thomas.berubeg
Wandering the World
Is Os-Gabella a sympathetic character, who views the world as corrupt and fallen, and so wants to destroy it to bring back a better world?
Or is she simply evil and twisted?
I, personally, view her as sympathetic.
Spoiler :
The ambient brightness of a summer's night can be beautiful and enjoyable.
It can also be a huge bother. She turned over once again, facing the wall and
closing her eyes as she waited for sleep to take hold.
She never could get the trick of sleeping in a bright room down. Some of her sisters
- mostly the soldiers, though she talks to few of them - can sleep even during the day,
catching what rest there is to find between battles, but for her, it's impossible. Even
during the winter, she has a hard time falling asleep, but without darkness, it is near impossible.
From behind, a soft chittering, the almost-snoring of her sister and closest friend who is soundly
asleep - as always - adds its weight to the elements conspiring to keep her awake.
Minutes pass.
With a final sigh of resignation, she leaves her bed - taking care not to make too much noise, though
not really worried about waking her roommate from what might best be described as hibernation -
she pulls on a robe and leaves their room, heading down the silent stone hallways towards the kitchen.
No other sisters stalk the quiet building - she knows some will be in the guard room, near the entrance,
and yet others patrolling the outer walls, but here, near the sleeping quarters, all is quiet.
The kitchen. Quiet as well - the cooks will be getting up in only a few hours, to prepare breakfast, but right
now, not a soul in sight. A bit of searching manages to turn up a piece of bread, some cheese, and a mug of
water (wine is reserved for visiting foreign ladies, under most circumstances, and she never really understood
why some of her elder sisters choose to drink that vile mead). Pulling out a chair in the dining hall (there is a
*grand* dining hall in the palace, as well, but that is only used a few times a year when everyone eats together)
she starts to break off chunks of bread, eating with an unexpected appetite for her small body.
About halfway through her meal, the door opens behind her, and footsteps announce the arrival of a fellow
sister of sleeplessness. A kind of greeting - muffled by a mouthful of bread, which is soon devoured - before
turning around and seeing... no one? Sounds from the kitchen beyond solves that mystery - obviously, someone
else also found themselves looking for something to eat at this time of night. Reaching for her cup, she finds it
empty, and so goes to join her unknown companion in the kitchen for a refill.
Through a doorway, and in between the long rows of benches, storage cabinets, large furnace-like ovens and
other various implements used to feet a palace-full of girls, she stops. And stares. Twitches as if to turn
and run, then stops dead once again, eyes wide open.
The Mother, Os-Gabella, Undisputed Queen of the Sheaim Nation, Scourge of Heathens, the Dark Goddess,
and probably several dozen other titles given by enemies and allies alike, in a plain black dress, rummaging
through a cupboard before, with a satisfied nod, pulling out an onion and a loaf of bread.
She turns, long back hair framing that pale, ageless face all her daughters know and love - and speaks.
"Oh? My daughter... Linn, is it? How is the night treating you?"
No response. Mother, who most only ever meet in person during their introduction as newborn, and
during the ceremony when they reach fifteen years of age... speaking to her? Rummaging through
the kitchen in the middle of the night? Linn stares, mouth slowly opening, then shutting again.
Like a fish, she herself thinks, unable to speak.
With a flick of her wrist, Os-Gabella sends the onion flying. Years of training take over, and Linn reaches out
and grabs it deftly out of the air. Her Mother turns back to the cabinet and withdraws another onion for herself,
then turns back, an unreadable look - as usual - on her face.
"Ah--- It--- Um, all is well, Mother. I am merely having trouble sleeping, with the night being this bright."
The ancient queen nods, and picks up a bottle of wine she apparently placed next to her, before heading past
Linn towards the dining room.
"Please, come, sit with me."
"Ah, Yes, of course, Mother."
They make their way back - Mother is suprisingly short, Linn thinks as she follows - she might be taller herself, and
there are many among her sisters who are taller yet. Os-Gabella takes a seat opposite where Linn has left her
unfinished bread, and gestures for her daughter to sit, before pouring wine for them both.
Linn, still in shock, sits straight and stiff. Unsure of where to rest her gaze, it flickers back and forth, but is mostly
concentrated on the regal woman before her.
"Try to relax. I am not so frightening, am I?" Her voice is soft, kind, much different from the powerful and decisive Mother
of official speeches. And there is sadness. So much sadness...
"Oh--, no, not at all." She tries to relax, and reaches some form of compromise between that and wide-eyed disbelief.
Os-Gabella finishes peeling her onion with a small knife produced from somewhere, before cutting a small piece
and eating it - gracefully, with no sound whatsoever. Somewhat calmed down, Linn continues eating, and tastes
the wine - it is good, if a bit unusual. Her mother speaks again.
"Linn. You are one of my agents in this city, are you not?"
"Yes, Mother."
Os-Gabella nods slightly as she continues.
"There is no need to be so formal - this is not an audience, or anything. How are things, down in the streets?"
The situation might be unusual, but this, she can do. Reports are part of her daily routine, after all.
"Things are mostly calm. The riots from two years ago are almost forgotten, and we keep a tight leash on
almost all the groups that might cause trouble again. There is still the occasional disturbance, and we know
several of our neighbouring nations have unturned spies in the city, but those are the only major problems."
Another nod from her Mother. "Good... that is as good as can be expected. How about you, daughter?
How are things with you?"
Slightly more hesitation, but she feels a bit braver (could the wine be getting to her already? No, the cup is almost full)
and answers quickly. "It is well, there are no problems."
A slight, sad, smile - the first she has seen from her Mother, so far - and a nod. A short pause.
Linn finishes her bread, and is starting to work on the onion.
"I just now finished another ritual. A complete failure, but things are progressing, if ever so slowly.
Tell me, Linn. What do you think of the world?"
Squirming slightly as those sad eyes come to rest on her, Linn hesitantly opens her mouth.
"The world, Mother? I... I don't know.
I love you, and my sisters. I like this palace, and even the city.
But the world? I don't know."
"The world... is old.
It is still a place of beauty, and of pleasure.
There are still things to discover, places to go, people to meet, and to love.
But it is... old. I have lived for a long time, my daughter.
I have lived for a very long time. I have raised children, and seen them prosper,
grow old, and die. I have seen fire, and I have seen ice. Light, shadow.
Good, and evil. The wonders of nature, and the wonders of man.
I, too, am old, and this world is older than even I.
My time has come, and my time has passed.
My child, I wish to die. And with that wish, I saw something else, something...
no other had seen before me. This world and I, we are similar.
The time of this world, too, has passed. This world, too, wishes to die.
They say I am selfish, and evil. But it is not merely for myself I wish an end upon this world.
I want to grant this world's wish. I wish to give it the gift all others withhold, and in doing
so, grant myself the one thing I wish for, these days.
Sometimes, I waver. Sometimes, I look at my children - look at you - and I think,
"These girls, who I would live for, could do the same for this world.".
Then, I look outwards. I see man, and orc, elf and dwarf, all crawling across
the face of the world like locusts. Then, I know again what must be done.
For the sake of this world, I must die with it.
That damned bunch of bones, who call themselves a mage - he, if anyone, serves
to remind me why this world must die. If this world was still young enough, alive
enough, still wishing to live, it would not allow such as he to walk its surface...
He a skulking shadow, a miserable pile of secrets, representing the ugliness of man,
which heralds the end of this world...
I would spare you if I could, my daughter - you have not yet lived to become
too old - for you, there is still life to be lived. But this world, it is not a place for such.
So I cannot. For the sake of this world, and my own, I cannot...
I am sorry, my daughter. To have you listen to the babbling of an old woman.
Please, speak not of this night, to your sisters, lest they falter in their steps,
knowing the madness of their mother."
A smooth pale hand reaches out - flawless, as if carved by the hand of a master
sculptor - and touches the cheek of a young woman.
"Go now, daughter. You - and each one of your sisters - are ever too beautiful for what I
have you do, in mind as in spirit."
Linn leaves, and returns to her room. Perhaps she is able to sleep, now.
In the dining room, for a few minutes, an old woman drinks alone.
Tomorrow, she has a war to start, more of her daughters to send to unmarked graves
in foreign lands. But it must be done.
It can also be a huge bother. She turned over once again, facing the wall and
closing her eyes as she waited for sleep to take hold.
She never could get the trick of sleeping in a bright room down. Some of her sisters
- mostly the soldiers, though she talks to few of them - can sleep even during the day,
catching what rest there is to find between battles, but for her, it's impossible. Even
during the winter, she has a hard time falling asleep, but without darkness, it is near impossible.
From behind, a soft chittering, the almost-snoring of her sister and closest friend who is soundly
asleep - as always - adds its weight to the elements conspiring to keep her awake.
Minutes pass.
With a final sigh of resignation, she leaves her bed - taking care not to make too much noise, though
not really worried about waking her roommate from what might best be described as hibernation -
she pulls on a robe and leaves their room, heading down the silent stone hallways towards the kitchen.
No other sisters stalk the quiet building - she knows some will be in the guard room, near the entrance,
and yet others patrolling the outer walls, but here, near the sleeping quarters, all is quiet.
The kitchen. Quiet as well - the cooks will be getting up in only a few hours, to prepare breakfast, but right
now, not a soul in sight. A bit of searching manages to turn up a piece of bread, some cheese, and a mug of
water (wine is reserved for visiting foreign ladies, under most circumstances, and she never really understood
why some of her elder sisters choose to drink that vile mead). Pulling out a chair in the dining hall (there is a
*grand* dining hall in the palace, as well, but that is only used a few times a year when everyone eats together)
she starts to break off chunks of bread, eating with an unexpected appetite for her small body.
About halfway through her meal, the door opens behind her, and footsteps announce the arrival of a fellow
sister of sleeplessness. A kind of greeting - muffled by a mouthful of bread, which is soon devoured - before
turning around and seeing... no one? Sounds from the kitchen beyond solves that mystery - obviously, someone
else also found themselves looking for something to eat at this time of night. Reaching for her cup, she finds it
empty, and so goes to join her unknown companion in the kitchen for a refill.
Through a doorway, and in between the long rows of benches, storage cabinets, large furnace-like ovens and
other various implements used to feet a palace-full of girls, she stops. And stares. Twitches as if to turn
and run, then stops dead once again, eyes wide open.
The Mother, Os-Gabella, Undisputed Queen of the Sheaim Nation, Scourge of Heathens, the Dark Goddess,
and probably several dozen other titles given by enemies and allies alike, in a plain black dress, rummaging
through a cupboard before, with a satisfied nod, pulling out an onion and a loaf of bread.
She turns, long back hair framing that pale, ageless face all her daughters know and love - and speaks.
"Oh? My daughter... Linn, is it? How is the night treating you?"
No response. Mother, who most only ever meet in person during their introduction as newborn, and
during the ceremony when they reach fifteen years of age... speaking to her? Rummaging through
the kitchen in the middle of the night? Linn stares, mouth slowly opening, then shutting again.
Like a fish, she herself thinks, unable to speak.
With a flick of her wrist, Os-Gabella sends the onion flying. Years of training take over, and Linn reaches out
and grabs it deftly out of the air. Her Mother turns back to the cabinet and withdraws another onion for herself,
then turns back, an unreadable look - as usual - on her face.
"Ah--- It--- Um, all is well, Mother. I am merely having trouble sleeping, with the night being this bright."
The ancient queen nods, and picks up a bottle of wine she apparently placed next to her, before heading past
Linn towards the dining room.
"Please, come, sit with me."
"Ah, Yes, of course, Mother."
They make their way back - Mother is suprisingly short, Linn thinks as she follows - she might be taller herself, and
there are many among her sisters who are taller yet. Os-Gabella takes a seat opposite where Linn has left her
unfinished bread, and gestures for her daughter to sit, before pouring wine for them both.
Linn, still in shock, sits straight and stiff. Unsure of where to rest her gaze, it flickers back and forth, but is mostly
concentrated on the regal woman before her.
"Try to relax. I am not so frightening, am I?" Her voice is soft, kind, much different from the powerful and decisive Mother
of official speeches. And there is sadness. So much sadness...
"Oh--, no, not at all." She tries to relax, and reaches some form of compromise between that and wide-eyed disbelief.
Os-Gabella finishes peeling her onion with a small knife produced from somewhere, before cutting a small piece
and eating it - gracefully, with no sound whatsoever. Somewhat calmed down, Linn continues eating, and tastes
the wine - it is good, if a bit unusual. Her mother speaks again.
"Linn. You are one of my agents in this city, are you not?"
"Yes, Mother."
Os-Gabella nods slightly as she continues.
"There is no need to be so formal - this is not an audience, or anything. How are things, down in the streets?"
The situation might be unusual, but this, she can do. Reports are part of her daily routine, after all.
"Things are mostly calm. The riots from two years ago are almost forgotten, and we keep a tight leash on
almost all the groups that might cause trouble again. There is still the occasional disturbance, and we know
several of our neighbouring nations have unturned spies in the city, but those are the only major problems."
Another nod from her Mother. "Good... that is as good as can be expected. How about you, daughter?
How are things with you?"
Slightly more hesitation, but she feels a bit braver (could the wine be getting to her already? No, the cup is almost full)
and answers quickly. "It is well, there are no problems."
A slight, sad, smile - the first she has seen from her Mother, so far - and a nod. A short pause.
Linn finishes her bread, and is starting to work on the onion.
"I just now finished another ritual. A complete failure, but things are progressing, if ever so slowly.
Tell me, Linn. What do you think of the world?"
Squirming slightly as those sad eyes come to rest on her, Linn hesitantly opens her mouth.
"The world, Mother? I... I don't know.
I love you, and my sisters. I like this palace, and even the city.
But the world? I don't know."
"The world... is old.
It is still a place of beauty, and of pleasure.
There are still things to discover, places to go, people to meet, and to love.
But it is... old. I have lived for a long time, my daughter.
I have lived for a very long time. I have raised children, and seen them prosper,
grow old, and die. I have seen fire, and I have seen ice. Light, shadow.
Good, and evil. The wonders of nature, and the wonders of man.
I, too, am old, and this world is older than even I.
My time has come, and my time has passed.
My child, I wish to die. And with that wish, I saw something else, something...
no other had seen before me. This world and I, we are similar.
The time of this world, too, has passed. This world, too, wishes to die.
They say I am selfish, and evil. But it is not merely for myself I wish an end upon this world.
I want to grant this world's wish. I wish to give it the gift all others withhold, and in doing
so, grant myself the one thing I wish for, these days.
Sometimes, I waver. Sometimes, I look at my children - look at you - and I think,
"These girls, who I would live for, could do the same for this world.".
Then, I look outwards. I see man, and orc, elf and dwarf, all crawling across
the face of the world like locusts. Then, I know again what must be done.
For the sake of this world, I must die with it.
That damned bunch of bones, who call themselves a mage - he, if anyone, serves
to remind me why this world must die. If this world was still young enough, alive
enough, still wishing to live, it would not allow such as he to walk its surface...
He a skulking shadow, a miserable pile of secrets, representing the ugliness of man,
which heralds the end of this world...
I would spare you if I could, my daughter - you have not yet lived to become
too old - for you, there is still life to be lived. But this world, it is not a place for such.
So I cannot. For the sake of this world, and my own, I cannot...
I am sorry, my daughter. To have you listen to the babbling of an old woman.
Please, speak not of this night, to your sisters, lest they falter in their steps,
knowing the madness of their mother."
A smooth pale hand reaches out - flawless, as if carved by the hand of a master
sculptor - and touches the cheek of a young woman.
"Go now, daughter. You - and each one of your sisters - are ever too beautiful for what I
have you do, in mind as in spirit."
Linn leaves, and returns to her room. Perhaps she is able to sleep, now.
In the dining room, for a few minutes, an old woman drinks alone.
Tomorrow, she has a war to start, more of her daughters to send to unmarked graves
in foreign lands. But it must be done.
Or is she simply evil and twisted?
Spoiler :
Screams echoed through Galveholm. There was no way to predict their frequency, often days or weeks would pass between hearing them. But when they did occur it was impossible to deny the tortured anguish in them. Even the most hardened would whisper a quiet prayer for the victim, and many in the city were reduced to tears.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gaulos had a way with women, he prided himself on it. There were few things he couldn't get through guile or smile. Perhaps they wouldn't agree to his most intimate desires, but they would join him alone in a dark cellar, and that was all the cooperation he required.
He found young girls the most vulnerable. In naively agreeing to his meetings, being unable to resist his forced advances once alone, and the most satisfying to his desires. Even so young they were still women and suseptible to his charms.
But he was too eager, a village ripe with beautiful young girls nearly stopped his heart when his caravan rolled into it. They chased each other outside a small temple and cared for delicate dolls. After three went missing the village was on the verge of hysteria, the caravan was torn apart and he was accused of the murders. They had no evidence, but that isn't required in such situations so Gaulos headed somewhere they wouldn't follow, into the Sheaim lands.
Now he stood in a pack of lowest dregs of humanity outside of the Sheaim gates. Immigrants had to display some skill before they were allowed into the city, and since the gatekeeper was male, Gaulos didn't have anything to show. They had already begun to pull some aside to tend to the pyre's, and no one returned from that.
On his third day at the gate a stir rose from inside the city. The guards, to that point cruel and inattentive, went suddenly alert and the gatekeeper ordered everyone away from the gate. Bestial men that had been pissing and horsehockyting off the wall and onto the huddled immigrants below became paragons of duty.
Gaulos and the mass of lesser men waited quietly. Nothing scared the Sheaim, and many began to pull back further from the gate. Then they saw the source of the fear coming, a black carriage pulled by horses with burning hooves and wild, bestial eyes. As they got closer they could see that the horses had sharp wolf like teeth, those accustomed to tearing flesh, and they looked at the assembled men like beasts viewing their next meal.
A mobius witch drove the carriage. Her form twisted and bent back in on itself as if she was a leather skin stretched tight over a rough stone, as if she wasn't able to fully enter this world. But inside the carriage was a more amazing site. Annasophia, Queen of Storms, sat and showed little interest in the outside. Despite the carriages solid construction the windows were open and their were no signs of any precautions taken to protect its passenger.
The carriage stopped at the gate where Annasophia passed a few quiet questions to the gatekeeper before preparing to head into the city. Knowing that it may be his last chance to use his only gift Gaulos stepped up onto the road behind the carriage.
My Queen, please allow me entrance to your magnificant city.
She eyed him dispassionatly. The gatekeeper looked horrified and shocked by Gaulos's behavior. If Annasophia's neck would have stretched out and allowed her to bite off Gaulos's head no one at the gate would have been surprised. But since he was now committed Gaulos continued on.
The legend of your beauty brought me to these lands, across barren wastes and dangerous roads. But now I see that those who spoke of you were lying, for you are twice as beautiful as they described.
Again there was nothing but stunned silence. Then finally Annasophia replied, Get in.
Stunned, no one knew what to do. Annasophia kicked open the carriage door and that jolted the gatekeeper into action. He held the door while Gaulos climbed in.
The carriage rolled through Galveholm while nobles and peasants scrambled out of the way. They looked at Annasophia and Gaulos with fear and wonder. This was a life Gaulos could get used to.
He took his eyes off the street and saw she was regarding him. He met her gaze, dipping his head enough to let his boyish bangs obscure the eyes women always complimented him for. He looked back up and smiled, but her expression didn't change.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable Gaulos asked, Where are we going?
To meet your father.
The tattered edges of the mobius witches robes reached through the window of the carriage and brushed up against Gaulos's neck. The touch made him shiver even in the oppressive heat of the day. Gaulos's father was a dockworker in the Lanun city of Bolans, he hadn't talked to him in years, and he couldn't imagine a less likely destination for the carriage.
The Sheaim palace was ahead and the gates were raised as the carriage approached. They stopped in a courtyard where a band of Revelers argued. Annasophia stepped out of the carriage without pretense. Gaulos followed, more from fear of being left alone with the odd monsters then from desire to stay with her. As they entered the palace he could hear slaves being dragged over and fed to the dark horses.
Inside a minotaur opened a great vault door. Behind the door stairs led deep beneath the palace. Gaulos briefly considered not going but a glance from the minotaur sent him scrambling down the stairs behind Annasophia.
The palace construction gave way to natural caverns. The stairs were replaced by a rough stone floor that had worn spots where Annasophia stepped without thinking. Jewels in her armor radiated a pale light and provided the only illumination in the passage. Gaulos struggled to stay within the radius of her light.
The passage ended at a small chamber with a stone arch in the center. Annasophia stepped up to the arch and traced runes in the air before it. Then she stepped into the arch and the chamber went dark.
Gaulos scrambled forward. He had a vague memory of those girls he seduced into joining him in dark cellars, at that point where his eyesight was better in the dark than theirs and he could sit back and watch them fumble in the darkness. He imagined that all the girls he hurt and killed were watching him, enjoying those last few moments before they killed him. The memory made him panic and he slammed against the stone arch and fell through the archway.
Sudden brightness blinded him. Torches hung on the walls and in the center of the room a man hung over a pit bound by bright silver chains. The man was gaunt and looked strained beyond exhaustion, but he was uninjured. Annasophia walked over to the man,withdrew a crystal from her armor and held it over the pit.
Gaulos picked himself up and walked over behind her. The chained man looked up in surprise and yelled.
Run child, run!
Gaulos froze, the man's words had power but when Gaulos looked back at the arch there was only darkness and the imagined ghosts of his victims beyond it. There was no other place to run. Instead Gaulos spoke to Annasophia.
That's not my father.
Annasophia smirked, Of course it is, the first father. Pelor, my husband. she said the last part with clear disdain. We are here to find a way to kill him.
With that black flames burst up out of the pit.
These fires are said to be able to burn the ethereal, they are from the deepest hell. I wonder what effect it will have on immortal flesh.
Annasophia raised her hand and Pelor was dropped into the pit. His screams echoed through the chamber and up into Galveholm above. Gaulos turned to run, his fear of ghosts replaced by the torment in front of him. But Annasophia was faster. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the pit.
I need to know the effect on mortal flesh as well.
Gaulos reached within the folds of his shirt, for the knife he always kept there. With one smooth movement he thrust it up into Annasophia's throat.
Annasophia laughed, If you could kill me we wouldn't need these damn tests!
Gaulos withdrew the knife to stab again only to notice that the wound healed as soon as the knife was removed. Then Annasophia shoved him down into the pit with the screaming Pelor. The flames quickly rushed up his legs and onto his chest and head. His screams joined Pelor's.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gaulos had a way with women, he prided himself on it. There were few things he couldn't get through guile or smile. Perhaps they wouldn't agree to his most intimate desires, but they would join him alone in a dark cellar, and that was all the cooperation he required.
He found young girls the most vulnerable. In naively agreeing to his meetings, being unable to resist his forced advances once alone, and the most satisfying to his desires. Even so young they were still women and suseptible to his charms.
But he was too eager, a village ripe with beautiful young girls nearly stopped his heart when his caravan rolled into it. They chased each other outside a small temple and cared for delicate dolls. After three went missing the village was on the verge of hysteria, the caravan was torn apart and he was accused of the murders. They had no evidence, but that isn't required in such situations so Gaulos headed somewhere they wouldn't follow, into the Sheaim lands.
Now he stood in a pack of lowest dregs of humanity outside of the Sheaim gates. Immigrants had to display some skill before they were allowed into the city, and since the gatekeeper was male, Gaulos didn't have anything to show. They had already begun to pull some aside to tend to the pyre's, and no one returned from that.
On his third day at the gate a stir rose from inside the city. The guards, to that point cruel and inattentive, went suddenly alert and the gatekeeper ordered everyone away from the gate. Bestial men that had been pissing and horsehockyting off the wall and onto the huddled immigrants below became paragons of duty.
Gaulos and the mass of lesser men waited quietly. Nothing scared the Sheaim, and many began to pull back further from the gate. Then they saw the source of the fear coming, a black carriage pulled by horses with burning hooves and wild, bestial eyes. As they got closer they could see that the horses had sharp wolf like teeth, those accustomed to tearing flesh, and they looked at the assembled men like beasts viewing their next meal.
A mobius witch drove the carriage. Her form twisted and bent back in on itself as if she was a leather skin stretched tight over a rough stone, as if she wasn't able to fully enter this world. But inside the carriage was a more amazing site. Annasophia, Queen of Storms, sat and showed little interest in the outside. Despite the carriages solid construction the windows were open and their were no signs of any precautions taken to protect its passenger.
The carriage stopped at the gate where Annasophia passed a few quiet questions to the gatekeeper before preparing to head into the city. Knowing that it may be his last chance to use his only gift Gaulos stepped up onto the road behind the carriage.
My Queen, please allow me entrance to your magnificant city.
She eyed him dispassionatly. The gatekeeper looked horrified and shocked by Gaulos's behavior. If Annasophia's neck would have stretched out and allowed her to bite off Gaulos's head no one at the gate would have been surprised. But since he was now committed Gaulos continued on.
The legend of your beauty brought me to these lands, across barren wastes and dangerous roads. But now I see that those who spoke of you were lying, for you are twice as beautiful as they described.
Again there was nothing but stunned silence. Then finally Annasophia replied, Get in.
Stunned, no one knew what to do. Annasophia kicked open the carriage door and that jolted the gatekeeper into action. He held the door while Gaulos climbed in.
The carriage rolled through Galveholm while nobles and peasants scrambled out of the way. They looked at Annasophia and Gaulos with fear and wonder. This was a life Gaulos could get used to.
He took his eyes off the street and saw she was regarding him. He met her gaze, dipping his head enough to let his boyish bangs obscure the eyes women always complimented him for. He looked back up and smiled, but her expression didn't change.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable Gaulos asked, Where are we going?
To meet your father.
The tattered edges of the mobius witches robes reached through the window of the carriage and brushed up against Gaulos's neck. The touch made him shiver even in the oppressive heat of the day. Gaulos's father was a dockworker in the Lanun city of Bolans, he hadn't talked to him in years, and he couldn't imagine a less likely destination for the carriage.
The Sheaim palace was ahead and the gates were raised as the carriage approached. They stopped in a courtyard where a band of Revelers argued. Annasophia stepped out of the carriage without pretense. Gaulos followed, more from fear of being left alone with the odd monsters then from desire to stay with her. As they entered the palace he could hear slaves being dragged over and fed to the dark horses.
Inside a minotaur opened a great vault door. Behind the door stairs led deep beneath the palace. Gaulos briefly considered not going but a glance from the minotaur sent him scrambling down the stairs behind Annasophia.
The palace construction gave way to natural caverns. The stairs were replaced by a rough stone floor that had worn spots where Annasophia stepped without thinking. Jewels in her armor radiated a pale light and provided the only illumination in the passage. Gaulos struggled to stay within the radius of her light.
The passage ended at a small chamber with a stone arch in the center. Annasophia stepped up to the arch and traced runes in the air before it. Then she stepped into the arch and the chamber went dark.
Gaulos scrambled forward. He had a vague memory of those girls he seduced into joining him in dark cellars, at that point where his eyesight was better in the dark than theirs and he could sit back and watch them fumble in the darkness. He imagined that all the girls he hurt and killed were watching him, enjoying those last few moments before they killed him. The memory made him panic and he slammed against the stone arch and fell through the archway.
Sudden brightness blinded him. Torches hung on the walls and in the center of the room a man hung over a pit bound by bright silver chains. The man was gaunt and looked strained beyond exhaustion, but he was uninjured. Annasophia walked over to the man,withdrew a crystal from her armor and held it over the pit.
Gaulos picked himself up and walked over behind her. The chained man looked up in surprise and yelled.
Run child, run!
Gaulos froze, the man's words had power but when Gaulos looked back at the arch there was only darkness and the imagined ghosts of his victims beyond it. There was no other place to run. Instead Gaulos spoke to Annasophia.
That's not my father.
Annasophia smirked, Of course it is, the first father. Pelor, my husband. she said the last part with clear disdain. We are here to find a way to kill him.
With that black flames burst up out of the pit.
These fires are said to be able to burn the ethereal, they are from the deepest hell. I wonder what effect it will have on immortal flesh.
Annasophia raised her hand and Pelor was dropped into the pit. His screams echoed through the chamber and up into Galveholm above. Gaulos turned to run, his fear of ghosts replaced by the torment in front of him. But Annasophia was faster. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the pit.
I need to know the effect on mortal flesh as well.
Gaulos reached within the folds of his shirt, for the knife he always kept there. With one smooth movement he thrust it up into Annasophia's throat.
Annasophia laughed, If you could kill me we wouldn't need these damn tests!
Gaulos withdrew the knife to stab again only to notice that the wound healed as soon as the knife was removed. Then Annasophia shoved him down into the pit with the screaming Pelor. The flames quickly rushed up his legs and onto his chest and head. His screams joined Pelor's.
I, personally, view her as sympathetic.
