Shadowydreamer’s Scribbles
A Place where a Dreamer throws up stories.
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A Meeting with the Overlord
Meena slipped into the court with a Ratonga. She wasn’t quite sure one of the rat people had ever been allowed in Lucan’s court before, but be damned if she was travelling through a room of backstabbers without her meat shield. A few years ago she would have laughed herself silly if someone would have told her she would consider a rat half her size with axes protection, these days she knew how fast one of those rats could move. Besides, Ceekra’s eyesight was better than her’s.
The court, guards and courtiers alike, were mostly human. Lucan only kept the beautiful people around himself and that meant humans and dark elves out of his available citizenry. Oh, there were a few traitorious elves of the light in the city of Freeport, but no one with a healthy sense of paranoia really trusted THEM to any degree and Lucan was supposedly one of the most paranoid of paranoids to have ever existed. Meena wasn’t sure she agreed with that rumour, she’d met the self-declared queen of Neriak.
She made her way through the throng in court gear and ignored the lusty glances of the unrefined humans. Really, like she had the time of day for one of the short lived, barbarious round ears. They were hairy and smelled foul. She’d sooner stroke up to one of the walking cats at least they had a proper appreciation for how one should hunt and play. There were mutters and glares at Ceekra, but Meena ignored them and Ceekra seemed oblivious as she craned her head around like a ten year old child at a fair. Meena tried not to sigh, at least her partner was dressed for the part in the nice shiny armour her cricket cookie eating friend had made for her.
She walked past the empty throne she’d never heard of the Overlord using and into his office. The large desk was piled with scrolls and papers and looked ignored. The Overlord of the city was pacing back and forth in front of the wall-window. His dark elf, necromancer, lover was no where to be seen. Meena was glad, she couldn’t understand how anyone, especially a necromancer who was familiar with the energies of death, could cozy up to a walking corpse. No matter how powerful, intelligent, or ambitious the walking corpse was, it was still a walking corpse. She bowed carefully, letting the Overlord get a good look at her spider silk covered cleavage. Ceekra gave a surprisingly graceful cursty for a being with a tail in full plate armour.
He studied the pair for a beat of Meena’s heart before seeming to accept Ceekra’s presence. “There is tell of an allaince between frogs and Trolls. Investigate.” He picked up a scroll and tossed it to her. Ceekra grabbed it out of the air and handed it to Meena. The warrior was more likely to survive a trapped scroll for all that Meena was more likely to sense it. The dark elf unscrolled it to find notes written in several different hands and a crude map. She was too young to be familiar with land that the new map had been drawn over, but she could only assume it was pre-cataclysm.
Personally, Meena thought the only thing Trolls would do with Frogloks was cook them over an open fire. “I live to serve,” Meena answered. It happened to be the truth as long as she didn’t have to identify what she served.
“A gnomish ship will be leaving from the main docks north of the city tomorrow at dawn. I suggest you be on them.” The Overlord turned back to his view, obviously dismissing the two females.
Meena managed not to roll her eyes. He couldn’t have sent this with the messenger instead of hauling them all the way out here? She bowed again and swept out of the room back into the gossiping court. She gave the scroll to Ceekra to tuck away as her own court gear didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for storage of things beyond garotts and razor thin daggers. Ceekra didn’t even glance at the scroll before putting it in the belly pouch she kept under her breastplate. Meena wasn’t convinced Ceekra could read very well anyway.
She ignored the people who tried to get her attention and was as happy to leave the smokey court as quickly as she had entered. Really, why did anyone think any with power would hang around on the skirts? You entered, you did your business, you left and went on with your life. Trying to scrape together the scraps was just the work of the weak.
She lost her stride when she saw the dark elf who was leaning against the archway across from the entrance to the Overlord’s tower. Eyes narrowing she crossed the courtyard, noting in the back of her brain the brat who tried to whine about his father was absent and silent for the first time since his father had been arrested all those years ago. Begging for money and opportunity the little snot tricked many an adventurer into their own deaths. “Darus.” Meena said when she reached conversation distance, “Do tell me what you’re doing here.”
Her current lover smiled, “Why my dear, you rushed off to court so quickly I was worried that something had befallen our city.”
What could befall Neriak that hadn’t befallen it a hundred thousand times before over the centuries? Really, you think the man could come up with a better excuse. Unless he actually did give his loyalty to Freeport. You could never tell with the low born, they were all a bit strange upstairs having no real manners or house to belong to. “I hope you didn’t kill the messenger, the Overlord does so frown on the waste.”
“A bit singed, a bit bloody, but home safe and mostly sound.” He stopped and considered while Meena raised an eyebrow, “Well, as sound as Gnomes ever get. He was muttering something about catapults as conyences.”
Meena’s eyebrow managed to gain height as Ceekra clapped her paws, “Now that DOES sound fun!” Both dark elves turned disapproving looks down on the little bezerker. “Riiight, go fetch the muffins Ceekra.” she muttered and turned to clank off in the direction of the inn she and Meena often frequented.
Darus ran a finger down Meena’s cheek to regain her attention, “The spirits say you will need a healer. I am going with you.”
Meena breathed heavily out of her nose. While he was fun to play with, she wasn’t quite sure she was up to the babysitting.
“I know you and the rat have faced dangers untold without a third, but something that Overlord hauls you over for on no notice and dismissed you again mere minutes later, is something that I think you should consider taking back up along on?”
“Oh?” Meena asked, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. Perhaps someone to keep her warm in the swamps wouldn’t be all bad.
“It was important enough for you to be needed right away, dangerous enough that he summons two of the city’s strongest freelancers, and doesn’t have enough information to give you a proper briefing. Not to mention, it doesn’t seem the Overlord wants anyone to know where you’re going or why since he summoned you to give you the not-information.” Darus leaned into her, “So, I think I am fairly safe in thinking you will need me.”
Too bad he couldn’t be stupidly handsome and flexible. She’d come to all those conclusions on her own, but she’d wanted a third who could be more easily tricked out of his share of the fame and fortune on the successful completion.
Darus breathed into her ear, “You need me.” he repeated.
Meena sighed, “I know.” She shoved him off her, “Well, we need a healer, and since you’re volunteering I suppose you’re one up on the healer I’d have to track down.” She wasn’t quite sure a cleric of Bristlebane was her best option, however, especially when she wasn’t sure on the sanity of a low born dark elf who chose the mischiefmaker as his god instead of Bertox or Innoruk. Still, he was smart, he was sexy and he was here.
“Come on then, I suppose we should go rescue the baker from Ceekra’s ideas of travel preparations.” She pulled a small bone whistle from her cleavage and blew into it, producing no sound, but giving off magical energies. Her nightmare steed shifted in, sparks of fire at its impatient hooves. Meena hauled herself up before offering a hand up to Darus and helping him up onto the saddle pad behind her.
“The rat walks, you ride?” He asked, seemingly amused.
“The rat isn’t in four inch spiked bootheels.” Meena grumbled, “SHE gets to looks sensibly barbaric, I get to look like a fashion piece.”
“And a very tasty one at that.” Darus agreed, wrapping his arms around her waist.
The Nightmare snorted its disgust before turning and heading its way up to the inn. The fact it bounced Darus against the rear of the saddle several times in a half-trot were probably pure coincedence.
April 16th, 2009 at 2:43 am
Incredible site!