A few moments after Kyori did as she was told, Moebius pulled his hand away from the bars and shouted.

"HOW DARE YOU CUT ME YOU LITTLE-!"

Then, he stopped and stared from his hand to Kyori, and then back to his hand again. After that, he turned to the merchant and pointed a gnarled finger at the man in fine clothing.

"WHAT SORT OF SCAM IS THIS?! The creature cut me from the other side of her cage! Her hand did not even move!"

A handful of men and women in the crowd looked at Kyori, then to Moebius, then to the merchant. They began to murmur among each other, while waiting to see where the conversation went. Nobody seemed to notice how the pair of guards in the alley fell over and began to twitch and struggle against what appeared to be nothing but empty air. The struggle only lasted a few moments before the guards stopped moving entirely.

"Sir," the merchant said, looking at Moebius with a bored face, "She is muzzled and caged for a reason. If you provoke a wild beast, you might get bit or scratched."

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT YOU POMPOUS, PATHETIC WRETCH! She cut my hand from the back of the cage! How can her arms reach so far, hmmm?! And how can she cut a man without moving?! UNLESS SHE IS BUT AN ILLUSION!"

The merchant blinked and his bored expression melted into one of indignant outrage.

"Just what are you accusing me of, sir?"

That last word was spoken with a tone of disguised anger and disgust. In return, Moebius continued to shout and scream.

"I AM ACCUSING YOU OF SELLING NOTHING AT ALL! I'll bet there isn't even a beast-creature in that cage, but a man with a knife! You'll take our silver for this thing and then give us nothing but an empty cage!"

The merchant blinked and shook his fist a few times, which just so happened to coincide with the guards, now on their feet and shuffling like sleep-walkers with eyes that were half-open and unseeing, throwing a tarp over the cage. The tarp, it seemed, was cut in such a way that the entirety of the cage was now hidden from the view of the crowd. The guards then clambered under the tarp, hiding all but their feet from anyone that looked their way.

"YOU SEE?! He has his men hide the creature, so we do not investigate the illusion!"

Some in the crowd began to believe Moebius' words, shouting at the merchant to lift the tarp and let them touch the beast. To bring her out of the cage.

Meanwhile, within the cage itself, Kyori was suddenly joined by a small, human boy. His clothes were simple and roughspun, appearing to be little more than rags sewn together in patches resembling trousers and a tunic. His skin was as pale as moonlight, and his lips were a bright and vibrant red. Oh, and the child had no eyes. Just empty, shadowed sockets where eyes should have been. And yet, his face stared directly at Kyori.

"Hello..."

The boy's voice was small and distant, sounding as if he was speaking from deep within a cave.

"Follow me when the door opens. I shall guide you to Sanctuary..."

As he said this, the guards shuffled around the edge of the cage to the door, staying somewhat hidden under the tarp. One of them, the stout one, took a ring of keys off of a hook on his belt. He chose one in particular to hold, and put it in the lock of the cage door. A quick twist to the right was all it took for the door to open a crack.

With the door open, the boy, rather than walk, floated through the bars of the cage and the tarp as if they were not there.

Moebius sighed and repressed a grumble at his hint not being heard by Volke. Then, he picked up his own cup and touched the rim of it to the rim of Volke's. The wine in both cups sloshed and slid slightly.

"Yes, to our mutual benefit and a good relationship."

Then, he lifted the cup to his lips and sipped at his wine. Once he had done so, The Magnificent Emperor Moebius turned his eyes to the door.

"I suppose you must be going, yes? Wouldn't want the neighbors to think you've left for the night or wonder where you are..."

Moebius calmly burned yet another piece of food as offering for his host of spirits. This little parlay session was going better than he had expected. There had been no need to call down his reinforcements and bleed the bastard magician who sat at his table like a stuck pig. Instead, Moebius would be getting everything he wanted, and Anton Volke would be getting everything he wanted. Volke probably even thought he was getting off easy.

He probably thought he could steal the book out from under Moebius the second the "mad" king turned his back.

But Moebius wasn't going to be unprepared. He wasn't going to let Volke steal his prize. He might, however, give the magician he believed to be his lesser a few scraps as a reward. If he could get more information on that Zodia comment. Not that night, though. Not yet.

"I suppose so. Life begets death, after all. Though... I would argue that not all things live... but all things die..."

The last scraps of Moebius' food had been consumed by the candle flame, and were little more than bits of ash and burned grease on his table. He set his fork upon his plate, and set down his drinking bowl.

"I suppose this has been a productive meeting, yes?"

"It is because they remember their deeds and position in life. The skeletons were all servants once, to ancient kings. The man with flesh on himself was a skilled hunter and forester, with much knowledge of how to butcher and clean game and fish."

Moebius lit another piece of his food on the flames of the nearest candle, feeding his still intangible servants in that strange way as it burned.

"Most necromancers merely animate the body, and infuse it with a bit of their own energies. Thus, the corpse only knows what their master knows."

The piece of tuber that he had been burning was consumed rather quickly by the fire. Moebius stabbed another morsel on his plate, this time a piece of wild onion, and held it to the candle.

"They know much of necromancy, but nothing of mundane tasks, unless their master knows, for they are bound to and of him. This is why many necromancers rely on mortal servants for specialized skills, and why their servants fall with their master. Whereas I find the soul, or echoes thereof, of those whose corpses I raise. They no longer dream of death and the afterlife, but walk with us, half-awake, docile, and bound."

Moebius lowered his mask so that his chin and mouth were covered again, then he stabbed a piece of tuber with his fork and held it to the flame of one of the candles. It took a few moments for the fire to spread to the food, as it was not overly dry and the candle was dim and cool as far as flames go. And yet, it lit, and the flame consumed the scrap from Moebius' fork.

He whispered a few words in that old, Adelan tongue again... and all of the candles and the hearth's fire dimmed. The air grew chill, so cold that Anton's breath showed as white mist. Moebius' breath, however, did not show.

"Pardon, a good king makes sure his servants are fed as well. As for other deals, keep to your end of our current bargain first, and I shall remember your kindness, honesty, and competence in the future."

The words upon the page became clearer in his mind's eye. Yes, Zodia had been some minor god of magic and knowledge with conflicting legends and myths that were only dimly remembered when the book he had read had been first penned, about a century ago. Some believed that Zodia was the source of all magic, or a representation of the full power a mortal mage might reach if they became learned enough in mystical lore. Another legend said that Zodia had been the one to teach the first mortal mages how to perform spellcraft without a god's aid. Of course, even in the time when Zodia had been given temples and public rituals, he, she, or they had been relatively minor. A god of upper-class scholars and augurs, not common folk.

Which raised the question as to why Anton Volke had brought the name up. As far as Moebius knew, Zodia was not a member of the Serennian pantheon, and was quite obscure to even the learned. So how did Anton know that name? Why did Anton bring that name up in casual conversation? Was it some sort of test or code? Perhaps, perhaps...

Moebius stared in the direction of Anton as he remembered and pondered, waiting for the other man to speak.

Moebius was completely unaware of the way in which his book had looked over Anton, having pulled it out on what he thought was one of his own whims. Later, the knowledge would come, over a period of study, entering his head until he had a burst of insight that would seem to come from his own genius. For the moment, however, Moebius was unaware of any of Anton Volke's secrets, least of all his true name.

"Forbidden, eh? Yes, yes, that explains it. It does, it does!"

Moebius scarfed down a bit more of his food, taking bites out of his acorn bread and his meat, saving the remaining vegetables and tubers for the end. He washed down his feast with wine, pouring the last of what was in the wineskin out into his own cup (or bowl). A barked order brought a cask of something alcoholic and sweet to the table, mostly so Moebius could have more drink. But, it had the added benefit of giving Anton the chance to refill his bowl with this other wine.

Once he'd fed on the more delicious morsels from his dinner, Moebius belched and spoke.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that, no... An army of ten-thousand demons would be a mighty force and difficult to stop! But it would have disadvantages, wouldn't it. Unruly servants, a balance of bindings, weakness to the holy magics of faithful sheep..."

Moebius grunted and scratched under his chin.

"Still, there are powerful and old names in that book. Kings of Hells most foul and awful, with armies and courts of their own! If I were to bind them to my will, to my service I would have all of their power at my command!  Their kingdoms in Hell... and their cults here! There are old demons in the book, as well. Old demons with ancient and lost wisdom, and lore of places and magic that no mortal has yet seen in Le'raana. And great warriors and generals, who could lead living armies, and armies of dead men to victory! Those, those are my prizes, you see!"

Moebius might have been swept up in his vision of his future with The Keys at his fingertips, but he was not blind. He saw the glint in Anton's eye, the greed and hunger that showed for a moment. Perhaps giving him the title of the tome was a mistake, for what would stop Anton from stealing the book for himself? Or letting Moebius take the risk, and attacking him when he had depleted himself attaining it? Yes, the Magnificent Emperor Moebius would need a quick escape plan, or some way to get Anton Volke into his service and beholden to him. Somehow, somehow...

And who was Zodia? What was Zodia? Moebius recalled the days when he was still Samuel the shepherd, and he had read a book about magical theory and practices. Most of the information had gone over Samuel's head, but... there had been a page or two of text, with an illustration of a figure with four arms and eyes made of stars.

As their palms touched, warm fresh blood flowed from open wounds and pooled together upon the flesh. Droplets entered each of their veins, filling Moebius with the warm and primal vitality of Kyori, while his power and rot wedged its way into Kyori's body. A bond had been forged, one that would only be severed when the oath had been fulfilled.

Moebius grinned so wide behind his mask, he swore his cheeks and lips reached out past the edges of his mask. His red eyes glinted with a cold fire, and he hissed...

"Excellent... Now then..."

Those eyes of his turned to take in the scene. The crowd surrounded them on three sides, but a fourth was completely clear of gawkers. That was because the cage, and the merchant's tent and stalls, were set up against the side of a building made of wood and stone. The caravan had chosen to set out their wares on the corner of one of Ketra's many dirt streets, in order to drum up business. This meant the cage was in view of many, but there was a route to escape through that did not involve plowing through the crowd. A narrow alley between the building on the corner and its nearest neighbor.

Speaking of the alley, Moebius spied a pair of men in half-decent armor with maces sitting on crates in it. One was a bit pudgy and squat, while the other was lean and tall. Both of them were playing a game of dice instead of guarding the cage, which was what had allowed Moebius to get so close. The pudgy guard was winning more rolls than the lean one.

Weak wills. They would be more useful than their employers, who had to have some shrewdness and savvy and single-minded devotion to greed.

Moebius took in other details as he scanned the scene. A gray tarp or blanket or great curtain of some sort lay right next to the cage. Perhaps it had been used to cover the cage before the merchants had unveiled Kyori to the crowds. A gaggle of other merchants scattered here and there, hawking rival wares. A man in fancy robes, most likely a mage. He also saw a young man with clean clothes, fine boots, a cape, gloves, and a fancy scabbard on his belt. A noble brat with money. Moebius would have to strike quick, before they got intrigued and made an offer.

Luckily, a plan had come together, if he could just pull it off.

"Hide the knife beneath those bits of cloth and hay at your feet. Then jump to the back of your cage."

Moebius had no intention of blasting the cage open or sawing away at the bars. The whole thing was made of iron, and any magic that could open it would draw attention to the escaping Kyori. Couldn't have that. But he could draw attention to himself once he was ready.

Right after whispering to Kyori, he spoke to what appeared to be other air. First, he spoke in Common.

"Be ready to guide her to the Sanctuary when she is released. Then, when night falls, to cabin in the forest."

He spoke again, to a slightly different spot of empty air. But it was in a dead tongue that had not been spoken since Adela had been a land of many petty kingdoms. It sounded a bit like hissed and whispered orders, though what they were was probably completely lost on Kyori. And any of the crowd that might have been listening in.

Hello everyone! My name is Madison, though you probably all know me as "Squeeman" or "Moebius". Behind the screen, I am not a necromancer, but a humble graduate student pursuing a degree in History with a specialization in Museum Studies. One of my courses is in non-profit fundraising, where I have to create a real fundraising drive and try to meet a goal I set. For that purpose, I made a fundraiser on GoFundMe for the Trevor Project! The goal is $300, and all funds raised will go directly to the Trevor Project via Paypal or check at the end of March. If you can donate, great! Every little bit helps! If you can't, that's perfectly fine as well! Sharing and spreading the word will also help! You'll find the link below.

GoFundMe Trevor Project

"Hmmm... I don't know if I can trust you with the title. You have agreed to aid me, yes, but I don't even know your name. Or why you want the authorities to ignore you..."

Moebius took another sip of his wine. He let the question that he had only asked vicariously hang in the air. Then he continued.

"You offered collateral, I know. But for all I know you could give me some worthless trinket and claim it is sacred to your family line, then head back to the village to report my location to some witch-hunter... or to the Priestesses..."

Moebius took a good, long look at Volke. His red eyes stared at the other mage, as if trying to get a good read on him. As he did so, he unconsciously reached into his robes for a hidden pocket. Then, Moebius pulled out his book and simply held it...

To a normal man, the book would have seemed slightly odd, and the most he would have felt would have been a chill running down his spine. But Volke's eyes would have been able to see the book for what it was. A strange tome bound in black leather, with the title "A Guide to the Artes Necromantick"... The book reached forth with old power, feeling and pouring over Volke. It read into his soul, scoured his essence for examination. Then, it found him lacking. The book pulled back its power, and Moebius flipped it open and checked a random page. Then he put it back, nodding to himself as he confirmed the design that he had painted upstairs.

"No, no, you can't be some sort of agent for the priestesses. That beast you brought with you would never be tolerated by their order, and I doubt the local nobility would let you have such a mighty thing at your beck and call."

Moebius smiled... Then glanced to his servants. Plates had been procured, as had two-tined forks and knives made of bronze. The roasted vegetables and tubers were placed upon the plates, as were the revived loaves of once-stale bread. The meat followed, and all was brought to the table for the pair of mages to eat. A bowl of salt was also set out, so the pair could season their meals.

"Forgive the lack of sauce and spice, I am afraid that I have had no time to take my taxes from the merchants in the form of their goods. Nor have I had the chance to properly pillage this land of its wares!"

Moebius laughed and picked up his fork. Then, he skewered a piece of roast fish on its tines and lifted the morsel to his mouth. He chomped and chewed upon it, seeming to savor the meat. Then he washed it down with a sip of wine.

"Ah, much as I despise the green stuff of life, I do so love meat! I prefer it raw and wriggling in my hands, with fresh blood on my tongue... but I find my guests are often disturbed by such habits!"

He cackled like the mad man that he was before stuffing his mouth with some of the bread. It wasn't poisoned, it seemed... It was, however, made with acorn flour and bird's eggs. Another stiff swig of wine chased this round of mashing and munching, and then Moebius spoke again.

"NOW! As for the title, I shall trust it to you... though I hope you'll give me a name in return, my charming guest. I seek The Keys to the Gates... Perhaps you have heard of this text and its ten thousand names?"

"A tempting offer, but no. I do not doubt that the Priestesses keep the book well-guarded and hidden from prying eyes..."

Moebius reached for the wineskin that was hanging upon his chair, and refilled his bowl, he held the skin out to Volke and waggled it. A silent offer to refill Volk's drinking bowl.

"An amateur thief or mere visitor would never be able to get to it, and a master thief would steal it and sell the tome to the highest bidder, rather than make a deal. However..."

The skeletons placed the pieces of fish meat on another set of sharpened sticks, and put them into the hearth to roast alongside the vegetables and the tubers. The un-rotting hunter's corpse, meanwhile, grabbed a pair of wooden tongs and watched the loaves... The smell that wafted from the fire wasn't unpleasant, though it was perhaps a little nutty and strangely sweet.

"A living agent with a decent reputation could scout out their temple and perhaps learn of the defenses and martial strength of the Priestesses. Along with just what part of their library, or what vault, they hide their more... unsavory texts in."

Long, gnarled fingers tapped long, chipped nails on the wooden surface of the table.

"If I had that knowledge gifted to me, then I would not have to probe with shades and recruit an inside agent and wait for months to move on."

The Magnificent and Mystical Emperor Moebius, First of His Name, did not know any of Kyori's plans for betrayal or reneging on the deal. However, he wasn't a complete and utter fool. So, rather than just take her at her word, he prepared a contingency. After double-checking that nobody was looking at the pair, a child was but he was quickly shuffled away by his mother with a glare, Moebius removed his hand from Kyori's chin.

"Excellent, excellent... however... just for my peace of mind..."

Then, without any warning, he grabbed Kyori's wrist with one hand, while the other went for her claws, palms down... He sliced his palm open upon her claws, without hesitation or a hint of pain. Once the thin cut had been made, blood flowed and dripped onto the floor of her cage. It was a bit darker than was normal for mortals and beasts, and it smelled faintly of rot and decay.

Moebius let go of Kyori's wrist after that and pulled something from his robes. A small knife made of polished stone, which he passed into Kyori's hands.

His words were a whisper, which the crowd remained oblivious of.

"If you would swear an oath by your blood and the bones of your ancestors that you shall uphold your end of the bargain? I will do the same. Quickly, quickly before someone notices that you have a weapon!"

Kyori, of course, did not have to uphold her side of a bargain or plan even if she swore with blood and by her ancestors. However, breaking the bargain would become more costly, for there was power in blood and one's ancestors might not wish to be disturbed or forced to pay in death for mistakes made by their living progeny.

Moebius did not, at that moment, say anything about his plan to rescue the Princess. Truth be told, he was making it up as he went along, he hadn't expected such a powerful creature to fall into his lap. He would have to be careful once she was free, however. Kyori was not a dog, but a wolf. A wild thing and an enemy of the shepherd, but wolves could be tamed, somewhat. Turned from wild hunters into guides and companions, if one treated them well and both wolf and man set boundaries.

He held out his bleeding hand, expectant, waiting...

After Volke's apology, the glare fled Moebius' eyes and a warm smile crept into his voice.

"Very good then."

In truth, his anecdote had been a subtle threat, one that he expected would have unsettled Volke. When Volke had proven capable of at least faking bravery, Moebius had simply switched tactics. Shame, frustration, anger, these too were tools one could use to manipulate. So the book had told Moebius.

He pulled his head and his arm back to his chair, once more appearing like a little hunch-backed man or an elder peasant stooped over from years of hard labor. Once more, Moebius tilted his mask with one hand, while the other held up the bowl to his lips for a sip.

"No, no, the wine isn't Adelan. It is local berry wine, taken from some hunter, as I said."

The hearthfire was roaring by then, and the skeletons began to place the wild vegetables and the tubers on the pointy ends of some sharpened sticks. The body of the hunter, meanwhile, brought out a handful of loaves of bread. It also grabbed a long-handled cup and a bucket of water, which it used to drizzle water onto the loaves. The loaves were then placed upon the hearth, left alongside the roasting plant stuff.

The fish had been cleaned, but it seemed that the skeletons were now focused on preparing it with various herbs from the forest after cutting fillets into strips.

"Perhaps you can. As I said, I am here for information. I am told that the Priestesses of the Moon have a tome which I seek, buried in their library. It's the forbidden sort of book, you see, full of dangerous knowledge."

The skeletons had finished preparing the meat, and stopped moving for a second as they stared at the food that was already roasting on the fire. They were waiting.

Moebius kept his mask raised as he took another sip of wine, then grinned... showing off teeth shaped like slate shards, thin, sharp, jagged and gray. The rest of his face was still obscured, however, except his eyes.

"Once I know the details of their defenses, then I shall retreat to a place that I know of, where the iron is plentiful and no Serenian dares to tread. If you could provide me that information, or some way to make the task of gathering it easier, I would be able to move on more quickly."

After he made his offer, Moebius lowered his mask again and dropped his smile. His eyes twisted and twinkled a bit as he mulled over one of Volke's words. "Zodia"... it sounded familiar to him, but distantly. He had never heard it spoken aloud before, but he could have sworn he read it in one of his old books, before he found his guide.

He just had to remember... It hadn't been in the guide, he knew that much... did he?

For a moment, Moebius was silent as the stone, or perhaps more like the grave. He felt tempted to reveal his remaining minions, but instead he felt that he should show the lesser cards of his hand. He reached under the table, and pulled out the iron shovel that he had kept hidden from Volke's gaze. He threw it onto the table with a heavy thump and a ringing of metal. It was merely a shovel, but... the iron blade was close to Volke's body, close enough that he could almost touch it for a moment. Close enough that Volke could, undoubtedly, see the strange old script that was embossed upon it. Then, the shovel was pulled away and left to lean against Moebius' seat.

He was silent for a moment, Moebius was... the dead had stopped moving and were staring at him, stuck mid-task. On the floor above, hidden from view, his other embodied minions waited, clutching bits of wood and bronze, while one held an iron pick to its chest. The shades waited, and made themselves known with a chill in the air and faint whispers.

"Well? Go on then, tell me what power you will use to defend yourself from an iron shovel to the back of your skull! Then give me your next threat, you ill-tempered goat in guest's clothing! You miscreant masquerading as a man! I invite you into my home and pour you my wine, and all you do is threaten me! We can indeed kill each other, yes?! We can both do damage to each other, yes?! Neither of us has a clear advantage and we are both hiding tricks up our sleeves, yes? YES?!"

Moebius began to gesture and gesticulate about, spilling some of the wine from his bowl and onto the table and floor.


"Has this not been established?! Or do you wish to skip the showmanship and get to the meat of the matter?! I can remove my rags and get two pieces of string. Then we can both measure our manhoods to see which is longer and which is thicker! That is what you came to do, yes?!"

Moebius stayed seated on his chair, but his bent-over spine cracked and crunched and somewhat straightened out until he loomed over the table, and over Volke's head. An arm stretched with him, poking Volke in the chest to punctuate points.

"Or did you come to parley and negotiate in good faith?! If you came to do that then drink your wine and make me an offer to get what you want from me."

When Kyori came close, Moebius did not move. He did not even blink at first, instead staring with a patient eye at the strange woman in the cage. His look was cold, keen, and cunning. He stared at her as a smith might look at a rusty knife, or jeweler at an unpolished gem. Once he had finished studying her, and not a moment before, he replied to Kyori's hoarse whispering with some whispers of his own.

"Fair enough. I shall call you whatever you wish, Princess, should you prove amenable."

He paused a moment and stared at the crowd. Then, without a hint of concern for his own well-being, he reached forth and grabbed at Kyori's chin, pretending to inspect her like any other beast for sale.

"I am going to assume that a proud Princess such as you does not wish to spend even a moment as someone's slave. And you especially do not wish to be a slave to a mage with magics that can make your strength and claws useless against him. So I offer you a bargain. Your freedom, today without the indignity of purchase or enslavement on paper, in exchange for your aid on a quest of mine in the forest."

Moebius tried to turn her head, this way and that, before moving her so that she couldn't help but see his eyes as he stared into hers with a cold fire.

"So, what say you? Do we have a deal? Or shall I leave you here to rot while I find a sellsword that won't betray my plans?"

Once Volke was inside, Moebius spoke in a dead tongue, which did not sound unlike the speech used by southern Adelans, as he pointed at the door. The spirit that had opened the door closed it again, and barred it.

Dust covered Volke's finger when he held it up, but not the white and powdery stuff of places left uncleaned. This was saw dust, wood shavings, soot, and the powdered remains of local herbs. Moebius had been busy, and the table where he ate had also been his workplace. And the single room at the base of the tower had been the workplace of his servants.

The chair, more a stool or short bench, that Volke sat in was simple, crude even. It was also newly made. Just like the rest of the furniture in the room. Well, except for Moebius' seat, which seemed more like a gaudy attempt at making a throne. A chair with a proper back, made of tree limbs, wattle for the seat and back, and the bones of various woodland creatures. It also had a bit of cushioning, in the form of a deer's hide and dried grasses.

"Thank you for your kind words, though they are lies. On the side of truthful things, I hope you shall pardon my mess. I did not expect company and I am still finishing the touches of my little home!"

Moebius chuckled like a hale, hearty peasant before speaking again in that long-dead tongue, pointing at a hole in the floor that had straight edges and was close to the hearth. Invisible hands reached in and plucked a pair of wooden drinking bowls, and a wineskin with a strap. The wineskin and bowls were brought to the pair of seated mages, and the bowls were filled from a wineskin that continued to float and tipped itself.

Then, once the bowls were full, the wineskin seemed to place its strap over a piece of Moebius' throne, where it then hung.

"I think you shall enjoy this. A berry wine that some hunter brought to me by chance, not that it saved him from my making proper use of him!"

Moebius laughed that hearty laugh again and took a sip of his wine. Then he gestured to the hearth, where the three skeletons picked up and chopped wild vegetables and tubers and gutted and cleaned a few river trout. And where a walking corpse that seemed miraculously untouched by rot aided them.

"He actually gathered the fish for this meal, made traps for the river. Quite ingenious things they are, wicker baskets with an entrance toward the flow of the river! The fish swim right in, easy-as-you-please! And then..."

Moebius hushed his voice low, a wicked smile showing in his eyes from behind his mask and sounding in his voice.

"There is no way out!"

He laughed again as he took another sip of his berry wine. Then, Moebius lost all of his charm and cheer and spoke with a tone as cold as the grave.

"But enough talk of such mundane things. Let us be frank and open with each other. I shall not leave my new keep after all the work that I put into making it bearable, not yet. I must remain here, until I gather information that I need. Then I will head into the mountains, near the veins of iron that you Serenians cannot abide! But not before I have the secrets of my enemies, their strengths and weaknesses, and where they keep the treasure I must take!"

"Right then, give me just a moment! I shall be right down!"

With that, Moebius turned and scrambled towards, and then down, the stairs, eshewing his usual shuffle for a knuckle-walk that was much faster. Once on the second floor, which had no windows, Moebius whispered his commands to the various shades and his "embodied" dead. The undead servant with the iron shovel in its hands gave its tool to its master when it arrived upstairs. After that, three quarters of the bakers' dozen of walking corpses on the bottom floor went up to the second story, leaving three skeletons and a "fresh" corpse to guard the downstairs and prepare dinner. Alongside them were five specters, out of Moebius' twenty souls.

There, he had been quiet and neither the bottom nor the second floor of the tower had a window (presumably for reasons of security). When the stranger came in, Moebius knew that the stranger would have no way to know that Moebius had forces in reserve... and also that he had a second tool made of iron, the pickaxe, waiting upstairs.

Once the shuffling of the sleep-walking dead was done, Moebius had a shade remove a board that blocked the door and undo the lock. He had the shade open the door, as well, so that the door slowly and silently swung on well-oiled hinges to reveal the bottom floor of the tower.

The bottom floor of the keep had definitely seen better days. A good portion of the floor had been replaced with fresh beams, but there were still quite a few spots that had only rotten wood covering over the stone and dirt foundations. There was a hearth situated to the side, attached to a bit of a chimney that had once extended up past the third floor, but had crumbled away over years of neglect. Inside of that half-fireplace half-kitchen, a dim fire was burning. There were tallow candles sputtering on the table, as well, with melting fat slowly leaking onto the table.

"Come, friend, sit. I shall offer you food and drink once you do. Then we might discuss terms and such!"

Moebius, for a moment, appeared to elongate and stretch himself to watch Casscocus transform from a song-bird into a strange mixture of bird and man. However, by the time that Cass had finished his transformation, Moebius had once again contorted and crouched to his previous height and length. Then, he shuffled back and gestured with an arm that seemed ever-so-slightly too long toward the interior of the cave.

Once Cass was inside, Moebius shuffled to a pile of dead, dry sticks that he had kept close to the fire, and threw a handful in. The sputtering, dim flame brightened as it found new fuel to consume. Then, he grabbed the rabbit that he'd caught earlier, and ripped it in half. Moebius then reached with his too-long-arm to the place where Cass had thought himself safe from the necromancer's reach and gave him the rabbit's rear end, which had not yet been bitten.

With the food shared, Moebius lifted his mask just enough to reveal his mouth with its bloody lips and teeth shaped like pieces of broken shale. He bit into his piece of rabbit, tearing away a bloody chunk of meat before chomping and chewing it with all the grace of a starving dog. Once he'd swallowed the bite, Moebius began to speak again.

"Now, I do have a question about your nature... in addition to transforming into a bird, can you speak in the tongue of birds, as well?"

__________________QUICK STATS
Name: Thordin Aufler
Age: Years -???, Adult
Gender:Masculine-presenting
Species: Human
Ethnicity: "Old" Serenian
Height: 6'2" or 1.879 Meters
Occupation: Wandering Adventurer
Residence: None, yet. Formerly Castle Hoffae.

__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description: Thordin Aufler is a somewhat tall, barrel chested man with red hair and green eyes. He usually wears simple trousers and

Personality:

Magic/Abilities: While Thordin is a Serenian, he was technically born before the modern intermingling of human and fae blood, and thus has none of the magical talent (and none of the weaknesses) of his kin. He does, however, have the following knowledge and special gifts from his adopted family.

Fae-Lore: Thordin has a good knowledge of all of the different types of fae creature, including their typical ranges, behaviors, and weaknesses. He also knows their magical rituals and how to summon spirits and elementals to his aid (there is no guarantee that they'll actually help him, however).

Witch Sight: As part of his fostering among the fae, Thordin's eyes have been changed, or trained, to see past many illusions. Many fae glamours do not fool him and he can perceive magical phenomena and creatures that others might miss.

Fairy Paths: Thordin knows the various paths and hidden entrances to the land of Faerie, or at least how to identify them. This lets him travel relatively quickly and out of sight of others, he can also guide people onto the paths alongside himself.

Rusty Sword: Thordin carries a strange, iron sword (which we would call the Carolingian type) that was supposedly gifted to him when he was first kidnapped by his adopted family. The blade appears to be covered in rust, but it is still sharp to the touch. Thordin has been warned that he should not draw this blade unless his life is in danger.

Green Armor and Shield: Thordin often wears a suit of plate armor that covers his body from head to toe, and which appears to be made from fresh, living wood and leaves. The armor is as hard as iron, and can repair itself if broken. However, it must be regularly given water and sunlight, or else it will die and become brittle. He has a round arming shield made of the same stuff, and which has the same requirements.

Singing Sword: Thordin's preferred weapon, a gift given when he was young by his adopted father. Made out of some strange, silverish metal known to the fae, the blade makes a whistling noise or "sings" when it is swung and is enchanted to never dull or tarnish.

Fairy Wine: A "wine" that is able to do miraculous things. When drunk, it cures all ailments that someone is feeling, removes poison from the blood, and causes injuries to heal many times faster than normal. When splashed directly upon a wound, it cleans it and closes it without any scars being left. A steady diet of the stuff can even stop the aging process! (Thordin only has two bottles of the stuff. One is meant for the sovereign of Serendipity as a gift.)

Relationships

History

__________________THREAD TRACKER
Current Threads

Complete Threads


FINAL NOTES

"Immaterial?! Who names their child Immaterial?! Only parents that despise a child or wish him gone would give a son a name like that! Did they have a favorite child that wasn't you, perchance?! HA!"

Moebius, of course, knew that the man most likely was not actually named "Immaterial". However, the stranger at the door would definitely be lulled into a false sense of security if he assumed Moebius was too stupid to know any better. It was also a, distant, possibility that if the stranger was sufficiently mocked and riled, he could be angered into revealing his own name.

Such headgames were quickly forgotten when the gigantic thing that Volke had brought with him appeared, seemingly from out of nowhere. Moebius extended himself and leaned out of the window, until it seemed that his hands were gripping vines nearly halfway down the tower to support his slithering, snakelike body and the robes that covered it. The strange creature below him was bulky, broad, big in every way!

"Hmmm... fascinating..."

Moebius knew it would do quite a bit of damage to the newly-installed front door. And that had taken about a week to get done. Each of the various components had been stolen or sourced from nearby forests and the whole thing was built by the dead hands of spirits that only half-remembered their old trades. In other words, it would take some time to replace. And the squadron of undead servants that Moebius commanded would probably be depleted, leaving him unprepared if a real threat should come.

Then again, the strange monster seemed to be fully alive and full of blood. Blood that could feed a grand ritual if Moebius was able to capture it alive...

"Now, as for your kind request... I shall consult with my advisors! One moment..."

Moebius pulled his body back into the window, before turning to the shades that still swirled within the room that he'd turned into his primary quarters and workspace.

"What say you, old kings of forgotten time?"

A shade with a simple circlet of gold around its head spoke first.

"Refuse him and turn him away. If he attacks, we have stone and the strength of iron against his fae-touched blood."

"That is true, I do have the shovel and the pick..."

Another shade, this one with hardly any features aside from a spiky crown piped up.

"No, no, kill him now and steal his beast. Place it in chains and slit its throat with your dagger, and use its blood to raise the soldiers that died around these walls! An army shall be yours!"

"Hmmm. Yes, if I could capture the beast alive, but I don't think we have any chains strong enough. Our ropes are made from vines and wild cordage, they would snap if we tried to contain it."

A third shade, this one bearing an eye-patch and a simple rag over its head, opened a spectral mouth that was missing some teeth.

"Yarr, cap'n. Methinks the best thing ta do would be ta sit down and negotiate. He might have that thing behind him, but if he thought it would be enough on its own, he wouldn't have asked ya ta leave before he had it break down the door. And, he said he don't be wantin' any authorities seein' what he's doin', so perhaps he and ye have somethin' in common."

"AH! Yes, yes... I'm sure he has something he wants that I can provide, and if I could convince him to give me the creature for sacrifice, or just oodles of fresh blood... Thank you, I can always count upon you for decent counsel, Petey!"

The skull-masked face of Moebius poked back out from the window to stare down at Volke.

"Attention, strange mage! I tire of shouting down at you from my window like some codger! And I'd rather not lose half of my forces and drain my magics killing you! Therefore, I propose... negotiations, over a late supper! Do you accept?!"

The Magnificent and Mystical Emperor Moebius, First of His Name, considered himself a benevolent and reasonable king. After all, he allowed the living to continue breathing in his presence, despite the disgust that he had for such practices. So, despite Lady Capella providing a half-bow that implied she was on equal footing to him, he let it slide and offered a similar bowing of his head in turn. The fact that she could have easily slain his fragile, still-mortal body and left him a wandering ghost with little ability to continue his magics might have had something to do with his patience and tact.

Upon Lady Capella's transformation into a massive, night-black horse with sharp needle teeth, Moebius said nothing. He just watched as she galloped off, taking with her the spirits of her victims... Many of whom seemed to have their hands stuck to her back, as they did in their last moments.

Moebius waited for some time after that. Seconds trickled into minutes until nearly an hour had passed. But, eventually, he was certain the strange kelpie that  had threatened him with drowning and whom he owed a debt of secrets to was gone. Then, he shuffled out of his circle, back towards the strange trail he'd travelled upon to reach the clearing. And then, he left... while keeping an eye out for markers and indicators of the path itself. Who knew? Perhaps he could make use of this strange, ambient magic for his own ends...