Vanja barely filled a box with personal items and now he stood staring at the seat he would no longer occupy.
He wondered who might sit there next, hoping whoever it was would do the Shire and Kryta good. Vanja barely remembered how he even came to be in it, as everything had happened so quickly. Why had he even sought out a position in the Ministry in the first place? When he came to find that answer, he snorted dismissively.
With a light shrug of his shoulders, Vanja exited, taking with him copies of his resignation letter to be sent out. He shut his eyes tightly when the headache began to strengthen.
He stood there for a long moment, his back meeting the Beetletun Office door to shut it as he tipped back. Loosing a few deep breaths, he shoved off and made his way down the corridor for the last time. He swore each door he passed was silently judging him for his decision.
No more... Go home, soak in the tub, get everyone to gather in the pillow room and sleep in there as a family, furbabies included.
Once he was free of the Minister’s offices, Vanja passed by the cringe-worthy familiar token of ‘appreciation’ that a certain socialite had ‘gifted’ them. It was there he paused and surveyed the area...
It’d been one interesting experience after the other, but now was the time to move on, and he wasn’t going home without those shinies.
If anyone ever paid the wax figure any mind, they would notice the black stockings, garter, and panties were missing, each high-heel seemingly untouched. Covering the figures lady bits was a piece of paper shaped into a leaf, one even covering the backside. A rather creepy gnome was drawn on each piece.
Minister Rosalynd Havashem invites you to attend the Beetletun Fishing Tourney. Join in competition at the lake specially stocked for the occasion, or take your children to the pond where they can learn the basics of angling. After the fishing is done, take your catch to the cookout!
When: Saturday, December 2nd 3/PST/6EST
Where: The Shire of Beetletun
Taxi: Rosalynd Havashem
Red: Tourney Waters, Blue: Juniors Pond, Orange: Cookout tables and Entertainment
Tourney: [4pm pst/7pm est] Bring your best angling skills to the Beetletun Lake and try to land the biggest fish! The lake is currently being stocked with Krytan Trout, and Sockeye Salmon along with the natural population of Armored Fish, Crabs, Barracuda and Gulper Fish. Hook the biggest fish and title of Best Angler!
Fishing hooks for the tourney will be provided by Cavalli Steel and Smithing, courtesy of Lord Machiavelli Cavalli.
OOC: How will the winner be determined? A set of roll charts have been developed to determine the type and size of fish caught by each competitor. In the interest of complete fairness, potential character skill will not be factored in to the amount or size of fish caught.
Prizes:
1st Prize: A colored portrait commission from Jillustrates. Examples - 1 2 3
2nd Prize: One Black Lion Ticket choice (current single ticket skins only)
3rd Prize: 5 unindentified dyes
The Pond: Let the young ones learn the fine art of casting and catching in our junior stocked pond!
Cookout: After the tourney is over, let’s eat! All that’s fit to fry will be cleaned and cooked up along with local produce from Beetletun.
Musician(s): Narkis Coin
Cook(s): Flintlock Burnfur of Pistols & Pastries
The appearance of mutilated Charr in Shaemoor and Ossan added to the sense of urgency for more security that had taken hold of Vanja after the initial shock of the attempt on Lius’s life had settled.
Rather than bother going out to the Founding of Divinity’s Reach festival and ball, he spent his afternoon sending out missives, requesting additional guard, and reached out to hire on more personal guard who would remain undercover at all hours of the day, blending in with the populace. All would be implemented within Beetletun, the college included if the Headmistress wished it, to prevent any potential violence breaking out from an insider or an outsider.
He knew he was being a little too idealistic, but if a single added guardsman or woman could stop an act of senseless cruelty within the Shire? He’d damn himself if he didn’t try.
Later on, as the sun lowered in the sky, he followed the path leading to their garden, carrying with him a notebook. The breeze carried the varying aromas of flora, the bees finishing their long days work of harvesting pollen for the estate’s honey.
Vanja sat at the stone table, moss slowly inching it’s way up on one side, briefly fixated on a ladybug trying it’s damnedest to get to the top. He set the notebook out and began to write.
Doc,
I’ve wanted to speak with you since after the rally. Shit, even before that clusterfuck. Obviously that didn’t happen, nor were we able to after what occured barely twenty-four hours ago.
I’ve kind of forgotten what it was I wanted to go over. Guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. The more pressing issues do. First Lius, then the Charr found in Shaemoor... Then Ossan...
It’s only a matter of time before another shows up, don’t you think?
Would you join Leon and I at our estate in the afternoon sometime soon for a chat on what else we might be able to do to quell this senseless violence? And to catch up a little?
Your Colleague and Friend,
Vanja V.
He sighed, tearing out the sheet and began writing a second.
Good evening to you, Lady-Headmistress Farnese,
I write to inform you I’ve had my assigned Ministry Guard retrieve my daughter and her babydaddy boyfr-- Tatsuya Fei from campus, where they will remain at our estate when not attending class. They will be escorted when they head to campus, and will be accompanied by such guard for the duration of their stay. I do hope you understand. And if you want more money for this, well, I’m not giving you any. Sorry.
What I can offer you is more security on campus. I’ve hired more personal guard, undercover and not, to help keep the peace within Beetletun given these recent events. I will be most perturbed should a violent act occur anywhere within the Shire. Resident and student safety takes precedence.
Let me know if this is something you would be interested in.
Your Favorite Parent,
Minister Vanja Volkov
He re-read the letter and snorted, finding himself chuckling. “She’s just going to love me even more, isn’t she?” Vanja grinned and folded both, eventually returning to his office to seal them and send them off with their hawk.
It was going to be an excruciatingly drawn out month ahead of them, perhaps even longer.
I really need a good fuck...
Vanja reclined in his desk chair and called out, “HEY RAIDEN!”
Picking up the boxed donations from Beetletun, Rose had to admit she was a little impressed. She didn’t expect the people to give much, but they’d cobbled together enough school supplies for a few children to last them a good while into the year. Or many children a short while. Either way, she smiled as she set the colorful crayons into the box in neat stacks to deliver the next night. They weren’t bad people, they’d just been lied to for years, mislead.
And like that it was done, her current course set for at least the next month. She would go to Beetletun and try to keep affairs in order until a proper Minister for the shire could be found.
There were objections, many of them she’d made herself. Appointing a Minister rather than having one elected could be seen as overstepping the rights of the people to represent themselves…rights that weren’t specifically guaranteed anywhere. At the same time, as thorough as the Shining Blade were, the White Mantle had endured long enough to pose a significant threat to the safety of the Kingdom, and it wasn’t impossible there were more hiding out there, laying low and looking for opportunities to continue Caudecus’ work.
Placing their own Minister, temporarily, gave them a chance to try and untangle whatever secrets were left in place, to find where evil had been seeded and missed in the ripping out of the main root. It also made them look like authoritarian dictators, and why should the people of Beetletun trust and accept her, a known murderer, as their leader? Overseer seemed like a more apt term. Rose knew why she’d been picked, she was well known for her work in Rurikton, her work in the Ministry and her time serving in conscription to pay for her crimes was marked by glory on the battlefield against the Mantle.
Setting books into the cart to move to her new home, a small rented house with space on the second floor for an office, she did not expect to be welcomed warmly or at all. It would be a challenge to try and win their trust, but one she was willing to take on. Someone had to and she wasn’t sure who she would have suggested in her place. She didn’t feel like she was ideal…but neither was anyone else. There was no ideal way to do what they were doing, in theory for the good of the realm.
They weren’t words she was accustomed to hearing. Saying yes, but being on the receiving side? Every muscle in her body ached as she tried to push herself up, only to be pushed back down infuriatingly easily by a hand on her forehead.
“Beetletun is safe. For now. There’s been another attack since you passed out but we routed it. No sign of that specter you chased off.”
She wasn’t sure who was talking, but bless them for at least trying to ease her mind.
“You collapsed--partially I think from whatever that thing did to you, mostly from whatever you did to it. That was a lot of magic swell and you don’t seem used to channeling that much energy. You need to stay _down_ and recover. You can’t help anyone by pushing yourself too soon.”
Infuriating.
She knew they were right. She knew, in their shoes, she’d be saying the same thing.
She also knew it was her job to defend the area--and she’d fucked it up.
He might have called it the calm before the storm, only the storm was over and the Awakened corpses lay at his feet, so it was probably the calm after the storm, if that was a thing. Gulmont wasn’t sure that it was.
He’d gotten used to walking around without his shroud in Vabbi, the Elonians there never really questioned his appearance. It was nice, in a way, not having to hide, to even be accepted. There he hadn’t been called a freak, he had just been part of everyday life.
Naomi was the person that had surprised him the most. She had accepted him in was that he could have never prepared himself for, could hardly even comprehend. Her presence had soothed him for the first time in a very long while.
But he had then had to leave her, as much as it hurt to do so. He had had to turn his back on her, leave her in her brother’s arms, within the protection of the Shaahiran, where she would perhaps be brought to her senses.
So now here he stood, just outside the gates of Beetletun, with the eyes of the Seraph looking down upon him, each man and woman shaking with fear.
It was the fifth time he’d shown up this day. The day before he’d been in the Shiverpeaks, before that in Ascalon, and before that in Caledon. News of the specter in the flames had travelled fast, and rumors of it being in several places at the same time had exploded.
“It’s everywhere at once,” the Seraph whispered. “It comes where ever war and conflict hit. It’s indiscriminate in its vengeance, it kills both enemy and ally.”
Gulmont turned his head towards the walls. The stories were almost funny, but his rage was true. He was angry that his time with Naomi was at an end, that it had been taken from him. He was angry about a lot of things, and that anger was only exasperated by his inability to do anything about it.
So when he saw the Seraph trembling, he began to walk forwards, reveling in their fear.
The Awakened had been a threat they could deal with, something tangible they knew they could win against, given time, but the specter in the flames was something altogether different, a creature of myth and legend. They fell back.
It was very surreal to see the creature walk through the open gates, through the empty streets, the sunlight glistening off the pale, rotting flesh, its silver hair drifting behind it in a wind that was not there.
The air was still and quiet.
Gulmont stood before the statue of Lord Caudecus Beetlestone the Wise, or what was left of it, staring up at the rubble with its twin pillars of white ghost fire, that served as its eyes, billowing in that ethereal wind.
He took a step forward, then another, climbing atop the rubble to sit himself down, looking out across Lake Delavan and the light that reflected off the waves like glistening silver coins that had been scattered across the surface of the water.
The sight was horrifying, yet at the same time strangely beautiful, in the way that only the stillness of death can embody.
"It's where?!" She moved on instinct more than thought. There had never been a time she'd abandoned the walls during the night, but she had to rest during the day--someone had told her though when it had actually come into town.
Provoking it was undoubtedly a bad idea, but Rose was exhausted, and she was out of reasonable self-preservation thoughts. So it was that she let the arrow fly, aimed right for its chest up where it was perched. "Get. Down. From. There."
The Minister did not look well. She was underfed, underslept, her eyes usually so blue were red and scratchy, lacking their usual fire. She'd braided her hair at some point, but she'd slept on it and it was coming loose in places while she kept the bow held, reaching for a second arrow.
Thunk.
The arrow landed squarely in the creature’s chest, protruding from its ribcage, embedded in what would have been vital organs, if they had been working as they should have been.
Gulmont turns his head, looking down at the arrow shaft. He tilts his head to one side, curious and a little annoyed. If his face was capable of expression he would have knitted his brows together, but the flesh no longer worked how he would like it to.
He reached out, gripping the wood in his right hand and yanking the arrow. The shaft splintered and split, snapping in half. Gulmont then threw the broken shaft on the ground at Rose’s feet, the fletching making it roll a little.
He didn’t say a word, but remained where he was, looking out over the lake, even as the other Seraph followed Rose’s lead and trained their arrows on the Specter in the Flames, each man and woman moving because of Rose’s action, like they had been awakened from a dream.
"Halt!" Rose snapped at them, holding up a hand. "Your job is to watch the walls. I don't want anyone getting hurt...this is on my shoulders." Technically, she shouldn't have been picking fights with specters. It was against the rules of her position to engage in dangerous combat--a Minister couldn't lead if they were dead.
She twisted her arm though, like looping an invisible rope around her arm. The chains appeared a moment later, having lodged themselves magically with the arrow as a focus before he'd pulled it out. "I wasn't asking." she told the specter before giving the chains a hard pull.
If the stories of the Specter in The Flames being indiscriminate were only stories before, they were certainly true now. The corpse fell from its perch, slamming against the ground, its limbs twisting in unnatural positions, snapping and cracking.
It then got to its feet, advancing on Rose, the fire igniting around it, the eerie blue of the ghost fire erupting from the cracks in the cobblestones, zigzagging this way and that along the jagged and uneven walkway.
Gulmont held out a hand, necromantic energy forming at his fingers.
The smell of decay drifted into the air, a stench that was not coming from the piles of Awakened just beyond the gate. This scent was somehow stronger, more pungent, like the very essence of death had been called up from the bowls of the underworld to run rampant on the streets.
Why do you disturb my rest? the creature asked, it’s voice sounding like two people were speaking at once, with both overlapping one another. The first was a rather mundane voice that you might hear anywhere, but the second was something altogether unheard of in the realm.
Not only that, but the creature’s mouth never moved when it spoke.
She was too tired to be afraid of it. Too tired to be revolted. "Why did you stay?" she asked it back. "You always leave...a violent ghostly specter hanging over my people is no less welcome than Joko's minions."
For what it had done, it deserved some rest...everyone there did. But perched in the center of town like an omen of death was the last thing they needed. "You've killed Awakened...you've killed Seraph...I don't trust you in my town."
It laughed. It was a horrible, twisted sound that echoed through the streets as it drew closer to Rose. The sound was warped, like it was more of a mockery of what a laugh was supposed to sound like from a creature all too used to pretending to be alive.
So she thought he had killed Seraph? That’s what he had found amusing. It was interesting how far rumours could go to alter people’s perceptions of reality, for he had killed no Seraph this day. In fact, he was quite sure he’d never killed a Seraph, or at least none of those that were not already destined to die, but what use would it do to argue?
I wait, Gulmont said, his voice rumbling like the cauldrons of some terrible hell scape. I wait for the next wave. He tilted his head to one side, flexing his fingers, the air around them shifting, shimmering, like reality were all some odd optical illusion that he could shatter in a moment’s notice.
Yet you attack me. He continued, his voice grating against Rose’s ears. You have embraced your own hubris and test my wrath. His anger flared, fueling the energy that coursed through his veins.
For that you shall suffer the consequences. He growled as he began to sap the life force out of the air around him.
The life of the world was like a river to his eyes, it ebbed and flowed, washing through each individual plant and animal that drew breath. There were Seraph dying here, injured in one of the many waves of attacks. They were already dead, there was no amount of magical healing or medical knowledge that would heal them, they were simply hanging on until the last of their life had seeped out of them.
Gulmont sapped this life from them, even though he was standing here in the square. He drew it to him, listening as the last breath left the bodies of its previous owners. It left them and fled through the windows of the make shift medical, down the walls, to pool at Gulmont’s feet.
The Specter in the Flames breathed in the life force as the wails of mourning began to erupt from the houses around him. In a way, it had been a mercy to end their lives now, they would have only spent their last few hours suffering, but only he knew that.
She watched with eyes that widened slightly as he breathed in, darting to the sides as the cries of shock and despair began. She would not, could not, see it the same way, see it as a mercy. With a snarl she threw herself at him. Desperate to stop him from taking more lives--she wasn't aware of the weight in her hands that hadn't been there, a sword and shield, glowing blue and pulled from her own magic as she slammed her whole weight into him.
The blade of magic flashed, cutting into flesh and bone, severing tendons and rending flesh. Black Ichor sprayed itself over Rose’s face, the coagulated blood staining clothes already marred by the awakened that came before.
Yet even as she continued to drive the blade into Gulmont’s body, he didn’t make a move, not until the blade of guardian fire stopped, getting itself stuck. With the sound of the flames wafting in fury, there was the scraping of ethereal steel on bone.
Gulmont turned his head, showing only mild irritation as the two points of white light fixed themselves on the blade. He then turned his gaze back on Rose, those eyes smoldering with a white-hot intensity.
The life force of those dying renewed him, healed him. The wound Rose had just cleaved sealed itself, the rotting flesh knitting itself together, regenerating and getting imbued with new life before the curse took hold again and that same flesh began to rot.
I came here to help, the creature hissed, his voice barely a whisper. You attacked me, unprovoked, he added as he reached out, placing his hand on Rose’s wrist, his touch as cold as ice. Remember that when you think back to this day.
Gulmont then opened his mouth, letting out a long, terrifying scream. Worms and maggots crawled in his open maw, twitching as squirming as they fell out, crawling over lips and teeth, and under his jaw bone where there should have been flesh, trying desperately to escape as the fear ran through them.
Rage and bloodlust clouded his mind, his moment of tranquility had been broken by that arrow, and now he would have his revenge. He began to draw the life force from Rose’s body, even as the fear snaked out, compelling her to run.
Her people were dying. They were scared, and a specter of death had been perched inside their walls--their last semblance of feeling safe. How could she have not acted?
His grip was cold, so cold her skin felt like it was burning under those skeletal fingers. Then there was the sound, the smell, cloying and choking in her mouth and nose, every sense assaulted. There was a brief question of if this would be how she died...who would take care of Marcus? Who would take care of Taylor?
No...that wasn't an acceptable thing. She let go of the sword and it vanished, while she brought her other hand around, thrusting it into the creature's face and felt the surge through her arm of light and blue fire that sprung forward, shoving him back, washing over the center of Beetletun.
The light was like a shock wave. It exploded outwards from where the two grappled, shattering the glass in the nearby windows and dislodging loose stones from walls. The sounds of people screaming in fear could be heard as the carrion birds took flight, scattering across the sky.
Gulmont staggered back, gripping his chest. He then looked up, twin pillars of fire flickering as his ears rang. For the next few moments he was completely deaf, the distant whining of white noise the only thing in his head.
He then rose to his feet, lowering his arms. It looked as though he was about to step forward again, but something stopped him. He looked around, seeing something that only his eyes could register, before he looked back at Rose.
Your stubbornness will be your undoing, he said as his visage began to fade. One moment he was solid, the next the colors began to leave him and he became transparent. Then a fresh breeze drifted through the square, and the specter was gone, leaving only silence in his wake.
The veil had become thin, too thin to keep things safe. It was better to retreat at this point, lest he draw things here that were worse than awakened, worse than him for that matter, things he was sure would tear the material realm asunder.
Rose sunk down to her knees, feeling her strength give out as she held herself up on an arm. "Yeah...I've heard that." she choked out, even as the world under her spun sharply and her own vision was fading black around the edges.
As soon as he was gone, the Minister lost consciousness, left in a heap in the middle of Beetletun.
