Private Tales Vultures

[Gaheris]

The armsman found himself withering, so he smiled weakly, almost bashfully. "Uh, right. Got it."

Gaheris forgot to follow up about the balcony business, too caught up in observing that wicked smile, caught somewhere between jealousy and disgust. Hated it. Hated everything. Should have stayed at the inn, should have hung Gamlek upside down and jostled him until the money came out.

Anything but this. Was that a stress migraine he felt coming on? Oh, it was.

"Great. I think we understand," Gaheris said, massaging his brow. "Let's get on with this."

 

[Fieravene]

"Fabulous," Fieravene loudly clapped her gloved hands together, "Gamlek, if you will secure Miss Daisy and let's set off."

Gamlek hauled the donkey over towards a secluded and sheltered area against a massive wall where he tied the donkey to what had at one point in the distant past been some form of candelabra. From there the group trekked towards the great, gaping opening of the main corridor and split at the mouth. Gamlek lead the two idiots down the hall and Fiera lead Gaheris up a side stairwell to the next floor up.

Their path unimpeded, Fieravene and Gaheris reached the royal waiting chamber in little time. With a gesture to quiet his footsteps, Fi lead her way across the chamber, carefully stepping around the chairs jostled from a council table to find her way over to a balcony area. The curtains that had once separated the opening had long since disintegrated, leaving a draft to flow in with the peculiar scent of burning embers that generally heralded any presence of a dragon. Especially one that had only just accomplished flambeing some poor innocent barely an hour prior.

"There you are..." the elf smiled coolly as she caught a gander of brilliant green over gold in the cavernous throneroom beyond. There, below, lay a dragon and its hoard that would make even the great King of Kings drool with envy.

"It will take a moment for Gamlek to arrive, the main corridor is partially collapsed. Do you require a warm-up to lift your helpers from their rest?"

A quick survey of the throneroom would show the many fallen souls, though it was difficult to say what had killed them. War or the dragon, or perhaps something else entirely.

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris crept slowly after Fieravene, though not particularly for want of silence. He was more interested in surveying his surroundings - the mummified dead, the shattered furniture. Frozen in time forever, left undisturbed for centuries. Or maybe years. It was difficult to tell who was a true soldier of this forgotten kingdom or merely a treasure hunter.

There was a smell of smoke in the air. The dragon was nearby. Suddenly Gaheris had an interest in actual stealth again.

He followed her gaze into the throneroom, shuddering distinctly when he caught a glimpse of green. It was enough to make a man forget about the prospect of loot. His nose wrinkled at Fieravene's question.

"I'll be just fine," he replied, a low whisper that still managed to sound indignant. A warm up. What was it, amateur hour?

 

[Fieravene]

Fiera glanced again, folding against the opening of a door frame that opened up to a veranda overlooking the hall below. The dragon's green scales glimmered under streams of moonlight pouring in through stained glass, its sinuous form coiled over a nest made of cloth settled atop a slab of marble. The gleam of gold and trinkets surrounded the base of the plinth upon which it rested. Hundreds of years of treasure. Too much for any one man, but not enough for one dragon.

"Pity," the dark elf turned a simmering smirk at the man, voice hushed, glowing red eyes giving him a seedy look-over, "would have liked to warm you up myself."

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris' lips peeled apart into a pained and preposterously annoyed grimace. If it weren't for the noise it would cause, he might have stormed off. Instead he sulked away, bristling as ever. Who says things like that?

Who says things like that after basically torturing him barely a day ago?

As far as undead went, Gaheris preferred his minions full-sized. He ignored the Dwarves, crouching beside a more humanoid corpse. Scraps of leather armor clung to dried and shriveled flesh. A retainer for the Dwarves? A more recent and ill-fated adventurer? Didn't matter much.

A sickly green energy gathered in Gaheris' right hand, strands of it sluggishly weaving between his fingers. He pressed that hand onto the corpse's chest - lightly. Gaheris took a steadying breath, and the energy dove from his hand, pulsed along the corpse.

Not his favored way of doing business, but sometimes quick and dirty was just the way it had to be. The corpse began spasming in the way it needed to, limbs twisting, jaw working, trying to make sure everything was bound tight and working properly. It'd be at it for at least another minute.

Gaheris stood, brushed off his knees, and realized with grim apprehension he would need to risk speaking to Fieravene yet again.

Another steadying breath. Only this time he closed his eyes, knit his brow together, as if this were going to shield him somehow. "How many did you want...?"

 

[Fieravene]

She would have liked to watch him work but, frankly, you see one dead body raise from the earth you've seen them all. Necromancy was, at its heart of hearts, a rather simple magic to follow. Her own practices of it were scant, but it had its uses. Such as now, creating distractions.

Fieravene was, instead, occupied with watching for the arrival of Gamlek into the main hall below. The dragon appeared to be invested in fluffing up her nest of eggs with fresh hoard material.

"How many did you want...?"

"Ohh..." the elf hummed to herself in thought, red eyes spying the various doorways into and out of the hall, "a dozen or two should do I think. Just enough to distract..."

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris took a moment to survey the room, taking stock of the available corpses. Even with that somewhat broad estimate, there would be more than enough. He'd just have to get over his impulse in avoiding the diminutive corpses.

More to the point, some of those bodies were little more than piles of bones at this point. That would make things difficult, but regretfully not impossible.

He glanced over his shoulder at Fieravene, brows still knit together. "I'll assume you'll get the rest when you're done... Loitering..."

The prickly necromancer floated off to the next body, more energy already bubbling at his fingertips.

 

[Fieravene]

"The rest of what?"

The rest of the bodies? Ha! But she didn't have time to vocalize how preposterous that idea was. Gamlek had made his entrance into the main chamber and shot off an arrow at the dragon. With its back presently turned to him, the arrow lodged into the fleshy folds of its left hind leg, cause it to hiss and snap about abruptly.

With a thunderous roar that shook the very walls of the hold, the dragon peeled off after Gamlek who had hot-footed his exit off through a massive arched doorway to the south of the hall. Perfect.

The elf hoisted herself over the banister of the overlook and dropped herself down into the piles of treasure below. She landed and slid down through a veritable mountain of gold, picking herself up and dusting coins from her leather armor. A moment to look around before she began the climb up another hill within the hoard to make way to the nest of eggs at the center.

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris kneeled by another corpse. The process repeated, Gaheris going through the motions in a bored, mechanical manner. You raise one body, you raise them all, as the saying went.

"What do you think?" he grumbled, rolling his eyes to himself.

No one ever raised more than fifteen zombies without hurting themselves. And hurting himself seemed rather counter intuitive if dragons were involved. Gaheris finished the spell just as the dragon released a terrible roar.

Dust jostled loose from the ceiling, and Gaheris felt the very ground beneath his knees shudder. He nearly toppled forward, but caught himself with a free hand. What the hell was that? So soon? Gaheris scrambled to his feet, ignoring the twitching corpse.

He only caught a glimpse of the back of Fi's head as it vanished from sight - past the banister as she vaulted over.

Gaheris blinked, his slow mammalian brain taking its sweet time in processing these events, and construing meaning from it. A moment later, he came stumbling up to the banister, gripping it with both hands. "What are you- I've only got two up here!"

One and a half, technically. The latest was still twitching, but the first was now on its feet, vacantly surveying its surroundings and future coworkers.

 

[Fieravene]

"You're doing fabulous, darling, keep up the good work!" Fi called back to the man from her present precarious perch on the side of a hoard mountain. Another sterling, snarling roar blasted through the south hall entrance and Fi ducked her head down to watch the figure of Gamlek go darting by the open archway, followed dangerously close by a reem of dragonfire.

The dark elf pursed her lips into a smirk, watching with momentary amusement at how curiously spry Gamlek suddenly became with a bit of dragon spit on his heels. The dragon wargled by the opening after him a blink later and she was back to this business of climbing a hill of monumental pricelessness. She crested the top and slid down the other side, landing at the bottom of a much larger plinth of stacked pieces of stone taken from the walls and foundation of this crumbling palace.

Time to climb.

At just about that same moment, Gaheris' two goons appeared at the west entrance looking stupidly at the piles upon piles upon stacks of sweet, glittery gold.

"Boys...boys, eyes up here-" she snapped her fingers at them from where she hung on the side of the nest area, "eggs first, treasure later."

 

[Gaheris]

Fabulous! Darling! There were an impossible number of words that comprised the Common language, and Fieravene always said the ones he was least keen on hearing.

Gaheris made a stuttering, stammering noise of pure outrage. Balled fists shook angrily in the air for a moment before he swept around and stormed back into the throne room. If this horrid woman got eaten, he'd probably starve to death before he found a way out.

A few flashes of green light shot from the throne room as Gaheris entered what could be conservatively described as "double time."

---
​

"By the headless saints of Torleon..." Pierto attempted to whistle at the gold, but failed. Air passed uselessly over chapped lips, creating more of a weird, gusting sound.

Claude snorted, shoved past his companion. "Since when are you one of those weird sun fucks?"

"I've been switchin' religions since we got down here," he grunted, pulling his face-mask down and waddling after. "Keeps the options open."

Heedless of Fi's clear command, Claude took a fistful of gold as he moved past. He had no idea if or when he was going to get another swipe at it. Also, she definitely wasn't his boss.

Pierto, meanwhile, would be happy to end this sooner rather than later - all the things that money could buy paled in comparison to the joys of dry trousers, which he intended to acquire as soon as possible once they were done here.

 

[Fieravene]

Hoisting herself up to the top, Fieravene found herself standing over a nest of six scaled dragon eggs. For the sake of keeping the story moving and getting us along, she took each egg one by one and rolled them over the edge, watching them tumble down the mountain of coin and gold and jewels to the two idiots below. Fiera grabbed the last two eggs, each the size of a melon, and clutched them to her one in each arm before sliding down herself.

"Right, let's get these to Daisy and into their pouches, then we'll come back for your gold."

The roar of the dragon sounded quite a bit more closely to home than she would have liked. Something about sixth sense of a mother dragon knowing when either their hoard or their nest was being fucked with.

"Quickly, quickly now."

 

[Gaheris]

The two armsmen were waiting for her at the bottom, looking suspiciously self-satisfied. They each carried their two eggs, and bore a look that was far too smug and self-satisfied for men of their stature. For some unknown and likely indiscernible reason, their pockets were positively bulging.

They glanced at each other at the sound of an all-too-close dragon roar, and made no protestations when Fieravene urged them onward.

"Right then, miss."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh."

They jingled as they went.

---
​

Green light continued to flash from the throne room, like muted strikes of lightning.

A neat little group of undead sprung up. Some were skeletal, and others were held fast by bits of dry and flaking flesh. A few still had the weapons they died with.

Arcane necromancy, especially practiced so quickly, often brought inconsistent results. In this case, some stood perfectly still where they had been raised. Others were vainly attempting to follow up on whatever activities they performed in life.

Guards milled about in aimless patrol patterns. Two skeletons were dusting the throne with their bare phalanges. One of them advanced cautiously, spear first, as if trying not to alert a dragon.

"Fucking elves," Gaheris bemoaned to his chorus of undead, "Stupid, stupid..."

 

[Fieravene]

And quickly, quickly they went, sneaking off down the main corridor before banking off into the side hall as the dragon's thunderous roaring heralded another stream of fire down along the lengths. Gamlek was doing pretty good at keeping it on the run, but the orc was clearly tiring and appeared to have taken some heat already.

Fiera followed after the goons all the way to Daisy, promptly arriving to drop the first two eggs into the large leather satchels at the donkey's flanks before collecting the last three to do the same on the other side.

"Egg-cellent," the elf remarked with a smirk, "you'll be wanting to gather the rest of your payment then before that dragon finishes Gamlek off. I'll see to your Employer." These two could collapse under the weight of their gold for all she cared, but the journey had grown a fondness in the elf for the Necromancer. Couldn't have him expiring in some dingey old ruin with only his comrades-in-bones for company.

 

[Gaheris]

One of the armsmen immediately went to go back the way he came, only to be held back by his counterpart; a hand on the shoulder.

“What’re you-“

“Come on man. Don’t push your luck.”

“Ehh...”

He was still on the fence about the whole thing when Fieravene rounded the corner and fell out of sight..

---​

It looked like a circus, a crude play - some kind of abstracted art show. Long dead warriors slunk along walls where they had been sneaking in life. Courtiers were waiting on a turn to speak to an empty throne.

A verifiable ensemble of skeletons and mummies. And Gaheris was the conductor of this insane little orchestra. He felt a terrible sense of... Responsibility? Dread? No, it was dread. He was alone here still, for all the many animated corpses.

Gaheris was all out of material, so he spent his time fretting in the throne room, sometimes daring to approach the balcony Fi had previously vaulted from.

Muttered curses were offered to every conceivable party. Mostly himself.

 

[Fieravene]

She slipped back up the way they'd come, crossing dark halls and traipsing up crumbling steps into the hall beyond the back throne room. It was there she paused to watch a skeleton curtsy to ... nothing in particular while another milled about with a silver platter and several dusty empty wine glasses. Fi blinked as it walked by her then half-bowed to offer her a drink.

The elf took a glass with a smile, "Thank you, darling," then continued on her way.

A red glow surrounded the glass, shadowing it in a ghastly image of what it had once been hundreds, if not thousands of years ago. A dark wine sloshed about the ghosted illusion in her hand and she smirked, pleased, before tipping it back in one go.

Well, someone had good taste.

She tossed the empty glass away and it shattered loudly behind her as she entered the throne room.

"Have you-" Fiera paused to take in the scene before her, red eyes widening with wonderful amusement, "why yes you have."

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris stared pointedly at the treasure pile, hands gripping the balcony intently. This was it. He'd been suckered and left for dead. And no one would even be around to raise his corpse to join the assembly of undead pantomimes.

Maybe he could make a run for the treasure pile. Scoop a few piles of gold and at least die incredibly wealthy, just as he'd always wanted... Give or take a few minor details...

"Gah!" He visibly startled when Fiera's voice came from behind him, looking like he nearly would have leapt from the balcony.

The Elf was back, and that meant his sense of dread was replaced: first with relief, and then with simmering umbrage.

"You," he hissed, as if anyone else would have known where to find him, "This had better mean we're done here..."

 

[Fieravene]

The man's startled response grew a puckered smirk on her face that she made no effort to hide. She approached him where he stood at the balcony, "Verily. Your men's pockets are full to the bursting with treasure and I suspect we have another few minutes before Gamlek succumbs to exhaustion."

She was looking very pleased with herself, eyes lingering on the rambling undead in the room, "We'll be needing your friends here to play distraction and keep the dragon busy while we depart."

 

[Gaheris]

Of course those idiots already had their weight in gold. Gaheris supposed that was why he brought them. He was not looking forward to the conversation about Guild dues once this was over, and the matter of covering Gamlek's debts... If the Orc even survived.

"Great. Happy to hear," he quickly replied, flustered and tense as per usual. And that knowing smirk she wore wasn't helping in the slightest. "I'll relay your instructions as soon as you give them..."

Gaheris was getting sick of watching these undead dodder about anyway.

 

[Fieravene]

"We'll need them down in the main hall, near the hoard," Fiera gestured out over the balcony, "away from our route of departure. The more distraction they can offer, the longer we have to make a hasty exit."

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris narrowed his eyes. Slowly, he brought his hands together, then issued two sharp claps. The undead abruptly ended their eerie charade and started running - scattering like sighted rats. Some of them were taking the long way to the specified location, scampering down hallways and corridors.

Others, the former adventurers most likely, ran past Gaheris and flung themselves over the balcony and into the waiting hoard. Not unlike lemmings.

"There. Now what?"

 

[Fieravene]

The dark elf stood aside, arms folded neatly at her back, and watched with raised brows as the corpses scattered hither tither at his command. She'd not been expecting a veritable circus to break out, but maybe that was a good thing. Chaos would be far more distracting than a concerted effort. Last longer too.

Hopefully.

"Well if you have no strong desire to fill your own pockets, now we - excuse my Vel Anirian - get the fuck out of here."

 

[Gaheris]

Realization crept over his face like an approaching shadow. Right. He had come here for something other than to be harassed and raise a circus troupe's worth of skeletons.

This was an important moment of truth: the moment where Gaheris would have to decide whether his life would be ruled by fear of death or lust for wealth. That was usually what it came down to for agents of the Red Guild.

"As a matter of fact," he haughtily proclaimed, "I do."

And that was usually what agents of the Red Guild chose.

The air was alive with the sound of skeletal feet stampeding over stonework. Gaheris, ever prepared, withdrew a folded sack from within his cloak and shook it out. "Get me to the hoard - without jumping off a balcony."

 

[Fieravene]

Oh, the man came prepared. Her smirk fixed at the flap of the satchel, a level gaze finding earthy brown eyes beneath that gleam of proper miffed distinction. In the background a long, drawn-out roar sounded, interspersed by blood-curdling screams of what she surmised to be a soon-to-be-dead Gamlek.

Fiera blinked delicately, expression growing if not more filled with mirth, then more devious.

"There's no time for the long way round, darling," that dragon only needed a moment to gorge itself on exhausted, sweaty orc, "but you can close your eyes and hold my hand for the drop, if you like."

Didn't know he was afraid of heights. She offered him a gloved hand and gestured to their destination over the balcony rail.

 

[Gaheris]

There was some screaming going on elsewhere, which meant to Gaheris that there was not a lot of time left on the clock. And that what Fieravene said was true: taking the long way, however easier on his nerves, would not be possible. He took a moment to comport himself and cleared his throat.

"Fine then," he declared, and without addressing - verbally or physically - her offer.

Gaheris turned, cloak sweeping behind him as he made for the balcony. He took the railing, put one foot up, and...

Hesitated.

Oh no.