Darkraven

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Don't worry, she'll have plenty to do once we're trekking again.

@POOHEAD189

Ooooh, sounds like fun!

In the meantime...

I guess I'll post in reply to @Fetzen tomoz, it seems prudent to

@The Fated Fallen

I believe you said something about posting, right?

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

"I cannot think what sort of abominable act would deserve such punishment, though if one were to summon a powerful demon... no, no, that sort of person would already be unlikely to try and speak to the gods, surely... ah, actually, a thought comes to mind." Settionne said, which echoed Jezebeth's sentiments. For all her knightly life, she had sought an answer to her lack of divine favour, but to no avail. She had seek the wisdom of the most trusted priests, consulted librarians and their library, visited oracles when she could. They had all given varied answers, some common, others not so.

A particularly mad oracle had told her that she had committed a grievous sin in a past life - if there is such a thing as reincarnation. A philosopher speculated that the reason could lie in her lost memories, before she was 16, that she must have done something remarkably evil, and regretted it so deeply that her mind could not take the strain, thus forgetting. But what could a child do that must anger the Gods so much?

"You must understand, my lady, that most people are not in fact granted so much as a word with the gods they worship. Even the most devout priests of some deities are rarely granted interaction with them; why, I myself was just yesterday granted a minor miracle that I'm sure I would never have been so much as considered for under normal circumstances. Perhaps, then, such is the case for you: they may hear your prayers, but as is often true of deities do not respond... at least not directly. It could be that rather than directly assisting you, they have guided you on your path in ways that have not been obvious, such that it has seemed they've done nothing at all? "If you do things right," as they say..." Settionne preached, another addition to the army of clerics, priests, oracles, librarians, wise men and philosophers she had attended throughout the years.

Jezebeth gave it some thought as she secured the plate on her left leg, while the priest tightened the buckles on the right. Her back ached when she bent low, her wounds crying out at her, like ghosts of the past, like her unknown past.

"Perhaps. I have been tutored in the mysterious ways of the divine, and yet I see only paths of my own making, nothing to suggest their help. Many of my peers had been blessed by the Gods. At the battle of the Twinbridge Peak, say - Knight Greymoor glowed red with the power of Rodgar - I was just behind him. He started chanting eldritch words, and the knights in formation around him were blessed just like him - all but me. We had been outnumbered by cultists and their demons 3 to 1, and we won the day because of Rodgar. There are a great many other accounts I can give you, I believe I can put to you that we, the Guardian Knights, are constantly under the gaze of the Gods and Goddesses. Yet I seem to be the black sheep... Even my enemies within the order had seen fit to insult me with the fact, that I belong with the outcasts and the treasonous! My closest friend, Elizabeth, even joked that I was Selene's avatar, and thus has no need for divine favour," Jezebeth explained sullenly. Elizabeth had actually made some sense, considering the circumstances of her life. But wouldn't she remember that she was actually a Goddess or a representative of the Goddess?

The only other possibility that a priest had related to her was that she had already been blessed overmuch, having been born with such stunning beauty, beauty that could even return after the most disfiguring of scarring, that perhaps she was a heroine in her youth who had been touched by the blinding light of the Gods, or that she could be the subject of some obscure prophecy - for her circumstances were strange indeed.

Settionne seemed to consider this for a time, before the serious discussions on the dragon took his attention. They were done with her armour, at least. Jezebeth thanked him for his audience and help, adjusted her gorget slightly, and started gathering the rest of her things. Putting on her shawl. Putting on her standard loincloth. Strapping on her weapons belt. She hung her sheathes, and with still-shaky hands, picked up Kasdeya's Deathstroke. The blade was visibly shivering from her still-recovering strength, so she had trouble replacing it in the sheathe. It took three tries before she could get it right, all the while feeling ashamed and wretched (how far must I fall?). She sheathed her dagger on her left, which was easier. Next, entered her quiver of bolts and crossbow hook for reloading.

Wrapping her cloak around her, she fastened it, feeling a little awkward in it, as if she could no longer bear it, after what happened to her army. But it was a necessity, for she was cold. She picked up her shield, still splattered with demon blood, and wore it on her back. Looking into the reflection provided by a still-water puddle nearby, she saw that her cloak was also splattered in some places, her armour as well. The elves had cleaned much of it off, not for her sake, but theirs. She was only glad that they had courtesy enough not to burn her belongings and throw the ash and metal in a river.

Walking over to her backpack, she started rifling through her own things to check if anything had been stolen - but everything was as it should be. The bags of over 200 gold pieces were still there. Her fallen friends' pipe and wine were still there. Her flute, her rations, her dress and slippers, sewing kit, personals were all accounted for. There was one thing she could give the elves - at least they were not thieves or looters.

Picking up her bag on her right and her sallet helmet and crossbow on her left, she looked over to her whinnying horse and then to her new companions and former captors. She paid heed to the discussions on dealing with the dragon all the while, wondering if she should lend them the tactical edge of the Guardian Order. The answer was quick to reveal itself in her mind: No. Jezebeth just did not feel confident in that arena, for she was unreasonably afraid that she might doom them all just as she might have doomed her friends and peers.

Walking over to her horse, she secured her backpack on its back, untied it and lead it close to her friends.

She listened.

@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Banana@The Fated Fallen

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@Darkraven Well, you're welcome to continue her conversation with Settionne if nothing else presents itself. And I mean, we are talking dragon-slaying, so the input of a well-trained knight might be reasonably useful.

@BCTheEntity

The conversation with Settionne has been cut off when he joined the Dragon discussion. As for input on the dragon, she'd have her own opinion, but she knew that she's new, plus she's still grieving and sad, so I don't think she would want to speak

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

*Wonders what to do with Jezebeth* Any ideas, guys? I'll be going to sleep now. Will post first thing after breakfast. Lemme know I'd you guys have any suggestions. For now, I'm thinking of having Jezebeth reply Settionne and gather the remainder of her things and her horse. Her being new, she would probably be content to stay out of the discussions until the next opportunity when she's more familiar with her group and their mission.

Also, would any of your characters want a word with dear Jezzy?

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

I'm only going to post after @BCTheEntity.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@Darkraven I'm really liking Jezebeth, the best corrupted knight archtype I've ever seen, and they're rare enough as it is!

@The Fated Fallen

Not quite corrupted knight, because she's genuinely trying to be good and had been doing plenty of good up until her army was massacred. Again, I'm trying to defy categorisation and genre expectations :). She's not perfectly virtuous like your usual knight in shining armour, she won't fight like your typical knight either (you guys will eventually find out) and doesn't excel in what knights normally do in battle, and she won't be so straightforward and simple in the way she do things.

Of course, you guys know what she actually is under all that shiny armour and beautiful lady exterior :) which explains a lot of why she's that way. I guess in the end, you can't fight your nature.

EDIT: Also, I've added more to Jezebeth's last dialogue:

"What could one possibly do to earn the loathing of all the Gods and Goddresses that they would not even speak to me? Not even for a good cause would they so much as give me a sign... I have prayed every single day of my life since my foster father had found me, diligently frequented the temples and lived by the rules. Yet when the time came when I needed their guidance and help the most, I was left to my own devices. How may I appease them? "

@Banana, I take it that you might want to know, and possibly add more things to your post?

EDIT: Also, damn, everyone must have super-hearing to be able to eavesdrop so easily ;D

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Posted! I think I went a little nuts on this one. That said, I ended on a poor note though. I'm not sure how I can improve on it. It's very late and I'll sleep on it.

Edit before sleep: Will welcome suggestions.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

"The name is Settionne, dear Lady, of no particular title save the shorthand "Sett"," the priest introduced himself. The way he carried himself was far different from the other priest, Ursaren. He was too casual, too ready to come so close to her. It narrows down which God or Goddess did he serve exactly. As he helped adjusted the straps on her breastplate finely, Jezebeth could feel his fingertips, light and gentle and no doubt agile, great for a good number of applications.

But dare I say, 'tis a shame for the gods to disregard a woman of such fine moral standing as yourself," Settionne went on, and Jezebeth would have snorted in amusement if it wasn't her darkest hours. You have no idea, Settionne, you have no idea, the knight thought, with much guilt and regret. Even before her husband was killed by an incubus, Jezebeth had cheated on him more than once, when the needs that had been plaguing her for so long would not be placated by even her other half. She had ended up soiling her own honour and that of another knight, who would relieve her when the time was right. After he fell victim to a demon attack, Jezebeth had given up her restraint- there was something inside her, an inner demon, as the philosophers would call it, that she couldn't shake off. In the end, she had pulled several knights down with her, including her own squire, who was always by her side...

Putting on her knightly armour, and taking them off in the night.

And that wasn't to mention the consorts she had kept in her city.

"I admit, I am only marginally aware of the Guardian Order, for I have not often found time to discuss current matters over the books and sermons of old, you know how it is with us priests, but a bane of Demons, Poverty and Famine? I can hardly say I've heard a more ringing endorsement in my life! And going by your own obvious battles against their sort, well, I'd assume you are nothing less than noble in thought and deed," the priest Settionne would go on ignorantly, as they moved on to her left arm. Yes, noble in thought and deed. Well, mostly. Jezebeth had made her own mistakes in her time with the Guardian Order. In her early years as a lesser knight, she had shown promise in a great many vocations, and one of them was as a torturer-inquisitor. Jezebeth was just so empathic, you know, a talent required by a skilled torturer. She had assisted the chief torturer-inquisitor on several occasions, and on one, she took charge and went nearly all the way in the many steps of the Guardian Order's system of torture.

First, you list out every phase of the torture, including everything that was to be done to the prisoner. If that does not dissuade him from keeping silent, then it would be the first phase of torture: Breaking, in which non-permanent wounds and unmarked pain were inflicted. Cuts were inflicted, the victim beaten. His family was threatened, including the little boys and girls. She would toy with him and his dedication to his wife by disrobing, and forcing herself on him even as she drove her dagger into him. He was faux-drowned with nails driven into fingernails, which were then pulled out. needles inserted into the most sensitive areas. Deeper, deeper...

But the man had insisted that he was innocent, that he was not a member of a demon cult. So Jezebeth began phase two: Mutilation, in which irreparable damage was done in the most painful ways possible. Fingers were broken, flesh were gouged out. Limbs were dislocated with the rack, sinews cut to prevent escape. His privates were torn out - he had sired enough children anyway. Teeth were pulled out, one by one, but not the tongue, for the prisoner needed to talk.

Yet again, the prisoner remained stubborn, so Jezebeth went on to the final phase of the torture: Erasure, in which the guilty was slowly picked apart until he confessed. Thousands of cuts were inflicted, shredding flesh and skin. Fingers and toes were severed, then slices of meat off the limbs. Magic kept the prisoner from bleeding out and dying. This would go on until the prisoner was but a worm made of torso and head, and then it would go on. Eyelids were sliced off, ears and nose as well. The prisoner had finally confessed but then the torture continues as punishment and execution. He was skinned alive, lips sliced off and eyes put out. The tongue was finally ripped off for it was no longer needed - and finally, death came.

It was later found out that the prisoner had indeed been innocent, and Jezebeth distanced herself from the torturer-inquisitors of the order despite their insistence that she would make a fine addition to their chapter, that her talent would be wasted on other pursuits. For years, she would dream of the innocent man she tortured, every step of the way, for years, his endless screams, which lasted weeks, would haunt her.

But worst of all, Jezebeth believed she enjoyed it, and it horrified her so.

"But needless to say, the loss of your Order's members is a grave and tragic blow to the forces of good in this world, and I am very sorry for the losses you have suffered. Trust, however, that such was not your fault in any way," Settionne headed for the breach again as they moved on to her right arm, the priest armed with nothing but good-will, depending on the God he served. Jezebeth knew for a fact that it had all been partly her fault, but that was a well-beaten path her consciousness had taken.

"Sometimes, of course, we are tested for our faith, in hard and distressing manners, but failure of faith is only confirmed when one first fails to do their best work in rising above such times. Naturally, I can only imagine that you and yours did their utmost to save themselves and their companions, and if that is the case, then you need not feel shame, for they will have earned their rightful and just places in the life after this one, as shall you if you but maintain your own faith," the priest would ramble on. He had tried, Jezebeth knew, and it was most certain in his closing words, how he gave her hope that, despite everything, all was not lost, and her brothers and sisters watched her still, from above. It had moved her, pain and comfort working together at last. Tears spilled once more, but she was able to control herself better, her day of mourning giving her consensus and strength, her armour somehow reinforcing her mind as well as body.

Jezebeth stood up, her upper body now clad in steel. Only her lower body and accessories were left. But something was not right.

"Help me with the straps on my right arm, they're loose, Settionne," she said, even as the priest's words floated in her mind, and she was picking through them carefully, not in suspicion, but lovingly as she remembered them over and over. She gave a sigh. "I wish all that you have said is true. But the reality is that much of it isn't."

"Tell me, priest," Jezebeth said, her mind wandering back to her youngest years, when she woke up a teenager, with nothing but her name and necklace. "What could one possibly do to earn the loathing of all the Gods and Goddresses that they would not even speak to me? Not even for a good cause would they so much as give me a sign... I have prayed every single day of my life since my foster father had found me, diligently frequented the temples and lived by the rules. Yet when the time came when I needed their guidance and help the most, I was left to my own devices. How may I appease them? "

@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Banana@The Fated Fallen

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@Darkraven Oh, whoops. Hang on just a moment, I'll fix that.

EDIT: Done.

@BCTheEntity

Great, I'll see if I can post soon. But if I can't do it within hours, I'll likely do it tomorrow, hopefully after @POOHEAD189.

EDIT: Actually, I think I prefer to post after Poohead

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Hi @BCTheEntity, is it just me or did Settionne ignore Jezebeth's questions? She asked for name and titles.