Ayreg had worked for the greater part of the day. He was tired, he was sweaty, he was filthy, and there's just something about putting in hours over a flaming-hot forge that ended with one not smelling like daisies.
The sword Tara commissioned him to forge for her was complete, now, save only the application of the soulstock for its maximum preferred effect. He even laid the gold filligree into the handle, and set a gemstone into the pommel beneath the Fist and Heart symbol of the Truthbringer. The priest who blessed the quenching oil said the native stone of the Truthbringer was a diamond.
Figures.
Ayreg had been keeping a mental notepad of all his expenses taken in the making of this special blade with its whip-like chains, and he expected to get every single crown back out of Tara.
For now, though, Ayreg merely made his way back into the Red Dragon. Not a dozen paces inside, though, Tara bounced her giddy way up to him, and offered to get him a drink. He sort of.. well, grunted in a noncommittal way, and headed to a booth.
Lucretia came soon after, and Tara stayed away from the Dreadlord. Ayreg had seen the fire-haired kitsune before, but only now learned that she was the daughter of his oath-sworn. That could be problematic -- having a tie to one's former life, that way. It tends to make one remember their humanity. Perhaps an 'accident' can be arranged for the girl.
Lucretia sat at his booth, annoying Ayreg to no end since he did just dismiss her. He resigned himself to upbraiding her later though, and informed her of his observations about Longden, as well as a warning to keep her tongue in check. The man was gathering an army, it seemed, and Jodiah Ayreg did not wish to be blindsided by supplicants to the Count's imposed authority.
"I've got something to tell you, my Lord." Lucretia started, bowing her head in a submissive way.
His response was simple, and to the point. "Go on."
That is when she declared to him that she had betrayed him to Longden, her voice low as if acting in a conspiracy. She told him of her intents to lure him into an ambush on behalf of the Count. Ayreg's head turned, and his fists clenched. His eyes narrowed at his oath-sworn.
She begged forgiveness, pleading with him, professing how useful she was to him, and how weak she was for falling victim to the love of her daughter, and how if she died, her daughter would be left to Longden. Think of the child! He threw her to the floor out of the booth.
"Why do I care what happens to your daughter?"
Jodiah Ayreg, the Scourge of Worlds, stood over her as if a colossus. Like a stone tower he was unmoving, save only the beating of his enraged heart. If a statue could be crafted to capture his pose, his demeanor, his look, it would forever be regarded like some monument to evil, anchored by the rotting skulls that bear mute witness to the inhumanity of the human creature.
Black Saa passed over his eyes as he opened himself up to the power of The Nihil. His hand reached out, grasping her head in his powerful grip.
"What is the weakest of emotion?" he asked her.
"I know you will not show mercy to me."
"I release you from my service."
Her fate was her own making. Every bit as much of the energy that threw off the slough of her Death-Blight to give her flesh again -- rotting flesh, mind, but flesh nontheless -- served now to decay her body. She was aging, and fast, perhaps several hundred years every second. Jodiah Ayreg was never one to abide a traitor, especially one he entrusted with the powers of a Dreadlord. She claimed to have made a mistake which could help him.
The mistake she made is one that leads to Oblivion.
Her voice was shrill, almost a screech as she knew the end came for her quickly. She promised revenge, promised to kill him, but her words rolled off of the death knight like water on rock. In the end, even her words became useless lumps of garbled sounds as her flesh melted away to ash.
In the end, only the white gown she had been wearing remained, eventually to be taken up by the kitsune.
Jodiah Ayreg intoned softly, almost in a solemn manner, as if this were some kind of grand ritual. The title of Dreadlord had been taken from her, as well as the name he bestowed upon her ascension.
"So passes Renna of the Dark, the Betrayer"
In the common room of the Red Dragon, most of the rest of the patrons seemed scandalized, or outraged, or simply shocked. No matter the feelings they had, one thing was certain: Murder had been done this night.
The sword Tara commissioned him to forge for her was complete, now, save only the application of the soulstock for its maximum preferred effect. He even laid the gold filligree into the handle, and set a gemstone into the pommel beneath the Fist and Heart symbol of the Truthbringer. The priest who blessed the quenching oil said the native stone of the Truthbringer was a diamond.
Figures.
Ayreg had been keeping a mental notepad of all his expenses taken in the making of this special blade with its whip-like chains, and he expected to get every single crown back out of Tara.
For now, though, Ayreg merely made his way back into the Red Dragon. Not a dozen paces inside, though, Tara bounced her giddy way up to him, and offered to get him a drink. He sort of.. well, grunted in a noncommittal way, and headed to a booth.
Lucretia came soon after, and Tara stayed away from the Dreadlord. Ayreg had seen the fire-haired kitsune before, but only now learned that she was the daughter of his oath-sworn. That could be problematic -- having a tie to one's former life, that way. It tends to make one remember their humanity. Perhaps an 'accident' can be arranged for the girl.
Lucretia sat at his booth, annoying Ayreg to no end since he did just dismiss her. He resigned himself to upbraiding her later though, and informed her of his observations about Longden, as well as a warning to keep her tongue in check. The man was gathering an army, it seemed, and Jodiah Ayreg did not wish to be blindsided by supplicants to the Count's imposed authority.
"I've got something to tell you, my Lord." Lucretia started, bowing her head in a submissive way.
His response was simple, and to the point. "Go on."
That is when she declared to him that she had betrayed him to Longden, her voice low as if acting in a conspiracy. She told him of her intents to lure him into an ambush on behalf of the Count. Ayreg's head turned, and his fists clenched. His eyes narrowed at his oath-sworn.
She begged forgiveness, pleading with him, professing how useful she was to him, and how weak she was for falling victim to the love of her daughter, and how if she died, her daughter would be left to Longden. Think of the child! He threw her to the floor out of the booth.
"Why do I care what happens to your daughter?"
Jodiah Ayreg, the Scourge of Worlds, stood over her as if a colossus. Like a stone tower he was unmoving, save only the beating of his enraged heart. If a statue could be crafted to capture his pose, his demeanor, his look, it would forever be regarded like some monument to evil, anchored by the rotting skulls that bear mute witness to the inhumanity of the human creature.
Black Saa passed over his eyes as he opened himself up to the power of The Nihil. His hand reached out, grasping her head in his powerful grip.
"What is the weakest of emotion?" he asked her.
"I know you will not show mercy to me."
"I release you from my service."
Her fate was her own making. Every bit as much of the energy that threw off the slough of her Death-Blight to give her flesh again -- rotting flesh, mind, but flesh nontheless -- served now to decay her body. She was aging, and fast, perhaps several hundred years every second. Jodiah Ayreg was never one to abide a traitor, especially one he entrusted with the powers of a Dreadlord. She claimed to have made a mistake which could help him.
The mistake she made is one that leads to Oblivion.
Her voice was shrill, almost a screech as she knew the end came for her quickly. She promised revenge, promised to kill him, but her words rolled off of the death knight like water on rock. In the end, even her words became useless lumps of garbled sounds as her flesh melted away to ash.
In the end, only the white gown she had been wearing remained, eventually to be taken up by the kitsune.
Jodiah Ayreg intoned softly, almost in a solemn manner, as if this were some kind of grand ritual. The title of Dreadlord had been taken from her, as well as the name he bestowed upon her ascension.
"So passes Renna of the Dark, the Betrayer"
In the common room of the Red Dragon, most of the rest of the patrons seemed scandalized, or outraged, or simply shocked. No matter the feelings they had, one thing was certain: Murder had been done this night.