Private Tales Takes a Liching, Keeps on Ticking

[HRavielle]

Bayou Garramarisma
​

Ryan Ashford opened her eyes slowly. The stars that usually dotted the night sky in an area this dark were obscured by the cacophony of trees. Where was she? Why didn't she remember what happened to get her here? Where was Crishell? And why the fuck did she feel so weird?

The Dreadlord Initiate pushed herself up onto her elbows and then eventually brought herself into a sitting position. She turned her head with narrowed eyes as she took in the area around her. The bullfrogs croaked in what seemed like infinite darkness and, slowly, her vision started to adjust to the low light. Ryan's hands rested in marshy grass with only a little give once she got to her feet.

Where was she? A swamp.

Why didn't she remember what happened to get her here? Still nothing on that front.

Where was Crishell? Unknown at this juncture.

And why the fuck did she feel so weird? No clue.

One question answered. Three questions to go.

Ryan took a step forward and tripped over something that was hidden in the underbrush. She turned to scan the ground and a frown curved her lips. Crishell was dead. In a swamp.

Two questions answered. Two questions to go.

​

 

[Vardan]

THE BAYOU

Ryan Ashford

The water was scarcely more than a foot deep, but it bubbled, and by slow means Vardan sat up, peeling himself out of the murky water. Pale hair clung to the skull, and his ruined cuirass, already bruised and decrepit, now had dirt and other swamp detritus clinging to it.​

​

It had been some time since his defeat at the siege of Alliria - at the hands of the mite called Arkobold. A humiliation he would not soon forget. Reforming had been an issue, but the swamp provided, and it likewise furnished new minions.​

​

One such risen specimen stomping around now, grimly peering into undergrowth. That was probably what woke him up.​

​

He hissed, "Hark. Come hither, sweetling."​

​

A bony hand rose from the water, around which a dead read had coiled. He shook his hand disdainfully until it came off.​

​

"Fret not for thy companion. He shall arise as well, once the flame finds purchase."​

 

[HRavielle]

Ryan jumped at the hissing voice. She turned to stare in the direction of the voice. Hark? Come hither? Who said hark? These were the questions that crossed her mind as she noticed there was no one standing there to greet her. Perhaps, she was truly losing it out here in this swamp.

Yep...she was losing her mind.

There was a skeletal hand coming from the water and then it shook. "What the hell..." She whispered to herself.

And then the voice came again. It was talking about Crishell and saying that he would rise as well. As well?

"He will not rise. He is dead. That is impossible." It was not impossible. Drastus could do it. Drastus did do it. Ryan brought her fingers to her neck tentatively and her mouth just dropped open. "No no no...no...no," she said shaking her head.

She started to backup and it was not long before her back hit the tree that had lived in this swamp longer than she had been alive.

Vardan

 

[Vardan]

Ryan Ashford

Empty sockets watched Ryan fuss about, backing up into some wretched swamp tree. Vardan emitted some kind of rasping laugh, though his mouth didn't open. "Thou'rt of passing amusement," he eventually said, "Art thou not a vaunted Dreadling of Vel Anir? Surely..."​

​

Vardan grunted as he shifted in the water. Eventually he found a proper footing and slowly came to stand. The dripping of swamp water off of him was a cacophony all on its own.​

​

"...Surely thou knowest something of the artful magick of necromancy," he continued, "Even if it lies beyond thy meagre ken."​

​

He rolled his shoulders, testing the joints, which cracked noisily. Perhaps he would have to lie down again in short order.​

 

[HRavielle]

Vaunted? Ryan had zero idea what that word meant but she was a Dreadling of Vel Anir so she guessed it was along the lines of awesome or great. Dreadlords were known throughout the world and they were respected and feared. Wait...how did this strange talking skeleton with the weirdest speech patterns she had ever witnessed know what she was? She had no patches on her uniform.

"Yes, I am a Dreadlord Initiate from Vel Anir," she responded to his first question.

Her lip curled involuntarily as the skeleton rose out of the water and came to his feet. This was too strange. This had to be a nightmare. There was no way she was dead. She just could not be dead. Absolutely not. She was sleeping, this was a nightmare, and she would wake up soon. It would be time to continue her mission and then return home.

Ryan looked the skeleton up and down before nodding slowly. "Yes, I know about necromancy but I have never seen anyone brought back that is not a mindless creature at the control of its master. I am clearly not mindless so, therefore, this is not real!"

Her logic made sense. Sure, her knowledge was limited to one necromancer though.

Vardan

 

[Vardan]

Ryan Ashford

Vardan had begun to trudged through the water, pausing suddenly when the word 'initiate' reached his spectral ears. His man-servants had overstated the importance of this Dreadlord, then. No matter. All could be useful to the Rosewyn Dynasty.​

​

"Beyond thy meagre ken, indeed," Vardan repeated, dragging fingers through his soaking hair and freeing the debris that had tangled itself there, "It sufficeth to say that thou hath been reanimated by rare arts. Decay shall set in all the same if care is not taken."​

​

Some people cared about that sort of thing. But by the time Vardan clawed his way back into the living world, he had been in the grave far too long to maintain appearances. Why bother, anyway? A trueborn lord should never sink to hide their visage.​

​

He made it to damp land, pausing now to wring water from a dirty, stained sleeve.​

​

"Feelest thou thy heartbeat still? Belike that shall apprise thee more than my words."​

 

[HRavielle]

Ryan's focus was split between the skeleton's words, his movements, and the fact the she was dead.

Her eyes shot up to his empty sockets at the mention of decay. "How is care taken because this," she motioned at herself, "is not going to look like that..." Her hand motioned to him. Ryan would not make a good skeleton. "Sorry...that was rude...you look great like that." What the actual hell is wrong with you?! Ryan thought to herself. She was just making it seem like she was an idiot.

She tilted her head slightly and stepped away from the tree towards the skeleton. She was trying to be brave. She could do this. If this was real, she needed to start accepting it.

"No, I do not feel my heartbeat anymore but why me?"

Vardan

 

[Vardan]

Ryan Ashford

He said nothing of her insult. It was beneath him.​

​

"'Why me?' Hah!" Vardan barked out a short, hollow laugh, "Thou'rt a Dreadling. A wee flame, yes, but of adequate use. It is a poor lord who counts no sorcerers among his retainers."​

​

Vardan switched to his other sleeve, wringing it dry with practiced patience, as if it were the most dignified activity in the world. "Soon the House of Rosewood will reclaim its place in the Reach. Thou hath been called to give service to this noble cause."​

 

[Amalric Urahil]

"Itsss place?" said a cold, high sneering voice.

A bush to the right rustled and a figure emerged, a man of middling height, but with green scales across his body in place of skin and slitted eyes.

He steepled his fingers before him and looked between the skeleton and the woman.

"And what would its place be, Dead One? Ahh, you look startled, or would if you had eyes in those sockets. I am Threnody, priest of the Feathered Serpent, and an ambassador from Nagai."

More rustling came from behind him and two enormous snakes emerged, their scales shimmering darkly in the gloom of the swamp, each wielding a halberd with two hands which sprouted toward the top of their bodies and standing on their tails. Naga snake-men from the accursed isle, long a blight on the Reach, but who had been thought pushed back into the Ixchel Wilds.

"My retinue was waylaid by Allirian Rangers and we sought refuge in the Bayou. You too seek refuge, I think."

 

[HRavielle]

Ryan did not have a chance to respond to the skeletons words before a newcomer joined their little party. This had to be a joke, right? The dead girl, the skeleton, and the snake man walk into a tavern.

She heard the rustling from the bushes and took a few steps back as the other snake men emerged. This was quite possibly the strangest situation she had ever been in. She did not really even have words for it.

"I have no idea what I was seeking but I know that I am now dead." The laugh that followed her words was sad.

"I am Ryan, Dreadlord Initiate, and that is..." She stopped talking and frowned. "I have no idea what his name is," she shrugged.

 

[Vardan]

Ryan Ashford | Threnody

Vardan's empty sockets would have, in fact, betrayed surprise if they were at all capable of doing so. Though from his other gestures he did not appear overly bothered by their presence. The detritus of the world had a habit of making Garramarisma their final resting place.​

​

"Ah, thou'rt greatly lost, ambassador. I am Vardan. The fair demesne thou deigns to cross is mine," He gestured broadly to the miserable swamp he had been laying in, "Unless thou hath come to swear fealty, be on thy way. I have little use for man-serpents otherwise."​

​

To be sure, the man-serpents would be a marked improvement over gnolls, but a proper lord ruled over human stock. That was the natural way of things. And to be sure: Vardan was a proper lord.​

​

In a lordly manner, he ran his his phalanges over his cuirass, producing a discomforting scraping noise as he dislodged some of the dirt that had become encrusted to it.​

 

[Amalric Urahil]

The female was dead? Of course. The skeleton who calls himself Vardan accrues a following. Shall I?

"Fealty? Ah an oath." Threnody smiled, teeth bared white in the gloom. Slitted eyes looked the withered cadaver up and down. Strands of hair still clung to the skull, wet and slick in the humidity of the bayou.

"Very well. I shall serve thee, Vardan, from the hour thee wakes 'til the hour thee sleeps."

 

[HRavielle]

Ryan just rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes with a sigh. This was one of her coping mechanisms in life. She was, in theory, staving off the headache that someone was causing or about to cause. Of course, she was dead so she no longer got headaches.

This snake man, Threnody, just swore loyalty to a skeleton like it was no big deal. No questions, nothing. They were both insane. Clearly.

"You aren't even going to ask him any questions before you tie your life to his?!" She looked at Threnody like he was an idiot.

Threnody Vardan

 

[Amalric Urahil]

"What questions have I for one who has walked through death and come back to the realm of the living? My lot in life is but a messenger. Look not far and I would find worse lords than he."

Threnody's stare fastened on her, lingering, his head moving slowly from side to side. Behind him, the heads of the Naga did the same, their far larger heads bobbing in circles.

 

[Vardan]

Ryan Ashford | Threnody

​

Vardan laughed, or made some rasping approximation of laughter, "Weheheh, aheh. Thou'rt most wise and discerning indeed, Thenardier. A fine vassal thou shalt be."​

​

"As for thee," damp sockets fixed on Ryan, but he gestured to Threnody and his followers, "Take notice. Now, let us away. The keep lies not far from here."​

​

With perhaps unreasonable confidence that he would be dutifully followed, Vardan turned and proceeded on his trudging way.​

 

[HRavielle]

What was she going to do? Sit here in the swamp and pout about her death? She would eventually get bored and then she would be lost in this damn swamp.

Ryan growled as she started to follow Vardan with a single glance at Threnody and his snake men. She would have loved to tell them to all fuck off but what could would it do. The weird Naga would just wiggle their heads and Vardan would laugh again.

"Do I have to swear fealty or am is it just assumed that you are stuck with me?"

 

[Vardan]

Ryan Ashford | Threnody

As if in tune with that which Ryan least desired, Vardan laughed again: a short, harsh bark. "It is unnecessary, though 'twould not be unwelcome. Thou'rt already bound by circumstance. Remain in the swamp if it pleases, and I shall return to collect thee upon thy... Subsequent expiration."​

​

Good help was hard to reanimate, but it could be done, eventually, if one was patient enough. And Vardan had all the patience of a cold grave.​

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---​

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​

​

Vardan guided them through the festering swamp, pausing occasionally to observe a gnarled tree, thicket of thorned shrubs, or oversized crab picking at the earth. There was not much of note to this stretch of the bayou, save that it was eerie and still. Even the hum of insects were infrequent.​

​

But eventually they happened upon it: a huddled village of wooden platforms, perched over a shallow and still lake. What must have passed for the keep loomed in the center of the village, noticeably more reinforced and with a keen view of the surrounding huts.​

​

There was not another soul in sight, but the settlement did not look abandoned in the least.​

​

The wooden walkway creaked underneath their footfalls as Vardan led them through. He rubbed his hands. "A beauteous land, is it not?"​

​

In the distance, something croaked unpleasantly.​

 

[Amalric Urahil]

"Very much so," Threnody replied, walking with simple grace behind the lich. The two Naga bodyguards followed at a distance, their forked tongues flicking in and out.

Threnody glanced about, looking for the inhabitants of this village. He expected to see other skeletons, although they would have no real need for such homes. Perhaps it provided them comfort of mind, rather than body. Such a weak species.

"Are you lord of this keep?" The half-Naga craned his neck, looking up at the blocky tower that rose before them on the walkway.

 

[HRavielle]

Ryan just made a hmph sound at Vardan's answer to her question. She was not going to stay in the swamp and expire. She did not even want to be here in the first place. It was so...swampy...ugh.

She was quite irritated with the walk by the time they finally arrived at the keep. All Ryan could think was that is the keep? That? It was like a bigger shack than the others and it was certainly not beauteous.

The dead Dreadlord thought it was better to keep her thoughts to herself though. Varden kept laughing but she was not sure how long he would put up with her backtalk.

Keeping her thoughts to herself worked for like a minute. "So...is this my new home now?" There was a sigh that followed the question.

 

[Vardan]

Threnody | Ryan Ashford

"Dost thou perceive any other lords about, hmm?" Vardan rasped, "Of course I am lord."​

​

He guided them across the main walkway still, which creaked perilously at their passing. Without signal, the heavy wooden doors to the keep slowly peeled open, hefted aside by a pair of footmen. A pair of somber, grey-skinned humans in ill-maintained armor.​

​

They were alive in a technical sense. They dutifully averted their eyes as Vardan passed, and he himself scarcely acknowledged them.​

​

He did, of course, answer Ryan as he led his precious guests inside. "Unless thou much prefers the barracks."​

​

The main foyer of the keep was an attempt to replicate a much more stately noble court, though by most accounts it failed. The woodwork, derived from swamp trees, had the permanent appearance of being damp. Everything else was fortified with dull grey bricks.​

​

Tapestries decorated the walls, carpets the floors, all tattered and worn with age. There was not a vibrant color in sight, discounting the serpent-folk. The present furniture was in a similar, moldering state - like it had been fished out of a shipwreck somewhere.​

​

And then, of course, on an elevated platform, a single throne. Cheap and simple, likely a repurposed chair from the same surrounding set. Vardan rubbed his hands gleefully, the luckiest skeleton in the world, as he ascended the few paltry steps and sat himself down.​

​

"Now, let us see... Your retinue, Thenardier. Are these all that remain?"​

 

[Amalric Urahil]

Threnody stood before the seated skeleton and steepled his fingers. The derelict surroundings suited Vardan. Like him, they were wilted laurels. Once grand, perhaps, now speaking only of a memory. His lips stretched in a smile wound as tight as a python's coils.

"Sadly, these two are all that remained by my side. Some may be lost in the swamp. I do not know. Later, perhaps, I can search for them. You... seek soldiers?"

The ambassador looked around him and could see why.

"I could send for more warriors from Nagai. King Tir'coatl might spare some for a worthy cause."

 

[Blackburn Fane]

Threnody Vardan Ryan Ashford

It was a good thing that Vardan told him about his redoubt in the bayou.

Otherwise Fane would have had no idea what to do next after the skeleton got himself killed. Luck had it that Fane actually survived the siege. Maybe if Vardan hadn't send him to accompany the weird shadow guy to the dragon guy he wouldn't have.

It spared him having to clean his teeth from the grit and mud.

Happy coincidences.

"Ah, m'Lord," As Fane came out of one of the side-passages into the throne room. "I was wondering if I would have had to start digging among the mud to find you."

Oh, today was looking up already, because this had been the most boring week ever. Not like Vardan's guards were at all entertaining.

"Hi there," Cheerful wave to Ryan and Threnody... the latter of which had a few snakepeople. His eyebrows lofted up at that. "I see you managed to find some more interesting people this time around. That's good, I have been bored out of my fucking mind, my Lich."

Get it? Liege.... lich...

"So, what's the plan, chief?"

 

[HRavielle]

"Unless thou much prefers the barracks."

"No, I do not prefer the barracks!" Ryan responded to her new Lord. Of course he had a fucking throne.

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as Threnody and Vardan spoke about troops. Were they just going to have an army of undead and snake people? That seemed like a terrible idea...or a good one...nope...she would not admit that outloud.

Ryan was busy studying the tapestries when another new person joined the ground. Fuck. Me.

The newcomer seemed to know Vardan already and he seemed like someone she would actually like. He was not shy about speaking his mind. Well...at least not about his boredom.

Threnody Vardan Blackburn Fane

 

[Vardan]

Threnody | Ryan Ashford | Blackburn Fane

He had been prepared to render a response to Thenardier, only to be stopped when one of his more bumbling and uncouth vassals came traipsing down the stairs. Bones rattled quietly as Vardan shifted in his seat to set his hollow gaze on Blackburn.​

​

Once Blackburn was done talking, Vardan stared silently for the precise amount of time it took for his displeasure to be implied.​

​

Then he confirmed it: "Impudence. Silence, Fane."​

​

A small fire erupted in the heart of Blackburn's considerable beard. Tiny enough to be quickly patted out, certainly, but a fire was still a fire. While Blackburn tended to himself, the still-sodden lich returned his attention to Thenardier.​

​

"Thou wouldst do well to put all thoughts of Tar-Coat from thy mind," Vardan intoned, completely heedless of any noisy struggle Blackburn may have been putting on, "I have no need of him. And now, neither dost thou."​

​

Vardan reclined into his seat, allowing his chin to rest in his hand. "Blackburn knows well the lay of this land. When thou'rt rested, and he repaired, he shall escort thee through the swamp. Collect what remains of thy sorry companions and return hither."​

 

[Amalric Urahil]

A smile spread across Threnody’s reptilian features.

No wish to involve outside kings? I see thy nature.

The courtier swept into a low bow, his flowing, yet muddied, sleeves brushing the ground.

“Of course, my liege.”

Slitted eyes turned toward Fane, a forked tongue emerging to taste the air.

“Hail, Blackburn, I look forward to working on thee.”