|
Post by The Storyteller on Feb 13, 2015 1:14:54 GMT
The Voice is strangely silent, but Alastor can still feel it. Eventually, it begins to murmur and whisper like a child, not even bothering with his mother's voice. I thought I did everything right. I gave you power and I was promised freedom. I let you be me if I could be you. So why are we here again, Alastor Drakenhoff? You promised freedom. You promised...
The Voice is silent again, but as long as the Iron King can move his metal body, he knows he is still an Undying.
Eventually, a plate in what may or may not be a door slides open. "Hello? Is it someone new?"
The voice is jovial and high-pitched, with a distinct accent indicative of the upper echelons of the Old Empire. Alastor has not heard such a voice in a millennium, aside from the few Undying he has encountered.
|
|
|
Post by The Iron King on Feb 14, 2015 23:06:19 GMT
"I suppose it is." he replied, academic curiosity at the Imperial outweighing the alarm caused by his passenger's panic. "Though I think any further conversation would best proceed without a door between us."
|
|
|
Post by The Storyteller on Feb 15, 2015 1:00:46 GMT
"I'm sure, but we still need our little tests. Can't have the hedge rubes slipping in. My stars, imagine Morgenstern or Drakenhoff getting their hands on one of those rings. Still, let's keep it short. What's your name, your true name? Also..." And then he asks a rather complicated question that only a well-read enchanter would know the answer to.
The Iron King INT: 30
Alastor knows the answer to the second question. It's not a subject he's ever really explored in detail, but his theoretical knowledge is solid. As for the second, he obviously can't use 'Alastor Drakenhoff.'
|
|
|
Post by The Iron King on Feb 15, 2015 7:21:41 GMT
The Iron King clenched his fists at the slight against his name, hard enough for nails to draw blood from flesh...had he still possessed nails or blood or flesh. To be called a simple hedge wizard was insult enough, but to be lumped in with a madman was unforgivable. "No, we couldn't have that." he replied, irony not lost on him.
He answered the second question to the best of his ability, before replying "Hiram Starkweather" to the first. As he had the man's ring, he felt confident enough in the gambit, as well as grateful his current philosophical path allowed for lying.
|
|
|
Post by The Storyteller on Feb 15, 2015 12:06:46 GMT
The Iron King CHA: 32 ? INT: 26 "That's... what? What in the Aether...?" The door slid open in a way Alastor had never seen before, with a strange whirring noise. His jailer was revealed to be a short, white-haired man wearing a dinner suit that would be a thousand years old, if it wasn't clearly in such fine quality. He was middle-aged with a light potbelly, and only stood up to the Iron King's chest. He was far better groomed than he should be. "Hiram Starkweather... My goodness! You're supposed to be dead! Not supposed to, I mean, that's terrible, but they said you were lost in the Aether!" The little man stepped close to Alastor, without any fear. "Yes... of course. No need for air in a golem body. Obvious in retrospect." He studies the Iron King's form with intense scientific curiosity. The Voice had returned, great relief quickly being replaced by strong annoyance. Cassandra Drakenhoff declared, What a rude little creature. Such high airs for such low manner.The Iron King INT: 29 Despite their fine clothing and obvious familiarity with old world magic, this man is obviously not an Undying. Their passengers would have already reacted to eachother by now.
|
|
|
Post by The Iron King on Feb 15, 2015 23:41:07 GMT
"A comfort that even without civilization we can still manage to be civilized." he replied, with an appreciative glance to towards the little man's finery. He briefly considered wringing his neck, but that would serve little purpose at this juncture. He tried to glance passed into the newly opened door, deciding that he would say as few words as possible. More than necessary may reveal the ruse and would allow the stranger a chance to fill the silence. "My body was a necessary sacrifice for the sake of science. An elementary solution to a complex problem, one I'm sure even a hedge rube could have come up with. This form serves well enough."
|
|
|
Post by The Storyteller on Feb 16, 2015 22:50:07 GMT
"Yes, of course. Lord Bonaventure will be most pleased. He was going to toast you first tonight, but now he'll need a new martyr, eh?" He laughed pleasantly, then immediately paled. "Oh dear Heavens, you don't know what's happened. After the expedition never returned, we thought... well, we thought were prepared for the fae and renewed hostilities but..."
The old man leaned agaimst the wall and covered his mouth, unable to describe something so far away yet so near to him. "We were wrong. It was just like Marius all over again, only the devils didn't stop there, they just kept coming and coming. We needed allies, so we opened the Bridge without you and..."
There was a long silence before he recovered his dignity. "My apologies. My name is Dorian Sejanus. You might not remember, but I had you for 'Principles of Binding'. Your lecture on the virtues and ethics of shackling wild spirits is what inspired my own work with tsting and refining new holding chambers, like this one. Before I took your class, I was going to study enchantment. My mother thought I should be the next Karl Morgenstern, but I'm glad you showed me the crassness of such a goal."
How is he still speaking? Noone talks this much in Our presennce. Noone.
The Iron King INT: 21
There is something quite wrong with the other wizard, but it's not immediately obvious what. It could be mere loneliness, it could be trauma from the events of the war. He could also just be insane.
|
|
|
Post by The Iron King on Feb 23, 2015 4:33:51 GMT
The Iron King froze momentarily at the name Bonaventure, recognizing Starkweather's co-author of "The Undying Dream." This would prove to be a wrinkle in his deception. Thankfully, there were some benefits to an emotionless metal face, not that the little man would have noticed his disgrace gibbering away as he was. He pieced together enough of what the man was saying to deduce that this odd gathering was made up of members of the College of Outer Mysteries, though why they turned their nose up at his actual identity was unknown. He had enjoyed an amicable relationship with the capital during his rule and was well-respected by the emperor himself. It had been a member of the College, Madame Luberia, that had aided him in achieving his current state. How this man was still alive without a passenger and where they were also puzzled him, but such concerns could be theorized on in a less perilous situation.
"Well I do hope dear Augustus will not be too disappointed." he said lightly. "Touching as I'm sure his tribute would have been."
He briefly empathized with the little man as he briefly described the last moments in the Great War, still remembering after all this time the desperation and terror of the elvish onslaught.
"That is in the past now, Dorian." he replied, as if that excused the horrors the College had foolishly unleashed. "We must concentrate on the future now, on humanity's future."
|
|
|
Post by The Storyteller on Feb 23, 2015 6:33:10 GMT
Dorian began leading 'Starkweather' into the hallway, though hallway was a poor description. Outside the cell were perhaps a hundred more, lined along the wall as far the eye could see on either side. Alastor could barely see the ceiling of what must have been a prison, with walkways and stairs leading to each chamber. A select few glowed, almost certainly informing its warden(s?) of new guests or prey.
"Yes... indeed... and I apologize for the chamber, it's designed to catch spirits traveling between here and the mortal plane. It was our solution to sieving any other wild spirits trying to enter via the Bridge. Lord Bonaventure and the others had attempted designing something similar, but for all their power, they needed a craftsman who still retained his technique from before the Long Storm. Only after they found me in necrostasis did the construction truly begin. The first cells had to be teleported here from the old College across the Bridge, but over the past thirty years, we've made tremendous progress. I like to call it the 'Crucible.' Before it existed, there was no way to hold an Undying or wild spirit."
The Iron King INT: 39
Alastor recognizes a familiar presence as they pass one of the lightly lit chambers. The Voice articulates, Your little concubine has found her way into a spot of trouble. I can feel her companion whimpering like a beaten puppy. Pathetic.
|
|
|
Post by The Iron King on Feb 23, 2015 18:09:17 GMT
"Impressive." he remarked, with genuine academic curiosity as he examined the holding cells, nonchalantly attempting to get a look into the one that had caught his passenger's interest. "And the cages are impregnable? I can only imagine the chaos of having an angry spirit or Undying accidentally set loose."
|
|
|
Post by The Storyteller on Feb 23, 2015 20:01:28 GMT
The Iron King INT: 44
Alastor recognizes Luveria in her latest body, a young drow woman's petite form. She looks the peephole, giving him an exasperated look that said, 'Why are you still talking to him?' She holds up her ring finger, with the Iron King now understanding why the ring had fit him perfectly. It was meant for him.
Dorian rambled on.
"Yes, well... you're the first accidental lich. The rest were placed in captivity by Bonaventure. I'm not even allowed to open their cells without an Undying present. Apparently, your technique was published and taught to several unauthorized recipients. Foreign dignitaries, lesser colleges, some of the rabble. I opted for necrostasis. Living with those things in your head for unlimited power seemed a little too... profane."
|
|
|
Post by The Iron King on Feb 23, 2015 20:19:40 GMT
"It is fortunate that one is present then." he replied, motioning towards the cell. "Open this one. Unless I missed something in my absence, Luveria is one of our own, is she not?"
|
|
|
Post by The Storyteller on Feb 23, 2015 23:22:17 GMT
The Iron King CHA: 25
Dorian hesitated. "Lord Starkweather, while I respect your work and we are all indebted for how it has helped preserve the Greater Empire, you must understand, a lot has changed in the past millenium. Professor Luveria's detainment is an affair best explained by Lord Bonaventure after-"
"The doors aren't locked from your side, so just fry the little turd and get me out of here." Luveria had grown impatient.
Dorian paled.
|
|
|
Post by The Iron King on Feb 24, 2015 0:24:21 GMT
"A thousand years and you still have yet to learn patience, my dear." he remarked, raising a hand to bind Dorian's feet and arms, not to mention silence his prattling tongue. If he was valuable enough to put in necrostasis, he may still be of some use. When the little man was secured and silenced, the Iron King opened the cell door.
|
|
|
Post by The Storyteller on Feb 26, 2015 3:46:20 GMT
The Iron King STR: 12 Dorian Sejanus STR: 8 Dorian stepped forward, grabbing the Iron King's arm in an old man's last bid for survival. It seemed so pathetic and sad a maneuver, until Alastor felt a humming sensation like numbness (but not quite) running through his body. Dorian was undoing the enchantment binding the Iron King to his passenger. Alastor felt lighter, almost thinner, and filled with a distinct cold that marked him slipping into what must be death. Dorian though, while a great magus, had no experience with the Undying condition. He was just slow and sloppy enough with his incantations for Alastor to overcome him with his still superior body. After that first push, it was only the barest flicker of intent to levitate the shriveled human away from him. The door opened to reveal Luveria Sebastian in a body much firmer and agile than anything she had in her first life. She was born only twenty years after Alastor, and grew up a working class girl in Haven, before passing her exams and being offered a scholarship to the Imperial capital of Arcadium. Unlike Morgenstern, whose fame grew with every landmark, Sebastian was content to leave her genius in the classroom. Even after joining the College of Outer Mysteries, she regularly returned to her homeland, visiting her family and old friends. She never married, though she reportedly bore children who did not survive past the cradle, spawning many a cruel rumor. Dorian looked so pathetic wiggling in the air, Luveria could barely manage a sneer. "You had me worried for a moment, Your Majesty."
|
|