Private Tales The Old Ways

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
"She helps those who are worthy," Xylthe muttered beneath her breath and kept her eyes downcast, but anger the likes of which she had not felt for 100s of years swirled in her. It had been around her fifth master she had begun to doubt her own beliefs and to wonder if Aerubla had deserted her to this life. By her 400th year in captivity, Xylthe had barely thought of the goddess at all. So her anger was surprising even to her and she smartly tried to keep it as much to herself as she could whilst she was in this state. Who knew what the worm would make her do or say?

She glanced up when his feet stopped in front of her and she eyed the bit of wood dubiously.

"To stop me biting my tongue off?" she asked dryly but took it and placed it between her teeth as he'd instructed.
 
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Amusement flickered over Velkyn's features. It was not difficult to read the emotions flickering over Xylthes face. Perhaps because of the worm, or perhaps because for the first time she was actually allowing herself o feel something she'd thought lost. "Precisely."

He said.

"The ritual is painful." There was no denying that fact. Even for someone like him it would have been incredibly grueling. It did not help that the worm would purposefully make it so. "And you may remember things you would rather have forgotten."

Velkyn said as he slowly began to walk around the chair the Avendrow sat in. His fingers furling and unfurling. One index finger coming up to slowly draw sigils within his palm. "The Illithid are not kind in their methods."

As he spoke, the Drow began to draw a slow circle around the top of Xylthe's head.

A strange red line of mist drawing within the wake of his finger.
 
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Xylthe sighed and did not bother to hide it. Pain had been a constant of her life until Master Llywen. With him, she had allowed herself to begin to think she might never feel pain again. Yet here she was. Quietly she said a small prayer, the likes of which she had not said for centuries, and then put the slim but substantial bit of wood into her mouth and leant back into the high backed chair.

Of course Velkyn offered no words of comfort but then what else did she expect? Still, he had at least warned her that memorise might arise she had tried to bury. There was so much in the last 500 years she dreaded what the worm might think were her most painful ones.

As her new master drew the red mist around her mind she made a silent promise to kill the fucking mind slayer. herself.
 
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Velkyn's fingers slowly reached out.

He did not touch her, not directly. Instead his fingers plucked through the midst of the circle had had drawn around her head. From it he pulled a strange shadowed form, and the instant it flew free, Xylthe would feel a stabbing pain.

It was the sort of agony that began at the base of the spine and traveled throughout the body. Splitting through her like a hot knife and digging into every nerve. The sort of torment that would have broken most men in seconds.

Another string was plucked from her mind.

Then another.

Slowly one by one he dragged them free, never ceasing the excruciating pain that would wrack Xylthe's mind and body.
 
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Xylthe had suffered tortures in her life but none so like the one she faced now. It was such an agony that the very sounds of her screams were lodged in her throat. If it were not for the plank she might had bitten through both her tongue and ground her teeth to complete and utter dust. Her fingernails dug into the arms of the chair and they begun to bleed, some bits of her nails tearing off from the sheer force. But her physical pain was almost pale in comparison to the memories the worm rooted out as it tried to desperately crawl further into her brain and the parts of her body where Velkyn might not be able to reach it.

Have you ever wondered how long it would really take for a Pervil to eat the flesh down to the bone, Xylthe? I have...

Bleach her again, I can still see the red, and if the bleach doesn't work peel it off her. I'd rather look at bone than that...

It'll hurt only a bit to begin with sweet girl, then you'll learn to love it. You'll crave it, beg for it. Won't you? Don't you want to be a good girl?
 
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Velkyn's hands moved deftly.

Like a surgeon he plucked away, slowly slicing away at the worms which wriggled within Xylthe's mind. The magic did not actually remove them, but slowly cut away at their very life. Dragging free the glut, until eventually they withered and died.

The pain summoned forth was the creatures movements, the agony their desperation to stay alive. Feeding upon the memories.

It was a testament to the Drow Lord's precision that the Avendrow could even still feel. His magic so exacting that he cut not at the pieces of her mind, but only the creatures desperately consuming her thoughts. Fingers pressed together, pulling one last time.

Then Xylthe would feel it.

Relief, of a sort.

The last worm died, and soundless scream would echo in her mind as the creature wilted. Forming into a shadow of itself where eventually it would be destroyed completely by Xylthe's own body.
 
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Xylthe's whole body slumped once the final worm gave its last screech and the wood she had had clenched between her teeth slipped from her mouth, almost cracked in two. Blood ran down her cheeks in the replacement of tears and every breath sounded wet as though blood had gotten into her lungs too. In those disorientating moments where the relief was like a euphoria but the pain still lingered, Xylthe did not know who she was, where she was, or what she was. Her head lolled back and her eyes fluttered with the echoes of memories that still cut across her mind. Like a fading dream, but a dangerous and damaging one all the same.
 
The red circle disappeared, and the shadows he had pulled free turned to little more than wisps of air. The essence of the Parasites he had pulled from Xylthe's mind dissipating in an instant.

She collapsed upon the ground, a thud ringing as she tumbled from the chair. "I will have to kill the creature."

He mused for a moment to himself.

No one was allowed to damage his property, no one. The Illithid were conniving, devious monstrosities, often more interested in the method than the result. Yet he had no doubt that someone put the creature up to this, no doubt the monster had cast this affliction for a reason..

Velkyn snapped his fingers.

One of the shadows seemed to shiver and shake, and then draw to the form of one of his Reavers.

"See that she is taken to bed." Velkyn said. "It is important she appears tomorrow."

The Reaver looked down at Xylthe, and then slowly tipped his head in a nod as he stepped towards the fallen Avendrow.
 
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Xylthe lay there barely coherent as the Reaver stepped towards her and scooped her up with surprising tenderness into his arms. None of it registered to the Avendrow. Memories still flickered through her mind and she quietly muttered bits and pieces of her fractured past.

"Yes... Lord Pchark, I hid it where you said..." she whimpered quietly. "N-no, please... I won't tell anyone. The Dark Sister is safely yours."

The Reaver paused and half turned back to his master with a raised brow.
 
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Velkyn froze in place as he heard the words.

His head turned back towards the girl, back towards the Reaver who held her. Lips thinned almost instantly, and he motioned for the man to stay still.

There was no doubting the name that he recognized, the ancient calling. The Dark Sister. His gaze fell down upon the Avendrow, studying and watching. Fingers flickering for the soldier to keep absolutely still. Doubt flickered through his mind.

It had to be a mistake. "Where is it?"

His voice was soft, quiet.

Coaxing.
 
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Caught between the haze of memories and the waking world, Velkyn's voice was that of her old Masters, and his coaxing was almost more terrible than that of Velkyn's.

"Exactly where you told me to, Master," she whimpered, her hands half raising as if to protect her face and head. "Nobody saw me, I promise. Nobody will ever know where it is."

No, of course they won't my pretty bird. Neither will you.

In the memory he reached towards her and grasped at her skull. Her body went rigid and then she gave an ear-splintering scream.
 
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Velkyn's teeth clicked together as the girl let out a blood curdling scream. The Reaver's hand clamped down over her mouth almost instantly. Pinning over her lips so that the echo of her cry was suppressed well enough that those outside would not hear.

The Drow Lord scowled. "Useless."

He remarked almost absently as Xylthe's body seemed to shift in the grasp of the Reaver, eventually growing limp as she passed out. Either from the pain or the memory pouring back through her mind. His lips thinned, and he shook his head.

"Guard her." He hissed. "See that none get close."

Had this been what the Illithid had been digging for?

No. That was impossible, there had been no notion Xylthe had known anything about the Sisters. It had to be a coincidence. Unless he'd missed something, unless he'd made a mistake.

Fingers curled into fists as rage flickered through him.
 
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The Reaver nodded and with one last glance to make sure the girl was not going to utter anymore, he vanished with her into the shadows once more.

When Xylthe woke it was to the darkness of her tent though the girl she had shared it with was nowhere to be seen. Instead the Reaver sat there hunched, his fingers gliding over a blade and his eyes trained on the entrance. However, as her breathing changed from that of slumber to wakefulness they darted back to her. The pair stared at one another for some time as Xylthe unsubtly tried to put some distance between them; the shadow-walkers still made her skin crawl.

"Is it done? The worms are gone?"
 
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The strange guardians moved like serpents.

That was the only way to really describe it. There was an unnatural smoothness to every motion, as though their very bone and muscle had been altered. The one standing above Xylthe slowly tipped his head in a nod, staring down at the Avendrow.

"You should be thankful." The voice was distorted, though not just from the mask over the mans face.

It sounded as though his very vocal cords had been scarred, burned and changed. It was clear he was a Drow, one of the El'Eth just as Velkyn was. Yet there was something different about him. Something changed.

"The talent that saved you has not touched many." Not for the purpose of healing. "He could have let you die."
 
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Xylthe clutched at the ragged blankets around her as she stared up at the Reaver and a pregnant pause followed his words. Did he expect her to agree and to give thanks to their shared master? Did he expect her to serve him more loyally now she owed her life to him? To stop looking for an escape someway? But he couldn't know that, surely...

She wet her lips.

"I'm sure he has his reasons for keeping me alive," she said slowly and then stood, wobbling on her feet. It felt as though she had done a full day and nights work. "I should... attend my duties."
 
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The Reaver stared down at Xylthe wordlessly.

Through the black mask it was impossible to tell where the man's eyes were, and yet in that moment it would feel as though she were being watched. For a few seconds nothing was said or offered, nor did the Reaver move from it's place.

Finally, after what seemed like an age the serpentine soldier simply stepped to the side.

"Yes." He said, that odd rasp still echoing through his voice. "You should."

It's gaze turned away from her, and slowly as it stepped forward the creature began to shift and step into the shadows of the corner of the tent. Melting away as though it had never been there in the first place. "And never forget."

The words echoed out from nowhere.
 
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Xylthe wondered how easy it would be to request a different tent. She certainly would not be able to sleep in here knowing that that thing lived in the shadows within, though her rational mind knew that it would probably just follow her to whatever new bed she found in order to keep an eye. Velkyn did not like his property to not be watched.

Taking a breath, Xylthe stepped from the tent. It was hard to tell the time in the depths of the tunnels, even harder than it was in Raath, but she summarized it was around lunch time from the general hustle and bustle and the types of food being carted out to the big feasting tent. She quickly fell in with the others, grabbing a tray to take in to the tent.

Inside everyone was gathered, talking over the hunt that had taken place in the early hours of the morning - how long had she been asleep? She frowned at that worrying question and almost bumped into the mindflayer who had stood as she meant to walk past. He looked at her startled and then, with a curl of amusement.

"We missed your luck this morning, little mouse."
 
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Vaguely within the periphery of Xylthe's vision, a shadow quivered as the Illithid approached the Avendrow.

It did not rip from the surface and turn into a man. A Reaver did not step forth, and yet it hung there. Moving in ways that it should not. It was almost as though the Shadow itself was watching, waiting, as though some signal might cause it to spring forth.

Velkyn himself did not seem present, at least in the moment.

Beyond the sounds of the tent one could still hear voices. One conversation or another carrying on as the Hunt was celebrated.

"Feeling ill?" The Illithid asked, taking a step forward. "I have a remedy."

He said, without even knowing the problem. "If your master would allow, of course."

His eyes flickered as though he were looking for Velkyn, though almost immediately returned to the Avendrow when he did not see the man present.
 
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"N-n-no," Xylthe stammered backing away from him two steps. It only seemed to make him more amused. She didn't dare look towards the shadow but merely prayed that the Reaver stayed where it was. If it suddenly appeared and attacked an honoured guest of the Lord Yithrel, there would be far bigger problems they would have to contend with.

"I should - I should go find him, actually, yes," she said hurriedly and turned, clattering straight into another serving girl. Her lips twisted in irritation. "Oh I'm so sorry," Xylthe would have blushed if it were possible with her complexion but instead of bending to help she gave the mindflayer a quick curtsey and all but ran to Velkyn's tent.
 
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The Illithid watched with no small amount of interest.

It had of course long since realized that it's own works had somehow been dashed, but far from being angry by this new event the creature seemed nothing less than totally enthralled. For the mind flayers, a result was almost as interesting as their intent.

Xylthe's lack of truth did not matter.

Not when the Illithid could now unwind the mystery of why she was not spilling her secrets.

As the Avendrow began to walk away the creature behind her watched. The shadow on the floor dancing for just a moment before it too disappeared. Xylthe's steps quickly returning her back to Velkyn's tent where she would find him hunched over his desk.

Something lay sprawled across it, a parchment written in ink that seemed blacker than the very night itself. "I trust you are improved?"

The Drow said almost absently.
 
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Xylthe gave a final peek outside of the tent flaps before finally letting herself relax a little. Only a little; she still jumped when Velkyn spoke as though she did not expect to find him in his own tent.

"I... I don't remember much," she admitted. "It's like I'm remembering a dream and the longer I'm awake the more it fades," she was pretty sure she had dropped a tray... and there had been pain. So much pain. Or memories of pain and fear... The memories clouded what had really happened just as badly as anything else.

"Did I..." she swallowed. "Did I displease you?" maybe she shouldn't of run here for safety...
 
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Velkyn studied her for a moment. "Interesting."

In his youth he might have wanted to study this more. Look into the reactions Xylthe was feeling and just exactly what memories she was missing. It would have been revealing, but it also likely would end up with her a drooling simpleton.

Not something he could allow in the moment.

"You were infected." He explained as he returned to the parchment, knowing it would need to be finished soon. "The Illithid poisoned a drink he gave you."

Velkyn scritched another line down onto the paper. "I removed the parasites, but it seems there was some damage."

He mused. "What else remains a haze?"

Almost as an aferthought he added. "Do you remember the Sisters?"
 
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"Well..."

Xylthe had been about to say the last thing she remembered with great vividness was leaving the Manor to come on the Hunt. The rest was like remembering a dream, or the dream of a dream. She thought they were real but she couldn't trust her senses enough to rely on that. What she hadn't even thought to rummage back in time through was older memories, darker memories.

At the mention of the sisters Xylthe's whole body went rigid and the breath stopped in her throat.

And then she tried to run.
 
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The shadow behind Xylthe moved before she could even turn around. It drew from the earth as though made of liquid, forming into one of those odd serpent like Reavers. Fingers pulling free of circular shadows as they reached out and grabbed the Avendrow.

Velkyn did not move from his desk as the Reaver grabbed Xylthe.

Instead he seemed utterly focused on his work, attention never turning towards the fleeing servant. His expression didn't even seem to change, the scritch of his quill against the ancient parchment still ringing out even as she struggled. "Ah."

He intoned curiously.

"So you do remember some things." The Drow commented, scratching another line of deep black ink onto the parchment.
 
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"Get off of me!" Xylthe snarled with a bit more venom than she had before. There was no begging this time just a desperate, almost animal need to flee. To fight. To get away. She squirmed and thrashed until the Reaver's grip was so tight it would no doubt leave bruises all over her skin. Even then she kicked and fought. Perhaps something in her had changed when the worms had wriggled into her mind. Perhaps she no longer feared pain now she had suffered that.

As the Reaver turned her back towards her master she looked at him definitely though it was a defiance born from fear. For the truth was, was that Xylthe simply feared something more than Velkyn.
 
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