[Mkguild] MK: Snow Storm- Part 11

[Hallan Mirayas]

    Rickkter sifted through
the red-stained snow where Linafex and his daughter had fallen, their bodies
cleared away for burning.  He'd felt and recognized
the pulse of a soul gem being activated, and he knew it had to be around here
somewhere...  Another hand closed on it
first, plunged into the snow only an arm's length from where he'd been
searching, and the raccoon mage glared when he recognized its owner.  "Malger Sutt.  Give that to me, now."


    "No.  The Lady Nocturna insists that the daedress
Alexastra remain captive for the time being, for her own safety."


    "By what right?"


    "By the right of a
mother for her child, stolen at birth and hidden from her for four thousand
years."


    "... She's what?"


-----


    Pride puffed up with
self-importance as he stepped forward, all but preening in the limelight.  "Since some of us have places to go and people to meet," he all but
snickered, "I'll keep this brief."


    It was a blatant
lie.  Pride adored the sound of his own
voice, and his opening remarks carried on with such pompous and windy abandon
that Nocturna leaned over to Agemnos and asked, "You don't actually reward your minions based on
word count, do you?"


    Agemnos only smirked in
reply.  Everything was going exactly
according to plan.  No matter what
outcome resulted here, he would still come out a winner.  Still, there was no need to push the bounds
of diplomacy any further.  "Wrap it
up, Pride.  Some of us really do have places to go and people to
meet."


    Pride bristled at the
interruption of his monologue, but he obeyed. 
"At issue here is the contest between Lady Akkala and Lord
Revonos.  Whose ethos was this mortal
more directly serving at the time of his Oath to Lord Revonos?  The answer is obvious: oathbreaking is a
cardinal virtue of the Lord of Rage, and swearing an Oath to him is a violation
of his prior Oath to Lady Akkala.  But if
more evidence is needed, let's take a look just before he made his very foolish
Oath..."  Dipping his leonine hand
into a basin of wine, he flicked the droplets skyward with a precise and
intricate series of gestures.  The first
twist of his hand froze the ruby drops in midair, the second swirled them
together, and the third expanded and transmuted them into a floating
crystalline orb, within which the light of the room began to swirl...


    The image swam into focus
just in time for Drift to scream in Misha's face.  "Do you know how I'm going to give it
back to him?  Point first!!"  The samoyed trapped in chains flinched away
from the memory replayed, and Pride smiled. 
The image froze, eyes wild and teeth bared in fury.  "From the mortal's own mouth,"
purred the daedra, with a gesture sending the scrying bubble to hover right
before Drift's face.  "As you can
see, he was already planning murder. 
Prior to that..."  The scene
spun back in time, detailing first Drift's ambush of the Watchman, then
replaying him smashing a chair over Xavier's head and then beating him into
unconsciousness, and Drift shrank away from his own rage.


    "He didn't kill any
of them when given the chance," Artela interjected.


    Pride waved away the
rebuttal as meaningless.  "It doesn't
matter.  The Oath was made of his own
free will, whatever stress and baiting was involved.  He. 
Chose.  This.  Everything else is just window dressing."


    "Th-that's not
true!  It's a lie!"  Panic jarred Drift's mouth into motion, and
kept him babbling even when he saw Artela's pained wince and Pride's triumphant
smirk.  "You tricked me!  Controlled me!  You must
have!  I didn't-"

 

     Revonos leapt from his
throne and stomped his foot down on the iron chain binding Drift to the floor,
jerking the samoyed to a groveling crouch.  Next, he seized a handful of
scruff and twisted up and back until Drift screamed, his neck on the edge of
breaking.  "Up until you swore your oath to me, ex-Patildor fool,
controlling you would have been impossible," the dark lord sneered.
 "All I did was whisper in your ear.  Everything you did, you
-chose- to do, of your own free will."

 

    Akkala rose to her feet,
her eyes snapping.  "Release him at
once!  This trial is not yet decided!"

 

    "Oh, it will be,
sure enough.  And when it is..."  The Lord of Rage slammed his
prey to the ground, grinding Drift's muzzle into the marble.  "Get
used to this pose, dog.  You're going to spend a lot of time in it."
 Without another word, he let go and returned to his seat.  Drift
remained, shuddering, on the floor.

 

-----


    Wolfram struggled back
to consciousness.  He hurt
everywhere.  He tried not to think about
it.  The room felt like it was spinning.  He tried not to think about that, either.  How had he gotten here?  Where was here, for that matter?


    "You're awake.  Good."


    And who was that?


    "Whozer?"


    Was that him?  He forced one eye open- the other seemed
stuck shut, and refused.  Blurry light
stabbed into his brain like a lance, and he hissed.  Broken teeth in his mouth did not thank him
for doing so.


    "Hold still,"
said the voice, and he felt a light touch on his brow.  "I am Priestess Tessa.  I will do what I can."


    His vision cleared a
little, and something wet brushed across his stuck left eye, wiping away
whatever was keeping it shut.  He blinked
a few times and then squinted, trying to focus. 
"S'll bl'rry," he slurred at the two identical ladies kneeling
next to him.  "You sis'rs?"  Even as he said it, though, the two merged
into one, her brow furrowed with concentration.


    "Better?" she
asked, her dark eyes tired, but soft with compassion.  "You're lucky to be alive.  Not many survive an encounter with-"  She caught herself at the last moment.  "With what you have."  



    "Feel like I got
hi' by a wag'n.  Wha' happen?"


    "You don't
remember?"


    "No."


    "I'll tell you
later," she murmured, gesturing toward the nearby crowd with her eyes.  It looked like they were in an inn of some
sort.  Lots of people sleeping.  Louder, she continued, "A small memory
gap is not unexpected with your head injury."


   Thinking was like
slogging through thigh-deep mud, but Wolfram finally caught on and changed the
subject.  He raised a shaky hand to the
side of her head, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.  "Y'r pretty.  Like 'n elf. 
Look like one.  I think."  He tried to brush her hair back (such pretty hair, he thought, like red
autumn leaves just starting to brown) to see if her ears were pointed, but
his shoulder refused to cooperate and his ribs stabbed knives into his
side.  His stomach rolled and Wolfram lay
back on the floor with a moan. 
"I'ma go sleep now," he mumbled, closing his eyes in hopes the
room would stop impersonating a cart wheel.


    "Oh no, you're not."  The elf lady in the pretty dress shook him
gently until he opened his eyes again.  "You
need to stay awake and talk to me.  Can
you tell me your name?"


    "W'f'am."  The slur in his speech demolished his last
name, and he had to make an extra effort to speak clearly.  "Wolfram Barhart."


    "'The traveling wolf with the heart of
a bear.'  You have a strong name."


    "S'rong head,
too."


    "I noticed.  Hold still: this may sting a bit."


    Wolfram hissed as, with
a touch of her hand, his ribs shifted back into place and started to knit back
together.  The jolt of pain cleared his
mind long enough for him to push her hand away. "'M no' gonna owe 'nybody
any favors, 'm I?"


    "What?"


    "'M notta
'nasi.  Don' wanna-"


    "No.  No favors. 
If it comes to that, I will ask you first."


    "Good.  Don' wanna... don't..."  The thought slipped away from him like wet
ice through numbed fingers.  He cast
about for the thread of it, but something else rose in its place- something
important he needed to do.  What was
it?  "Drift... where's
Drift?"  He tried to rise, but the
pitching floor and the elfish priestess kept him down.  More hands descended on him at the priestess'
call, called away from other beds and cots nearby.  Wolfram fought them.  Too many. 
Too many.


    "Drift... have to
get to... Drift.  Stop him somehow.  Not in his right mind.  'Lexis missin'.  'S a trap. 
Gotta be.  Gotta get to Drift..."


-----


    "For a Patildor, he
learns to properly fear us surprisingly quickly.  Remember that fat priest from-"


    "Shut up,
Pride."


    Frozen face-down and
trembling on the ground, Drift did not know who spoke in his defense.  He couldn't move.  His whole body felt numb.  Only when the voice spoke again did he
recognize it.  "Awake, Drift."
A gentle hand stroked the back of his neck where Revonos had seized it.  "Awake. 
The storm is past."  Revonos
laughed, hard and derisive, but Artela scooped up Drift's chin and lifted his
head nose to nose with her.  "Ignore
him.  Focus.  Here. 
Me."  She stroked his cheek
with delicate fingers.  "I am your
Advocate.  If anything can be done to
help keep you from him, I will find it.  That
is what I am here for.  Trust in me."

    The nature goddess's
voice resonated with something deep and primal in Drift's mind, and his tongue
flicked out to lick her nose before he could stop himself.

    "Isn't that
precious?"  Pride scoffed, his voice
dripping with scorn.  "What a
precious little mongrel whelp-"

 

    "Pride, come
here."  Agemnos beckoned his son
over, his brow furrowed and his eyes dark. 
Indicating that Pride should bend down, Agemnos whispered something in
his ear, something that drained the color from Pride's face.  Without another word, the young daedra
hurried to take a respectful and, more importantly, silent position to the right and just behind of his father's
throne.

 

    "What did he
say?" Dvalin asked, sotto voce.

 

    Dokorath, whose ears
could distinguish the cry of a single warrior over the din of battle, replied, "You
don't want to know."

 

    Agemnos smirked.  "Knowledge is power.  Are you done yet, Artela, or must we wait
even longer for the beast to be soothed?"

 

    "Is the
self-proclaimed master of the slow knife grown impatient?" the goddess
rejoined with the speed of a fencer's parry, but her focus did not waver.  Her eyes stayed locked on Drift's, and the
numbing paralysis slowly faded from his body. 
"Can you stand now?" she asked, pitching her voice privately
so it would not carry.  "I know you
are afraid, and you have every right to be, but it is important for them to see
you on your feet.  Can you do that for
me?"

 

    Drift nodded jerkily,
and Artela helped steady him as he rose, trembling, from the floor.  He clutched at what few rags had been left of
his clothing, his tail tucked, but he tried to smile when Artela gave him one
last pat on the shoulder.

 

    "Esteemed lords and
ladies," Artela began, circling the room as she spoke.  "Pride is correct when he says that this
trial is about whose ethos this mortal more closely follows.  But I say this:  Whose ethos does he more readily follow when
not driven to the point of madness?  Yes,
he swore a rash Oath.  I will not try to
deny it.  But I will say that he deserves
the mercy of this court."

 

    With a snap of her
fingers, she took control of the scrying globe, erasing the frozen image of
Drift's snarling rage.  In its place came
image after image of Drift the creator, Drift the builder, Drift the inventor.  Revonos immediately slouched back against his
throne, arms crossed, and Suspira yawned with boredom when Drift stayed on
delivering food after his penance for covering Akkala's mark had passed.

 

    Agemnos made a small
gesture with the fingers of one hand, and the scrying globe froze.  Artela turned to protest, and Pride flinched as
if jolted out of a wandering daydream. 
"Now?" he asked his father.

 

    "Now," Agemnos
replied, reclining back in his throne. 
He steepled his fingers against smiling lips, a chessmaster making his
checkmate move.

 

    "My Lords, I
protest!" Artela objected, appealing directly to the golden aura of Lord
Kammoloth.  "Pride has already had
his chance to speak, and Agemnos had recused himself!  This is highly improper!"

 

    Without manifesting any
physical appearance, the high lord of the aedra nevertheless made his
displeasure felt.  "Agemnos, you
tread dangerously close to a ruling of interference.  I suggest you silence yourself for the rest of this trail.  Is that understood?"

 

    Schooling a look of
chastened humility onto his face, Lord Agemnos bowed his head in
obeisance.  He'd already done the damage
necessary.  Now it was up to Pride to
make the most of it.

 

    "Explain yourself,
Prosecutor, and quickly."

 

   "Am I not entitled a
rebuttal?" Pride wheedled. 
"I'm sure that Lady Artela could have us here for a month singing
the praises of this 'virtuous mortal', but-"

 

    "If you say 'some
of us have places to go and people to meet', Prosecutor," Ba'al
interjected, "I will reject your
case."

 

    Swallowing that very
line, Pride affected an innocent visage that fooled no-one.  "I wouldn't dream of it, my lord.  But am I not entitled to a rebuttal?  If Lady Artela wishes to parade the past
before us, then I think we need to see a little more.  Whose ethos does this mortal serve?  I say Lord Revonos, and I can show you
proof."

 

    The two high lords
conferred for a moment. 
"Proceed," Lord Kammoloth ruled, "but do not test our
patience.  Be brief, Prosecutor, or be
gone."

 

    Pride bowed until his
head neared his knees.  "As you
command, my Lords."

 

    The globe swirled as
Pride took control of it again, and Lilith leaned forward in interest as a mountainous
white snowscape swam into view.  "So
that's where Crooked Jaw's pack went. 
Interesting."

 

    "Leave them alone,
Lilith," Artela replied, glaring daggers at Agemnos for unveiling her
project.  "The wars you've involved
them in are killing the species.  They
need a chance to rebuild."

 

    To the surprise of all,
the goddess of predation did not argue with her aedra counterpart.  "Agreed. 
I won't have you coddling them, but I can let them get settled in before
I test them."

 

    "That sounds like
the best deal you're likely to get, Advocate," interceded Lord Ba'al
before the two nature goddesses could square off for an argument.  "But we digress from the point.  Continue, Prosecutor."

 

    Preening with delight,
Pride gladly complied.  "Due to some
small amount of... interference," he purred, dipping a faux-respectful nod
to Artela, "only a short portion of this instance can be shown."  The mountainous image in the scrying globe
shivered, sliding in and out of focus as if it didn't want to be there, and the
globe itself began to drip, reverting back to the wine from which it had
come.   Pride reached out with his leonine paw,
flexing his claws as if pinioning the orb between them.  It froze in place again, and Pride couldn't
resist a taunt.  "Where do you think
you're going?  Did I say you could
go?"

 

    "Briefly, Prosecutor," Lord Ba'al
warned.

 

    The image zoomed in on a
forest in the mouth of a ravine.  Trees
flashed past as it plunged in among them, to find taurform Drift rearing up in
a shoving match with a cave bear.  A
lightning bolt blasted into the bear's flank, collapsing both legs and dumping
the bear against the samoyed taur.  What
followed next brought wide-eyed interest to nearly every daedra in the room as,
after ripping its throat open with his teeth, Drift reduced the bear's dying
carcass to a pile of bloody gore, staining the snow red for more than a yard in
every direction.  The image froze as
Drift stabbed his blood-soaked spear-staff through its shattered skull for the
fourth time, his face a rictus of fury. 
"Still think he's better suited to the path of Akkala?" Pride
asked, and returned without another word to his father's side.

 

    Akkala looked
stricken.  Velena had gone pale, as if
she might shortly be sick.  Through the
slits of his visors, Dokorath glared in condemnation at the shivering samoyed,
but Artela did not allow the death scene to linger.  The instant Pride released control of it, the
orb whirled white and blurred as it shifted its view back in time.  "If you're going to tell a story,
Prosecutor, tell the whole story.  Not just what is convenient for
you."  This time, there was no
shivering or wobbling in the scrying orb as Artela showed Drift, a black
leopard Keeper, and a young dire wolf survive an avalanche and a fall down a
cliff.  "Dislocated shoulder.  Concussion. 
Broken ribs," she rattled off, gesturing to the two Keepers as
their injuries revealed themselves.  The
scene wound forward.  "Three days
awake, in constant pain."  The scene
wound forward again, and the bear bowled Drift over onto his bad shoulder and
started mauling him.  "Ambushed,
critically injured, exhausted... and protecting his friends," she
continued as Drift sawed himself free of tangled loops of rope, then leaped
into battle to distract the bear from his companions.  The bear and the taur reared up, forepaws
lashing out.  "And
then..."  The bear collapsed, and
this time the angle clearly showed its head slamming down on the samoyed's
injured arm.  "You prove my point
for me, Pride," Artela concluded, though it gave her no pleasure to do
so.  "Whose ethos does he more
readily follow when not driven to the
point of madness?  After all he'd gone
through to getting to that point-" She snapped her fingers, and the scry
shifted to Drift's workshop and the appearance of the hidden sword. "-and
to this one, I can see why he might
have a mental breakdown!  Yes, he made a
mistake, and a bad one.  But grant him
mercy for the circumstances of it.  Don't
condemn him for his anguish and pain. 
Let him free."

 

    Artela stepped back, her
plea made, and Lord Kammoloth allowed the room to murmur for a few moments
before continuing.  "Anything
further from either of you?  No?  Very well. 
Then what do our seers have to say about this one’s future?"

 

    Nocturna refused to
answer.  "As with Lord Agemnos, I have a vested interest in this
outcome.  I will say nothing."

 

    Sammekh, aedra lord of Knowledge, stepped
forward in a sweep of his silver-white robe, blue eyes narrowing with intent as
he examined the furry mortal still shivering on the trial dais.  He
frowned, deepened further into an open scowl, and then he finally looked away
with a huff of annoyance.  "My lord, this one's future refuses to
resolve itself for me.  If he is taken by Lord Revonos, from that point
on, wherever I look, his destiny splits into two paths.  Neither will
yield precedence to the other.  It is... most unusual."

 

    "Well then what good are you?" Pride
sneered.  "I thought sorting the future into tiny little boxes was-"

 

    "Pride, be silent," Lord Ba'al spoke
from the judgement throne.  The voice that issued from him was
conversational in tone, but it carried authority like a whiplash.  Pride shut his mouth with an audible click of
his too-perfect teeth.

 

    "There is more to be said," Lord
Kammaloth proclaimed, his words sliding smoothly into the gap caused by Ba'al's
command.  "Continue, Lord Sammekh."

 

    The Lord of Knowledge cleared his throat,
taking a moment to settle himself before continuing.  "With that
caveat known, I will say this..."  He turned to face Lord Revonos
directly.  "If your claim is granted, you will chain him to
you.  That is certain.  It is also
certain that chain will one day be broken."  The aedra lord turned
his attention to the whole gathering assembled.  "Let none seek to
re-establish that chain, be they daedra, aedra, or mortal being, for I foresee
disaster falling upon any who do."

 

    Revonos snorted in derision, sneering even more
broadly than had Pride.  "Disaster?  Hah!  Typical aedra
lies.  He's mine and I'll do whatever I want-"

 

    "It's true."  Lord Klepnos
stepped forward with a gleeful grin.  He sidled up next to Lord Sammekh,
who shuddered in disgust and tried to step away.  The Trickster Lord
followed step for step, as smoothly as in a choreographed dance, and several
chuckles broke out around the chamber at Sammekh's discomfiture.  "Oh
do let me tell them, brother," Lord Klepnos wheedled.  "Please,
please, please do!"

 

    Visibly fighting to repress the nearly
irresistible urge to push Klepnos back, Sammekh snapped, "Fine!  Just
get away from me!"  Trailed by the uproarious laughter of nearly
every daedra in the room (as well as several of the aedra), the Lord of
Knowledge retired to his seat.

 

    Lord Klepnos smiled and spread his hands wide,
welcoming the laughter and even holding out a hand toward the departing aedra
lord.  "Isn't he great, folks?" he quipped.  "We'll be
here all week!"  With his audience left alternately puzzled by the
strange line and yet oddly amused by it at the same time, he spiraled in toward
Drift.  Literally- rather than walking directly to the manacled mortal, he
circled around sideways, drawing closer with each step.  Once, twice,
three times he circled the Keeper, his expression shifting with nearly every
stride, ranging from wild amusement to thorough revulsion and every possible
emotion in between.  Drift recoiled as the Lord of Madness drew near, but
Klepnos just stepped in close and draped his arm over the Keeper's shoulders,
leaning in with as delighted a grin as any had ever seen on him.

 

    "Relax!" the daedra lord said with an
expansive drawl, patting the cringing Keeper on the head with an utterly
ineffective gesture of reassurance.  Hooking his arm around Drift's neck,
he yanked the Keeper sideways against him, cheek to cheek, and then swept his
free hand across to indicate the whole divine assembly.  "You see all
of them?" he asked, seizing the canine's jaw to make sure he didn't turn
away.  "Do you see them all?" he asked again.

 

    "Klepnos," Ba'al interjected, but the
trickster ignored him.

 

    Drift nodded convulsively and Klepnos grinned
wider, his face stretching unnaturally to make it fit.  "Let me tell
you a secret," he stage-whispered into the canine's ear.  "THEY'RE
BORING!"  Drift jerked reflexively away from the shout, but Klepnos
yanked him back.  "Boring, boring, boring, the lot of them!"

 

    "Klepnos!"

 

    Putting one hand on each of Drift's shoulders,
the daedra lord swiveled Drift around with nearly enough force to spin the
dog-man off his feet, looking him over with an almost giddy delight.  "But
you!  You are perhaps the most interesting creature I've seen in
centuries!"  The pace of the daedra lord's words, already fast,
accelerated with breathless abandon.  "So many possibilities- a
veritable nexus of them, and so many of them exciting ones-"

 

    "KLEPNOS!" Ba'al thundered from his
throne, and the whole room darkened under the influence of his anger.
 Every aedra in the room sagged as if made ill by the wave of energy,
while every daedra cringed away in fear.  Pride abandoned his dignity
entirely and dove for cover behind his father's throne.

 

    Only Kammaloth remained unaffected, and a
golden wash of his own power brought the room back into order.  "Continue,
Lord Klepnos," he said, his words echoing majestically in the marble hall.
 "You were meaning to speak of a peril should this mortal be
re-chained."

 

    Lord Klepnos, who had gone white as paper under
the focus of Lord Ba'al's ire, straightened his green tunic with a nervous
brushing of his trembling hands.  "R-right, right.  My
apologies.  I got carried away.  Yes, carried away," he rambled
half under his breath.  Taking a moment more to compose himself, he
cleared his throat self-consciously and started again in a more normal tone.
 "Right.  Peril.  Disaster.  Yes.  Ahem."

 

    Turning on his heel, he circled in a few steps
towards Lord Revonos, who scowled in open scorn at his approach.  Lord
Klepnos didn't seem to mind: indeed, the closer he got, the more broadly he
smiled.  "I almost hope that you do re-chain him, cousin.
 I have never seen a destiny repeat itself in so many possible futures.
 Here, I'll keep this nice and simple, just to be sure you understand."
 Klepnos' conspiratorial grin re-established itself as he swept around
behind Revonos' throne, leaning down on the far side for another stage-whisper
and emphasizing each word in turn.

 

    "He.  Will.  Kill.  You."

 

    A murmur of shock and protest rumbled through
the courtroom, but Lord Klepnos wasn't finished.  He spun away and
advanced on Drift, circling around him once more with a look of rapturous
delight.  "But whether anyone chains you or not, you will -still- be
entertaining!  You will be called the Chaos Bringer and Sunderer of
Prophecy, for you are the bane of all prophets: a variable that was not
foreseen!  Wherever you go, you will bring change and upheaval on every
scale."  The Trickster Lord pinched the samoyed's cheek and tweaked
it playfully, gleefully.  "Oh, I almost wish you were mine!"
 With that, he sashayed back to his seat, humming to himself.

 

    "Well, that was unsettling," Lord
Dvalin grumbled from his throne of clouds.  Nervous laughter echoed back
from both sides of the room.

 

    Lord Kammoloth cleared his throat to draw
everyone's attention back to matters at hand.  "If there are no
further statements to be made, Lord Ba'al and I shall deliberate on this matter
for the evening.  See to it that the mortal is well cared-for."

 		 	   		  
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