Monsters

Log Info

• Title: Monsters
• Emitter: Elyanna
• Characters: Elyanna, Ashes
• Place: The Wilderness, far north of Alexandria, Mahuikaa's place
• Time: Sunday, April 25, 2021, 5:59 PM
• Summary: Elyanna is struggling with the tent-o-three-tails, and Ashes is trying to overcome the new knowledge regarding her friend. She also remains quite bitter that Alexandria was able to reach so far after them. The two discuss their upbringing, with Ashes clearly understanding the pressures that were placed on the half-hob. She opines that a Blar upbringing would not have been much different. Elyanna laments ever receiving an honest kiss. Ashlee explains that she, as a hobgoblin, never doubted her monster status but regarded Elyanna, being only half, as possibly not. However, her human ingenuity was enough to qualify her. Some details regarding the torture filled in, conspicuously absent from Ectra's extraction. They discuss plans for when they return.

It's been quiet since the return from the trip beyond the mortal coil.

The Keeper has largely been a pair of hands on request, offering little in the way of conversation in general, and nothing in the way of small talk.

She's presented herself as a sort of buffer between the Valethor gang, and Galatta's crew as they await to return of their... displaced comrade. While Galatta's reputation as known to Otilla Silverlash had ended some years prior in Bludgun after her theft of demihuman resources, Elyanna had little knowledge of what those years had done to the Slave Catcher save what has presented during their confrontation.

Most of that time has been spent trying to keep equilibrium during her stweardship of the malign lash that she'd taken up from the Mourner.

Such is the case, tonight, though the highborn hobkin is considering the fitfully wriggling tendrils of the scourge that gleam wetly in the moonlight between the span of her grasping hands.

Mourner Ashlee Ciaradh has likewise returned to her norm of not speaking and following orders. Doing her job, whatever that job might be. She lets herself be directed by Mahuikaa and otherwise doesn't engage.

She briefly considers apologizing to Galatta when some of her Hexes take affect later. The ashen Arvec dismisses this sentiment; they were earned at the time and she was warned. Also, an apology to Elyanna existed as a fleeting concept, both for saddling her with the lash and some of the things she said. These too however, were asked for and earned, and while the Mourner didn't explicitly warn everyone that they would be judged in the afterlife, it could be surmised. Magus Ectra pulling their secrets from them was unexpected...

... but it served the Feiu of the Tears in the end. Everyone was laid bare. Apologies may be owed, but 'sorry' won't do.

It's easier for Ashlee to close herself off, maintain her distance. Still, the 'evidence' may cause problems and she has to check on that. She asks simply, "Are you managing that?"

Elyanna's head snaps to that side, eyes narrowed in irritation or maybe concentration, though it.. fades to something like her own take on Hobgoblin impartiality before she turns her eyes back to the 'evidence' at hand. There is a hesitation there, though her voice has been too long an instrument for her to give away the struggle as she replies, "So far."

She considers the other camp, the distant pack of gnolls and half-orcs yucking it up around a campfire or somesuch thing, whilst others of their band maintain their own unspoken picket.

Her fingers tighten slightly around the lash, likely more spirit than weapon, "Is there a plan, Mourner?" <Goblin-talk>

"No." That's simple enough. Ashlee doesn't have one and none have been discussed with her. She shrugs slightly, "Find out who made it. Find Veren now. Though it's our word against hers that she put it in Bethany's hand."

The Mourner pauses, "The sight is unlikely to spark a confession." Another shrug, "Send golems to search the Slug's place. She was adamant there is nothing useful for us there." <goblin-talk>

The other camp gets a long gaze. It's not their fault Ashes said what she said, or thinks what she does, but they're convenient to blame.

Elyanna snorts a derisive, "Slug!" in a sort of vindictive amusement, then she sighs, a low growl, "So much achievement... for a damned fool."

The monster's grip relaxes from saffron-knuckling the tendrils, to something more of a mandarin orange, her tendons tensing and relaxing in turns along the back of her hand, "Still, most of her... work likely steered toward becoming the undead... I... expect those materials are best scourged from Ea, hidden away or not."

She, personally, has little blame to throw at the distant camp. What was said was said in light of the truth, now exposed by Ectra's 'bargains'. There is a soft growl, an intake of breath, then, "We should've asked... if she took trophies of her kills. The assassin'll have to lead us to the will behind it. That'll take.... convincing." -<goblin-talk>

Some convincing. The Mourner lets that hang, answering it with silence. She stares at the once foes now... tamed for the moment. Still, she doesn't like them.

"They're proof how much Alexandria hates that we escaped." Ashlee says, a dismissive gesture at the distant camp. "Norrington, the Nobles, try to enforce their ego in the wilderness."

She returns to the observation, "The assassin might listen. Depending what they know."

"I... didn't know Or'Thurgen fled to Alexandria, too." Elyanna comments softly after a pause that lay back and let it happen.

Nor does she know what it means...

"It's not the first time the guard sent sellswords for my head in answer to my..." here hangs a note, "mercy." followed by the ruffle of feathers as her shoulders rise and fall with little spare ambition to back them.

The red woman turns her chin slightly to the Mourner's side, though her eyes remain on the distant hunters, "Veren'll want assurances, no doubt. Likewise, also, we'd be fools to let her live, knowing how to find and identify her." -<goblin-talk>

"She will think the same about us." Ashlee says, without inflection, lacking emotion. One arm hangs at her side, the other bent enough for her hand to hold where the strap meets her satchel. "First time they sent any after me."

No good deed goes unpunished, after all.

Nor bad one, it seems. "There will be a reason for her new allegiance." A pause, "Or something changed her heart."

Elyanna's knuckles float again as she tightens her grip on the undulating tendrils, a low sound sighing through her nostrils, "She hunted runaways in Bludgun. She'd been at it at least as long as I'd been a Keeper." There's another pause, her chin turning back toward the distant camp, "A couple of years ago, she'd vanished with a caravan." There is a subtle, weary sag to her posture, "I... wouldn't have made it... if she was still in play." Her eyes close, and, "I... didn't know..." <goblin-talk>

The ashen Arvec remains silent, breathing slowly. Chippen crawls out of the satchel and up her forearm. He rests on her upper sleeve, waving antennae, beady eyes staring at his mistress and then the Keeper. The Mourner's thoughts aren't worth sharing, being sour ones. She lets them circle until she's able to dismiss them.

"It doubt it matters. Did she sway that easily? Is this all a ploy to ease us back once she lost advantage?" That suspicion is worth sharing, and another one, "Think Merek can buy her off?"

"I don't know!" the Keeper snaps as her spine stiffens and she whirls half about to regard the Mourner, conflict, old, and new, within the shadows framing the play of muscles under the skin of her face, her breath at once labored with incence.

Her lips tremble, half asneer before she wills them back together and turns away.

"I'm...!" a growl hisses through gnashed teeth, "I'm.... I'm sorry..."

Her head shakes a touch, then hangs, "I don't... think it's a ploy... but it can be." <goblin-talk>

Ashlee flinches a little at the raised voice. Her head turns and she fixes Elyanna with a stare. Chippen advances up to her shoulder, then onto her head. He ends up out on an ear, feet gripping the top ridgeof it.

"It makes you say things." She says, having had the burden as well. It sounds too much like an excuse to the Mourner's ears, so she adds, "the things are still true."

A pause, an exhale. It must be broached, "I knew you were struggling. I didn't know with what, or how much. It's more than I know how to take."

Elyanna's grip on the tentacle whip makes the little tips flail energetically about, then, "It... makes you lash out..." she returns, almost sounding like herself, "Lady Bethany did not... hate Delilah."

She closes her eyes again, "I... can do this." For her.

A concept from Keeper Otilla that is likely unwelcome.

Thus remains unsaid.

Her concerns for the Mourner in the aftermath, likewise unwelcome.

Unsaid.

"Lash out." There's a strange sound, like Ashlee choking. Did the Mourner laugh? A first time for everything. Her grave manner returns, "She didn't."

Followed by silence, then another neutrally toned observation, "Did not expect passion to last into the grave."

More silence.

"It's not my role to judge." Except some things can't be ignored.

Elyanna's attention is drawn some as Ashlee perhaps aspirates some spit or the like. There is the peak of an eyebrow, an open moment of concern before the walls go up again and she returns her eyes to their vigil.

Passion prompts a hitch in her breath, then a sigh, "Humans." she notes simply.

"We do, though, don't we....?" the Keeper notes bitterly, a non question nonetheless framed such, the subtle hiss in her words cluing that perhaps she's talking through her fangs again.

"Everyone.... knew what I am...." <goblin-talk>

"We do." Ashlee says, exhaling, not speaking through her fangs. The lack of inflection in her voice makes her very hard to interpret. Especially when she remains still, and stares.

"It changes nothing and it changes everything," she says finally. "It's been your past. You've been working to get past it, ever since I've known you."

She shakes her head, small movements, "the others are wrong. It's not a part of your past that can be ignored. It's not something to be forgotten. Kental will never forget. You will never forget. I won't."

She turns and stares at the redskinned noble, a once friend, "I feel betrayed but that was always you. The betrayal is... mine."

The red woman's chin dips some, "No. You won't." she says sourly, "... I won't..." then she snarls back at Ashlee, "I CAN'T!" pushing to her feet as the lash makes squishy noises within the vices her hands become. The grip on the business end slackens and she sweeps the weapon out along the horizon.

"SHE WON'T!" she cries, a glistening fear touching her eyes, her voice untapped at last, ascends in volume and a torrent of emotion, "I gave up my LIFE to come to this human pit, suckered in with all the lies about it's virtue! Moonbeams and trollshit about kindness, love and understanding! How much better they are than me! How -I- could be -BETTER-! I could be TRUE. I could DESERVE my family!"

Those tentacles are going absolutely nuts. -<goblin-talk>

Ashlee sets her hand on Elyanna's shoulder. She almost uses her comforting words, but... those failed her at the stream. She's not sure she should use them at all. Instead she says, "I can take it back."

The whip, not her words.

She keeps her hand in place. Her words are a little softer, even if they remain flat and slow. "So did I."

She reaches, trying to express some empathy, "I understand what Bludgun was for you."

Elyanna's expression is definitely one of struggle as she stares unblinking into Ashlee's eyes, whip hand trembling taut at the end of her arm, "It was everything!" she snaps again, then clenches her eyes shut and seethes, curling in on herself.<goblin-talk>

Likely someone across the way is wondering what all the voices are about.

The Keeper's deathgrip tightens on the hilt of the lash and she growls hatefully, "Enough of your games, subcreature!" <infernal>

"It... was supposed to be Blar..." she says first in Trade, looking slowly up toward Ash's face.

"I'm a von Diesel!" Her eyelid twitches, "Otilla should have never been!" <goblin-talk>

"We're hobgoblins. We're different. Blar would have been the same." Ashlee stares. She slides her hand down, resting it over Elyanna's, feeling the deathgrip. Without malice or insult, she voices words that are, "Halfbreed. Freak. Weak. Sideshot. Sheetspill. Sexstain. Soft. Hysterical. Human."

"You would have heard these in Blar. We're out of line. Everyone would put you in your place."

She closes her eyes, exhaling. For a moment the skull on her face is everything about her, and she seems to vanish in it. "Not Otilla, but still a bad place. These pressures are not your fault."

Her hand tightens on the grip, "Your actions still are." <goblin-talk>

The red woman's ire grows with the array of appellations put forward, though none of them prompt anything resembling surprise. She's too human not to have heard any of them. The Mourner left out all the really biting ones that were the cornerstones of every one of her younger days, until she demonstrated her own brand of monstrosity.

"But I would have known our ways!" she retorts, the hand under Ashlee's only unlike a ball of iron for the trembling of her muscles straining against each other, "Maybe had an honest kiss, like the insipid drivel the humans sing about."

Elyanna seems momentarily taken aback by that part, then pulls her hand free and turns from the woman who had been among the scant number of her friends and takes an uncertain step away, "I'm well aware of what hells I deserve." <goblin-talk>

"I don't know about that." Ashlee says, although it's not clear whether she means the kiss or the hells. Perhaps for her it's been one and the same. Her 'one true love' was not a fairytale. She makes another small, deliberate shake of her head, and lets her hand drop.

"I never doubted I was a monster. Everyone knows, all hobgoblins are. Thralls of vampires, until we weren't. Still militant. Still knuckling under to the stronger. Still following orders." The ashen Arvek Nar states these facts. No doubt in her voice, no doubt that they are.

"Our good traits are few. We like our compartments, our organizations, our boxes. Our place when we find it. We don't reach."

She stares, more skull than herself, a harkening to how she was past the veil. "We aren't that creative. We aren't ingenius. In Bludgun, you had to prove you weren't weak because you were a half-blood. Show them. Yet, if set to torture, a regular hob would simply whip."

"You went beyond." The Mourner's words grow firm, "You, got creative."

"I thought you were different. You weren't a monster because you were only half-hobgoblin." It hurts to say these things, and Ashlee knows they will hurt Elyanna, but she has to get past them. It's not something she can hide.

"Except you are. A monster. Because you're half human." <goblin-talk>

...

...

...

"I did." the Keeper says softly, her grip slackening on the weapon, it's petulant writing actually setting some wiggle into the hilt, as the other hand rises to caress the multi hued tresses of Maidenhead. The silver lash from which she'd earned her soubriquet. The silver lash absent from that vision into her past.

"A hob -would- whip, would beat a slave to death. Would maim. Would cripple. Would waste the time and effort."

....

...

...

Without looking back, "Her name is Essana. " <goblin-talk>

"Dead or maimed?" It was a sizeable chunk of meat. It wasn't her face, nor recognizable, it could have been survivable. It's a faint hope for the Mourner, perhaps the daughter, Essana, didn't die. It doesn't change much, not the past, not Elyanna's actions.

Only Ashlee's awareness of how deep that hole goes, and what the Keeper is trying to crawl out of.

"Neither, as far as I know. That would be up to her Keeper." Elyanna returns evenly, turning back her way, "Ectra was clever in that way Ogresses oft can be. Only that, and nothing more." Then, as if suddenly reminded of her burden by it's fitful squirming, she tightens her grip anew and gives it a scornful look.

"I've taken slaves. I've tortured. I've done murder." The Keeper softens her gaze, a momentary uncertainty, then looks back to the other camp, "My greatest cruelty... was making a mother think she'd eaten her only child." A look back to Ashes, "A child left alone." -<goblin-talk>

"Oh." Ashes says, the answer placing a large unknown back where she thought there was a certainty. The child lives, or not, hale, or not. Orphaned, without doubt. Her mother most likely welcoming death, perhaps begging for it. She may even have thanked Otilla, for giving her that mercy after that trick.

Cruel. Inventive. And quite pragmatic.

"I don't know how to put it together." Ashlee says. "and I can't deny it's a part of you. You know words won't erase that. The whip reaches for ... it. Her, if you must."

Elyanna closes her eyes again for a moment, her features twisting slightly as she wrestles back more of the whip's influences, "Sullied pork, undercooked on my orders. She was broken by hunger, the suggestion was enough. Nature did the rest." she says softly.

'How to put it together' could have been 'in her head' or 'what seasoning did you use', but the answer is the same.

"I know. I've tried to be a.... better person as they call such things in Alexandria... and it always seems to fail..." A slow shake of her head, "... only the old ways ever seem to succeed."

The Elyanna and the Otilla, Ashlee wants to explain. She's unsure how to see the one whole person, though even Elyanna wishes for that illusion. It's a role, that's not her, even though Otilla is much like Elyanna is, formed of two parents: Half-Elyanna, Half-Bludgun.

It's no lie that alter-ego would have been something else in Blar. And perhaps, just as bad if born of Alexandria.

"They hide it better but they're the same. The humans are no better but we're the monsters." The ashen Arvec says, there is a tinge of bitterness in her voice. Perhaps she's too close to the whip. Perhaps it's leftover damage. The bounty-hunter camp still infuriates her eyes. "They have the luxury of gilding their ideals, while we are upstarts, borrowing things that will never fit us just right."

"How are we supposed to follow orders and our conscience?" Ashlee asks, "when our conscience can't be trusted because we're monsters and following orders is our good? But their conscience, Human conscience, that's always just better. Just fine always blessing whatever they want to do."

"You were doomed from birth." Perhaps that's how the pieces are made whole.

"We all are." Elyanna replies distantly, "From the day we're born, we're dying."

A shake of her head and she frowns, "Are the others any better?" she wonders aloud, yellow-knuckling the haft of the whip again, "I have seen them all falter. I've faced death with compassionate souls. I don't know what to think, anymore."

"You aren't half the monster you think you are." Elyanna replies, turning to look back at the skull faced woman, "Too far in the shaded lands at times, perhaps, but that is all I see, Mourner."

"Perhaps." The Mourner says. She has her doubts. She killed Nan Mochtrath. It was self-defense. It might have been justice. Yet if she had died, she would have been innocent. Living, she's not. She's also helped others along the path, burdening them with Hexes she learned from her witch-mother, and words from the Temple. She's wanted a few to die also. The intention is there, the act would be simply sealing the sin. Yet that is for the Feiu of the Tears to judge, she has to remember that catachism.

"Some," Ashlee observes, "are forgiven for faltering. Others, condemned while succeeding. We rarely have angels singing our praises."

There's a momentary pause while she waits for that thought, then she adds, "Just Merek."

A joke? She moves on without comment. "I don't know what to think anymore either. You don't have to keep carrying that." And perhaps some other things.

"Our guide seemed taken with you." Elyanna replies offhandedly, though the offer of taking up the whip isn't met with a resolute denial, she looks at it, awrithe and glistening and altogether malevolent as she slowly regards the Mourner more fully, "You are too good for this filth."

Her eyes lower, "You're my..." she hesitates, "guide..."

She levels her gaze anew, and concerned, concedes, "I would... spare your this burden if I could, but I'm... getting tired. I don't think.. either of us should bear it, overlong." <goblin-talk>

Ashlee reaches out, setting her hand on top of Elyanna's, holding it gently and feeling the force of her grip. "None of us should, but one of us must."

"Perhaps Donna, or Delilah, might."

She's quiet and thoughtful a little longer. "Not Merek, he bears too much already."

Holding onto her hand, the Mourner leads the Keeper back to Mahuikaa's.