If she had only fed when she had the opportunity this wouldn't be happening. Instead she waited, hoping for some brigand to accost her on the road, someone who deserved her teeth in their neck.

Yet until now, every face she'd seen was more or less innocent.

"...gods..."

Chastising herself for abstinence from murder. What would Godewyn think?

So she pushed on, licking Fane's blood from her fingers for what little sustenance she could, while fetching those herbs and bandages from her saddle bags.

And then someone opened the door.

---

Marek Rae'twyn Suvalissaere​

 

[Rae'twyn Suvalissaere]

Rae'twyn's features crinkled with dismay.

"Bring her to the woods? But that's so far! At least a hundred yards. Ugh -- and I just got done cleaning my boots..!"

Who cared about some wayward village anyway? There was a perfectly good hole in that well! Wouldn't be discovered for weeks! Ah, whatever, let the humans have their way then and tidy it all up so neatly.

As he helped carry the body to the woods, a few more gripes and complaints issued:

"Why don't we grant her a burial as well, now that we're at it, hm? Dig her a grave, hold hands and sing her a few songs, bless her body in oils and send her soul off to -- whatever Gods you pray to? We even have a cleric for that!" Eventually, as work overtook his moaning, Rae'twyn could address Marek's other concerns with a little more rationality. "Yes, yes, I know, it was an amusing display of our fearless leader. Though not entirely surprising, mind you. I've seen many folk have a delayed reaction to, ah, such gore. Mayhaps she merely wished to vomit in peace?" His mocking grin was vicious, but cooled before Marek's scepticism. "Afraid this is the business, old chap. Never was normal, but the gloves are off, for certain. Whoever is sending murderers our way won't be pleased, I can tell you that much."

Their sordid work done, disposing off the body below a serviceable log, the two men trudged back towards the inn.

"Well, I suppose one of us ought to check up on the Lady. Wouldn't want her painting the walls brown -- or red, if there's more surprise visitors about." He tapped his chin in brief thought. "Now I'm also curious about why there would be coins in our drinks . . ."

Marek

 

[Marek]

Marek let out a long-suffering groan midway through Rae’twyn’s latest barrage of colorful commentary. His arms were straining under the dead weight of the body, his boots squelched unpleasantly in the damp underbrush, and now..

“Gods above, do you ever get to the point?” he snapped, exasperated, dragging the corpse with less care and more contempt. “You probably had to dart to the surface 'cause you wouldn’t stop monologuing when some poor Matron just wanted you to eat her-”

THUD.

The corpse hit the ground with a sickening splatter. Marek froze. Blood oozed across the top of his boot.

“…Shit.” He crouched, swiping at the mess with a fistful of leaves that did precisely nothing. “Fantastic. These were the good pair.”

Muttering curses under his breath in three different dialects, Marek stood, brushed himself off with all the dignity one could muster after corpse-hauling, and fixed Rae with a dry stare. “You go investigate the drinks and their mysterious coin content. I’ll check on the nun. She looked like she’d seen a ghost…and then us, which arguably isn’t much better.”

With a final half-hearted wipe of his boot on a fern, Marek turned and made for the stables, shoulders squaring as he reached the door. He raised a hand, knocked once, then slowly pushed it open.

His voice, now gentled but still carrying a rough edge, called into the dark.

“Uhhh, Sister Lilette? You alright in here?” A pause. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier.”

Lilette Blackbriar
Rae'twyn Suvalissaere

 

[Rae'twyn Suvalissaere]

"Well, I think we're better to look at than ghosts, at least."

Rae'twyn watched Marek go with a lazy smirk, then peered down next to him by the tree. Fane still lay splattered on the ground like a sack of wheat, neck cradled among the roots of the tree.

Oh yes. And then there was him. He probably ought to bring him indoors.

Rae'twyn pulled a scarf free from his own neck and covered Fane's visible wound. Then he scooped his arms below Fane's legs and back, and could barely lift him. Maelzafan's breath, how much weight had he put on? As he staggered over towards the inn, the barkeep from before saw him quick enough.

"Gods above, what happened to him?"

"Too much drink and too little balance. He tripped and hurt himself."

"Well . . . I'll help you bring him to your rooms," the innkeeper said, though he gave Rae'twyn a dubious look; the drow ever being the suspect. Eventually, they ferried him into his room together, much to the murmur of the few patrons present.

Marek
Lilette Blackbriar

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Lilette went very still for a moment.

"...'tis not the first time I hast seen a noble's throat gored, ye know."

She closed up the bag and turned around, her hands noticeably cleaner though blood still clung to her sleeves like sin. It was dark, enough that if she spoke quietly through thin lips--she hoped--Marek would not see her long, faintly curved fangs.

Even so her eyes may be diversion enough, producing enough light of their own that even when she walked through the blackest shadows towards him, one could always make out their quicksilver hue.

"But ne'er didst I think t'would happen 'pon mine watch" she sighed.

"...thought I wert faster..."

Though calmer, she still spoke with a faint shakiness at odds with her sweatless brow.

Nor did she even think of the mess till she put her hand on the door.

"Ugh!"

"I can't be seen like this."

---

Marek Rae'twyn Suvalissaere​