Cynthia - Interlude.

Virgil's book glowed the dark red that he'd come to despise. This woman in charge, Cynthia had come in and thrown her weight around, changing this and that, his lovely green flames now this vile crimson colour.

He stared at the cover, not wanting to open it. His reluctance came from a fear of what he might become if he was stripped of his powers. What if this new Neifion took from him the one thing that had turned his life to good?

Could he go back to being, Just Virgil?

Additionally, he hated that fucking red glow.

He stuffed the journal back into his satchel and sealed it away, before settling down for the night.
The campfire crackling lightly as Mikarro and Lirra took watch.

He tipped his hat over his face and settled back into his bedroll, sleep coming easily despite after the events of the last few days.

The dreams came again. A dream that was becoming more and more common. It was a welcomed dream.
Bodies writhing, sensations heightened. A distortion of light and reality.
His focus cleared, expecting to see the face of a the woman he longed for. To his surprise it was a face that took him a moment to recognise.
Cynthia!

"Do I have your attention now?" She cooed, a smirk on her face.

Virgil flung her from atop him and the scene shifted quickly and seamlessly, to a scenario of his sanctuary and the familiar crackle of the fireplace near the round table set with a deck of cards, two chairs aside it. Cynthia sat, feet upon the table a cigarillo between fingers. It's smoke permeated the room with a rich wooden tobacco scent.
She wore a short sleeved vest of shiny black material, buttoned across her chest save the top two, leaving nothing of her figure to the imagination. Her legs clad in a similar black material and long boots worn over them that were embossed with a tangle of thorns.
Her long brown hair fell across her shoulder onto her bare arms. the flickering light of the fire catching in the sheen from it.

"You don't call, you don't write." She said, taking the Cigarillo between her lips and drawing back the smoke, its red tip flaring.
"What is a girl meant to think?" she asked after a long exhale. The smoke wafting in his direction. Her voice carrying a overacted tone of incredulity.

Virgil noted the still reddish tinge of the firelight. The tint she had inflicted upon his sanctuary as part of showing off her new dominion over him and the others. 

She'd killed and clawed her way to a point where she'd amassed enough power to overthrow a greater denizen of the fey and usurp it's power for her own. 

Thankfully, he was clothed again, making this dream a little more bareable. He moved closer to the table and Cynthia's leg shifted, nudging the pushed-in chair back, allowing him to sit across from her. He did so, one hand reflexively falling to the deck of cards. He felt their weight, their shape, before beginning to shuffle the deck, not taking his eyes from hers.

"I was just doing what you asked," he began. "Keeping out of your way, doing my own thing."

He dealt two out each and placed four down in the centre between them, face down.

"I guess there's no point in actually playing, huh?" he asked. Taking a quick peek down at his cards before returning his eyes to the woman opposite her.
She kept her eyes on him taking a slow glance down at her cards before looking back to Virgil.
No twitches, no tells.

"Oh no," she replied keeping her eyes steeled on his. "This is your dream. I'm just visiting. And I wouldn't dare cheat."
Virgil left his cards where they were leaning in and dropping any pretence of playing the hand.

"You know what I'm working on right now, don't you?" He said. "You know what's at stake?"

Cynthia nodded as he spoke, taking in his words before she too leaned in, mimicking his movements.

"I didn't at first," she answered, "I was busy trying to overthrow an archaic and corrupt institution, so I was a little preoccupied."

Virgil scoff was cut short as she continued, raising her index finger as if to silence him.

"But! A short time after taking control, I took stock of what each Shade was dealing with and I've got to admit, You've got your work cut out for you."  she paused a moment to take a deep draw of her cigarillo before offering it to her reluctant charge. "I didn't expect someone in my order would be at the tip of the spear in an offensive to thwart The Cult of The Dragon."

Virgil reached out with a calm hand, taking the cigarillo from her before placing it between his own lips and drawing in the tobacco.

"You can keep that," She remarked, smoke coming out of her nose and mouth as a lithe hand reached into her jacket hanging from the she was seated on. A brief rummage later, Cynthia placed a small silver box on the table, producing another cigarillo from within.

"Alright," Virgil says exhaling sharply, "You've got my attention. What do you want?"

"I want to offer you, My dear Virgil, My full assistance." She states before adding quickly, "And assurance that I am not here to hinder your task."

"Good, you can start by changing the fucking fire in here and the colour of Thorne back to green." He says bluntly, allowing an heir of frustration within his voice to show.

"Done!" She says chuckling, waving her hand. as the familiar greenish tinge returned to the room. "That was not the first request that I was expecting," She admitted, still smiling that charming, perfect smile that Virgil couldn't deny was alluring.  He could taste something on his lips, left on the cigarillo that Cynthia had passed to him. Cinnamon?

"That's it." Virgil stated,  before his face became stern, "oh, and don't strip me of my powers. People are depending on me now. It's not just about me any more." It was then that Cynthia saw it for a moment, a crack in his perfectly unshakeable visage. His face had the intimidating coolness that he so often wore, but his eyes.
His eyes were pleading.

Cynthia kept her demeanour in check, not wanting to show that she'd seen Virgil's tell.
"Virgil," she began, her tone warm and assuring, "You and your predecessor are what I am looking to cultivate within our order." She kept her smile sincere, "You need not fear me, so long as you keep doing this good work."

He nodded, relieved to hear the words he needed to believe were true.
"Well in that case, would you mind letting me get back to sleep?" He asked, a wry smirk forming on his face. "Big day of 'hero stuff' tomorrow."

Cynthia let out a loud "Ha!" Before standing and drawing her jacket from the chair and swinging it across her shoulders.  "I interrupted quite the sweaty dream," She cooed again in that same tone he heard earlier in the night. "You had no intention of any restful sleep."

Virgil dropped his gaze and stood also, left without words to say.
Cynthia moved from the table towards the exit. "You should really make that dream a reality, she's cute, and so very strong." She added, stopping inches from Virgil's face. He could smell the cinnamon on her breath as she stood dangerously close.
"Unless you want to make ours a reality." She said, her seductive presence brought to bare. Virgil pointed  down the hall, keep his eyes on hers.

"Door's that way. Let yourself out."

Cynthia shrugged and nodded before walking past him down the hall.
"Well, if you ever change your mind, you know how to find me." She stopped at the door and opened it, looking back over her shoulder.
"There's perks to be had for bedding the boss."

"In your dreams, perhaps." Virgil retorted. "Not mine."

The Bargain.

Cool winds caressed the fields of wheat causing them to dance and rustle. It created a soothing, whispered cadence that swept over him. He felt the goosebumps form on his exposed forearms. The sensation heightened more by the radiance of the sun warming the exposed areas as the breeze subsided.

Behind him stood a modest cottage, perfectly built atop a gentle rising hillock that overlooked the region.
Grassy plains encircled the entire area out for miles. Its verdant surface marked by wild fruit trees and berry bushes. Small game could be seen grazing in the distance. Beyond that, a dark pine forest extended, providing lumber for repairs and firewood. Further beyond the forest extended a mountain range. He did not know what laid beyond that range of peaks that encircled this valley. He did not care to know.
A strong stream flowed into a well sized lake bed that was lined with smooth rocks. Upon it's opposite shore, the stream continued its flow outward and back into the forest. The stream provided cool water for his family to drink and bathe and the lake housed schools of fish that made succulent meals.

In the distance he heard the whinny of a great black horse. This was Giant, his friend and travelling companion. The massive steed frolicked in the distance with a buck, darting this way and that. Gone were the days of struggle. His friend now only knew a life of simple joys.


Within the cottage came the sound of plucked harp strings. These initial notes gathered his attention up and stole it from the serene vista that surrounded him.
Slowly at first the music formed then it transformed into a magic of its own. His beloved wife was the music's master and it obeyed her subtle direction.

He went to the open window and rested his muscled forearms upon the sill, leaning in and watching as his wife swept her supple hands along the instrument, basking in her beauty and skill.

This moment felt as if it lasted an eternity. He was lost in this place, this paradise.

"Father."

The sky darkened instantly and silence stole everything else. He turned to see his daughter, his beautiful girl with her slight elven features being flanked by two others. A male, well dressed in a dark  velvet coat and breeches, polished boots with lace sleeves and cravat.
He knew this one. The name came back to him the memory of it sparking emotions he had not felt for the longest time.
The woman, wore a dark blue gown, form fitting then flowing beyond the hips. Her hair was a silvery blonde. It was plaited and neatly framing her face. It showed age and experience around the eyes. Wise and calculated. She was familiar, but he felt if he had not seen her in an age.

"Why-" the words formed slowly on his lips. It took effort to form them as he had not spoken for so long, "Why are you here?"

"My friend. My loyal, loyal friend." The ornately dressed one he had addressed began, "A new bargain has been struck that requires you to return to my service once more."

Service? What service? What does he mean? He fell back into his mind, frantically searching its corridors for the meaning behind these words. As he tried to make sense of it the world around him began to shake and shift. Storm clouds formed as swirled above his perfect cabin. Eyes clenched he raced through the corridors of his mind, trying to make sense of what was happening.

A soothing hand slipped into his. The touch of his beloved slowed the maelstrom in his head.
He opened his eyes, locking the intruders into his gaze. He felt the instinctive fear and rage within him that kept him from looking away from these two.

His daughters hand clasped his as he was now linked to his family.

"Leave your fear here, Husband," came the soothing words of his wife, "No matter where they take you, we will be with you."
He slowly turned towards his wife to find her gone, though his hand still gripped something, cold and hard, not warm and supple. His gazed dropped to see a slender ornate sword now where his wife's hand had been. It's weight sparked a lost familiarity.
"E-Elandra." He stammered as his mind reeled, old thoughts and memories began to fight their way back to the surface of his consciousness.

"Goodbye, dad." Came the voice of his daughter. The child now gone and a shorter, yet similar styled blade remained in her place.

"Ral- Ralthiea!" He shouted, the name of his daughter ending in a primal scream at the two before him now. The wind swirled anew,  surrounding them in a howling vortex. It's destructive force tearing apart everything around him, leaving only the two intruders. His wife. His child, torn from him. A bargain struck. A debt repaid. A life spent exacting vengeance in the name of a trickster god. The price to be paid for the promise of their souls protected. He paid his price and earned his reward. Now it was to be taken from him again!

Blinding rage gave way to a focused intensity as the recollection of those standing before him.
The man, the god, Assuran, now smiled at him with that knowing smirk.
The woman, The manipulator. The Conniver. She had caused this.

"Anveena." he spat through gritted teeth as his eyes locked onto her image. She would pay a different price for this transgression.

"Seek her out!" Assuran shouted through the maelstrom. "Return to Waterdeep and serve her!" The words bore a weight of command that he couldn't deny for long.  He dug his heels in and lowered his stance, ferocious memories of combat and slaughter returning one after the other in rapid succession.

He gritted his teeth glaring at the two with an unbridled hatred. Assuran flicked a hand towards him in a dismissive gesture and he was flung away, hurtling through the maelstrom into the darkness as howling filled his ears.


"Quickly now!" Helenrae shouted to the guards rushing about, "Fetch my Husband and get these students clear!" She barked over the shaking of the room "Instructors to remain only!" She cursed her luck that Master Caradoon was not present at this time. She could use the Lich and his powers right now.

The mistress of this school stood in the Hall of Warriors, ancient and fabled weapons fell from their racks, shaken by an unseen force. Unseen by all but Helenrae.
Her 'sight' could make out the gatherings of planar energies swirling and converging in front of her.

 Helenrae now stood before the growing power. The hall empty save the instructors. They formed a loose perimeter of the room. Sensing the culmination of the energies Helenrae leaped back. The hall resonated with a cracking boom as the event horizon of a portal opened, sending forth a rushing wind that the blind monk barely kept her feet under her. The wind suddenly ceased as the portal closed with a sharp crack as a man now crouched , His clothing tattered and torn revealing a scared, muscular physique. Two gleaming swords in front at the ready. Helenrae's senses became dulled after the sudden booming sound, she fought to regain control, only to feel the caloused hand of her husband grip her shoulder as he strode past her, putting himself between his wife and this unannounced guest.

Armed assailants surrounded him.  His hearing was dulled but his vision was clear and he could see swords drawn and pointed at his direction. A figure approached slowly, tall, muscular. It stepped closer than the rest, dangerously close. He spotted the long blade discreetly held behind its back.
Instinct took over and he leaped towards his aggressor, swords flashing.


Sheth walked forward, slowly and carefully, hand outstretched and sword poised behind him. "Keep the the students away from here," he instructed as he approached a man who he had once called brother.  A man who he had seen die.  "Do not approach. I have seen this look in his eyes before." The tone was calm but commanding.  Helenrae stood at the entrance to the hall, ushering the other warriors away. with a raised hand. The calmness of her demeanour did well to mask sense of dread that was welling within her as the father of her children edged ever closer to one of the greatest swordsman she had ever known.


An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as the speed and ferocity of the attack that was angled at her husband got the better of her. She regained her composure as her husbands blade flashed in kind, meeting the weapons that could take his life.
Steel rang against steel over and over again. as Sheth stood his ground, parrying two swords with one at impossible speeds. Helenrae recognised the stance, and what it could mean for her husbands attacker.
This was the Circle of Death. A technique passed down from father to son. An impenetrable wall of steel designed to expose and exploit. Sheth, did this now as he had done many times before. Swords clashed so quickly that it began to resonate as one long chime, neither finding their mark. Now she understood what her husband was doing.
She knew that if this man who now fought Sheth was who he appeared to be, that this encounter may be the only way to stop this senseless assault.


His swords dipped and slashed, stabbed and spun, but every opening he believed he was creating was quickly shut by an impossibly quick parry and riposte. The countless slain he was responsible for rushed back to his mind, recalling tactics and stances as he fought. He improvised and alternated his attacks so quickly but his steel never found it's mark.
As the blows rang out in rapid succession other memories began to surface, recollections of faces and exploits long since accomplished. Of feats so grand and heroic. The man before him was not his enemy.
"Sh-Sheth!" He cried out, between the flurry of slashes he unleashed, the momentum of the memories returning matched only by the speed of the now involuntary blows. "Help me!"


Sheth now saw the recognition returning to his old friends eyes. He parried more attacks before he took an opportune moment to break the circle and step away from the ragged swordsman who stumbled to his knees before him, swords clanging to the marble floor. Sheth dropped his own sword and dropped to catch the man as he began to slump to the floor in his powerful arms.

"I have you, Raan." Sheth said quietly between laboured breaths.
"You are safe, my friend."