Open Chronicles The Lost Children

[Osbert]

Syzemore

---

​

Osbert had been forced to grow up in the academy of the Dreadlords. Every day his life was filled with torment and suffering. Eventually he was old enough to graduate and it was House Banick that took him in. He lived a few precious months in luxury before the rug was ripped out from under his feet.

He would not serve the guard. He would not live as a pariah in the streets. No, he would have his luxury one way or another.

And so he found himself, with a band of other ex-Dreadlords, in the city of Syzemore. A coastal city south of Alliria and part of an affluent trade route. But the riches and the splendors of the city weren't why he and his comrades had been drawn here. No, it was the dynamics of how this city operated.

More than half of its trade was "regulated" by a criminal family.

A family that, apparently, didn't have ties with any external links and seemed to be entirely based in Syzemore itself. A simple turf war was all it would take for the forsaken Dreadlords to begin building a legacy for themselves. A life of splendor they'd been promised when they could barely talk. A life of opulence they'd earned through the blood and sweat they spilled in the academy.

"I reckon we should be runnin' this place by tomorrow, eh?" It was the first words out of his mouth once they passed into the cobblestoned streets of Syzemore. He looked his compatriots up-and-down with a crow-sized grin marring his face.

 

[Sybille]

Sybille glanced around at the shanty of a city. It reminded her of where she had grown up in the Allir Reach. Smaller than Vel Anir, but at least bigger than a little seaside coastal village. A listlessness clung to her eyes as Os goaded their confession. "It looks like it could be slag by tomorrow."

She commented.

Syzemore, from what she could see, had decided that really only the bottom half of a building needed to be stone. Everything else, she noticed was made of some kind of wood. The architecture was pretty, she supposed, but with both her and Os around this place was practically kindling.

Still, she supposed it was better than some Guard Barracks back in Vel Anir. That entire idea had seemed...utterly unpleasant, though not any more so than her short few years at the Academy. A very slight objection she'd pointed out which the others had chosen to ignore.

"Lets find a place to stay." She complained in that monotone voice, the clouds above continuing to darken. "It looks like rain."

Sybille hated rain.

 

[Shiloh]

Shiloh strolled along with others, a smile plastered across his face, not matching the reality of the situation. His blue eyes lazily looked over the...disappointing city and met the eyes of several residents of the city.

Their harsh gazes looked unwaveringly at Shiloh like they were trying to assert dominance. A common tactic in such a lawless place, but Shiloh just smiled back. Eventually, the awkwardness would become too much for the others and they would turn away.

He took in a deep breath that seemed to go on forever before he finally began to speak, but the words came out in his slow, southern drawl.

"I could use some grub...might not have to wait til tomorrow Bert. Might come to us...Save us some trouble."

While Shiloh looked like he would rather fall asleep at the first sign of anywhere remotely comfortable. His right hand never wandered far from his right hip, more instinctual than planned.

"Ya reckon they got a place that could actually handle the rain?"

Osbert Sybille

 

[Aramis]

"And... you're done," Aramis murmured in satisfaction as he wiped a soft cloth over the woman's skin to rid it of the few tiny beads of blood he had drawn from the last press of his needle. Tattooing had not been an art form he had ever known much about until arriving here where people of all sorts of races and species muddled together. He hadn't been able to stop staring at the ink most of them wore. From great pieces of work that curled up arms or spread across backs, to the tiny little pieces behind ears or on feet. Some had great meaning, others were just images the person loved enough to press into their skin for eternity.

It was no surprise then that he had very quickly found one of these artists and badgered them enough to teach him how to do it. Once he'd had a few tries with the needle the rest was... well it was easy.

The woman he had been working on stood gracefully and half turned her back to the mirror to see what he had done. A series of koi fish swimming among the lily pads and lotus flowers now decorated her spine. Her lips curved into a beautiful grin. Aramis couldn't help but smile too; he never could when he looked at a piece of art. Whether that was human or made.

"Thank you," she breathed and slipped her top back down with a small amount of reluctance before sliding the coin into his hands. Aramis caught her fingers and gently pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

"Thank you for being such a beautiful canvas," he murmured. With a blush the woman left and Aramis made the coins disappear about his person whilst checking his pocket watch. The others should be arriving soon. More came in each day. Drips and drabs of the dissatisfied. They were all important though, even if they did disturb his time with his craft. With a sigh he meticulously cleaned his instruments, placed them in his case then swaggered out into the street, slipping his cavalier hat onto his head - he had no intentions of getting his hair wet.

Dreadlords were easy enough to spot in the city. Criminals moved with a thuggish brutality. Their hard eyes and snarls were a facade to ward off people easy enough to be fooled by appearances alone. Dreadlords on the other hand moved with a deadly grace. People moved out of the way without even a look, just the prickling sensation on the back of their necks that made them think a predator was nearby. A group of such people soon came into view once he joined the main street from the gates to the centre of the city. A few faces he even recognised.

Lengthening his stride he caught up and slowed down to walk beside them.

"Osbert, I assume?" he drawled and held out a gloved hand. "Aramis. I believe our mutual friend Ilse told you I would find you. And these must be your... friends," it was not a term many Dreadlords would use for another Dreadlord but he supposed it was better than saying co-conspirators.

 

[Osbert]

The scent of petrichor filled his nose to confirm that Sybille was correct. Failing that the darkening clouds bolstered her hunch too.

"Could be slag tomorrow," he repeated in a low tone as his green eyes traced the wooden buildings. Might as well have been crafted out of matchsticks now that he and his entourage were present. Not that they'd burn their newfound gem to the ground. They'd rebuild this place out of marble if the 'retired' Dreadlords had their way, though. "A place to stay dry and grab some sleep couldn't hurt."

Ideally a place to find an ale too. It'd been a long journey from Vel Anir.

Osbert raised one brow at Shiloh before he gave the quickdraw a wink. "If they don't have a place to keep out the rain it's the first thing we're having built." They walked a few more paces trying to take in the signs and sights of Syzemore.

A few basic merchants, tailors, and other shops dotted the main entryway of the city. Signs directed them to a place right by the water that was home to a Kivren District. Crazy little fishfolk set up their own neighborhood here apparently. Another sign notated the direction of the 'Red Light District,' whatever that was.

Before they could stumble upon a decent tavern or inn though an older man with chestnut hair walked directly up to them and held out a hand. Osbert returned the shake before quickly responding, "yes, my friends."

Truth be told they were more than that. As was Aramis. They were all exiles, they'd all had their childhood stolen. They'd all been brave enough to leave it behind and come here. To this city that was a fraction of the size and a hundredth of the splendor of their home. It wasn't just friendship, it was a mutual lived experience that made them almost like a family of sorts. At least in his mind.

"Ilse said we could help one another out." Negotiating and finding mutually beneficial pathways was going to be a requirement if the group of ex-Dreadlords was going to avoid their own little civil war. "Maybe it's best to chat over a drink?"

He nodded towards some rundown looking inn that used an impressive display of candlelight to illuminate the gigantic bar they had on the first floor.

 

[Sybille]

Sybille followed behind Osbert like a shadow, moving on his right and slowly letting her eyes wander around the village surrounding them.

Every step they took was like a memory thundering through her mind. Flickers of her time before the Academy, thoughts of her parents. Little patches of time that rose and roiled to the top of her mind before she vanquished them.

Focus. Sybille thought to herself.

Her gaze focused, breath drawing into her lungs.

The small flickering lines of burning red upon her skin closed upon themselves. Her distinctly pale flesh sowing together as Sybille's emotions once again pulled themselves into a tight ball. Expression quickly flicking back to that calm and listless stare as the older man approached them.

Lips almost immediately thinned as the man regarded then, fingers furling tightly on her biceps as she watched the man walk in stride with Osbert. She watched him carefully, just as the Hydra might witness the Kraken.

 

[Shiloh]

Shiloh could only chuckle with Osbert's simple counterpoint. The idea of them running some sort of city still seemed too crazy to him. He remembered the Proctors telling him that he would never amount to much. Now he was going to be what? An archon? No, something different.

The arrival of a newcomer led Shiloh to rest his hand casually on his wand at his belt. He knew a dreadlord when he saw one. They all had the look of someone who was used to carrying way too much weight on their shoulders.

Of course, his worries vanished and a smile appeared on his face when he heard the man speak. It was another one of them. The new vanguard for what would be the foundation of their little slice of paradise.

"Nice to meetcha."

Shiloh tipped the brim of his round brimmed hat forward in a greeting. It was a common had worn by farmers in this area and he had traded for one on their trip...He had taken a liking to it. (Yes, it is a cowboy hat...Please let me have this.)

Shiloh looked to the inn and smiled. "I know my tongue always knows what to say with the help of a little booze."

Aramis Osbert Sybille

 

[Aramis]

Aramis tried not to let his disgust show at the inn they happened to be by. There weren't many good bars in the city, not with clientele who came to this city being mostly the middling class, but there were certainly better places. But thunder rolled ominiously overhead and the decent taverns were a good climb further up the hill into the centre of Syzemore. Though of course, with more grandeur came the crime bosses, and perhaps for their conversations it was best not to be rubbing elbows with those they intended on de-throning.

"I hope not too loose," his unusual eyes cut quickly to Shiloh with a thin-lipped smile. There was something decidedly cold about it - even a warning perhaps - but it was gone and replaced by an easy smile instead in the next beat of a heart and he slung an arm about Osbert's neck as though they were old friends. It suddenly made them even less interesting to those who watched out of gloomy eyes.

"A drink is just the thing to chase off the weariness of a long journey," he chimed and began to head towards the inn.

Inside most of the benches were full but with a smile and a coin to the barmaid Aramis soon had them seated at a corner where they could face the door and most of the room; old habits died hard.

"A round of drinks for my friends, Penelope, and some of your finest cuts of meat. I'm sure you're all hungry," he shrugged out of his long trench coat and draped it over the back of his chair.

 

[Osbert]

Having Syb and Shi with him made the entrance into the shoddy inn feel a tad more comforting. He could practically feel Sybille's anxiety radiating off her. "Relax," he mouthed towards the redhead when the others weren't looking.

Shiloh was, as usual, cool as a cucumber but at least the guy was staying on his toes. Especially given the state of the place Osbert had selected.

A sign on the interior was held together by a single, cracking, link of chain. The ceiling was a patchwork of materials to hold together but at least it seemed like it'd mostly keep out the rain. And the patrons were... much different from Vel Anir.

One table housed a raucous group of humans, dwarves, and orcs. All cajoling loudly and clinking huge pint glasses together every other minute. Another table in the corner was occupied entirely by a group of red-scaled kivren. At least they were silent.

His concerns faded slightly though when Aramis referred to the barkeep by name. This must have been a pretty swanky place if an art-lover like Aramis knew the staff. "I think we'd all welcome a bit of food."

Once the glasses of ale had arrived and Penelope had disappeared to fetch the meat he took a sip. It wasn't anything like the fine Obanese reds he'd had on Banick's dime but... well, it had alcohol in it at least? "This swill isn't great but I guess it'll do its job." He cut a look at their host and just decided to come straight out with it.

"So, Gustavo," his voice was hushed and low lest prying ears pick up on their conversation, "that's his name right? The guy running half the imports of this place?"

How dangerous could one little ganglord in a backwater city really be?

 

[Sybille]

She flashed a brief smile at Os, the emotion as genuine as could be but lasting for only a brief second. Sybille knew that he wanted to help, and that alone brought a slight ease to her tension.

Despite that, relaxing was easier said than done for Sybille.

It was something the Proctors had encouraged her to work on during her short time at the Academy. Her temper and emotions flickered to the surface much too quickly, and inevitably with those bolts of passion came her magic. Often in it's most violent and powerful forms.

Before following the others inside, she took a long breath. Trying to calm herself, an effort that was quickly ruined by the first drops of rain falling from the sky. She immediately shrunk back, letting out a hiss as one of the pinches of water struck the back of her neck. A flicker of steam rising from her skin as she quickly darted through the door after the others.

Unlike them however, she didn't quite mind the surrounding they had stepped into.

In fact, in a strange sort of way, aside from the dinginess of the place the Tavern almost reminded her of where she had been brought up. The mix of races was not to strange to her mind, and the raucous sounds were preferable to the unnatural quiet of the Academy.

Sybille sat herself down next to Os, positioning herself directly opposite Aramis. When the ale came, she gave the drink a quick sniff. Only taking a small sip and trying not to show her disgust. "Maybe we can import some decent wine when he's dead."

She muttered quietly.

 

[Shiloh]

"Oh, don't worry much. Os and Syb don't tell me too much. Just point me in the right direction."

Shiloh still remembered some of his early life in Oban. His parents were assholes. Assholes tended to stick with other assholes. Race really wasn't an issue back then. He had been trained in the Academy to be wary of other races as they were often the enemy, but that had really just taught Shiloh to watch out for enemies in general. All that to say, Shiloh did not have much of a problem with the people in the establishment.

He spent his first steps into the inn looking at every other person in the building and offering a smile and nod to each of them in turn. Even the ones that glared back, he smiled. It was easier to catch flies with honey.

Shiloh's complete focus turn to the ale as soon as it arrived. He would ignore Osbert's discussion about his plans. Once he had decided on everything, then he would let Shiloh know. Until then, there were drinks to be had.

"I don't know. I like it a bit...It has its own unique tang."

His eyes were drawn to a table where a few people were playing some sort of card game. Shiloh just watched for the moment, but his eyes were shining with a desire to jump in.

Osbert Sybille Aramis

 

[Aramis]

Aramis almost chocked on his ale and cast Osbert a reproachful look.

"Do you want to say the name any louder?" he quipped then retrieved a kerchief from inside his breast pocket. He used the silk to dab at the few splatters on his fine cut jacket then deftly stuffed it back into the aforementioned pocket. He glanced at the other patrons in the bar but none cast their eyes in their direction and he let out a quiet breath. It wasn't that he didn't think the Dreadlords would triumph in a fight if it came to it, it was that starting such a fight was pointless right now. They needed to be prepared to take over when that came.

"But yes, that is his name. Him and his little crime gang - the La Rosa Family - control the North and West of the city and all the imports it brings in," he leaned back in his chair slightly and crossed his ankles over one another. The relaxed gesture masked the subtle way his eyes watched the door and other exits.

 

[Osbert]

His confident smile grew wider as his friends commented on the taste of their drinks. "It's settled then, we'll save the ale for Shiloh and the rest of us will switch over to wine once we're running things."

The smile on Osbert's face only increased in size as Aramis scolded him and then confirmed that the intel he'd received had been accurate.

"Easy enough." One little crime family that was used to pushing around the poor and working class citizens of Syzemore against a small contingency of Dreadlords who'd been bred to level cities. "We'll sweep through the Western side of Syzemore in the morning, finish off whatever holdings they have in the North before sunset."

He pressed the glass of alcohol up to his lips, intending to end his confident statement with a suave sip of ale, the gesture was ruined the moment the rancid lakewater hit his tastebuds and he scoffed. "Yep," he said through a choked gargle, "after we rid ourselves of the riff-raff procuring some decent booze is priority number one."

 

[Sybille]

Sybille pushed the mug of ale away from herself, deciding that she wouldn't be drinking any more poison this evening.

Then she leaned back on the bench, a frown tugging at her lips as she observed this 'Aramis' a little bit more closely. Briefly she flickered through what they knew of the man, the small tidbits that they had been told by their friend before departing Vel Anir.

Osbert seemed to trust him, and Shiloh...well he didn't seem to care. Which wasn't unusual for him.

A brief smile flickered over to Os as he confirmed the plan to bring in better drinks, but the expression slipped back to a blank as she turned towards Aramis.

"So." She asked. "When did you leave?"

The three of them had left Vel Anir together, a choice that had been made after experiencing things after the Revolution. She wondered if it was the same for this man, if he'd come to that conclusion earlier than them. Which lead to a dozen other questions.

 

[Shiloh]

Shiloh's eyes never left the money on the gambling table across the room. Well, maybe they did, just long enough to wink at one of the passing barmaids.

He was vaguely paying attention to the coversation his compatriots were discussing, but it was just the machincations of generals. He was just a soldier. When it was time, he would be pointed in the right direction and people would die.

"Hell, if I don't drink too much tonight then I might have it all finished up by noon."

Their was that barmaid again with the pretty eyes...Ok, might be best to plan for finishing at sunset.

"So, technically, they are the ones we can blame for the...limited choice of spirits."

Osbert Aramis Sybille

 

[Aramis]

Ah, to be young... Was I once like that? The older dreadlord mused as he cast his eyes over those gathered before him. They had been out of the academy for what, a year, perhaps two before the revolution had crushed their little dreams? They knew nothing of dashed dreams.

"Now, now, patience darling," he laughed and lightly squeezed Osbert's forearm. "These things have to be done subtly, carefully, least we disrupt the rest of the city. Winning is easy of course, if it comes to just force, but we want to take the city in tact. Seamlessly. Then there is less work for us to do in the long run. Unless you really have a taste for becoming a politician?" he crinkled his nose with disgust. Oh he wanted the power, the privilege that came with politics but none of that... mess that came with actually ruling.

That's what the puppets were for.

"Me, darling?" he asked, his oddly coloured eyes shifting now to the rose sat betwixt two thorns. "Oh a few months after the revolution. People have trickled in bit by bit. There must be nearly... oh 20 or so of us now."

 

[Osbert]

"By noon!" Osbert clanked his glass with Shiloh's, creating a loud clang. Then he went ahead and put the pint glass on the table. For good this time.

His smile never left his face as Aramis pointed out a healthy dose of reality.

It wasn't so much that Osbert disagreed with the older Dreadlord. Everything he said made sense and the idea of herding cats around like some wannabe politician made his skin crawl. Still... there was an element of it that reminded him of the same prattle the Great Houses used to go on about.

When he'd returned home to Banick after they'd signed the armistice with the revolutionaries they spent a lot of time talking about the reasons for it and explaining his options now that House allegiances were over. "I think I'd be a fine politician." He wouldn't, not even he could keep a straight face with that lie.

"But, sure, what would you recommend?" His eyes widened at the last thing Aramis said. If they had twenty Dreadlords then taking this city was inevitable.

 

[Sybille]

Twenty?

Lips thinned almost immediately as she considered just how much competition they had walked into. Her mask broke ever so slightly as she played out a fight or two in her head, imaging some of the more powerful Dreadlord's who she knew had fled.

Inwardly she cringed.

She and Osbert were more than a match for most, so was Shiloh when he got into it, but twenty?

They hadn't come here to share any sort of power. They wanted to take over, get back the life that had been promised to them. How were they supposed to do that with twenty others tagging along with everything they were doing.

Maybe Os really would have to play politician.

Sybille glanced over at him, nerves fraying ever so slightly as she began to wonder if they wouldn't be better off going somewhere else.

 

[Shiloh]

"Must not be worth much if they still haven't got this place under control."

Shiloh finished the rest of his drink in one large gulp before looking back to the others. He looked at each of them with a light smile before sighing. Putting too much thought into something could also be a problem.

"I get you to want to play it safe, but we ain't here to beat around the bush. Don't think of us as politicians. We are warlords, so let's get to warin'. "

He had given his two cents and did not want to sit around and be explained at. Instead, he had finally locked eyes with that busy barmaid and that was the chance Shiloh was looking for. He strode across the floor with a confident gate to test his luck for the day.

Osbert Sybille Aramis

 

[Aramis]

"And that..." he motioned to the retreating back of Shilo before helping himself to another delicate sip of ale which caused him to grimace. "Is why it has taken so long. They're upset. You're upset, I'm upset, with how things played out after their little... Revolution," his lips curled in disgust at the word. It seemed too big a word for what had really happened, the treason that had been committed.

"Everyone is too busy off simply having fun at the moment to do anything well... anything productive let us say," he went as if to take another sip then decided against it. It didn't seem worth assaulting his taste buds further for the waste of coin.

"From the looks of you two, you could do with taking a leaf out of your friends book. Have a little fun."

 

[Osbert]

Shiloh was many things but Os could hardly blame the guy for wanting to chase some girl he fancied. It'd been a long road here, most of it full of misery if he was being honest, and regardless of whatever fun the man sought out he knew that Shiloh was reliable, if nothing else.

"Fun?" A single eyebrow crooked upwards at Aramis. "I was having fun. In luxury, with accommodations befitting a noble." Until the revolution that Aramis mentioned robbed them all of that lifestyle.

He tapped a finger on the putrid glass of ale he'd given up and shook his head once more. "I'll have my fun once I've seized it all back."

There was no chance Syzemore could ever compare to the opulence that the Great Houses of Vel Anir afforded but they could at least have a decent bed again. Drinkable wine and booze. And the respect they'd work their asses off to deserve.

 

[Sybille]

Sybille scowled right alongside Osbert.

She hadn't grown up her entire life in the Academy like most of them, but before that her life hadn't exactly been opulent. The farm had been cold, the muck had been plentiful, and the drinks had been...well the drinks had been more foul than in this place.

It wasn't that she needed all that back, but it would have been nice. "And after a nice bath."

Sybille interjected.

"Where are the others?" She asked, her voice still that same listless calm.

They couldn't have rogue Dreadlords running around what was to be their city. The lot of them were likely a bigger threat than any goon running the docks. She wasn't about to come all this way to have someone else ruin it.

 

[Aramis]

"The Clubhouse," Aramis replied absently, his eyes following the barmaid who had just stopped at a table of huddled and cloaked figures. Something slipped from their hands into her apron pocket in one hurried movement whilst she continued to smile and talk as though taking orders. Nothing out of the ordinary unless a patron had happened to see the exchange then the whole situation was a whole lot less innocent.

His freckled eyes returned to his two companions before the maid turned to wander back to the bar though he kept her in his peripheral vision.

"We took over a small hotel in the centre proper - a bit less..." he scrunched up his nose. "Run down. I just wanted to make sure you were who you said you were before taking you further," his lips curved into a slight smile. "I'm sure you understand."

 

[Osbert]

"Oh, so there is decent drink, it's just at the Clubhouse."

Osbert wore a wide grin and nodded towards Aramis, "of course we understand, just glad that our compatriots have made some progress." Perhaps he'd simply been too quick to judge. Dreadlords were Dreadlords so if a group of twenty or so of them hadn't seized the entire city there must've been a reason. And hell, at least they'd taken control of a swankier joint that the ones he'd seen upon his entry into Syzemore.

"It's been a long journey, sorry if I was short earlier."

He tapped a finger on the wooden tabletop and took in Aramis for a bit longer. Having them meet here, ensure the safety of the other refugee Dreadlords, it had all been well thought out. "But I was serious about one thing. I want this entire city. It's what all of us deserve."

He used a tone to ensure that Aramis knew he was included in the all part of that sentence. You weren't owed anything on Arethil that you weren't willing to take by force and the Dreadlords who had flocked here were all too aware that this was a city ripe for the seizing.

 

[Sybille]

Clubhouse.

Twenty other Dreadlords, already at least somewhat established. Already with a little bit of a base. Sybille felt the small ball of anxiety within her stomach grow ever so slightly. She wondered if they wouldn't have been better off just leaving and going somewhere else.

It might have meant another few weeks on the road, but at least they wouldn't be in constant conflict with other people.

Os was right, they were here to the entire city. Not just to make some play for a corner lot in the middle of fuckoff ville. If they were going to have to argue with a dozen other Dreadlords in order to get that...what was the point.

Fingers tightened ever so slightly into fists in her lap. "No matter who tells us otherwise."

Sybille added to Os' words, her face that same mask.

That was why they had left after all. To take what they deserved, to make sure they got what they should have. If it had to be this place, if Os said it needed to be, then she would kill anyone standing in their way. Even if it was other Dreadlords.