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Obscene Symphony
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Whatever sense of security Ceolfric might’ve cultivated before they departed was promptly dashed shortly into the trip. Cerric was fucking with him, clearly, though the bandit wasn’t quite sure how he’d done it. If there was a powerful Aetherborn perched atop the wagon before, there certainly wasn’t now - at least as far as he could register. The temptation to pry into his seemingly undefended head was strong, but the threat of being caught was stronger, and Ceolfric dared not make a move until he understood the game. Either the elf wanted to signal to them that he’d be no help in the coming task, or he intended to pose as a harmless caravaneer to get the drop on anything with magical senses.
Ceolfric hoped it was the latter.
Lilann’s caterwauling would’ve been welcome ambience to a seedy drinking hall, but out on the road where a demon was known to lurk, it was little more than an annoying distraction. Several times, he was tempted to shut her up, but any threats that got past all of his other senses and only tipped him off by sound were likely already in the midst of pouncing on him anyway. Thankfully, the frayed nerves were for naught, as they arrived dry and unhindered at their first stop. It made sense; any threats too near to the city would be handled more promptly - if the guard did their jobs, anyway - and any highwaymen with a brain would park themselves further out.
Just as he was about to start on dinner, the songstress herself rounded the wagon to pester him. With how destitute he seemed, Freckles probably didn’t have enough to share and she had come seeking rations to bum off of him. What escaped her mouth drew a wary glance from the bandit, and he curtly nodded before stepping out into view of the others. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Surely she’d be better at collecting rumors than him, now that he thought about it.
“Storyborn and I are going to scout the area. If you get a pot boiling, don’t take it off the fire until we return,” Ceolfric called in a bored monotone. He offered no room for objection, despite the elven woman’s glaring, and beckoned Lilann along as he drew his cloak about him and paced into the brush.
Once he’d put a respectable distance between them and the camp, he finally deigned to acknowledge his fellow mercenary.
“This better not be another tall tale.”
Lilann cocked a brow at him. She seemed uncertain, glancing back towards the wagon as if she was afraid someone might still hear them. Eventually she acquiesced, and her attentions turned to the trees.
“I can’t make you believe me,” she said. “But what are the odds there are two giant, toothy beasts that drain the wits of their prey walking around?”
Her hat bobbed as she nodded back to the camp. “I got curious yesterday, went looking for the ghoul from the other night. I found it, about an hour or so outside of the town, and nearly wound up its dinner in my…escape. Cost me my sword, you might have noticed.”
“Liadon sent me.” She looked up at him, though most of the light that had previously soaked her hair and eyes blue was dim and gone. “He knew right where I’d find it, and I’m not entirely convinced he expected me to return. Now here he is, on a route where we could very well run into it again. I’ve no love for Fate, but this doesn’t feel like chance to me.”
Ceolfric’s steps paused momentarily as he listened, though he quickly recovered and once again started trudging through the woods in a lazily simulacrum of reconnaissance. Might as well do what he’d claimed they were going to while they were out here. The bit about Cerric was worrisome, to say the least, though he had no idea what the man stood to gain from… any of this.
“The demon born from the orc’s dying breath? That he claimed was a farce?” And, more importantly, that he also claimed had been looming over them while they slept the night before. “He seems intent on not drawing attention to himself. Did you feel him change when we left? Ever since we left the city, I can barely sense him anymore. I assumed at first it was because he intended for us to handle the entire mission, but if he intends to use us as demon bait…” Ceolfric’s words trailed off thoughtfully.
“What else did you see? And - more importantly - how do you intend to do your job without a weapon?”
“I don’t I have any measure of him I could rely on. Before, I might have doubted he would put our client in danger to draw out a monster, but now…”
She hesitated at his question—both parts. Without her mask, there was only the dark to obscure the anxious twitch in her eyes. “I’m an aetherborn,” she said at last. “The sword’s a formality. Besides, its hide is thick as sin—we may have to get creative, should it find us. Cerric would be of help, though I’m unsure he’d involve himself. Kyreth I trust, and you, I hope, are as tough as you put on to be. I can’t speak on Ermes and Eila.”
Ceolfric merely grunted in acknowledgement. She could trust Kyreth all she wanted, but he’d lose a grapple with a wet blanket as far as the bandit could tell. People feared him once, and now his prowess gets tossed around in the same breath as a nervous farmhand.
“Toughness won’t be an issue, but impenetrable skin might. I hope its mind will prove easier to pierce, or else we’ll be stuck dancing around while we try to gouge out its eyes,” he mused with a self-satisfied grin, “I wouldn’t count on the pampered lady or the kid to offer much in the way of support either, so we’ll have to hope it doesn’t rip them to shreds and then raise their corpses against us.”
“Hopefully. I’m not in the habit of killing children and pretty women.”
She paused, arms folded in thought, staring quite intently at nothing. “It doesn’t feel right. If Cerric knows about the beast, I can’t imagine Mystralath doesn’t as well. And if that’s the case, why leave it be for so long? For posterity? Just to say ‘Look! Our Bounty House slew the big fuckoff demon’? Sure it’s a good story, but the risk. I feel like a piece in someone’s game, and I don’t even know who’s playing.”
Lilann might not be in that business, but Ceolfric certainly was. Not that he’d enjoy having to fend off zombies while they contended with the beast even if he did want them both dead.
“Exactly my thoughts. He has nothing to gain here and there’s easier ways to get rid of us that wouldn’t endanger a paying customer.” The brigand swiveled his gaze across their surroundings before continuing. “I’m not certain the entire House is in accord either. The old crone - err, Hawthorne had a few choice words about Aleka; apparently people only leave their little island at their liege’s behest, and I can’t imagine the Verazians and the Mystraleths are perfectly aligned in their agendas. If that humorless bore can manage it, I don’t see why a cunning man like Liadon couldn’t sneak his own interests past the man in charge.”
Lilann let out a small, mirthless chuckle. “I’d say I regret all this, but, I did come here for an interesting story,” she said, glancing up at him again. It was an appraising look, one that ended on the hilt of his sword.
“You’re calm for all this. Most of the brigands I’ve seen crumble in the face of an enemy that fights back. Get up to much demon slaying back in Dranir?”
“Would you rather I piss myself and not offer a solution?” Ceolfric countered in an equally humorless manner. While he would’ve relished the opportunity to give a notorious legend-peddler intimate knowledge of his demonic ties normally, his reputation needed a finer touch in these civilized lands. If this job didn’t work out, it’d be a pain to be run out of Soft Haven because a few imbeciles overheard his saga sung in the tavern.
“I am not ‘most brigands’. Most brigands are only fit to serve. They used to say I was the spawn of a succubus. It’s why I could make people obey,” he rambled, halfway deflecting the question, “The truth is, it’s because they’re weak. This is not the first demon I’ve encountered, but I can’t say I have a record of slaying them, least of all ones as imposing as you claim the Rancor to be.”
Lilann hesitated, frowning with apparent worry, then stark curiosity, as though she were deciding whether or not to believe him. She didn’t seem afraid, though fear took many unobvious forms, and her eyes did quickly dart back to the trees. Eventually she smirked, like she’d remembered something funny.
“‘Ceolfric, Demon-Spawn.’” she said with quiet theatricality, shrugging with her lips. “It has a nice ring to it.”
Whatever else he’d given her to consider went unvoiced, though in the dark, her hair pulsed once in a deep blue, before blackening once again.
“I won’t move against Cerric—not that I imagine I could if I wanted to. Perhaps if we pass this little test, our employer will see fit to give us some answers,” she said. “But either way, that’s all I’ve got. Will you pass it on to the others?”
Ceolfric leveled a contemplative gaze back to Lilann as she assigned him a moniker. Had she heard of his father before? Ceolfric himself? Or was that just her jester’s brain coming up with how she’d repeat this to a bunch of drooling drunkards? It mattered little if they ended up Rancor food, so he supposed he had bigger issues to ponder.
“I intended to anyway. I considered trying to infiltrate Cerric’s thoughts too, but until I’m certain he couldn’t detect me - or worse - I figured it’d be too much of a gamble,” the bandit admitted as he altered his path back toward the camp they’d embarked from.
“That’s probably wise. So long as we keep the Buckman woman between us and him, I don’t think he poses any direct danger. Though if you find me mysteriously drowned in the morning, feel free to write ‘idiot’ in the long, touching eulogy I’m sure you’ll write for me.”
She followed him, not closely, though it seemed her nerves were soothed the closer they drew to the camp’s light.
“And if you happen to know any particularly charitable demons, I’m sure we’d all appreciate the help.”
Damn it, she’d puzzled him out, hadn’t she?
“Don’t know any of them personally either, I’m afraid,” Ceolfric responded dryly, “And I don’t think a single one exists that could be called ‘charitable’.” As the camp came back into range, the man cleared his cloak with his left arm, as if he’d intended to draw his blade. Instead, he raised a different weapon, repeating his earlier snap and exhalation combo far more flamboyantly in the absence of onlookers.
Once again, Ermes, Kyreth, and Eila would hear a whisper breathing down the back of their neck, ‘Hello again. Storyborn claims she’s seen the beast, following Cerric’s directions. He may be setting us up, but that’s just speculation. Stay on your guard anyway and keep your conversations about this out of earshot - or don’t, but don’t expect me to save you. Oh, and apparently it’s got a hide like armor, so plan accordingly.’
A few moments after the message rang out, Ceolfric emerged innocently from the treeline, Lilann in tow shortly behind.
“All clear.”
@Obscene Symphony@Hero@Trainerblue192
