Homecoming

[Brute]

There is a certain door within the Keep of the Pen that goes largely unnoticed, for it is never used and is located in the far corner of a dusty hallway. Thick hickory beams darkened with age, bound in heavy iron and set with a black iron handle, it is a door that seems to threaten against intruders. Yet for one intruder who stirs the dust within the hallway, it opens silently as he approaches.

 

The tall figure pauses in the threshold and looks back the way he has come. Only the faint echoes of memories accompany him here. With a sigh, the figure slowly turns his head back to the darkened room before him. Eyes as black as the shadows within the room see clearly what lies hidden within. An ebony hand rises from the heavy robes that drape the figure and extends out. Suddenly a soft blue glow begins to fill the room. The room is as dusty as the hallway outside.

 

The light reveals what he has already seen; a room cluttered with ancient tomes, jars of murky liquid, several desks that are covered in scrolls and the occasional skelton of some small creature. In the corner of the room, just under a shuttered window, lies a bed untouched for several years. To the left of the doorway, stairs wind upwards to a laboratory. Even now, he can still feel the heavy wards placed upon the door to the lab. Eyes like black stains upon the pale flesh of his face search intently about the room for several moments. Satisfied, he takes a step into the room.

 

Without warning, the ghostly visage of a skeletal demon appears just before him, screaming a challenge and threatening unending pain. Startled, the figure steps back as the incorporeal creature lunges forward. His hand, suddenly burning with bluish-black flames, streaks forth to the creature's chest, embedding fingers into the creature with a smoking hiss. Howls of pain fill the room as the creature withdraws to the shadows. "Master," it whimpers, " forgive me! I did not know it was you. I took you for an intruder!"

 

"Begone, wretched creature!" the figure snarls as he crosses the room and pulls a chair from a large desk. The creature casts one quick glance towards the figure seated at the desk and vanishes through a nearby wall. Save for the labored breathing of the seated man, silence falls upon the room. Many minutes pass before he moves again. Reaching into a desk drawer, he pulls out an inkwell and a pen crafted of bone, tipped with gold. A frown crosses the pale face as he finds the inkwell dry. Reaching into his robe, he produces a long, thin dagger and slowly incises his open palm. He clenches his fist over the inkwell as bright red drops slowly fill the small bottle.

 

Opening his hand, he closes his eyes and quietly speaks minor words of magic. the dark flesh of his hand quickly knits together and all traces of the wound vanish. Opening his eyes once more, he dips the pen into the bottle and begins to write upon an empty scroll.

 

Dearest Yui,

I have returned. I am not well, and will need some rest before I can greet everyone. I know Wyvern still lairs within these halls, for I could sense his greed long before I arrived. Please inform him I wish to claim what is mine. He will know what I speak of. Inform any who wish to visit me I will receive them all as soon as my children have arrived. They should be here in two days. They will be happy to meet you, I'm sure. Make sure Wyvern knows nothing about the children until I have them safely within my quarters. I cannot allow him to embroil them in his schemes.

Yours,

Brute

 

A smile slowly crosses Brute's pale face as he seals the letter and whispers arcane words. He watches as the message slowly fades from his sight. Brute pushes up from the chair and staggers to the corner wher the bed lies. With the last of his energy, he collapses upon it unconscious.

Edited July 15, 2005 by Brute

[Wyvern]

Brute wakes with a start as a cold liquid drenches his face. The Booze Prophet flails left and right, arching his arms up in a defensive stance. He then does a skillful roll, successfully falliing out of his bed and crashing onto the ground. Coming to grips with his surroundings, Brute jumps to his feet and reaches into his cloak.

 

"Brute." Wyvern shakes his head and waves his claws. The lizard's already-frightened-looking face grows a little more worried, and he drops his empty glass. "Brutesy, don't freak out on me here, s'just a martini!"

 

Brute draws his sword halfway, then recognizes Wyvern's scaly figure.

 

"Wh-" He rubs his forehead. "What kinda-?"

 

"Gin." Wyvern perks up a little, almost reaching a level of distorted kawai-ness as his drooping scales are complimented by a genuine smile. "Tried Vodka, that didn't work. Neither did Pina Coladas, Screwdrivers, or White Russians."

 

"I've been out for that long, eh?"

 

"Yah. Was even considering giving the White Russians the Screwdrivers to see what they could do with'em, but decided to give martinis a shot first. Didn't dare to try Bloody Marys in here, this place sorta gives me the creepsss y'know?"

 

"Heh. Well, it's great to see you again." Brute sits back on his bed, causing all four of his bed posts to collapse.

 

"Ssssorry." Wyvern cringes awkwardly. "Screwdriver business. For the record: I didn't sully your slumbering form with water of any sort, since that'd have been disrespectful."

 

"Uhh, thanks Wyv." Brute smiles at his old acquaintance and stretches his legs from the unholstered mattress to the cold floor of the chamber. "So... did you bring it?"

 

"Oh, abssssolutely." Wyvern strikes a toothy grin, then begins digging through his pouch. "When Yui told me you wanted to claim what is yours, I came rushing over here as fast as I could."

 

Brute quickly extends his hand, then frowns as Wyvern hands him a simple sheet of paper. The worn and crumpled sheet details the expenses of a demolished bar, ranging from the tables to the delux sunbathing rooftop. At the bottom of the sheet, the phrase "I'll pai fr Wyv's Xpenses" is written in a suspiciously jagged font. An equally suspicious almost dragonic "Broot" signature lies below the statement.

 

"Dream on." Brute crumples the paper into a ball and tosses it over his shoulder. "Where's the Decanter? You have held onto it, haven't you?"

 

"Oh, that thing." Wyvern lets out a nervous laugh, then reaches into his pouch and pulls out the Decanter of Endless Booze. He gently tosses it to Brute, who catches it and begins stroking with a look that walks the fine line between compassion and lust. "Of course I've held onto it, do you think I'd let you down? Why, I've even documented the copius number of booze transactions I've made over the years on this little sheet here."

 

Brute raises a brow as Wyvern pulls out a folder labeled "Devil's Advocate." He ceases in his Decanter affection for a moment, watching as the lizard waves a claw over the folder. The reptilian Elder begins chanting things under his breath.

 

"Let'sss see, how did it go here? Ninety-nine bottles of - no, no that wasn't it. Show me the way to the next Whiskey- naw, that wasn't-"

 

The lizard fumbles for a moment, then curses as he pulls out a blank sheet from the folder.

 

"O.K O.K, listen Brutesy, this may not look like the longest list of transactions." Wyvern scrawls his own name on the sheet and hands it to Brute. "In all truth, I havent been the most giving of lizards. But, for the record, I was thinking of selling it sooooo-"

 

"Selling it?!" Brute jumps out of his seat and glares at Wyvern. "Wyvern, it's priceless!"

 

"I know, but look, it's a long story." Wyvern begins backing away as Brute storms towards him. "You see, Merelas put on this fashion show and then there was this Bachelorette Auction and-"

 

Wyvern stops dead in his tracks as a hand creeps onto his shoulder from an unknown figure behind him.