Clarity of Purpose
Seventh Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
"Did you think you could escape
me? That I would not follow thee upon the shore?" The bronze-masked monstrosity made a slurping slithering sound that only those unfortunate enough to be familiar with its dreadful kind would recognize as an attempt at laughter, not for its own sake of course, for such crude vocalizations could not begin to express its mind, but all the better to crush the will of the man before it under its heel.
"Great Lord, I have ever been loyal to our bargain," the captain of the
Grey Log seemed to shrink in on himself with every word, as though he might be able to crawl into the coarse grey sand at his feet. "I was merely surprised to find one of your great... glorious... that is..."
"Spare me thy babbling praise, mortal." The bronze-sheathed tentacles twitched ominously. This too Jeyne Weaver knew to be a lie. She could feel its true malice like a cold unwavering flame at the back of her mind. If the monster wished to feed upon the fool it had enslaved to its will then it would do so with no more warning than a farmer afforded his hogs before the slaughter. "I have a task for you."
"Yes..." The man's voice almost broke as he looked back towards his ship moored in the inlet.
How much did his crew know of his black bargain, the sorceress wondered as she listened to his voice upon the night wind.
Almost she could pity him now, with her back pressed against a wall and certain of stout hearts and sharp blades on either side. But she remembered the horror and the helplessness, the strange dreams that would leave her shivering in the grip of nameless terrors, she had not chosen that, nor been repaid for it. The man on the shore below was no more like her than the monstrosity conversing with him was like Wisdom Xor.
"We have sensed one of Clear Mind that is not beholden to the Elder Will upon this island..." the eater of minds paused, this time its posture freezing in true rage, if a creature that disdained all life save its own and its kindred could be said to feel true anger. "You would say a sorceress, but one of more refined arts than the crude fumbling of mortal magics. She was stolen from the Halls Below and there she
will be returned."
They are talking about me, the mind-mage realized, dread trickling down her spine and pooling in her stomach.
Miri's head snapped up in the dark, the jade-bound spiritling ever attentive to her moods. Instinctively the mage tried to send wordless reassurance through the bond between them, though that did nothing but add a layer of disbelief onto the worry. It was hard to lie without words... harder still to lie to a friend.
Unexpectedly anger flashed through Jeyne, a red haze that sharpened the mind rather than dim it. Who did this thing think it was to make her cower in the dark, to make her feel small and helpless after all this time? The mind-healer had been clear that vengeance would not solve all her ills and she was not one to deny an angel's wisdom, but in this time and in this place vengeance sounded
good.
"I think we heard enough," she proclaimed to the others, her voice thankfully low even in spite of her inner turmoil. "We can capture the servant and take the master's skull." The small part of her that still yearned for the simple pleasures of her drinking herbal tea and watching the sun sink into the Sunset Sea beyond Lannisport marveled at how easily she could speak of taking skulls like some savage reaver, but the thought was soon gone, leaving scarce a ripple in her mind. She did not flinch when Leila took out a long bone from the pouch at her side and whispered to it arcane phrases to set it to guard against steel and sorcery, she did not jump at the hiss if steel unsheathed.
OOC: I thought about rolling the combat, late hour or no, but I just don't feel comfortable juggling so many sheets I'm still not fully familiar with at this late hour. I did not want to end the interlude on the note of a boring fight so I just snipped it at the characterization and I'll do the fight from someone elses' perspective, maybe Ser Kennos.
