Hostel Fox

[Merelas]

As it turned out, he had passed on her request. He was still doing so, jogging down corridors and trying to find those that had helped defend the hostel against the onslaught, but he had done his best.

 

Finally giving up, he wandered his way down towards the conference room where Lady Salinye had told him that the meeting would be at. Tired, he threw open the double-doors unceremoniously and stepped inside, unsurprised to find the Lady sitting in one of the chairs.

 

"Lady Salinye, how are you?" he asked, as he entered the room.

 

She looked up quickly from her thoughts, and threw a controlled expression onto her face. "Fine," she said somewhat cooly. It was quite clear that she still didn't trust him. Well... that was to be expected. He had thrown a flare through one of her windows only days before, anyways.

 

Silently, he slipped into one of the stiff-backed chairs himself, and waited for the others to arrive, curious as to what would be said at this meeting.

[Tamaranis]

New protective enchantments had been raised over Salinye’s hostel. These new enchantments were full of holes and much weaker than the ones that had been in place before. Tamaranis could have slipped through, or failing that, he could have dispelled a few and simply punched through with minimal effort. That would have been poor manners, though.

 

Instead he placed his new location in the Hostel’s courtyard, and began walking, intending to gain access to the inside of the Hostel by more conventional means. He became immediately aware, however, of a collection of baleful energies.

 

Holy symbols, Holy water, blessed blades, blessed armour, all the things the faithful used to destroy undead. It wasn’t a presence he welcomed, but considering recent events, it was a situation he was willing to accept.

 

The situation seemed a little less willing to accept him, however. A pair of heavily armoured humans, one male and the other female, presumably paladins, moved to place themselves in his path. When Tamaranis kept on moving as if to walk straight through them, they drew swords. He stopped a few paces short of impaling himself on their blades.

 

“My presence was requested, let me pass.” He stated simply.

 

“Well look at you now, trying to waltz in here like you’re alive or something, not even bothering to hide what you are.” The woman challenged. “Not that you’d have been able to hide it from us, mind.”

 

“I’m sure one of your employers mentioned I would likely be in attendance and warned you against trying to impede me.” Tamaranis responded.

 

“Gyrfalcon said something about you,” Said the man, “said a vampire might show up in the middle of the day with his own personal darkness to hide him from the sun.”

 

Tamaranis said nothing, waiting to hear the rest of what Gyrfalcon had told the man, “Never finished what he was saying, though” the paladin admitted, “he seems a busy fellow, I’ll have some one go ask what we‘re supposed to do about you.”

 

If for some reason Gyrfalcon had assumed responsibility for repair of the hostel and defence of the hostel and the surrounding countryside, it might take hours for these holy warriors to actually bring him here to tell them to let Tamaranis though. Being a ranger, he might even be miles away personally ensuring the forests held no trace of the undead army that had attacked the hostel.

 

“That’s alright, there will be no need to disturb Gyrfalcon’s busy schedule.” As much as the artificial darkness protected him from the sun, Tamaranis had no desire to spend the next several hours standing in it. He gathered the darkness to himself, intensifying it in preparation for another sudden shift in his location, it looked like he was going to be punching through those new defensive enchantments after all.

 

“Oh no you don’t!” The two paladins advanced on where they had last been able to see Tamaranis, which was where he still mostly was.

 

Tamaranis debated what course of action he should take over the next second or so. He could change the target location to somewhere not shielded, and by the time one of the swords reached where he was now his location would be too ill-defined for it to touch him. Being blind as they were in this darkness, he could parry the blades of the paladins for the few moments it would take to reach his current destination. He could even simply let the swords strike him and eliminate the small threat by snagging them in his body.

 

Then again, mortals had been challenging him with impunity and seemingly without fear, of late. Something that would have to be corrected sooner or later, and preferably sooner. The Void, as always, encouraged Tamaranis to end life, and he felt inclined to indulge it, just now.

 

Gyrfalcon wouldn’t appreciate the deaths of his mercenaries, and the others would likely echo that disapproval, but considering the circumstances they would probably forgive him this small indulgence.

 

A blessed sword whizzed through the air where Tamaranis’ head had been as he leaned back, another plunged into his torso. Unlike ordinary steel, it caused actual pain.

 

Tamaranis snapped the darkness outward, keeping it so total that anyone using light as a part of their sight in any way would be unable to see. Drow would have been blinded by this darkness. Only creatures such as undead, that saw what they gazed at through a mixture of magic and force of will, could see within this. At the same time, he drew his own sword and thrust it at the arm holding the one he was currently impaled on. Keeping the plane of the blade parallel to the offending arm, Tamaranis drove his sword through armour flesh and bone. It continued on, passing through flesh, then armour again.

 

The arm was skewered rather than severed. Though he had the strength to remove it with a simple twist, Tamaranis didn’t bother, it was the arm of a mortal human, it was already made useless by the wound. Instead he simply pulled his sword straight back and free of the wound. Somewhere in the process the paladin that had stabbed him lost his grip on his weapon.

 

Both paladins prayed, calling out to their god for light. The prayers were answered, but the normally potent lights only flashed briefly before being consumed by the surrounding darkness, accomplishing nothing more than confirming Tamaranis had neither advanced nor retreated. Both paladins showed stunning bravery by continuing the attack, the one with the ruined arm swung his shield, as there was no hope of recovering his sword.

 

For his bravery, that paladin was rewarded with another ruined limb as Tamaranis drove his free hand into the oncoming shield with enough force to overcome both metal and bone. Tamaranis stepped forward, knocking the injured paladin to the ground and avoiding a downward stroke from his companion which, Tamaranis noted, nearly cost the prone man a foot.

 

Turning to face the remaining paladin, who was now unsure of his position, Tamaranis spoke a single word of magic that sent the irritating sword still embedded in his torso rocketing outward. It struck the female paladin hilt-first. The impact would have been stunning, even injurious perhaps, if not for her armour, which made it merely distracting. Guessing his position by the direction the attack had come from, she stepped forward and swung her blade in a wide, obvious arc that Tamaranis easily intercepted.

 

Anticipating retaliation, she brought her sword up in the desperate hope of parrying an attack she couldn’t see coming. Tamaranis obligingly brought his sword down on hers with inhuman strength. The force must nearly have broken her wrist, but she managed to hang onto the sword long enough to parry another blow, then she was weaponless.

 

Tamaranis allowed the light to return almost to normal as he thrust his sword easily through her armour, neatly separating her heart into two halves.

 

There he froze, still perfectly calm and controlled despite the violence he had just taken part in, allowing the would be undead-hunters a moment to realize how easily he’d dispatched two of their number. Rather than simply take in the sight, however, an unruly cleric took that moment to try and turn Tamaranis.

 

The darkness that surrounded him flapped madly as if it were a cloak and a mighty wind were coming from where the cleric was standing, but otherwise Tamaranis didn’t react. The cleric continued on, unperturbed by Tamaranis’ lack of reaction. He channelled progressively greater quantities of divine energy, until it became too much and the greatness of it began to scorch his soul. And when that proved to be insufficient, he called for yet more power...

 

“I’d stop that, if I were you.” Tamaranis’ voice was calm, commanding, “Your companion yet lives, but it’s a delicate thing, and you’re becoming something of a distraction.”

 

The paladin he’d skewered was standing now only because her weight rested on Tamaranis’ sword, and he refused to move. Her blood had ceased to flow almost instantly when he struck, but her eyes still moved, frantically searching for some escape. She’d have cried out against the pain of steel embedded where steel was never meant to be, but she had no breath.

 

“Repairing the physical damage shouldn’t be a problem with so many clerics about,” Tamaranis said, “And I won’t allow her soul to flee for some minutes yet, unless you should try to provide me with another distraction.”

 

Having said that, he lowered his arm and allowed the paladin to slide free of his sword. Then he brought it down in an overhand slash at nothing, and brought it to a sudden halt just below shoulder level. The blood on the weapon continued on its path, leaving the weapon perfectly clean of it. He then sheathed the sword.

 

“Let Praises be unto whatever lord you worship that you were in the employ of those I call allies when you attempted this foolishness.” Tamaranis said, still keeping his voice level, not allowing it to take on a mocking tone. The darkness enveloping him once again became completely and utterly obscuring. Suddenly it relented, and he was gone.

 

***

 

Quite the opposite of the flash of light that usually accompanied teleporting magi, the space behind a chair in the meeting room became too dark to see for a moment, and then the darkness relented and Tamaranis was there.

 

“Perhaps I could have afforded a delay after all,” Tamaranis said, noting only Salinye and Merelas were present as of yet. “No matter, good to see that both of you survived.”

[Ayshela]

Ayshela wandered by Ozymandias once again, accompanying the healers on their rounds of the wounded and exhausted, carefully showing nothing beyond mild concern. A quick glance showed that Ozymandias was doing much better than she had thought he might, given his condition when she’d found him on the hostel grounds. Granting that his objections to being healed had been as vehement as he could manage at the time, she’d never have been able to bring him back without *some* initial healing. His continued protests seemed a bit odd, though. Granting that there were other wounded, there were several healers as well, and none would be left untreated if *he* were healed too.

 

Continuing on the rounds, as thoughts ran through her head, she smiled slightly and wondered if she was the only one surreptitiously healing him. Apparently keeping her attention trained on the patient being treated then, she kept her focus on Ozymandias and, when the healing spells were cast, hers was cast on him instead of the patient before her. Noting a suspicious glance her way, she waited through the next patient, then repeated the process. Assured that, relatively weak though her healing ability was, he would be quite able to attend the meeting, she smiled to her companion and left the room – ignoring the glares bouncing off her back.

 

Ayshela returned to her room in the garden, taking a moment to brush her hair and resettle her nerves before the upcoming meeting. Suspicious though she normally was, it seemed even to her that nerves were ragged and suspicions flying with little apparent basis. But then, she thought, events themselves had been more than slightly suspicious, so perhaps it was warranted after all?

 

Leaving her room, she returned to the hostel and found her way to the meeting room. Knocking lightly, she entered and automatically stepped to the side of the doorway – then stopped in her tracks seeing a familiar shape of darkness.

 

“Good … day, all.” She said.

[Gyrfalcon]

Gyrfalcon rubbed the bridge of his nose, already feeling tired with the sun not yet reaching its peak. He had gotten fewer hours of sleep then he had wanted, and the day already promised to be quite long. With a long sigh, the ranger started down the path that would take him back to the Hostel’s front doors and the meeting he should attend inside with the newly risen owner of the Hostel.

 

Mind locked in thought as he approached the Hostel’s damaged open doors; the half-elf didn’t initially hear the shouts of his name.

 

“Gods curse you, half-elf, turn and answer!” a voice roared, bringing Gyrfalcon out of his reverie. Eyes burning with anger, he whirled to face the speaker, an impressively armored paladin by the name of Taerloc the Pure. Gyrfalcon privately detested the man, but he led one of the larger mercenary units designed to deal with the undead.

 

“What do you want, Sir Taerloc?” Gyrfalcon asked, his voice dangerously cold.

 

“I want the head of that shadow spawn you protect is what I want, ranger!” Taerloc roared, coming to a stop a mere foot from the half-elf, sneering down at the half-elf and attempting to use his greater size to intimidate.

 

The half-elf was hardly concerned, and his eyes narrowed. “Tamaranis?” he asked, trying to determine the cause of the paladin’s fury.

 

“I care not what the murdering monster calls itself! I want it out here and turned over to the Burning Light’s justice, NOW!” Taerloc roared.

 

“Murdering? Were some of your soldiers foolish enough to attack him?” Gyrfalcon said, anger rising quickly at the paladin’s abrasive manner.

 

“They follow the call of the Light! The beast crippled one and only the intervention of a priest saved the other!”

 

“Tamaranis is a member of The Mighty Pen. I could not compel him to surrender, nor would I choose to. Your soldiers struck against my ord-“

 

“Damn your orders! The Burning Light follows the dictates of God! Now turn him over or we will seize him!” Taerloc snarled, face purpling with rage.

 

“I specifically told you that Tamaranis was not to be challenged before we agreed to the contract. Your soldiers broke that contract and nearly paid the final price. Now stand down and return to your post.” Gyrfalcon said, every word delivered in frozen tones.

 

Taerloc stepped back and a hand snaked down to grasp the hilt of his longsword. “Think wisely, half-elf. You don’t want to be branded a follower of the dark powers. Turn over the vampire, or this will get bloody.”

 

Gyrfalcon stared hard at the foolish paladin, his hands hooked on his belt, bringing his sword hand close to his blade. “You’d draw blade on your employer?” he asked, voice as hard and cold as bared steel.

 

“Petty words on papers are not to be honored with followers of the dark!” Taerloc snarled, his paladins and clerics beginning to drift closer, weapons prominently on display.

 

“You said that it would get bloody, and you’re right, you steel-shelled idiot.” a third voice snapped as Ardavial stepped out from around a hedge, Daryl following him in human form, cracking his knuckles. From around corners and trees, even up on the roof, rangers appeared, longbows and crossbows held at the ready and every arrow and bolt pointed at the suddenly surrounded Burning Light. “Bloody for you.” the druid finished, thumping his staff against the soft soil.

 

“The contract is broken by your actions, Taerloc.” Gyrfalcon said coldly. “While I will not attempt to compel you to return the contract deposit, no further compensation will be given to your company. Furthermore, I will make certain that news of your attempted betrayal is carried far and wide.”

 

Many of Taerloc’s soldiers winced at that, for this brush with mutiny would be a black mark against their company, one hard to erase from their record and one that would make it difficult in the extreme to find new employment.

 

Taerloc’s hands flexed open and closed. “You’ll pay for this, half-elf!” he snarled before turning and gesturing for his soldiers to follow. “We ride at once!” he ordered.

 

“You think he’ll be trouble?” Daryl asked as he came up to stand next to Gyrfalcon, eyeing the way the half-elf’s knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists tight.

 

“Possibly, though the fool is still a paladin when all is said and done, short-sighted as he is. He won’t strike at innocents, though if he encountered me alone, I’m sure he would attack me.” Gyrfalcon said, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm his raging anger. Because of the paladin’s shortsightedness, the majority of the Hostel’s defenses were departing, and Gyrfalcon would have to pull back many of the scouting druids and rangers to guard the Hostel now.

 

“Yeah, but you’re hardly innocent.” Daryl said, weakly attempting to change the ranger’s mood to the better. His glare said that the attempt had failed, and Daryl shrugged before walking into the Hostel. “See you at the meeting.” he called back over his shoulder.

 

Ardavial thumped his staff on the ground and snorted before waving at the other druids and rangers to get back to what they were doing before Taerloc started causing trouble.

 

Gyrfalcon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply and then breathed out slowly, slowly bottling his anger and forcing it aside. It was harder then normal to do, no doubt because of how tired he felt. With a sigh, he rubbed the bridge of his nose before opening his eyes again. It was already a long day, and showed no signs of getting any shorter.

 

He sighed again and followed Daryl into the Hostel, finding a seat near the end of the table, near Merelas and Daryl, offering nods to Tamaranis, Ayshela and Salinye.

[Annael]

Annael was having the most lovely dream when she felt insistent tugging on her wings. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was in the library, and her butterflies were swarming around her head.

 

"What meeting?" Annael asked as she smothered a yawn. Rubbing her eyes, she sat straight up in the chair that she had dozed in. "That meeting!" Jumping to her feet, Annael started for the door at a run when she tripped over something on the floor and went flying head first into the side table. Rubbing her head, butterflies everywhere, Annael turned to glare at the book laying on the floor, the source of her demise.

 

"What are you doing on the floor?" Motioning to some butterflies to put the book back on the shelf where it came from, Annael got to her feet and continued on her way to the meeting in a weird sort of half shuffle-run. Opening the door mumbling to herself, she limped down the room and flopped into a seat next to Daryl, rubbing absently at a scraped elbow.

[Alaeha]

Jirah crept into the meeting room silently, heaping unspoken blessings on Salinye for keeping her doors well-oiled. Only a scarce few of those already seated even looked up from their musings as he surveyed the room.

 

It wouldn't do to be too close to her -- he was an outsider, so they wouldn't trust his motives. Too far away would be even worse, though. It was conceivable that any one, even several, of them might have been sent as a backup plan if the undead army failed somehow.

 

So, after a moment's pause, Jirah seated himself with one "layer" of seats between himself and Salinye. The elven woman... Ayshela? The ranger. Yes, that was Ayshela. She sat directly across from him. She seemed forthright enough. Some distance down the table was a figure he recognized...

 

You might want to rethink this. The memory of the words flooded back into his mind.

 

So... Jirah thought, he's a vampire. That would explain why I didn't kill him.

 

A vampire? What's a vampire? Nilani spoke into his mind.

 

Vampires are like werewolves, except they're undead. A Vampire bites a human, and then the human dies and turns into a Vampire. He explained. They're nasty beasts, and hard to kill.

 

Undead? She seemed curious. He realized that she had been young, and wouldn't have known about the undead.

 

You know how, when someone dies, their spirit goes away? He asked her.

 

Like me? She asked.

 

Sort of. Usually the spirits go... I don't really know where. But not really like you. Anyway, undead are things like zombies. Bodies that are still moving without spirits. Bad wizards make them move, and kill things. Vampires are like that, except they have their own magic that keeps them moving. He continued his internal dialogue.

 

He smirked. Why not? The meeting hadn't begun yet. Why shouldn't he?

[Ozymandias]

Ozymandias walked slowly through the door next. It was a sure sign of all the older citizens of the Pen's distraction that none, even they, gave any outward recognition of the Loremaster's arrival.

 

For his part, Ozymandias said nothing about it, in fact, he said nothing at all as with cane in hand, he worked his way over to the seat across from Tamaranis. Sitting down, he locked eyes with the vampire, face passive.

 

What happened in the mental and spiritual realms was quite far from passive.

 

Know this, hissed a voice in Tamaranis' thoughts, treat ANYONE in my charge, foolish, wise, beautiful, ugly, and all other states of being...as one would an animal ever again, and I will banish you.

 

All who noted the Loremaster's countenance at this point would see his eyes narrow as he seemed to look straight through the ancient vampire, but find no other sign of something amiss.

 

Do not think, either, to test my resolve. My body you would break easily, to be true. But there are many things you do not know about the Order of the Phantasm. Phantasms too, have been to that world that you call 'Shesh-Oling'. Only we came to knowledge of it as most mortals do- the misnomer of a state of mind- called madness.

 

Ozymandias, finally physically worn by the force of the gaze of a vampire so steeped in power, broke eye contact first. Though he spent every other bit of his resolve to hide the fatigue from Tamaranis.

[Tamaranis]

I wouldn't dream of challenging you, Loremaster Tamaranis’ mental voice was, if anything, colder and more lifeless than his physical voice, devoid of sarcasm or sincerity.

 

There was an uneasy silence, which was strange, because uneasy silences weren’t the norm with members of The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword.

 

Since no one seemed to be taking command of the situation, Tamaranis stood up.

 

“I should apologize for my actions during a recent altercation with some of the mercenaries. Those of you who haven’t heard about it probably will soon enough. I misjudged the situation.”

 

“Your lack of judgement cost us a troop of Paladins.” Gyrfalcon noted bitterly.

 

Unreasonable of them

 

“To make up for the deficiency that opens in our defences I can order my personal guard to march to the Hostel. None of them are paladins, of course, but they are competent and disciplined,” Tamaranis offered.

 

“And just what does your personal guard consist of, I should wonder?” Salinye suddenly stood up. “The last thing we need is another undead army skulking around my Hostel!”

 

“My personal guard currently consists of sixty-seven living human soldiers.” Tamaranis sat back down, “I might be able to convince a dragoon or two to join in as well.”

[Annael]

Annael, chewing on her nail, looked up at Tamaranis then around the table.

 

"Well, do you think that we're in danger of being attacked again? Or is this just precautionary measures?"

[Ozymandias]

"We had an army leveled at us, Annael. We still don't know why. I would say precaution against another attack is only advisable.

 

As for Tamaranis' army," Ozymandias added, more quietly, "I have fought alongside them myself. I can vouch for them. Stout, true, and apt soldiers all."

[Ayshela]

Ayshela looked thoughtful for a half moment, looking between Salinye, Tamaranis, and Gyrfalcon.

 

"Perhaps it would be as well, before deciding, if the rest of us knew what the available options were? If, indeed, there exist any alternatives?"