Author Topic: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary  (Read 12756 times)

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #25 on: December 12, 2012, 02:32:39 AM »
Do what they least expect. It's a cardinal rule for surviving in the shadows. Never be where they think you are, never do what they think you'll do. Keep them off balance. Keep them guessing. Keep them in the dark...

And this... they will never suspect...

I sensed an opportunity. A new angle. I had recalled hearing how he trusted her... I decided I could use this.

Play all the cards against each other... and they will all come tumbling down. I wonder what the Fox would think of the webs I arrange to have cut...

I must admit, there is something exciting to her. The path of a cold blade... it makes you become rather close to someone. A duel of sabers, a dance of death... facing up against a foe, you learn a lot about them. You peer into their soul with each thrust, with each parry, with each dodge...

... and... the watching, the waiting, the stalking... the ambush... Following those actions.... well, it gets so close to you, you almost feel an intimate bond with them.... once you have their blood on your hands... there's a connection there..

Probably sounds ridiculous. Disgusting even. But it's true.

God, it is ridiculous, isn't it? What am I blabbering on about.

The stress is getting to me.

Or maybe it's just her.
« Last Edit: December 12, 2012, 02:39:09 AM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #26 on: December 21, 2012, 01:02:41 AM »
(Every line of this entry is written boldly, the quill having been pressed quite deeply into the page, deep enough for an impression of the following words to be seen for the next several pages)

Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
I go, undaunted.

There is no going back now. I am through the gates of Hell. My life now has one true purpose. I have accepted this. I will finish what I set out to do.

And to hell with the consequences.
« Last Edit: December 21, 2012, 11:17:31 AM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #27 on: January 06, 2013, 03:17:36 AM »
Hell of a way to come back to Vallaki. I'm afraid I buggered things up rather well. Dash it all, how could I let my blade twist from my grasp so? A glancing blow was all I gave him. A thousand curses on his head. At least I hit the fiend with a bolt from my crossbow as he scurried away... Hope that bloody stung!

Well... That soils it now. The jig is up. He'll be seeking revenge now... And I'm sure the others will too... I know Cozette fears for her life because of this failure. I should as well, shouldn't I? But you know, I feel fine. Now things are out in the open. Now there is no need go lie and cheat and trick. Battle lines are drawn.

It's funny how things can change so drastically, and so quickly.

But now things are clear. I'll use that clarity. He'll know I'll come again. They'll know I'm against them. They know I hold many of their secrets close... They will fear us... They will fear me.

It's so blatantly clear to me now. They are naught but rats, even now. Even after the death of the old man, they are still rats. This incident will only cause them to fight amongst themselves over what to do. They will be worried. To have two infiltrate their depths? Will they not think that there are more? They will be sizing each other up... Less trust than before. Lawless brutes and monsters... They have no loyalty to the others. They temporarily band together for mutual safety. They all want gold, power... Any one of them would kill for the chance to lead. Their downfall will be in their belief of their own superiority and invincibility. They will be shown as the rats they truly are soon enough.

I need to speak to both Cozette and Tatiana in private, and soon. For the one... I need to be sure that she understands there is no going back. She boarded this ship, and to jump off now would be to drown. She must realize that, before she does something stupid. I will not let her make that mistake. I will not let her fall. For the other? Well... There is much to be said. I need to explain everything, from the beginning... I hope she will understand. Dear god, let her understand. I... Don't know what I'll do if she doesn't.

That's enough writing for one night. Bloody nice welcome back, eh, Barovia?
« Last Edit: January 07, 2013, 11:38:10 AM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #28 on: January 07, 2013, 05:14:43 AM »
( this short entry has several splotches of dark wine across the parchment)

Interesting place. Pity it's so bloody drafty. Probably drank too much wine trying to calm myself and keep warm. Bloody hell, if only one of--- ( the writing trails off)

We need to store some fresh food up here... Non-spoilables. Some drink as well. We all need some cheering up. Get our minds and bodies rested.., discuss what to do next. Strike while the iron is hot? I think so. But we need to fully secure this place before that. Always protect yourselves... Always have a safe place to fall back to...

Blast it all, awkward to see her with that dark fellow. Her lover... Finally met him. God, he's one hell of a magi. Of course he's more than that too... Seeing them kiss though. Bah, why do I feel so?? Oh, how I wish things could be different for her.. For all of us. Could they... Change? Maybe... Maybe...


(Several unreable scribbles, then a few distinct words) --- that lady with him... Intriguing. Why do I feel like I've seen her before? Something in her voice, her manner. I don't know. Unsettling. Wonder where.. Yes, wonder where Coz wandered off to. Wonder if she'll... Maybe she would... maybe she does... (The writing is far too messy to read again)

This room smells like cat now... Bah.
« Last Edit: January 07, 2013, 02:55:44 PM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #29 on: January 08, 2013, 01:55:16 AM »
(just a few words)

I want to save her... I will... By god, I swear it. She will be safe. I'll figure a way out of this.

We all must stick together...

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #30 on: January 09, 2013, 09:22:32 PM »
Learn to keep your mouth shut, you fool!

I... I need to remember to what Lavinia said. Just do what I can.

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #31 on: January 12, 2013, 04:25:13 PM »
It feels as if my life is going in circles. Dementlieu. Back again. The ship may have more sails... but the hull is damaged, battered. Faster, yet weak... can’t stay out of a friendly port for long...

Months ago, this all felt so similar. So much loss, so much confusion, so much fighting, so many.... so many secrets. I had come to Dementlieu to find Finn, Xarnata... Found that one was changed, soon to be killed. One was... dead. Will this trip mirror that one with such grim tidings? Who will fall this time?

Long talks. Long walks. Long struggles. Anastacia. Virgil. Lavinia.

There’s fierce determination in all of them. They can all see with such clarity... yet, it’s as if they are looking through different facets of the same diamond. I think I’m trying to look through too many at once...

Tatiana... why won’t she listen to us? Why can’t she calm herself, and listen to reason? Storming off to god knows where... I fear for her. What was she trying to do? We need to return soon. It’s... it’s time to confront her. Virgil is correct. We wait much longer... and we will have no chance. So many are closing in, tightening their grasp... he said he has everything he needs. I trust him. He can do this. She just needs to let him act!

I’ve traded much with the Grey Mage... we’ve both learned many secrets, swung back and forth many ideas... the revelations she shared with me. My god. Difficult to wrap my head around all of them. But agree with her. The conclusions she's drawn make sense. This thing, this, Dhamphyr. So many sides seek to use it as a tool. Which is the most deadly threat? Can we play them against each other? Perhaps. She has been searching the libraries, looking for ways... ways to... cleanse it. She also... also told me that great things could occur if it is born cleansed.. Things, I can't fully understand could happen. Things aside from all of these vying factions... if good of heart... a, a what did she say, a rift could open? A portal. Out. It seems insane, yet... I don't know. We'll see what happens. Still, as I discussed with Virgil... how can it possibly be born well? All of the stress, the drink, the hardliving and the evil that clutches for it anyways... Ana would have to find sacred and powerful information indeed...

 

A raven came to me this morning, a message from her. Disturbing news... what can it mean? What game is she playing at? Doesn’t she know the danger she flirts with? If the Mage is right, and I fear that she very well could be... disaster is lurking very close. Valdon. Always Valdon. Somehow, I know this is because of him. Tatiana.. she can’t see him as he truly is. Split personalities, yes. But they are all cruel, evil, dark and twisted. He wants nothing but his own pleasure. Can’t she see that? She had told me something, in the mountains about him... something she could prove to me. But we haven’t time to discuss it. What sort of lies has he spun? Perhaps it’s... its that thing, growing in her. I know it’s stressing her mind to the point of breaking. One wrong word... could unbalance her. It... I can’t forget the pool... I can’t. So pale after, even more than before. Lifeless... I had truly thought that she wouldn’t breathe again... Afterwards, I thought, thought for a moment, that maybe she understood. Maybe, saving her, maybe it would...



But no. That path is set. It can't be changed.

Lavinia is wise beyond her years. Or maybe... maybe that’s just the charm of youth we forget. Things are simpler when we are younger. Less shades of grey. Her mind isn’t as clouded as mine. But that’s a good thing, I believe. She can see the truth behind matters. She’s... made me realize some things. The hurt... the hurt that I feel... I don’t need to feel that way. I shouldn’t. I.. we... none of us deserve to feel this way. A bloody pox on accepting things as they are. We are better than this. I will NOT be trod upon like a rug. The reflection she has provided... I needed it. Needed it greatly. I want to thank her somehow... show her.. show her how grateful I am. It pained me so to see her struggle up that ladder... I should have been more careful... It was so hard to watch... pulled my thoughts from my own pain. Determined.... such determination, for such a young girl. I approve of her highly...for... for that reason and... and more....



We’ve removed ourselves from events for long enough. Plans are coming together.... Virgil has ideas for a safe place to return to... Safe places, certainly, but will they be the right places to.... to perform his task? I’m not sure. We’ll have to find her first... and then.. then decide out of the two...

I need to talk to Cozette... I... feel I should be near her. It worries me to not know what she’s doing. I know she’s still so afraid of what might happen. I want to be there, tell her that it will work out. Because it will. I am a man of action. This waiting.. I can not stand. That is not who I am. I remember, the last time I was here... with Cozette in that alley... after the ruse. She looked so weak, so pale and fearful. Soft. She hardly knew where to turn. It touched something in me, to see someone look so helpless... She’s changed, since then... the weeks have been hard. There is a deep anger inside her. She has a spirit, that seems like it would be hard to break. Indeed, it hasn’t cracked yet, despite all she has been through. Warji getting away... I thought that might do it, but she holds on. That anger, boiling inside of her... I know the feeling well. We’ve both got to harness it. Use it. But at the same time, be careful not to let it burn us... Despite my misgivings about it, she seemed to have a similar reaction to the.. the feeding as I. As crazed as it sounds, it was not terrible it. It was... god, I don’t know... somehow relaxing... like after bedding a woman. Cozette... she’s... she still has this pull on me... I need to see her
« Last Edit: January 12, 2013, 06:51:45 PM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #32 on: January 15, 2013, 01:45:20 AM »
The harsh sea tossed about, dark waves seething. Down below, the quay was awash, salt water cascading. Hands numb from the fell breath of the blasting wind, Dumas fumbled for the shutters of the window, trying to drag them shut. They wouldn’t budge.

The Manor Retreat? No, the Fool’s Retreat. The thought flashed through his head, almost making him want to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. He shook his head ruefully, watching the chaos of the raging sea. A storm the likes of which he had hardly seen before. What was that word, the sailors used? Hurricane. This must be one of them. The wind’s howl was persistent, deafening. The only sound that could break through it was the crash of wood on stone, as the hulls of the ships lashed against the jetties were slammed and battered again and again...

No one could last long in the path of this force of nature. The sheer power of it was overwhelming. The bitter cold and rain... blast it all, why wouldn’t the shutter move? With exasperation, Dumas tugged at it, shifting it only slightly. Bloody hell.

Suddenly, something caught his eye down below... there it was... brief, a shadow, a shape. No, lost it again. He squinted through the slashing rain. Yes, he was certain! A figure was making their way across the quay. What the devil are they thinking? They’ll be swept away into the sea in moments! Are they insane?

The figure, cloaked in a greyish, disheveled robe that could have once been white, difficult to tell in the squall. Large form... must be a man, Dumas decided. There was something unsettling in his gait, as if he couldn’t quite fit under the robe... Even more disturbing, the figure seemed to be making his slow way across the promenade by the quay, directly towards the Noble’s Retreat. Directly towards... him.

Bah, absurd! The figure would have no idea whom he was at this distance, even despite the sputtering fireplace in the room behind him. Yet... yet he continued making his slow progress towards the building.

Horrendous waves swept up from the harbor, crashing over the quay and onto the promenade with titanic force. The water hammered down directly in the figure’s path. Dumas shook his head. Surely, the man had been pulled into the sea...

But god above, no, there he was! Standing there, soaking. Unbelievable. The robed figure stood there for a moment, and shuddered, the water dripping off him. He continued on his way. A cold, twisted knot began to form in Dumas’s stomach.

Again and again the waves swept down, but each time, the man remained, undeterred. Moving closer, ever closer. Dumas pulled back from the window, a cold sweat breaking on on his brow, despite the freezing temperature.

“He’s coming, Dumas. They’re all coming.”

A female voice called out behind him through the sounds of the raging storm with startling clarity. He spun about, his hand groping towards his side, towards the sword that... wasn’t there.

She stood, outlined by the glow of the fireplace, her features silhouetted. But there was no mistaking that pale skin, almost alabaster in color. She wore a red dress, rich crimson. Rich blood. Black hair fell across her bare shoulders, a further contrast against her ivory skin and dress. Each color distinct, vibrant in their differences.

“You know what you want to do...” The voice said with sharp, yet tender sweetness, a tone that somehow both made Dumas’s stomach twist in further knots... and awaken an aching longing within his body.

He took a step towards the woman...

A dulcet laugh.

Then, sudden movement, the speed almost incomprehensible. Two lithe, darkly clad figures at his side, grasping his arms. Incredible strength, their grip freezing, sharp nails digging into his skin. Amused smiles underneath shadowed hoods.

That sweet voice again, the woman in red. “I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

The two at his side flung him powerfully back, launching him through the open window. For a moment he felt as if time had slowed, as if gravity was gone. The rain spattered against his face, cutting and cold.

He crashed to the cobblestones below, a sickening thud, blinding pain in his left arm, sure he had broken it. A drowning sensation, he couldn’t breath! Sputtering, he pulled his head from the cobblestones, gasping for air as he cleared his mouth and nose from the puddle.

“Do get up, Dumas.” Her voice again...

He staggered to his feet, his clothing entirely waterlogged. Blearily, half-blinded with pain in his head and water in his eyes, he gazed back up at the window. She watched him. A smirk, her lips red. A nod, beckoning him to turn around. He did so.

The figure in the dirty white robe. He stood before him, the rain dripping down his form, the water almost taking on a silvery light to it. Lightning flashed, immediately followed by the booming roar of thunder. The figure pushed back the sodden hood, revealing a helm. Glowing eyes glinting out behind the narrow slit, the metal looking startling clean, white and blue. Dumas felt the laugh more than heard it.

With a rasp, a sword was hauled from a scabbard beneath the figure’s tattered robe, the heavy blade gleaming as lightning flashed again.

Groping under his cloak, Dumas fingers searched desperately for the wooden stock of his flintlock. Dragging it out, he leveled it squarely at the man. A moment’s pause.

He pulled the trigger.

Not even a spark.

The stupidity, the desperation, the fear. “It’s raining, you idiot!”, his brain screamed at him.

Thunder rolled, the wind shrieked.

Her voice in his ears again. “Tut, tut. You must try harder, Dumas.”

The blade hacked down at him, through his shoulder, through bone and muscle and sinew, down through his lungs, through his heart. He collapsed on the cobblestones, the blood sputtering out, mingling with the rainwater, the saltwater.

Growing darkness...

Another voice, familiar as well. “I trusted you, mon.”

The cold spreading, engulfing him... slowly, painful, his feet tingling, his legs feeling as if pins and needles were pressed into each nerve.

The storming night sky, becoming dimmer, a silvery mist now creeping in, coming to claim him, take him, consume him...

“Snap out of it, Dumas! Stop it!”

The voice of a young girl drifted to his mind, calming, warming... Something stirred deep within himself. Again the voice, youthful, yet determined, strong.

Hold on, he told himself, hold on. You can do this. Do it!

Her voice again, firm, urgent.

“Dumas!”

He awoke with start, sitting bolt upright in the bed, the sheets strewn about the room. He looked about with bewilderment, startled over his surroundings. The finely paneled wooden walls, rich carpets, the fireplace... Two bottles of wine were discarded on the floor, a puddle of red soaking into the rug beneath the bed. The shutters overlooking the quay and the promenade were firmly latched. He breathed a shuddering sigh of relief. It... it had been so bloody real. He could have sworn...

An abrupt pounding at his door brought him back to reality.

“Monsieur, Dumas! As I have said before, your rent is due today! Ne comprenez-vous? Aujourd'hui!

Dumas cleared his throat. “Aye, I bloody heard!” He rubbed at his lips, cursing again as he spotted his nearly empty coin pouch on the dresser. He sighed, and called out in Dementlieuese.
“Donnez-moi un instant!”
« Last Edit: October 15, 2014, 12:33:30 AM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #33 on: January 16, 2013, 04:35:28 PM »
[another entry...]

I've been having nightmares again... Like those I had  nearly a year ago. Has something in my brain cracked again? I hope not. Everyone has nightmares, don't they? But these feel different... So real, so visceral. Can they be a sign of things to come?

An idea danced across my mind after I last spoke with Lavinia. There are skills that have kept me alive in this acursed realm... My knowledge of the shadows, knowing how to blend into a crowd, the wit and charm it takes to convince someone a black lie is a golden truth... Without these, I wouldn't be here. Without those... And a healthy dose of common sense.

These things are necessary to survive.

Lack them, and you'll soon find yourself in a shallow grave. Or more likely, rotting somewhere out in the wilderness.

I must surround myself with those of a similar mindset. Survive by quickness of action, by guile. Never do what your foes expect. And always have a way out...

When such similar folk band together, there can be only success. Enough of these high-tempered fools. Cool heads that can control their emotions... That's what is needed.

I can feel the gears turning in my head. I am going to build something. Something that will be a force to respect. But first, I need to lay the foundations... But before even that, I must survey the land...

Yes, survey the land. But as always, from the shadows.
« Last Edit: January 16, 2013, 07:01:51 PM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #34 on: January 17, 2013, 12:30:24 PM »
The crude walls of the cell, slick with moisture, patches of moss and mold. The sputtering torch behind the door, casting a dim light on sights that are better off hidden. Rats scurry about, getting bolder, their chance surely to come soon. Blood, gore, and other foul things are dried along the floor, the substances having created vile stains.

Somewhere, a cruel voice echoes through the underground halls, unabashed laughter in its tone. "Bloody hell!, BOLLOCKS! GUNPOWDA!, I GOT GUNPOWDA! BWAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA..."
A shaking hand reaches up to touch the skin above his upper lip, the flesh having been brutally cut at. Only wisps remain now.

A broken man. Bloody, bruised, scarred. It’s crusted around every orifice... it particularly seems to have seeped from his left ear, and out his mouth. He's unable to wash the blood away... even if he had water, he would not have the strength for such a simple action.  He sinks lower onto the floor, his shredded hand falling from the cold, rusting bars. He curls up on the unforgiving stones.

Someone, a women, one of their ilk, had said he had been killed. The torture too much. Had he died? He didn't even know anymore.



Broad daylight, it had been... his abduction. He remembered walking through the east gates of Vallaki, nodding briefly to a few travellers passing by... a small ox caravan, and then a dark robed figure right at the gates, a group of armoured folk walking the opposite direction as he past the warehouses. Why had he come back? Why? His mind ached, trying to recall. He wanted to leave a letter for Agaran, that was right... at the Lady’s Rest. Much to tell him. But he hadn’t gotten there, had he? A passing fancy took him towards the Nymph. He had moved through the crowds of people on the main street, and quickly sidestepped into an alley. The place seemed to lack any cheer now that Tatiana had gone. So many memories here, both good, and bad. He remembered opening the door, and standing aimless by the bar, wishing to see her familiar face. But of course, there was nothing. Just others, other faces, other people he did not know. They stared at him, shaking their heads. He left the Nymph.

Taking a turn, he entered the back alley behind the club, the street silent. And then it happened...

Unable to move, his muscles and limbs not responding. And then the bag, the binds around his wrists. Some sort of enchantment cast on him. Dragged away, tugged by the ropes. “Don’t struggle”

A drop of condensation falls from the ceiling onto his brow. It jarred him back to the present. He starts to fall in and out of consciousness, the stress of reliving such a memory too much for his shattered mind to handle...

A fluttering, ringing chime in his ears, it won’t leave. His stomach heaves, nothing but water and blood coming forth, food unable to be held for long in his twisted and damaged stomach. The torture... it had been extreme, unimaginable. The constant barrage of spells, the cutting, the burning... his insides, slashed and torn...



He stares vacantly out of the cell, his face expressionless. Far better to stare at nothing... than to close his eyes and let sleep take him. Sleep has no solace now. The visions, dark and twisted, the most horrid of nightmares always return. The tattooed faced, teeth sharp and blood flecked, the dwarf in the blood soaked robe... they work and they work, each act more unimaginably evil than the last.

The scene contorts in his mind, visions of Cozette at the witch doctor’s hands, he abuses and befouls her. He heaves again in his restless sleep. Unable to do anything, unable to even lift a finger at all to help her as the man’s maniacal laughter continues. The nightmare twists further, and Dumas struggles in the garrote chair, the chains cutting into his flesh. The skin melts off of her bones. The laughter rings on and on...

These are no longer just nightmares. This is real.

He opens his eyes, body quivering from feverish chills, sweat dripping from his face. His swollen eyes well up red, but he hardly has enough fluids to waste the vital energy on tears. He is unable to cry anymore.

Dumas rocks slowly back and forth, nestled in the corner. That dull, lifeless expression on his face. The woman in his nightmares is different sometimes, her figure shifting from despondent Cozette to poor Lavinia. He sees her running through dark alleys, searching through squalid corridors, frantic. All the while, threatening, depraved eyes leer out of the shadows at her, moving closer, closer. Would she look, would she find him? Will anyone? Could Virgil or the Grey Mage? The silver-pawed one? Tatiana, and her... her coven even? Is there any chance? Does anyone even know?  His mind comes dangerously close to accepting it... that no one will ever come. There is no chance...

What few cells in his brain need to shift, need to warp to send him over the brink? Perhaps they are doing so right now. Perhaps they already have.

She’s there, in the cell next to him. He saw her when he was dragged in. They had done something to her face. But she hadn’t been destroyed like he had, not yet. “Thank god for that” It’s one of the few coherent thoughts in his head. “Don’t harm her, don’t hurt her. Please, whatever powers exist in this world... please don’t let them hurt her anymore...”

His eyes bore into the stones, his face unmoving.


« Last Edit: January 17, 2013, 12:32:12 PM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #35 on: January 18, 2013, 12:44:06 PM »
His heart had leapt into his throat when he saw her. A beacon of light in this foul pit of hell. Lavinia had seemed calm, collected, determined. How can she be so strong? How?

A shadow of his former self, shattered and broken... He feared for what they would do to her. If they touched her, in anyway... no matter what happened to him, before his end, he would avenge her.

But as of yet, they did not harm her.

He could hardly believe she had come for him. He did not know what sort of trials she faced on her journey here. She... she alone had come. No one else. No Virgil, no Agaran... Her. A slip of a girl, hardly past eighteen years. What a heart she had...

He had felt himself slipping, descending into the depths of madness. The torture, the dark, the lack of proper food... all of it tearing at his mind, threatening to push him over the edge. He knew it was happening, but there was nothing for it. How could he go on? He had nothing. Powerless. He was powerless...

Had Cozette already snapped? He had heard her, from the other cell... she was rather quiet, her voice never rising in anger. For a brief while, her voice had softly floated into his cell, a kind and gentle song... it kept him calm, for a while at least. But the desperation had returned. Cozette... so concerned about her face and her hair... vanity? Or insanity? They had said they were taking her to see Doctor Lymbosia. Would they take him soon as well?

He had spent much time sitting on the hard bench, knees drawn up to his chest, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Staring into the darkness blankly. Passing into sleep, the exhaustion seeping in....

But it had all changed with Lavinia.

A terrible place to realise it, but he thought he was falling for her. A true friend, perhaps more. With her here, his hope had returned, his confidence had crept back. She seemed convinced she could get him out of here.... yet..  she would grow resigned about her fate.

It was at these times he wanted to scream at her, to shake her, convince her that no, no, whatever happened, she was coming with him! They would get out of this, together, no matter what! He would not abandon her when the time came....

To have her take his place? No, he had made mistakes in his life, regretful decisions, some dark choices... but this would not be one. He did not deserve to survive this if she didn’t walk in the light once more as well.

He didn’t exactly know what the dark elf’s game was... but he had let Lavinia enter Dumas’s cell. He’d probably eat a lot of crow for that. The elf was unbalanced, clearly, but perhaps there was some sort of good deep down in him. To be able to embrace Lavinia... it was heaven sent.

They had talked for hours... Dumas’s strength and will slowly coming back to him... the sheer improbability and impossibility of it all. She was here. With him. For the first time in this place, he was able to smile, despite all of his horrid cuts and wounds. She cared for him, carefully bandaging the worst of the injuries...

They would be visited every now and then.... seeming to be some form of entertainment for some of the cultists. Perhaps they were just a curiosity. Or maybe there was some feeling of pity and remorse deep down in the souls of some of them? Lavinia felt bad for some, she had said. The blind one, the drow... She was such a strong person, Dumas thought. With the kindest heart he had ever known. Even here.... in this place, she still kept it...

They would speak to the drow and the blind one... trying to push and coerce, them into doing the right thing... but this dark placed had tightly bound them all... still... he could almost feel that some were not fully enthralled. He had gone through torture, both of the body and of the mind... but perhaps their torture had gone on every day.... week after week, month after month...

A man came to see him, he thought a Gundarakite... Dumas didn’t know him, but he had asked him about the place, that hidden place that smelled of fish... He wanted to know who he had told... He answered truthfully... told of the report he had written. Told the man about her. He had been thanked for his honesty, said it would go far in helping him through this... situation he found himself in. Oh god, please let it help. A dim ray of hope.... let this get them both out of here....

The hours slipped by... he hardly knew what day it was.

As time went on, she started to become more convinced that she would not live out the next day. That they would come for her. “Is there anything you want to tell me before I die?”

There’s... there’s a thousand things, Lavinia. I-I want to tell you about this quaint coffee shop I found in the Port, describe to you a hidden glen I found out in the wilds near Krofburg, I want to tell you about the best mutton pie I ever ate, I want to tell you about my home, what I want to do when we get out of this place... I want to ask you about your dreams, your hopes. So many other things... Thousands of things, Lavinia. But it would take decades to tell you everything, so I guess that means you’ll just have to life for a great long time.”

The words had made her smile softly. He did not know if he had truly convinced her, truly lit that spark of hope in her...

But he pulled her close all the same, feeling the tears against his bare shoulder. Rubbing her arm gently... he had kissed her. If only he had known her sooner.... so many things could be different. Perhaps this was their last chance... She returned the kiss, and then, a final act of defiance, of rebellion, of life. The effort perhaps nearly killed him, but the pleasure, comfort and solace it brought... it was worth it. He slept curled next to her.

The cultists could take much from them... but somethings.. somethings they could never claim.

« Last Edit: January 18, 2013, 10:02:18 PM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #36 on: January 19, 2013, 02:00:13 AM »
Life was a nightmare. The things he had seen.. both real, and in his head... they could never been undone. How could one create such horrid things? How was it even possible?

If the tortures of the body did not kill him... surely those of the mind would. Curse after curse, and that terrible, vile, tragic magical fear... all of his worry, all of his dread, all of his despair... eating away at his soul...

Visions of flesh and blood, rot and decay... He could swear.. swear he could see his mother, his father.... terrible things done to them, and somehow, they were all his fault. They were ashamed of him, ashamed! He was nothing, worthless, even a rat had more right to live...

The metal bit into his hand, his fist tightening.

The man was the very devil. His face twisted into cruel shapes, a living skull. Laughing at him, taking such amusement and joy in his work. How can they stand by? How can they watch? This creature, this monster, this.. this thing. This Warji... How can such a being exist?

The skin around his knuckles turn stark white, his fingers ridged.

In fleeting moments of sanity he wonders if this is just one prolonged dream. He would wake. Dear god, let him wake. How can such cruelty exist? Why would anyone choose this path? How can these cultists live this way? “HOW CAN THEY STAND BY AND WATCH THIS HAPPEN!”, his mind cries out.

Why, why, why why?!

Blood seeps from his fist as the fingers clench.

When he seemed to tire of physical blows and spells, he would use his words. Dark and twisted, the things he would say... dismal, revolting, god-awful things... How he had treated Cozette, how he had known her...

Questions, so many questions. He blurts out answers, anything to end the pain, anything! He hardly even knows what he says. Right answer, wrong answer? What does he want to hear? His mind can hardly process anything.

The metal is hot in his hand, fingernails digging into skin.

They said she was dead.

Sometimes he screams, but he isn’t even aware of it. He can hear his own voice, jabbering, mumbling, moaning... his thoughts slide in and out of his mind, melding together. Memories, distant ones... his childhood, the mercenary camps, the war... Agincourt, Bourges, Cravant... white fletched arrows seeking his body. The night on the beach, the boat smashing against the rocks. Coming back to the village after the battle, hoping, having been worried sick, the Baron telling him, not to go in “Dumas, she isn’t- you shouldn’t see-STOP!” ... Elise... frail and worn out, wasted away, dear god, he saw her again, so clearly. But no, no her face changed...  Elise, then Tatiana, Cozette... and finally Lavinia. He saw her, saw her face... cold and lifeless. The silvery Mists swirl. No, please god, no, make it stop!

 Answer this, answer that. He can literally feel his brain disolving. "JUST GO AWAY!"

He makes him say things, why... why? For what sick purpose? He does what he says, thinks what he wants him to think. Just do it.

The feeling of it brings him back.

Why are they keeping him alive? Why do they not give the final stroke?

Tighter, tighter, never let it go she said. Never.

Never see her, never find her. Never loved you. He says these things, with wicked laughter.

He doesn’t know. They don’t know... can’t take it away.

His muscles lock, joints snap. Never let go.

He passes out. A darkness so deep, so far away...

They were supposed to leave together...

His hand burns.
« Last Edit: January 19, 2013, 08:59:31 AM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #37 on: January 21, 2013, 02:52:18 PM »
This time it had been the worst. The entire church, more macabre than before. The shadows came alive, bloodied forms dancing in their midst. Limbs of animals, limbs of people, hanging from the rafters, his depravity knew no bounds. Thrust into the chair again, his skeletal face leering.



Dark visions threatening to overwhelm him once again. The locket bit into his hand, cutting into skin, blood welling around it. Never let it go, never.

They had said she was dead. Dear god, don’t let it be true.

A reprieve before the madness commenced. Questions. Questions with the hint of hope if answered well.... and then, that’s when he was told the truth. His hand was on fire, his soul even more. It was worth it now. He had her still.

He held onto that hope, deep within the furthest recesses of his mind. That, and the locket hidden in his hand where the only thing that kept him from falling of the edge. He would probably never had full use of that hand again, so tightly had that fist been clenched about it for the past days.

Despite that though, it still did not prepare him for what was to come. It was as if he could implant any image his sick mind could desire in Dumas’s head. Twisted visions of his parents, gruesome and malformed, they were disgusted over their son. Not a man. Pathetic excuse for one. He had let them down. The stabs of the foul blade reinforcing it. You are not Dumas. It was all a lie. Oh god, let it be true, parts of his mind would whisper to him, pleading. Let it be true and end this. Forget it all.

But always the locket in his hand, the burning metal grabbing him before the fall. Fight, fight, fight! Resist it!

There had been no worse pain in his life, nothing.... none of it could compare to this. He felt himself slipping...

Remember, she’s there.

In the blinding pain that was melting his body, his brain, that thought kept him going. Just agree. Agree to whatever he says, and it will end....

In the end, it worked. He had no idea how many hours had crawled by. But eventually, the chains came undone. Away from the room of blood and bile. Forced to wear that ridiculous dress. As if he could be humiliated now, after all of this. Bear it, just bear it. I will bear this!

If he had not been prepared, the sight of her would have destroyed it all. As it was, he still felt his heart leap into his throat. His relief was incalculable. To see her again, it was... indescribable. He loved her, there was no doubt in his soul. Hope filled his entire being. But be careful... not out of the fire yet.



Had to give her a sign, had to let her know he was still there. The devastation on her face. That was worse, worse than anything. While the foul thing played host, he managed to knock a cup from the table. She touched his hand then, and he slipped it back to her, sticky with his blood. Sign enough.

They argued for a time, trying to decide who should take him away. Lavinia was steadfast.. The blind one spoke up a well, for what reason, he didn't exactly know.  In the end, they had their way. She held up the bloody locket to him, spoke the truth to him. He would never had a heart. Never. The barb probably had no affect on him. But Dumas felt a stirring in his soul.




The journey was a blur, but they took him from that place. Thank god the witchdoctor had not come.

Once the door opened, and sunlight hit him... he collapsed to the ground, unable to hold back. He could not recall the last time he had felt the warmth of the sun, the cool breath of the wind. His hands sunk into the grass, grabbing fistfulls of it in his bloodied hands. He sobbed, unable to find the words.

The two of them brought him back. No time for this. There was still danger for them all. To the shop, buy clothing, fix the rent that Lavinia had cut through the dress, sick with rage and anger over his humiliation. It provided time for them to talk, behind the screen.

Collapsing in her arms, between sobs they spoke. She had sacrificed herself for him. Her soul was owned by the Cult now. A trade. Dear god, no, no, no! Not like this! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! The embrace, the kiss, passionate, inflamed, but god, tinged with far too much sadness and regret. Not like this...

They traveled through the dark, cloaked by invisibility. He could have ran. But then... then she would surely die. It was not a choice he could make.

Miles passed, the man trying to reinforce the sick fantasy. Stressing the words. Play the part. Her anguish threatened to overwhelm him.

They came to the bridge, over the bleak water. High on the cliffside, they were granted time for words. The cloaked man stared out over the water, not seeing any of it, a strange smile on his lips.

 Lavinia and Dumas pressed up against the cliff, heated words. Come with him, they could leave, go anywhere, she didn’t want to live through this, he had, he had known it, he could not have her suffer through it. Dementlieu, they could board a ship, sail away, go anywhere, stay away forever.

"They would hunt us both down, no matter where we hid", she had said. There isn’t an escape.

Something changed in her eyes. He understood. Was this worse than his time in that pit? He had never felt anguish like this. The anger in her. She was so strong.... could she resist their influences? She must. Lavinia gave him back the locket. He would not forget her. Swore they would see this through. One day... one day this madness would end, if there was any justice in this world, they would get through this all... She would be torn from the grasp of the Cult one day, and they would find each other. And when that happened, nothing would sunder their embrace again.


Words of his father’s people. It had been so long since he had spoken in French. “Au revoir . Au revoir, mon cheri.” Until we meet again, my love. She smiled.

They crossed the bridge, the hideous building looming out of the Mists. What unknown horrors awaited him there?

Zarcroft Asylum.


« Last Edit: January 21, 2013, 05:06:52 PM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #38 on: January 22, 2013, 11:46:32 PM »
The man was observant. He’d give him that. Apparently almost immediately, Doctor Lymbosia had seen through the ruse. Dumas had guessed that years of dealing with various mental problems had made the doctor an expert at spotting a fake. Or perhaps he knew much more than he claimed. The man had a cold intelligence that both unsettled Dumas and caused him to look at the doctor with great respect.

This place disturbed him, but after the terrors of the Nerull Cult, it seemed quite tame in a way... at least at first. Specified meal times. Designated rooms. Cells, rather. But at least they called them rooms. An actual cot. Despite the screams and cries echoing down the stone halls, he had actually managed to get several hours of solid sleep. His first in... god knew how long...

The next morning... at least he thought it was morning, he had been confronted by Lymbosia. He explained he knew about the ruse, and asked that Dumas... Mr. Rilfore, as he liked to say, explain himself. Initially quite suspicious, he eventually explained the entire story to him.... the important parts, at least. The Doctor seemed to understand... perhaps even sympathize? He said that he would have more questions to come... but for now, he must follow absolutely everything he told him... for he was the only one that could keep Dumas alive and safe... or for that matter, sane...

There were enemies at the gates. People here, after him. Wanting to kill him. How did this man know so much about him?

 "There are circumstances beyond your understanding....There are men who wish to kill you, and they are coming for you"

There was nothing for it. He had nowhere else to turn. He had to trust him. Or die.

One day survived...

He had eventually been reunited with Cozette during a breakfast that would have been pitiful to most people. But after what he had been through.... it had been ambrosia. She had seemed alright, not... not damaged in anyway that he could see yet. Except she was understandably seething. That blasted Scot was here too.... that brought grim satisfaction to Dumas. Serves the bugger right.

He spent long, lonely hours in his cell, pondering his fate. His options were few... If only he could find something to fashion a lockpick out of... a spoon perhaps? Maybe at the next meal.... or even the handle of the nightsoil bucket in his cell... if he had just a single lock pick, he could drastically increase his own hold on his fate. One lockpick..

A second day survived.... with treatment to come the next...

They were taken to the second floor. Apparently, it was where the real madness happened. The corridors were dim, barely lit. Under renovation, the Doctor had said. They had spoken at length in the man’s office... revelation after revelation. How much does he really know? He claimed to have watched Dumas for some time now.... it disturbed him, but at the same time... at the same time there was still some strange sense that this Doctor was looking out for his best interests. He revealed things about Cozette... and hinted at darker knowledge that he possessed. But most of all... most of all he promised that he had the ability to grant Dumas what he now desired so dearly...

There was only one way that Dumas could get what he wanted. And to do that, he absolutely had to do everything Lymbosia said.

He agreed. For what other choice did he have? He couldn’t pick a lock with his bare hands... he needed something...he had had no chances as of yet.... things looked too grim.




The Doctor pulled the lever.
« Last Edit: January 23, 2013, 02:04:29 AM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #39 on: January 22, 2013, 11:49:48 PM »
“We find a little of everything in our memory; it is a sort of pharmacy, a sort of chemical laboratory, in which our groping hand may come to rest now on a sedative drug, now on a dangerous poison.” - Proust, “The Captive”

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of Mercenary
« Reply #40 on: January 23, 2013, 07:40:01 PM »
In the darkness he sits and waits and wonders. There is lingering doubt, yes, but it is so small, so infinitesimal as to hardly exist. His purpose is powerful, overwhelming in comparison.

Who. Is. He.

He believes he knows.

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary
« Reply #41 on: February 16, 2013, 12:59:52 AM »
A leatherbound journal sits before him on the mahogany desk. Discarded on the floor, is a finely crafted leather bag. He moves to open the cover of the book, his bandaged hands quivering as they touch the faded redish leather. The first page bears two lines. "Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary"
He reads. His head feels numb, lacking all feeling. His vision in a haze. Who is this? Who wrote this?
 Is this... me? Who are you, who are you...
Sweat trickles down onto the pages, his jaw locked as he grips the edge of the table with his left hand. With his right, the quill is poised, ink dripping, splattering on the parchment. The point of the quill comes down, and...


Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary
« Reply #42 on: February 18, 2013, 02:25:52 AM »
[a new entry]


It... has been difficult to read all of this. At nearly each paragraph, I have to halt, digest things... calm my mind. I felt that I had become hardened to nearly all pain this past month, or however long it was. But these memories... they shriek through my head like a lance delivered from a charging knight. Knowledge, as someone recently told me... can be the most painful thing of all.

Delivered to me anonymously, this journal was... Who would have known where I had left it? Not even I remember that... But... but this feels correct. God, how I wish I had written more. It would help me understand who I am. Everything that Lymbosia tried to pound into me.... it churns about, competing with everything else. Sometimes... sometimes I would feel it would be easier just to give in... It’s so hard to separate everything. I fear... I fear I’m mixing up everything terribly.

I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say. I don’t know what to think.

How can I put down everything I experienced here? I know I should.... but I just can’t.

The Cultists, the cells, the torture by that accursed Warji... Lavinia coming to me... and then... then into a new hell... or was it?

I did this willingly, in the end. Didn’t I? It... seemed to be the only way...

But now...

Now I know that I was played again. I’ve been a bloody pawn nearly all my life. It was just another case of it. I don’t know to what ends the Doctor wanted to do this... But... it was for his ends, not mine.

Despite this... it seems that Luck had still caught hold of me, in the end. This month has been the worst I could have ever imagined... but when we embraced that mist-shrouded night in the Camp... I could have almost died right then. She was there....

I remember how the scar on my hand had burned then... like it was aflame.

And since then... Valkan, Cozette, Virgil, Lucadia... pieces come together slowly. If I didn’t have this journal, I would be scared to death that I was still being played for a fool. But.. this is my hand. I write precisely like this.. I wrote this journal... I knew these people. I can trust them....

Valkan has said to me that he will NOT use me as a pawn. I believe him. He’s the only person that has directly told me that. I am NOT going to let the man down.

That night in the theatre... I have no idea if the Doctor saw through me or not. I think I've learned to hide my emotions well. In a way, I'm thankful for these bandages, and the way my face is... makes it difficult to perform expressions...

I’ve been slowly revisiting places where profound things have happened to me... The Nymph, that park with the bard statue, the Broken Spire, the forest road where I.... attacked Cozette.

Sometimes I pass out when I revisit these places... I nearly did on the forest road. That.... that was nearly a disaster. It is a lucky thing Lavinia was with me...

God, I feel so terrible about her. She thought I was dead.... I... I probably can hardly begin to think of what may be twisting about in her head. I... I’ve been lashing out at her lately, and I absolutely hate myself for it. Some of my friends have said not to think too much of these episodes, that my mind is still healing, but by God, it tears me apart.

Lavinia and I... we have a chance of safety with Valkan and his organization. She met up with him sometime when I was under lock and key... perhaps a little before that, I’m not sure. But he can watch out for us. I still need to get back onto my feet fully. Her safety... it is... more important to me than anything. If that means that we have to put aside things for now and work as... professionals, so be it. I will do this. I will bind myself to this work, and... will see where it takes us. Eventually... things will come together.

I’ve... I’ve got to trust her. I have to, have to, have to...

Bloody keep it together, Dimitri DUMAS.


[a last line seems to have been written some time after, the ink having dried differently]

But she didn't take it back...
« Last Edit: February 18, 2013, 02:45:10 AM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary
« Reply #43 on: February 23, 2013, 10:29:59 PM »
[the writing of this entry is splotched and rough, ink smeared about as if it was written with frustrated hurry]

My god.... I could ram my head through the wall of this blasted room. I swear, three minutes more... and I wouldn't have been able to resist...

I really intended to write more... there's been much going on in the underword lately.... and above ground as well, but....

Good grief, I think I'll drink Vallaki dry tonight.

[the next line is written with rather flowing script]

Lavinia..

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary
« Reply #44 on: February 24, 2013, 11:02:00 PM »
Dumas sat quietly at table in the corner of the tavern at the Midway Haven. A warm look of contentment rested across his face as he sipped at a strong tankard of cider. Those that would know him would find such a pleasant look on his scarred face somewhat out of place... His battered journal sat before him, along with a meal of cold meats, a cheese that seemed to remind him of the Brie of his native France, and a golden apple of the late harvest. As he enjoyed his food, his quill busied itself.

Figured that I should start writing in depth again. My mind needs it. Not all of my memories have fully returned... But I can feel my head starting to come to order... for now. But in the event that something unexpected happens.. such as if one of these headaches gets unbearable and somehow... unhinges something, I’d better continue this log.

Let’s see then...

A few days past I had met with Cozette in Port-a-Lucine. It was... difficult, seeing her like that... She has given herself to some sort of foul curse, I’m not exactly sure what. Certainly one of the beauties of Dementlieu before... now she is... a mess, to say the least.... Those maggots.. and that stench! She smells like a cesspit... or an open mass-grave... To think that she would give up what had apparently mattered almost above all to her? I mean, it was more that simply looking pretty. Now, now no one in their right minds would even call her normal. Hell, she’s worse that some caliban I’ve seen... In the name of revenge... She is terribly desperate, to have come to this. I understand her anger... I know what it means to wish revenge on someone... but to go to this end? I asked her why... she had said there was no one else to turn to, that she had no true friends. I would have helped her. It didn’t need to happen like this. I spared her life twice before, helped her get back on her feet.... I considered her a friend... but apparently, I wasn’t worth the time. But still... I feel compelled to check up on her. I pity the woman, and feel some sort of camaraderie with her. What we experienced at the hands of the Cult.... And I have  to tell her that I can not accept her offer. I have too much to live for. Far too much.



I ran into Agaran in the Port. This was the second time I have seen him since I had left the Asylum. When I first ran into him on the roads, I could hardly believe it. But then again, that prophecy of his proclaimed that he was invincible until that merchant crosses him, eh? He had told me that once he had learned of my imprisonment in the Asylum, he had stormed the place, trying to free me. He had done his best to smash and strong-arm his way past the guards and orderlies.. but he was unable to reach me... I had no idea... but yes, I should have expected it. If only Agaran had known of my other friends... perhaps they all could have joined together and gotten me out sooner.... gotten me out before- [the writing trails off here]

He seems to have dealt with a great deal of chaos and battle while I was gone... he mentioned fighting between the Morninglords and the Ezrites. Apparently, he had been in the thick of it. I told him if he ever needed me, he knew he could count on my blade at his side, no matter the risk. He’s got the idea to honor me with a Rigante cloak. It’s a true privilege, and I’d wear it proudly once it is made.

We hunted a brute of a criminal beneath the streets of the Port together. It was a challenging fight, but we prevailed, in the end... I mentioned Lavinia to him. I’ll have to introduce them, when there is time. I hope she approves of him. Despite his barbarian ways; he’s one of my truest friends.

Sometime after Agaran and I parted ways, I ran into a suspicious pair in the back alleys, near one of the sewer entrances to the black market. The were cloaked in full robes, white, but splattered with mud and muck, and frayed near the bottom. The White Company, they called themselves, a pair of assassins. I could hardly tell anything about them... but there was certainly some sort of magical haze around their figures that played tricks with my eyes. A man and a woman, I believe... their accents seemed Barovian, but I could not be sure. Apparently they had been given a contract for the head of a caliban known as Micahjah. 30,000 fang. They offered me 3,000 of it if I would stalk the little fellow, and report information upon his whereabouts to them. I was told to meet them in the same street when I had news... I accepted... Almost immediately, they had vanished as a thick cloud of mist rolled in down the street. Very strange. I tried in vain to catch a glimpse of them again, but it was to no avail. Professionals, highly trained... or some sort of magic users. The funny thing is, I'm not even sure if I can find that particular alleyway again... Regardless, they are dangerous...



Upon my return to Vallaki, I had met with Valkan... or maybe I had met him before, blast it. I’m not sure. Things get out of order sometimes. That bloody machine of electricity. I swear, sometimes I can still feel it buzzing in my skull. Regardless... sometime in the past week I had met with the Fox... he had given me an assignment to test my skills. Simple enough. I believe what I had gathered will impress him. If Domenico is my competition, it certainly will. We had a meeting, the three of us... apparently he had been looking into the mess with Goldhammer, Serafim, and the Tengu. I shared what I knew... which seemed to be a great deal more than him. Blasted man. I hate the way he looks at Lavinia. I swear... he better keep it in line. Though, recently, Lavinia had told me what happened with him. Bloody fool. Servers him right. I don’t know why Valkan trusts him. He must have some useful skills... maybe.



It was amusing to see the Fox speechless for a moment, looking to me for help when I showed him the writ that detailed what I had secreted away so long ago... I hope that has brought me up even more in his esteem. I would give him full use of what I have gathered.

The pirate lass that has been plastering Vallaki with those posters of hers... I ran into her in the Outskirts, and fell into conversation. She seems to have a keen interest in the smuggling trade, and I’ll admit, I was a little eager to start up that business again. It’s a reliable source of coin. I thought she could be useful after questioning her... I had asked her about Domenico, but learned nothing. I met her on the road sometime later, and in exchange for a favor, which she was able to instantly take care of, I gave her some information. Curious that she is apparently friends with Micahjah. Anyways, she had asked why I was stalking him.... a bit of inspiration took me.... I could use this opportunity to make a bit of extra scratch. I told her of the White Company, and added some key embellishments that I knew would get back to the caliban. It worked.

The blue fellow sought me out in the Drain... tried to set snares for me, would you believe it? Took him to a safe spot, and answered his questions... once again, adding in a bit of false information in the hopes that he would act upon it... looking back, it was rather foolish. But I wasn’t exactly... in the right state of mind, as I realized later... I had one of my.... and I bloody well hate even writing this here... but I had one of my episodes... Those sharp pains shot through my head, and I felt myself slipping out of my own mind... and that other person... Dimitri, as I have taken to describing him, sink in... I fought it off, as I have always done, but I think it made me act quite idiotic. Thank god Lavinia is always there to keep me together.... just seeing her can do it.

It’s been awhile since I’ve written so much. I can feel my hand cramping. Virgil did quite a good job with my fingers, but a quill can still make my hand lock up...

I’ve got much more to put to ink, but I’ll save that for later... tonight, I think that bed upstairs beckons again.
« Last Edit: February 24, 2013, 11:07:56 PM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary
« Reply #45 on: February 26, 2013, 04:04:32 PM »
A day or so after my meeting with the little caliban, I had stopped in the Lady’s Rest for a drink and to gather my thoughts. A quiet young elf caught my attention, and I found myself in conversation with her. It was deviating to have a conversation with a stranger, good to give myself a reprieve from things. But blast it all, don’t things like to blow up in my face? Apparently our conversation had attracted the attention of the guardsman, Rica Andrei. Bloody piece of filth. He’s the one that has been lusting after Lavinia... I’ll shoot the man down in the street if I ever come across him on a dark night.

 I came across the elf again, Lilu, out in the Slums, sneaking about. She had been trying to stay low, avoid the man. She told me how he had threatened her, demanded information about me, though she had none to give. A black mark against her, earning the ire of the Garda. Not something to live down. Once you have that suspicion on your back, it’s hard to get off. I could help but feel responsible. Acting on a bit of a hunch, I had spoken to her again the next day, got a feeling for what sort of person she was... A good head on her shoulders, cautious.. and no stranger to the rough side of life... I thought to tell Lavinia and Valkan about her... once I was a bit more sure of her skill.

That night... the seeds that I had sown had sprung up against me.... While lurking about near the edge of town, that blasted Micahjah, in the company of Tess, spotted me. The little twerp took a shot at me with his crossbow! Skinned up my arm rather well... Obviously, he figured out my ploy... stupid of me anyways.... But what’s life without a little risk?

It worked out in the end though.... the little fellow has the most uncanny ability to appear when I’m feeling particularly out of sorts. He did so later... and we had another long discussion... He was willing to give me another chance. Suppose the truthful information I gave him outweighed that which was false. All in all... he’s more intelligent than he looks. Lavinia and I took him to the place he wished to know the location of... it’s up to him to decide what to do next. In return... it seems that the little sneaking informat will stop feeding any information about her to the Garda. You know... I’m beginning to like the fellow. He’s... well, his situation reminds me of what I’ve gone through... I think he struck a chord with Lavinia as well. I hope things work out alright for him and his lass.

[in slightly smaller font is a section that seems like it was written quite slowly]

I had... a... I don’t know, a nightmare while I was awake at the end of that street... I saw.... heard... that demon again... dear god, I hope he truly is dead...

[the normal style of Dumas’s writing continues]

And then... we left for the Midway Haven. I had never known a lovelier day. After that meeting.... despite the brief pain in my head, things seemed to be looking up. It was a delight to just walk in the countryside with her. Just the two of us...

To hell with it all, one one will ever find this journal. And if they do, good luck to them trying to decipher this mess of French, English, and Common.

A night of bliss, far, far too long since the last. I am in love with this woman, completely, honestly, entirely. And to have her return every feeling just the same? I can confide anything to her. There is a bond between us, something that this cursed land can not ever splinter. We went through hell and back in that foul Church of Nerull, and later, with the Asylum. And whatever hell she went through alone while I was there. We survived that, we can survive anything.

She said that she would if I asked her. And I will. When things are safe enough, we will. She said they would make a legacy together, even if they could not spawn one.

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary
« Reply #46 on: February 28, 2013, 03:21:30 AM »
Well now, the Port never proves to be dull...

Nearly as soon as we arrived, things started to happen. Firstly, we discovered that that girl, the elf... had come to the city as well. We suspect she had followed us. Lilu. She’s a careful sort, but all the same, I still spotted her. Lavinia and I had a quiet discussion about her, and then latter, we spoke to the Fox about it. He seems a little interested. Mostly for her level-headedness. A trait that is all too important. Suppose we’ll seek her out soon, if she didn’t decide to leave the city.

Then, there was Micahjah. Apparently another that decided that things had gotten a little too hot in Barovia. Very resourceful fellow, to find his way here... An interesting chat with him. He is so desperate to be happy... so desperate to keep his lass, Mini, safe. You know, it’d be amusing if it wasn’t so ill-fated. When Barovians get the idea that caliban are having thoughts above their station... they either send them to the gallows, or stone them to death. I hope it doesn’t happen to him. He seems... a good sort. He may look beastly... but there is a kindness in his heart. A... a good man... if foolish. I will do what I can to assist him, but I can’t promise him anything. It’s hard to make too many promises in this world. But I will talk to the others about what he has asked for...



In between these events, I’ve been able to spend much time with Lavinia, but always in secret, when we are absolutely certain that no one can see or hear us... it is still painful to hide things, but.... every moment with her is a bliss that can not be stolen. I’ve an idea to buy her the grandest necklace... something truly magnificent. Silly, isn’t it? The line of work that we live for... you’re not supposed to carry around that sort of personal wealth with you... but still... I want to buy something like that for her...



I wonder.. I wonder if there is a cleric or priest we can speak to... someone trustworthy... who can keep things quiet?

A storm came in last night... working itself into a raging fury as we slept. By the morning, it had blown itself out. With the new day, I went out into the city... I’ve noticed that after a heavy rain, folk often come out of their holes... much like animals scurrying about looking for insects to eat that have been driven from the ground. All the nobles strutting about, trying to be seen and noticed on the streets... a good cover. Crowds are easy to slip into and through. Makes my jobs easier. I spent the day seeking out information to gather.. and when night came... I went to meet a contact at the Manor Retreat. I don’t know how I managed it... but I opened the door to the wrong room.... and.... stumbled upon a curious site...

Cozette and Rica.

The smug fool was so confident. I knew he was depraved... but evidently he’s deranged too. Aye, a silver bullet to the head. I don’t care how cursed you think you are, but that is going to end your life.... you are no... Valdon...

[an angry splatter of ink is smeared here]

All the same... something stayed my hand. My words with that rat.... Oh... “King-Rat”... as I “should” be calling him... well... I’m not quite sure... Part of me was so eager to blow him away, yet... then there was Cozette. She may be a Queen of Filth now.... but... I can still remember how she was before... the scared girl I spoke to in that alleyway behind the hospice after I had been forced to slay her... She’s obviously in the depths of madness. I know how it is to struggle against such a thing.... I know how close I came to falling. Warji and Lymbosia...Those devils brought me to the brink. But I had someone to cling to... Cozette, on the other hand... when she made whatever deal it was that cursed her... she thought she was alone in the world. No one to turn to, no one that cared about her. No one to hope for a better world with... And as such... I believe this curse that she accepted was able to warp her mind... who knows how unstable she would become if I killed him there in front of her.

Despite my misgivings and distaste for King Rat... I’m not sure if he is actually a threat to us. He said he wished Lavinia and I all the best. Wished for her happiness. Said he could smell her scent on me. The braggart. I made it bloody clear to him that if he ever touched a single hair on Lavinia’s head that I would shoot him down in an instant. “You are thinking I would go after your woman, Domn? Nu. I have my own”, he had said, Cozette sitting on his lap.. those maggots crawling across her face and onto his as she kissed him.

What a twisted pair.

Suppose perhaps he does care for Cozette... I don’t know. Maybe there is no need to worry. You know.. perhaps even some of our goals align right now.... he has fled Vallaki, as have we. He isn’t happy with the Garda... nor are we. He is hunted.... well... so are we. The similarities end there, but.... they are still similarities. Situational similarities.. but maybe they will offer some common ground... We don’t harm them.. they don’t harm us... It sounds crazy.... but is it? Can you have a rapport with filth?

He seemed unwilling to regard me as an enemy. Saw no reason to cause me harm. I see several reasons to cause “him” harm. What do you do with rats? You kill them.

I swear this.... if I catch him lurking around Lavinia, ever, I will not hesitate.

But for now... perhaps we can use this willingness to talk to our advantage. Rats are cowardly. Rats are hungry. Rats can be tricked. There’s an opportunity here, and we shouldn’t waste it. I’m not ready to raise my blade yet... but nor am I quite ready to ease my hand off the hilt... I will speak to Fox and Lavinia as soon as I can.

Why does every little thing try to get in the way of our happiness?

I won’t let it. I won’t. To have her happy, to see her smile... it means the world to me. It’s all I want.
« Last Edit: February 28, 2013, 08:05:29 AM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary
« Reply #47 on: March 04, 2013, 12:03:43 PM »
You know, I had really become enchanted with this place. Quaint, provincial. They make a lovely cider here, and have some of the most wonderful orchards I’ve seen.

And then that nest of rats moves in a soils it all.

Always something, isn’t there? A plague thricely upon all their heads, all I wanted was a little respite. I’ll deal with it. There’s always a way to turn something distasteful into an opportunity. To place the rats in a trap... or to train them, like twisted creatures in a backwater circus. Both paths are open to me. Tread that line well, Dumas Rilfore... you’ve done work like this before. I bloody better not screw it up.

You know, I wonder if that little ploy that Lavinia talked about to Valkan that one night would work... Once in a lifetime jobs, eh, Fox? Well.. here’s that once in a lifetime opportunity.

There's a pair in Port that have gained my attention. The one, that rude Barovian wench. Always acts like a snot to Lav and I. Obviously one of the streets. Lavinia found out she has connections to Rica. Figures. I feel an eye should be kept on her.... and then, there is her companion, Constance. Dementlieuse. This one, I don't exactly dislike... she has manners at least. We ran into them on beach early one morning. She showed us a little toy, I guess. But hell, what a bang! Later... she saw me in the city, said we must talk about our... vermin problem. She seems to have a level head, not one to say things out loud and risk trouble. I'll seek her out soon, see exactly what she's up to...



We had taken a brief trip back... things to see, contacts to press... you can’t leave it all entirely behind. Lavinia and I learned something shocking in the Drain from that dark elf. Can it be true? Dear god, I hope not. If so, we are soon to be hunted... the top of their list. We must find out more. The dark elf Ryl'tar and his... follower, that wild woman elf... We discussed it, and they would be a very good source.. we need contacts here, desperately. And they are both resourceful. Already does Ryl'tar have good advice for me. We need to build trust, and then, perhaps we can find out exactly what he knows about the Cult...



I’ll admit this, the thought of it terrifies me. Not for my own sake.. but for hers. I’ve endured such a slew of tortures, I don’t think there’s much more pain that could really affect me. But her... god no, I can’t have anything harm a hair on her head. We can’t go through all of that again... that living hell, for both of us. Strike hard, strike fast, and strike without hesitation.

There seems to be relatively few folk working the streets in Vallaki now. It seems the fist of the Garda has tightened about the city. This is... uncomfortable in a few ways, but in others, it actually is a blessing. In these few days we are here, it has already allowed me to operate without competition. It’s funny how often that those that wander the shadows often bump accidently into each other.

I had overheard an interesting conversation in the church in the Slums. Ezrites and Morninglordians speaking together, aligning? Curiouser and curiouser... I took careful notes. Will have to share these with the gang once we return to the Port. On my way out, a sudden thought also took me... the Grey Mage, who I had originally given all of my findings to about the Cult... perhaps she would be one that would know of any survivors... Long ago had I discovered their base of operations. As luck would have it... I managed to sneak in. Rather do that than be so obviously awaiting entrance. Empty though. No sign of any one. Well... I’ll come again, this time leave a note. There needs to be a meeting.

I had spotted Lavinia in the Outskirts, heading west with a company of Ezrites. That man, she said she was going to meet... Ovidiu, was with them. Inquisitor... that title... now that had dark connotations back before the Mists... you did not cross an inquisitor of the church... those brutes would string you up.... and worse. I would guess they are the same here. There was an armored woman accompanying them, and an armoured man. One in green, the other black. And then our little friend who just can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. Blast it all, Micahjah, you can’t blabber on the way you do... Leads to bloody trouble! They were heading west along the Old Svalich road... I stalked them for a time, but for fear of discovery, I had to drop it. There could be only one place they were going out that way though...

If Lavinia doesn’t return soon... I  know exactly where to go. I’ve never liked any of the churches here. Never trusted them. But they are.. necessary.

Please be safe, my love.
« Last Edit: March 04, 2013, 12:34:40 PM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary
« Reply #48 on: March 12, 2013, 01:27:22 PM »
Looking upon her face that evening.... I realized, this is exactly where I want to be... at her side. To see that smile light up her face, her eyes gazing back at me with the same adoration and love that I feel for her...

It’s made it all worth it. From the wars back in France, all the way up to those dark and lonely nights in the Asylum.... and everything in between. It’s all been worth it. Even a single moment with her would make it all worth it.

We vowed ourselves to each other that evening. A stronger vow I could not possibly imagine. One made of pure love, and I will let no one tell me otherwise. Perhaps we mock god.... or the gods, or whatever it is that rules over us by not having a cleric preside over us.... But really, why do we need that? Before the Mists, that was how weddings were held amongst the other mercenaries and soldiers... you find your woman, you like each other, and claim her. Maybe a little gathering of your mates and some applause and revelry afterwards, but that’s all we needed then... and that’s all we need now.



I wish there would have been some wellwishers there... Agaran, for certain... And I think perhaps Virgil. But with the way this world is... I don't even know where they are right now... Finn, and Xarnata and Firi.. I wish you all were still alive to be celebrating with us now... As it was, our only guests were a pair of horses. Suppose that's good enough? Our love is enough.

It was delightful to have that little getaway at the Governor’s after... a room with a private tub even! And a curtained bed! At least those nobles certainly know how to provide... Ah, if only we could linger there for weeks...



But the world still turns despite us... and there’s always work to be done.

It’s freelance work for the time... everything is chaotic in that sense. Things are fractured. I hire myself out here, there... letting my blade earn my keep. But there’s got to be something better. We need stable work... consistent. We sought out employment a few days past.... but we’ll have to await word. I’m looking forward to the chance.

There’s been a lot of new faces in the Port as of late. Strangers. But obviously people of note. Adventurers, thieves, knaves, mages... all sorts. Who knows what they bring? I’ve been keeping an eye out... Though some older hands are as well. Blast them. It would seem that there are those that are seeking to smear our name... Lavinia and I... This’ll need to be handled. Too many are too quick to judge at first glance. How can you live like that? Careful evaluation, always....

I was glad to see that Micahjah is alive. I had been hearing terrible rumors. I had searched for him myself, after seeing him vanish into the depths of that old keep. Later, I also asked some of my contacts to listen for any word of him... but in the end, it seems like something smiled on the fellow. Good for him. There’s too few left in this world like him... I promised him my help, if ever he needed it. There’s some people in this world that deserve a favor without anything in return...

There is, come to think of it, another possibility of work coming up. I ran into Tess and that almost unnaturally attractive woman Aurore in the sewers yesterday. Or what was left of them. Seems one of the local gang leaders didn’t exactly appreciate them trying to take his head. I found them both, lifeless and pale, sinking down into the muck. They were bloody lucky that I happened to have some of those blessed orbs of Mist with me... I’ve no idea how they work.... but they are a godsend. I brought them both back, and gave them what aid I could. Seems as if they work well together, despite their... mutual accident. Anyways, Tess had mentioned that she was still looking for a crew... promised a fair share of wages, a fair split of any plunder. And not to call me a scallywag. You know... it could be interesting work... I know my way around firearms.... hell, I probably know a great deal more than any she could come across. I did get to know those cannon old Finn and I smuggled rather well....

I came across an old friend tonight in the Quartier Publique... Zosia! By god, I thought she had left these lands... heard absolutely nothing from her... one of the old crew. I was greatly pleased to see her... if only our conversation of reunion could have been lighter.... nearly everything I had to tell her was dark and horrid. I wish it wasn't so. I told her where I was staying, so hopefully she won't be a stranger.

I feel so dearly for Lavinia... the other night, we had spoken to Mamere, at her shop in the Slums. Cozette trusts her very much... she was the one who.... put her into her current state. She said she could help me with Lymbosia, but I have yet to decide if that is the right thing to do... I’m more inclined to think it is something to handle on my own. But.... there may be something that the old woman can do for Lavinia... She had a request... something that I know is very important to her. And thus it is very important for myself..



We talked for a great while in a quiet tavern... I heard things she had been keeping inside for a long time now... things she may have not wanted to tell me. She’s been through so much.... I’ve never known a woman to endure more. She does not deserve what fate has dealt to her... So we are going to fix things, as much as we can... I will be at her side through all of this. I would be at no other place.



Alas, it is always a fatal shortage of funds that dictates how we go about things.. I shall have to see if I can get a bit of extra coin to help move this along... Looks like it’s time for another jaunt into the lovely Port-a-Lucine sewers, eh?

Blast it all, I’m better than this...
« Last Edit: March 12, 2013, 03:12:42 PM by Dumas »

Dumas

  • Dark Power
  • ******
  • Posts: 1237
Re: Dumas Rilfore - The Tale of a Mercenary
« Reply #49 on: March 12, 2013, 09:38:28 PM »
[a rather short, cryptic entry]

Most often... the dog that barks the loudest... has the yellowest of tails...
« Last Edit: March 12, 2013, 10:43:54 PM by Dumas »