Fable - Ask Your signature please

[Brackard Cain]

He didn't like that question. He didn't want to look at it too carefully. There was a lot behind the answer. He closed the door on it, tried to hold it closed.

"House Bruant is small but it is ambitious. Perhaps one of you should remain on guard in case they are capable of following us. Thete may be more work for us in the morning. Important work."

He lifted his cane and poked the man of the floor hard in the chest.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"You may be asking yourself that all night long. You won't find out. But we will find out who you are won't we?

"Driver? Not the usual location but the corner house."

Woth a tap of his cane they were rolling away.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe withdrew her spear from the final guard and nodded, with a quick flick of the wrist she shook off some of the remaining specks of blood that dotted her weapon and turned towards her comrades.

The work was quick and easy. She hadn't expected a fight from mere guards, but she knew to be careful. Many houses employed the odd spellsword and entered them namelessly into their ranks, a veiled threat that could take down even a Dreadlord if they played it right.

As she watched the rest of the crew she breathed, closing her eyes briefly. Sometimes, with very little consistency, she could read the flows of air around her - detecting the presence of people. Today her power failed, the air eluded her, and she sighed.

Had she been successful, she might have detected a small imperceptible shape moving glacially on the rooftops of Vel'Anir.

"Right, let's head back then, the Guard will be here soon and we don't want to give them any clues as to who attacked House Bruant." She shuddered, she knew Ashur-Kan would have prepared a contingency plan, but she didn't want to take the risk regardless.

She hopped into the carriage wordlessly with the rest of them, awaited Brackard's tap, and savoured the pregnant silence that had draped over their entourage.

Usually, such peace and tranquillity would ease her, but there was tension in the air tonight. The rules of the game had changed and now, suddenly, everything they knew was at risk.

 

[Zana]

There was no more room in the carriage with the prisoner so Zana stepped up to sit beside the driver with her hood pulled up and over her face. It suited her much more than to be back inside that thing with him. She pressed her hands between her thighs and gripped them tight to stop them from shaking. It was like working with her living nightmare. A face that had plagued both her waking and sleeping hours as a child and it was a trauma Sloan had subjected her too. To be asked to work this job again was like being slapped in the face with that feeling of betrayal again. Of course she understood more now that it had been an order and orders were not to be ignored but even so... the two of them together was a reminder of dark rooms and pain of more than one kind.

It was a surprisingly slow trip to their location. The fight on the street had resulted in a lot of commotion and the backlog of traffic elsewhere, though that suited Zana just fine. It was a chance to breathe and recollect her thoughts for the first time since they had been given the assignment.

When they finally did pull up at their destination Zana jumped down and opened the door. She practically yanked the man out so that Sloan and the others could follow. The man had at least begun to look a little scared.

"Just answer his questions," Zana replied drily to his questioning glance, a mockery of the words Sloan had used all those years ago. It wouldn't save him much, perhaps just earn him a quicker end to the misery.

 

[Sloan]

She waited for the two women to board the carriage before she looked to Brackard with an answer. "We'll know if they follow us. I'm not leaving anyone here alone." she told him calmly and shot a glance at Florinthe, hoping she'd be on her guard.

Sloan spent the silence trying to ignore everyone else's emotions but it was impossible. Zana's in particular was troubling her, and guilt twisted in her stomach as she lifted her gaze for a brief moment to Brackard. The carriage came to a halt and the door opened, casting the early morning light over the man's terrified face as he was yanked into the street.

She followed silently and shot a wary glance around the street before closing the door behind the group as they entered the building..

 

[Brackard Cain]

"It may be wise," he muttered, "to stay close in case his house send any talented trackers before the. Ight is up."

Finally, he took an interest in the world outside the carriage. A figure stood outside the safe house.

"Pull up here," Brackard ordered the driver, coning up short of the door. He hissed in pain as he pushed open the door and stepped out onto the pavement.

The difference between noble and criminal could be slim. It was almost indistinguishable in the case of Gurian Luana. The young man has all kinds of tax-dodging operations in hand. Perhaps that was why the House had him personally keep an eye on Brackards activities.

"Is he in there?" Gurian hissed. He had a squashed up face and eyes that always seemed narrowed in distrust.

"Best you don't know."

"Slit his throat and into a ditch. Now."

"Why ever the change of heart?" Brackard asked, unable to keep the tone of annoyance from his voice.

"You should that Jeretta herself had approved of this and..."

"Is that what I said?" Brackard asked, raising one eyebrow. The penny slowly dropped.

Colour flushed Gurian's cheeks. "Now I guess I'll have to listen to your precise working more carefully you little weasel."

"Sticks and stones have already broken my bones Gurian. Now you might want to be elsewhere and to pretend you never knew of tonight's activities. I am hours from the confession that you can personally present upwards and take as much credit as you desire. Or have me flogged if I fail. Be elsewhere young Gurian."

Brackard had spent many years chasing hollow accolades and medals. It had brought him nothing good. Now he did the real work no one else had the stomach for. Routing out dissent and sympathisers with wretched elves and dwarves. Finding those who would bring down the House that had his alligeiance. Those were the things that mattered.

"I'll pretend you didn't speak to me like this either," Gurian hissed, marching into the night.

Stupid, spoiled boy who liked to play with smugglers.

"Bring him inside," Brackard hissed as the carriage was rolled up yo the door.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe grabbed the man they had captured as per Brackard's orders. He was lighter than she expected and she had little problem manhandling him into the safe house.

As she passed the figure of Gurian she kept her eyes low. He was a letch and a creep kept out of the public eye for those very reasons. She knew his place in the Luana household was tenuous and, curiously, wondered if Brackard outranked him entirely. She shrugged, House politics was above her paygrade - it kept well to stay out of such things.

The irony of such a thought, while carrying a kidnapped noble, was not lost on her and she sighed defeatedly as she brought the broken man upstairs towards Brackards lair.

She sighed. There were many devices in this room, many screws, lots of spikes and several that looked impossibly complicated and unnecessary. Again, it wasn't her place. Like most things in Vel'Anir, she did her best to keep her head down and pointedly not ask questions.

Gently, she placed the man into a single wooden chair and secured his manacles. She was certain Brackard could do the rest and, equally, convinced herself that she would only get in his way. So, she stepped into a darkened corner of the room and tried to keep her eyes off both of the men.

 

[Zana]

Zana followed the rest of them quietly. She didn't envy what the man was about to go through. She watched silently as Brackard and then Flor went through the door with their target and she went to step into the room after them but she couldn't. Her whole body seized. It might not have been beneath the docks where she had been subjected to the same pains but the room looked eerily the same. An uncontrollable panic rose in her and she ended up taking a step back away from the door with a shuddering breath.

She hadn't had an attack like this since she was little. One of the many times after the first she had been forced out of her bed at night and taken to that place of horror. She had screamed and begged and cried but it had always ended the same. With one of those devices digging into her flesh in some new inventive way to hurt her and wring a vision from her mind. Zana stepped to the side out of view of the doorway and pressed her hands flat to her thighs as she bent over and dragged air into her hyperventilating lungs.

 

[Sloan]

Sloan listened awkwardly to the conversation, she should've known that Brackard was up to his usual schemes. She felt herself tense as their own tensions rose, they'd been told to protect Brackard and if that meant getting in between the two men it's what she'd do. It was conflicting, of course, but she'd taken her orders from Ashur and she'd do as he'd asked, and afford the man every resource to complete his task. Everything else was above her, and so she remained quiet and ready to move.

She escorted Brackard whilst Florinthe grabbed their quarry and she watched as he was sat down, a glance all that was given to the woman as she retreated to the corner of the room. Then there was panic in her mind, but not her own and she turned to look behind her and couldn't see Zana. She tried not to make a scene as she swept out of the room to find the woman doubled over and she rushed to reach for her face, if she'd allow, and crouched to bring her dark eyes level with the woman.

"Zana.." she spoke in a hushed tone, as she had done those years ago whilst trying to invoke a sense of calm into the woman's mind. "Look at me."

 

[Brackard Cain]

"They don't like me you know," Brackard sighed. He dragged a stool across the floor. Wood cried out against stone. Not a slow consistent noise. It was an irregular stop start as he shuffled across the floor.

"I can't think why."

"It is because they look down on me. This kind of thing is beneath them. They feel...shame to be associated with me."

"So would I.".

"Jerald, I suggest you hold your tongue. You will need to save your breath. This night is young." Bracked sat uncomfortably on the simple, three-legged stool. There was not much left he could sit on in comfort at all. Life was pain. He leaned forwards, placing both hands on his cane.

"This will not..."

"Consider was prison is like for someone like you. For me, death by disease or a long drop and a short stop. For you: servants and wine and whores."

"I can think of nothing worse than being caged."

"Then, my friend, you simply lack imagination," Brackard sneered. "That and the good sense not to conduct your business dealings in the White Rose where many ears listen carefully."

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe had decided to stay and watch what unfolded. He knew Zana was struggling right now - she had her suspicions as to why, but she did not wish to open any wounds. Sloan, being Sloan, was ensuring Zana would cope and would return to her usual self. That left just Florinthe to remain steady and keep a level head as to what was happening.

She knew Ashur-Kahn, or at least thought she did, and could only imagine how effective Brackard was as an agent of the house if they allowed his methods. The young Dreadlord tried not to watch what unfolded before her.

In a way, it wasn't anything different from what the Dreadlords did. Everyone was a tool in Vel'Anir, where Dreadlords acted with flare, magic and destruction, Brackard operated in secret, he was precise. It seemed to he was a scalpel, excising the dead flesh of the state. She shuddered, it didn't make this job anymore pleasant.

His conversation with the prisoner left her even more uncomfortable. It was true. Despite her recent reasonings, she found it difficult to like the torturer. Yet they were agents, they were on the same side, she vowed to at least try and see him as a comrade.

The screaming started not long after...

 

[Zana]

Visions mingled with memory wracked through her in a horrific torrent of pain as she clenched her hands on her knees. She could barely hear Sloan over the roaring in her heads and suddenly her eyes went white.

Pain. Excruciating pain.

"How has it been this long and yet you still are unable to control these gifts, Zana? It's a disappointment. To me. To Luana. To you."

That dreaded voice and tapping of the cane filled her. She tried to turn her face and see the person who it belonged to to please but she couldn't without convulsing in pain, blood spurting from her lips.

"You know how this works. Tell me what I need to know and the pain stops."

Zana heaved air in to her lungs as the vision broke and sweat coated her skin. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Please. Sloan. Please," she felt like she were 10 again.

 

[Sloan]

Sloan felt every single emotion as though it were her own and she closed her eyes, pressing her thumbs against Zana's temples as she waved the fear away and mollify it with a sense of peace... Finally the woman's eyes opened and Sloan's did too, and she grabbed her into a firm embrace and felt the familiar aching guilt in her heart any time she pleaded with her like that.

"Hush.. You don't have to stay, you don't have to stay..." she whispered agains her hair and pressed a gentle kiss to her head. She knew this wasn't going to be pleasant to watch, but Sloan had a duty to be here and although she dreaded working with Brackard, she didn't fear the man.

Her hands found Zana's face again and she searched her eyes.. "You're alright.. I can stay, you both can go, or wait outside if you wish to.." she frowned, hearing some of the conversation inside the room..

 

[Brackard Cain]

"I say a lot of things after a little wine."

"I am aware. It made sorting the truth from the bravado really very tedious. So tedious in fact that my patience has been wasted already." Brackard leaned forwards ever so slightly on his cane. The walls were thick here. He could barely hear the dreadlords beyond the door. Not that he could ever quite put Sloan from mind when she was near.

"It sounds as if you have the evidence you need already," Jerald retorted. Brackard thought he did very well, but the colour had gone from his face.

"Hard facts are not what the nobility of this fine city make decisions on. Not when they are not neatly wrapped up in your confession."

"You won't get it."

"Actually I will, but as I said, lack of patience. Host tear off his left ear, apparently he is hard of hearing."

The half ogre lurked in the shadows as well as a boulder could. His emergence was still something to behold. Perhaps that was just the light on his contorted features. A fist the size of melon grasped the ear and tore it away in one swift motion.

Brackard waited for the screams to subside.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe watched the giant ogre tenderise the prisoner. Each blow made her wince and she found her stomach gnawing. Morbid curiosity kept her eyes fixed on the scene before her. Regardless, her attempts at looking away had been rewarded with an overactive imagination coupled with the noises of torture - it was inescapable.

She sighed for a moment, ducking out of the room and glancing to her comrades Sloan and Zana. Florinthe had wanted to take the burden from Zana, and Sloan, she figured it would be good to keep a Dreadlord present. However, from the way things were going, Florinthe decided that Brackard and his goon could handle themselves.

"I don't know about you both, but I might begin to start dinner - Sloan might it be an idea for you to grab some shut-eye?" She spoke calmly. She knew the group would be hungry, much like her, and she was also acutely aware Sloan had only recently returned from a long mission. Hopefully, these mundane activities could take their mind off the situation with Brackard.

 

[Zana]

Zana could feel that calm tide she knew was Sloan rolling over her like the waves against a beach and she tried to fall into it. She didn't want the pain or the fear. He unravelled her to her very core until she was a weak child. She knew she wasn't. Knew it was just what he did to her and she was tired of the power he held over her emotions. As Sloan pulled her into an embrace Zana melted into her and wrapped her arms about her waist.

She was hat little girl again clinging to her only lifeline.

Almost numbly she managed to nod at Sloan's words; she didn't have to be here. Except that Ashur had asked it of her. The scream that came from the room sent an iron rod down her spine and she stiffened in her mentors loving arms.

She needed to get out of here. She was of no use.

Weak.

When Flor appeared Zana wiped at her tear stained cheeks and took a deep breath.

"I think I need a drink..."

 

[Sloan]

Sloan's lips curled at the corners as Zana returned her embrace and she pressed a firm kiss to her head when she felt her ease a little, a hand stroking through her hair with a quiet hush. She let go of the woman and turned her attention to Flor as she spoke, offering a soft smile of reassurance at her concern.. "I will, after I see this through. You two go ahead. I can report back to Ashur.." she nodded. They couldn't leave Brackard alone to deal with this without protection, it was too much of a risk. She sighed and gave both women's shoulders a squeeze as she passed by them to step inside the room.

She took her place in the corner of the room, and her dark eyes wandered over the bloodied man with a brief frown before she lowered her gaze to the floor and tried to shut her mind off from the man's pain, but with all of the screaming and how tired she felt, it proved difficult. Her jaw clenched, and she endured.

 

[Brackard Cain]

Hosst enjoyed delivering blows until Brackard held his hand up sharply.

"What's the rule Hosst?" he asked politely.

"Don't smash right hand."

"Because we need him to be able to sign. Now which is his right h...no, no. Yes that's his right hand. The one you nearly broke. Can you remember that for me?"

"Sorry." Hosst muttered, stepping away from the prisoner.

Jerald was breathing so hard and fast that Brackard was afraid he would pass out. Their time was too limited for such interruptions. He cracked the knuckles of one hand within the other. It didn't help the ache in his joints, nothing ever did. There were herbs that dulled the pain but they also dulled the mind. That was all Brackard had left.

"There are two things I want from you Jerald. I was your signature and the name of the major house behind this," Brackard said firmly. This was dangerous ground. There was a reason he didn't ask for the name of the house written on the parchment. He had kept this suspicion from the Dreadlords, from the house members, because it would frighten them. They wouldnt want a dog like him digging in the business of another major house. It was their fault really, they had made him this way and given him too much slack on the leash.

"Fuck off."

Brackard sighed. "Hold his head very still Hosst. Which eye would you say was your best Jerald?"

 

[Florinthe Othal]

Florinthe navigated her way through the maze that was the safehouse. As a general rule of thumb, it seemed as if every Luana safe-house within the various anirian cities had distinct and separate lay-outs. This led to confusing configurations of rooms and, especially when visiting for the first time, one never knew what to expect when hopping from one room to the next.

With that in mind, it took Florinthe a considerable amount of time before she stumbled upon the kitchen. Likewise, the kitchen was arranged equally confusingly and it took almost the same amount of time until Florinthe found what she was looking for.

Carefully, the young Dreadlord poured a measure of whiskey, brewed a small herbal tea and poured a glass of water. She knew her comrade Zana was the type of person that a drink could mean anything, so she figured she'd be prepared.

With that done, she found her way back through the maze and handed her several drinks.

"So uh... Has he made any progress in there?"

 

[Zana]

Zana chose to sit in the hallway a good few meters away from the door. Sloan had shut the door behind her when she had slipped back into the room so the noises of torture were more muffled. It was easier to close her ears off to them and she still felt as though she were 'guarding' the entrance. When she heard footsteps coming back down her hand went to the sword that lay across her lap but as Flor rounded the corner she went back to massaging her temples.

The older Dreadlord smiled at the tray of drinks and took the tea.

"Thank you," her voice was hoarse and her skin still looked grey with streaks down her cheeks.

"I don't think so," Zana glanced to the door then back down to her tea. She was waiting for the call to come and get a vision off of the broken man. Maybe the whisky would come in hand after all for it would allow her to see backwards. "Flor I..." she wanted to explain the reason for her breakdown but it was a House Secret and not one she had a choice over who knew. She looked down at her cup again.

 

[Sloan]

Sloan's gaze lifted as the beating stopped and she looked between Brackard and Hosst, trying to ignore the bloodied face of the man's head as it lolled around on his shoulders, rasping and spitting blood. Dark eyes narrowed at the exchange, and her brow creased briefly at Brackard's words to Jerald as she listened for an answer.

None came, and the answer that did caused Sloan's shoulders to tense. She tried to catch Brackard's eye, and although she didn't speak the words, her face clearly said what she thought about his treatment of the man. Still, orders were orders.

Fuck, just give him what he wants.. Her head shook at the thought and she dropped her gaze to the floor once more.

Being an empath was both a gift and a curse. Right now it was most certainly a curse, and she tried to still her mind from it. She doubted having an eye out was going to be pleasant for either of them...less so for him, of course..

 

[Brackard Cain]

They always looked surprised to find out how mortal they were. Particularly the nobles. Pain was something for the lower classes. Unless they had done something truly devious prison for the rich was usually being confined to a Manor house and brought fine food to play out their days.

Getting the spoon into the eye socket wasn't easily. Especially when his hands shook so much and Jerald trembled fiercely despite Hosst's attempts to hold him still.

"Look!" said Brackard triumphantly. He placed the spoon on the table, reaching out with quivering fingers. He turned the bloodied orb around so that Jerald could look back at his own gaze.

"The name! Oh...shit. He feinted." Hosst was already going for the smelling salts.

 

[Florinthe Othal]

She smiled warmly towards Zana as she watched her friend take the tea from the tray. Carefully, she placed the remainder drinks on a small table and downed the contents of the whiskey. After witnessing some of the ongoing in Brackard's chamber, she certainly needed something heavy to cleanse her palate.

"Don't worry about it." She knew this mission seemed to be hard on Zana. It didn't take a genius to work out that her comrade had had previous dealings with Brackard before. Florinthe did not wish to know, did not wish to press, she would simply be there for her friend, much like how Zana was there for her.

"You know..." She spoke calmly and quietly. She figured the best approach would be to try and distract Zana - at least momentarily - and help to remove her mind from this situation.

"Ryrl, that weird Dreadlord with green-hair and the crooked nose. Well, I heard that he..." She grinned, relaying the rumour she'd heard about the aforementioned individual. A wacky tale involving several enemies of the state, a few angry farmers and an enraged horse.

 

[Zana]

Zana nodded slightly, accepting her friends dismissal of the subject. A pregnant pause stretched between them for a brief moment as they both reflected on the job at hand and memories dark and dreary. She was close to saying something, though what she had no idea, when Flor piped up instead. Pale green eyes still red from the tears she had shed looked up at her friend sat opposite her and slowly she raised a brow. Florinthe always seemed to find out all of the gossip that wasn't afford to her give her standing within the house.

Her lips slowly curved upwards as the story began and by the end of it she was actually laughing in this place where she had thought only nightmares would linger for her. Her mind was still half on Sloan who was in the room still, as she had always been, for she had refused to let Zana suffer on her own. If they were not out soon she would swallow the horrors and go back inside to call a break.

 

[Sloan]

Look!

Sloan couldn’t help but lift her gaze at the word, to see for herself, though she’d already known by the sounds of the screaming that Jerald was now one eye short. She grimaced, and stared at Brackard from her corner of the room, her brow creasing at the triumph in his face...

She remembered that look, he used to wear it when slaughtering elves, and Sloan wondered if she’d been so hopelessly blinded by her infatuation for the man to see that he’d always been this way.. He’d been tender with her, and she’d spent the last twenty years hoping he’d remember the man that he was and return to her.. but this was the man that he was.

Sloan’s eyes pooled and she closed them quickly before lowering her head again, her mind glad of the brief reprieve of pain as the man passed out.

 

[Brackard Cain]

Jerald jerked awake as Hosst waved the salts beneath his nose. Brackard was growing nervous. He had abducted a respected member of a minor house in the dark of the night. If he did not get his confession by morning then a whole mountain of trouble was going to fall on him.

Brackard pushed the confession across the table. The eyeball was just a few inches away from hit, sitting in a congealing puddle of watery blood.

"We are just starting the night. If you do not sign them..."

Jerald's shaky hand reached for the quill and Brackard watched in silence. The slow scratching was it's own form of torture for Brackard and he snatched the paper away with a triumphant smile as quickly as he could.

"Lister Pirian...do you...want me to..."

"No," Brackard snapped. "I do not want you to write down that name."

He turned his gaze very slowly towards Sloan, finally acknowledging her presence. This went much higher than he had even suspected. It had to be handled carefully and not with the Dreadlords reporting back to some idiot lording who would run off and pick a duel for honor and claim the matter 'satisfied'.