Peace of Mind
Sixth Day of the Second Month 294 AC
It does not take you more than a few moments to decide. If Dany is wrong and you visit the prince again for naught, then you are not taking a risk any worse than you already did. If she is right and you do nothing, then you might return to Mardosh to find it embroiled in a civil war where its people will be the ultimate losers no matter the outcome. Better to risk acting then not acting.
That rather simple decision is soon complicated by the arrival of the Lord Protector's Herald, who has very
specific notions about what it means to move 'with all due haste' as his lord bid, and his own place in this expedition. After a while even Eskil's calm and insightful commentary falls into frosty silence as the eight of you walk back through the wraith-haunted streets of the City of Soldiers.
You glance meaningfully towards Tyene.
"Why do I have to deal with it?" the mental eye-roll practically audible in the thought.
"Because Ser Richard might decide to use Oathkeeper, and doing it myself would only enhance the notion of his own importance," you reply not without sympathy.
"Someone does have to watch over-proud fools, be they dead or alive."
"I would not be tempted," Ser Richard says.
"My place is at your side, Your Grace."
"I can just stay in the magic bag, there's enough air in there for the trip," Dany hastens to add.
This too you consider for only a moment. It would cost more power to allow the knight to accompany you, but he can play the silent guard well enough.
***
You slip away from the party, citing a desire to gather arcane reagents, before doubling back to Mardosh and once more to the Tower of the First Watch. You know a bit more of the piece you should be playing now, but the guards seem more suspicious of your presence, the shadows darker at your passage... a
familiar chill upon the air. Dany's guess had not been wrong. You take the steps as quickly as you dare, the clank of Ser Richard's armored boots beside you.
The door is ajar... a hooded figure taller than any mortal man looms above Zadin,
half-glimpsed phantasms swirling around it. You cannot see their faces, but the young prince surely can, broken sobs tear from his lips, shattered fragments of words you cannot guess at, but the
thing surely can. It has not seen you yet.
As you gather your will and sorcery, the hooded head suddenly snaps upwards and in the depths of its hood you see a dreadful sickly light that does not illuminate aught but itself,
a purpose that devours, a weight no living soul can bear.
Death that is Ruin is close kin to Death that is Unmaking, the words of the Grandmaster of the Faceless Men ring in your mind. Before a daemon fallen beyond even the festering depths of Abaddon bonded to a spirit of death that has never known life... in the minds of a city of the restless dead.
Secrecy is as dead as Sarnor, now only battle remains.
How do you face the twin-souled abomination?
[] Write in
OOC: I know you technically have to be alive to be a daemon host by RAW, but this seemed the best way to model an elder Daemon fallen to the void and joined to its service. Not yet edited.