A Poor Investment (Dragon Song)

[Limbo]

Oleander whistled as he walked through the market, it was an old tune he barely remembered from his days with mother an father. May they burn in whatever hell they belong in. Pushing nostalgia aside, he found his way into the slave- Indentured servant- market. Of course, he wasn't in need of... raw materials at the moment, but it never hurt to look and see what the slavers dredged up from who knows where. A diamond in the rough, as it were.

The usual rabble from Essyrn shouted prices to those gathered, embelishing their living wears. Most touted how strong and healthy they were, how they are virtual beats of burden. But to a trained and practiced eye, one could easily tell the truely remarkable from the gutter rats. Oleander's pure white eyes scanned the merchandise on display. One man boasted "elves" that clearly were only half bloods. Oleander was amused greatly by this. Most of those on the auction block were whelps and wretches harvested from the back allies and roads the slavers deigned to travel.

But just as he turned to leave, he spotted a small band of slavers and a very interesting sight. The girl lay upon the back of a wagon, chaned like most slaves. However what set her apart from the others was her obvious heratage. Grey skin, pointed ears, and light marking of some kind easily painted her as something other than human. Resting a hand on his sizeable coin pouch, Oleander made his way over to the group; with a crooked smile and authoritative voice, he greeted the bunch. "Hail, friends. I can't help but notice your unusual passenger. Is she for sale by any chance?" Oleander hefted the large coin pouch, "I assure you, I pay very well for unique speci- subjects..."

[DragonSong]

One of the slavers looked up from the card game he'd started with his partner when the day seemed to be going slowly. They were just going to ship out for Essyrn in the morning, what was the point in putting in any real effort?

But then this...new customer showed up. Could be a lucky break.

The head of the caravan jumped to his feet, plastering a smarmy smile across his face. "Well of course, ser," he drawled, swinging himself down off the wagon and leaning back against the bed of it to pat the gilded glass coffin that held their "special guest". "As you can see, the gal here's incredibly unique. Worth her weight in gold, at least."

A few of his compatriots chuckled. Beneath the glass, the potential slave in question seemed to be sleeping peacefully, her hands folded just beneath her breast and a small almost-smile curving her lips.

"But of course we can negotiate. Not many folks carry that kind of coin around on their person," the slaver continued with a dry chuckle.

[Limbo]

Oleander gave a false laugh at the jest. Of corse this girl wouldn't be worth that much, few were. Approaching the glass, he scanned over the sleeper. At a glance, the Chemist could tell she was different from the usual; if he had to hazard a guess this girl would either half or a quarter Sylvan, fae to some, and this intrigued him. Naturally he didn't express nearly as much interest outwardly. Bad for business that. With a hum and a few taps on his chin, he began to barter.

"Common rabble like those," without looking he points a thumb at the auction block "are about one thousand gold per. But this one is much more, that is obvious." Running his thumb over his smooth chin, he speaks again. "Elves are, what, two thousand? But I offer four for this one."

Oleander then retrieves the hefty pouch from his coat. "Two thousand now," and reaching once more into the coat, he hands the man a card. "Two thousand again at this address. However, if you're the paranoid sort, you can accompany me to my... home."

Oleander gave the men gathered a cold smile. He would have this one. And it mattered not if it came with extra bodies.

[DragonSong]

Every man in the group stared, eyes widening fractionally. Then their leader cleared his throat and stepped forward, nodding quickly.

"Well of course, that seems perfectly satisfactory." The words were practically a purr, his mouth twisted into a satisfied grin. "And of course we'd be happy to...deliver the cargo." He glanced down at the address he now held, and nodded. "Should be there before sundown, ser."

Grin still in place, he held out his hand. "So. The first payment?"

[Limbo]

A satisfied smile crept across Oleander's face. "Of course," handing the quite heavy bag and card to the man, he walked to the carriage the girl occupied. "I will need to borrow this though. Again, the horse and carriage will be found at the address. Horse watered and fed, free of charge." He added with a jovial tone. Urging the horse onward, he left the stunned and happy merchants behind.

A ways away from the market, he began to sing. "Strange is the night where black stars rise, and strange moons circle through ebon skies..."

Thirty minutes later, he arrived at his mansion; it was far from the usual traffic, due in part to its isolated location in the capitol. True to his word, he took the time to in hook the horse from the cart and lead it to the small stable off to the side of his abode. Once secured, he walked to the front door and called inside. "Arrian, would you mind helping me? I have cargo to unload." Oleander walked back to the cart.

A minute passed, the door once again opened. Arrian gave an amused smile as he saw the nature of the cargo, "Well, I don't know what I expected." He moved to help Oleander, lifting one end of the glass coffin. "Dead?" He asked, but the scientist merely shook is head.

Several minutes and bumps later, the glass was set upon a metal table in the deep basement of the mansion. Looking back to his assistant Oleander smiled, "Thank you, Arrian. I will be getting a visitor soon. Do see that he is payed the second half."

"Second half? How much?" Arrian said, with a frown.

"Yes. Two thousand gold. No more not less."

Arrian pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before walking up the stairs, mumbling something about eccentrics and the rich.

Once his assistant had left, Oleanders smile faded. His facade of warmth turned to his usual cold indifference. Oleander opened the glass coffin.

[DragonSong]

Battles long since fought and won circled behind her eyes, chasing each other in an endless dance that was some combination of memory and dream.

How long had she been here? How long had she been reliving these days, this war? She didn't know-- it seemed like forever, as though she had simply come into existence in this state. But that couldn't be true, because then where would these memories come from?

As the coffin opened, the woman inside stiffened slightly. Some of the peace ensuring softness to her features seemed to fade just a bit, a frown tugging at her brow and her mouth drawing tight at the corners.

Then she sighed softly and returned to her peaceful state as though nothing had happened.

A glimmer, a flash, something Other. Light? Darkness? She didn't know. Did it matter? It was new, it was different.

Was it a way out?

[Limbo]

When his subject stirred, Oleander paused. Unsure if she was to wake. After a moment or two he moved on hwith the procedure.

Gingerly, he lifted her out of the coffin and carried her to another table. Setting her down on the cool metal, Oleander put on a pair of gloves. "Beginning examination..." He said to himself. With a hand he opened one of her eyes. "Eye is not in motion. Therefore REM sleep is not active, coma?" He let the eye close as he continued.

Lifting one of her arms, he squeezed it firmly. "Muscles not atrophied. Either freshly comafose, or magic is at play." Oleander, still holding the limb picked up a small knife. With precision, Oleander made a shallow cut on the right thumb. Squeezing a few drops into a small glass beaker, he put the limb down. Placing the beaker into an ice box, he moved on.

Moving her face from side to side, Oleander took in her features. "Possible Fae ancestry. Quarter? Half?" Olander moved away from the table and retrieved a small rod.

"Testing: pure iron on contact with bare skin..." Before he lowered the rod, Oleander placed a hand on his sword.

Oleander, lightly pressed the iron onto her skin. Almost immediately he heard a sizzle and smelt burning flesh.

[DragonSong]

Pain.

Neria sucked in a sharp breath, her back arching as the iron touched her skin-- but still she didn't wake. It was the most she'd moved in years, decades, but even the burning agony wasn't enough to cut through the spell.

Pain. Burning. Iron?

What was this? This was no memory, no familiar scene. What was going on?

Stop stop stop make it stop, make it STOP!

Her lips parted and a soft, keening moan rose up from her chest, her spine bowing further before she collapsed back onto the metal table. Any peacefulness was gone from her face, tension taut in every line of her body.

[Limbo]

Oleander moved the iron away from the sizzling flesh. Nodding in satisfaction, he picked up a pen and scribbled notes into a small book. "Subject responsive, the mundanity of the coma is in question. Most likely magical in nature." He said, narrating is words aloud.
  "If one couldn't tell that just by looking at it, I would call into question their professionalism." Another voice said with a snarl. Coming down the steps was a average height man, dark skin tattooed with golden script that caused pain when one attempted to decipher. Saqqara Damach, stopped at the end of the table and looked down at the sleeping girl with mild disgust.
  Oleander paused and gave Saqqara a faux smile "Ah, taken an interest in my work?"
  Saqqara barked a laugh. "No, flesh carver. I smelt fae magic."
  Again, Oleander paused. "Magic has a smell?"
  Saqqara didnt answer. "Why have you brought this? Nothing good comes of the Fae." Saqqara spoke from experience, Oleander thought. One does not live 3000 years without a gaining bits of knowledge of everything.
  Oleander smiled. "Why else? For the pursuit of knowlage."
  Saqqara glared at the doctor. " You want me to undo the bindings, don't you?" Saqqara could tell Oleanders intentions. He rarely tried to hide them, and at times Saqqara thought he did so on purpose.
  "If you would be so kind."
  Saqqara wasn't under the illusion he had a choice.

Oleander, Saqqara, and the woman relocated to an adjacent room. The room was large, twenty feet across and the same high. The walls were made from thick steel with an inch of lead behind. On the walls were complex runes and depictions of writhing creatures of indistinct shape. In the center of the room, was another table. This made from a dark wood, in the center lay the girl Oleander so recently acquired.
  Saqqara looked to Oleander with mild concern. "This will end poorly, I think."
  "And why is that?"
  Saqqara didn't answer. Oleander was never one to take stock in gut feelings. Nor was he one to trust visions and prophesies. Saqqara didn't want to go through with this, he has seen powerful mages before, the on before him now was definitely worth pausing for. By no means was this thing able to cause cataclysms or rip apart cities like the wizards of old, but the strength it had stored was considerable enough to warrant worry.
  "Any time now, if you would." Oleander said, impatient
  Saqqara growled. "Rush me, and I could tear open a portal to the hells."
  Oleander scoffed but said nothing else.
  Saqqara closed his eyes and began to chant. The words hurt to listen to, but Oleander was use to that. Almost immediately the room temperature began to fluctuate. One moment sweltering and sticky with humidity, the next cold enough to frost over the glass on the lamps that hung in the corners of the room. The lights emanating from the lamps took on a sickly green hue. Flickering as the Diabolist spoke. Hopefully, this would work.

((New writing style. Thoughts?))

[DragonSong]

((Seems really cool ^.^ Is Saqqara like officially a character of yours?))



Neria screamed.

Her back arched again, but this was not gentle bowing upward. Her spine jackknifed, bending to an impossible angle, just the soles of her feet and the top of her head touching the table for a moment. Fingers and toes stretched wide, tendons popping, joints creaking. Her mouth gaped open, a seemingly endless, shrill cry reverberating off the metal walls of the room.

Abruptly, she collapsed back, chest heaving and eyes flickering frantically beneath their lids. Her lips moved in a near soundless murmur, ceaseless. Gradually, the muttering grew in volume-- to those who may be familiar with the languages, it seemed to be a combination of Ancient Sylvan and...something else. Something Fiendish.

"--and if perhaps cold Death be kind there will be some small returning, to the land of mists and singing mountains. Breathe the nightshade, poison in the lungs, poison, poison... A single hour in starlight worth the weight of the silver moon, calling, calling, calling, calling, calling--"

She gasped, chest heaving raggedly now with each forced breath. Magic shimmered around her, silver overlaying rusty, bloody red. The two auras seemed to be at war with one another, writhing and sparking with power.

"Calling! She sings and cries and no one hears, for the dead are soft of step and quiet voiced. And shall be happy, for dead are free, dead are free... Free... Free..." Another shaky breath. Her body started to tremble violently. "Free. Set-- set...set me...free."

The last words were common, whispered through a throat hoarse with long disuse and heavily accented. The trembling grew stronger. The silver light seemed to rear back, flickering desperately. A soft voice that seemed to echo from nowhere whispered, "Turn back...stop...you cannot..."

"Set me free," Neria whispered, eyes tight shut. Her fingers curled into fists, head thrown back. "Set me free! SET ME FREE!"

[Limbo]

When the room fell silent, Saqqara immediately collapsed onto one knee. The Diabolist breathed heavily, each breath an effort. In the dim lamplight, one could faintly see a line of blood running from his eyes and mouth. With a shuddering breath, Saqqara coughed and spoke. "Cursed... She-" his words were interrupted with another cough "-is afflicted with a curse. Powerful. As you can see, it reacts violently to tampering." Leaning back on the table, he sneered at the woman.
   Oleander nodded and paced around the room. "What did she say?"
   "To guess? How to lift her curse."
   Oleander arched a brow. "The instructions, if you would."
   "Oleander, this-"
   "If I cared about your opinion, I would've asked."
   "Oleander, I hate you more than anything. But if you die, I die."
   Saqqara sighed once more. "We should heed the warning"
   "When have I ever been one to trust spirits, hm?"
   Saqqara growls, but sighs in compliance. "I believe she needs to be outside, at night, for at least one hour. Possibly with the moon and stars visible. I didn't catch everything. "
   Again, this earned a raised eyebrow from Oleander. "Oh? Anything else? True loves first kiss perhaps? A charming prince?" He said jovially, clearly enjoying himself.
   "Poison too, perhaps. Your specialty. We may need to kill her with nightshade." Saqqara dig his knuckles into his temples.
   Oleander continued to pace the room. Hand stroking his chin. "Saqqara, go find Laera and head to the roof. Take the girl and prepare to lift the curse." Oleander said, idly. Oleander exited the room. Walking back into his laboratory, he rummaged around the various vials of toxins and venoms. Pocketing the required element, Oleander thought how he would spend the next few hours before midnight.

The hours passed slowly. But eventually, The clock struck midnight and Oleander made his way to the roof of his mansion. The area wasn't over large. Barely larger than the previous room. Disused lounge chairs were pushed to the sides to make room for the ritual. For the moment, he was alone with his thoughts. "Father..." a soft yet harsh sounding voice spoke from the top of the near by spire. Turning to the source, Oleander gave a genuine smile.
   "Laera. What a wonderful night to have a curse." He said, gesturing to the pale moon.
   The now named Laera gracefully took to the air on midnight black wings. With a flourish she landed gently beside Oleander. She was taller than him, but much thinner. Her pale skin gave her a cadaverous look, and her razor thin features and slightly pointed ears gave away elven heritage. "The bound one is nervous. I can smell his fear. It... amuses me."
   Oleander chuckled and ran his fingers along her cheek, eliciting a pleased warble from Laera. "Always the perceptive one, you are." Staring once more at the moon, Oleander heard the access door creak open. "Speaking of,"
   Saqqara carried the limp woman bridal style onto the roof. "Monster, abomination." He greeted the two.
   Laera hissed out a laugh, and gave a mock bow to the demonist. Oleander simply nodded. "Well, let us get on with it. Lay her there, and let us continue with this endeavor." Gesturing to Laera, "My dear, please leave us." Before she could protest, Oleander placed a hand on her shoulder. "I shall be fine. Go hunting, enjoy yourself. I insist." Laera hesitated, shifting uncomfortably.
   "I... shall. Fare well, father." With a flap of her large ebon wings, Laera was gone. All but a fading silhouette in the night sky.
   Oleander nodded in satisfaction, and turned back to regard Saqqara. "Well, I suppose we wait." Oleander moved to sit upon one of the disused chairs and laid back.
   Saqqara could only rub his face and lament his fate, for all the good it did him.

_____________________
((Nah. He's just an NPC for now. Laera on the other hand is getting a character sheet soon. If the format is a little abrasive, I could change it. Just for future reference.))

[DragonSong]

Stop this...

The silver light that had faded some hours ago suddenly returned, swirling madly around Neria's body. A whisper of wind tugged at Oleander's and Saqqara's clothes, words caught and garbled in the breath.

You must stop. Do not...release her...