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Anoril -> (DF) The Crusnik Conundrum (8/4/2008 13:49:13)
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The Crusnik Conundrum
“Anoril?” piped up Lauren from behind a heavy wooden bookcase.
Anoril looked up and sighed dramatically, “Yes Lauren, what is it?” he did his best to impose a tone of annoyance into his voice, however truthfully the book he’d been reading for the last two hours wasn’t one of the more exciting volumes in his extensive library. Exciting or not it wouldn’t do for someone, especially Lauren to see him perfectly content to discontinue reading, it was all about the image.
Lauren ventured further into the room across the plush purple carpet, “One of your friends is waiting for you in the hall.”
“One of my friends?” Anoril mentally running through a list of names in his head.
Lauren donned a badly constructed casual voice, “a Duke…or…”
Anoril’s list of names was greatly shortened by that clue, although he did know a few Dukes. He answered by first putting down his book and standing to lean on one of the spindly tables his library was playing host to this week, “A Duke? And that’s nothing exciting?”
“No,” said Lauren gulping and trying to keep her face straight.
“Really? Normally Dukes are quite wealthy aren’t they?” he smiled and dropped his voice to teasing tone, “Think of all the shopping you could do with it.”
Lauren squeaked a note but said nothing.
“Do you have a name for this Duke?” asked Anoril, back to business.
Lauren’s eyes rolled upwards as she strained to remember when Anoril continued, “No? You stopped listening after ‘Duke’ didn’t you?”
“No! I…”
“Fine, go get Crusnik and then you can meet us in the hall, just don’t try and marry him alright?”
***
“Duke Sysquella Armana,” said Anoril loudly and impressively as he opened both of the hall’s double doors ostentatiously.
“Master Anoril Sharpcall,” greeted the man standing in the foyer of the town hall. He wore dark blue armour yet stood as though it were a cloth tunic. From his belt hung a sword that would make the greatest blacksmith in the world fall to his knees. Along the length of the blade were scribed 4 magical seals and another grander seal positioned on the hilt. The Duke’s face was tanned and surrounded by brown hair much like the hair Anoril himself had once had before deciding that white hair was more fashionable. Armana’s voice was articulated to the point where even Anoril, who boasted tones far from those of a commoner, felt slightly ashamed of his own accent.
The two thanes shook hands before Armana said, “Do you have somewhere we can talk, Master Sharpcall?”
“Of course,” Anoril gestured towards a door indicating Armana could lead the way, “And as point of courtesy I insist you to refer to me as Anoril.” He removed the comical black and purple party hat from his head humbly. All the old rules of etiquette practiced among the higher classes were flooding back to him now, he feared that being so long amongst commoners such as Glass, he himself may have forgotten how to behave. Absurd.
“And I return the favour, name me as Sysquella.” Anoril bowed in acceptance as Sysquella lead the way forward into the room Anoril had pointed out.
The two stepped into Anoril’s administration chamber, a small room hosting a desk covered in papers of presumably important forms. Anoril took his place behind the deck and pushed the papers hurriedly into a pile. Sysquella sat on a second chair Anoril had had installed for occasions such as this one where more than a single person may be required to sit in the administration chamber, sadly those instances were far too few and far between.
“So Sysquella, how’ve you…” Anoril started.
Sysquella interrupted, “Anoril, something is going to happen here in a matter of days.”
“Right to business then. Something? Something like?” inquired Anoril.
“Something bad, Anoril,” said Sysquella warningly.
“I’d guessed that, thanks,” Anoril said, indicating he wasn’t happy with the answer he received.
“There’s a…phr,” managed Sysquella before he was interrupted by the door opening behind him and the entrance of two newcomers.
Anoril sighed as he saw Lauren, in the five or six minutes since he’d seen her last she’d managed to get changed, apply her finest make-up, choose the correct pair of shoes (which admittedly didn’t make her feet look fat at all), find Crusnik and drag him all the way to the town hall. That was what you called multi-tasking.
“Hi Lauren, new dress I see,” said Anoril, drinking in the vision of her. The dress Lauren now wore made her look as if she were on her way to the King’s Ball. The single piece of blue fabric extended from her feet and stopped just inches from the point of inappropriateness, leaving her neck and shoulders uncovered.
Crusnik, who wasn’t dressed quite as attractively moved around the desk and sat next to Anoril, wiping away a small drop of saliva from his lips, while Lauren pulled up another chair and, having placed it touching Sysquella’s, also sat.
Anoril inclined his head and gave Lauren a despairing look as she casually rested her tiny hand on Sysquella’s knee.
Sysquella’s face darkened and he said to Anoril gravely, “What is this?”
“Ignore her,” said Anoril, waving his hand dismissively at Lauren. He then noticed Sysquella wasn’t looking at Lauren but was staring at Crusnik with a stormy look on his face.
And then the curtains of regret drew themselves in Anoril’s mind.
Anoril leaned backward in his chair and said solemnly, “Crusnik, could you wait outside a moment?” Crusnik looked puzzles but stood all the same, when he reached the door Anoril spoke to Lauren saying, “Go with him will you?”
“I’ll stay with the Duke.” Lauren smiled cheekily.
“I’m not in the mood Lauren, just go. Please?”
Lauren shrugged sadly and followed Crusnik out the door, leaving Anoril alone again with Sysquella.
Anoril opened his mouth but before he could make a sound Sysquella said forcefully, “You have a Crusnik working for you? You know what they are?”
Anoril composed himself, a delicate situation such as this required patience, “Yes, Crusniks are a type of vampire…”
“An especially vicious and brutal type,” Sysquella pointed out, “How could you allow one to work for you?”
“Calm down Sysquella. Crusnik has taken the No-Blood Oath, he’s signed the Pact.”
“A Crusnik sign the Vampire’s Abstinence Pact?” said Sysquella disbelievingly.
“Yes, he’s the only Crusnik to do so it’s true, however in the time he’s been working here he’s shown an outstanding performance in his role.”
“What exactly does he do for you?” inquired Sysquella.
“He’s the Head of Alliances,” answered Anoril. Sysquella laughed disgustedly but Anoril spoke before the Duke let any more words slip out, “I know you don’t like the idea however that’s not my concern Sysquella. I trust him and that’s what matters, besides Cysero’s Defenders is a registered Guide of the Kingdom of Swordhaven and in the last Guild Regulation Revision a new quota was laid down that states we have to have atleast one sentient undead in the guild. The only reason you loop holed out of it Sysquella was you’re registered as specifically anti-undead aren’t you? It’s all legalise really.”
Sysquella looked temporarily lost for words, there was no getting around the bureaucracy of the Swordhaven Guild Laws. “I fear now that thing may have been the reason I am here.”
“Yes you were about to tell me, why are you here?” questioned Anoril.
“A prophecy,” said Sysquella gravely, “There’s going to be a devastating conflict here in a few days.”
Anoril’s face remained motionless until he said, “So? What makes this different from the prophecy we had last week? Or the two we had the week before? Another day another Chosen One. To be honest, nowadays you’re special if you’re not a Chosen One”
Sysquella looked disapproving. Anoril relented and assumed a more serious expression, “What did the prophecy say?”
“Anoril, you always were one to forsake the most ancient ways. This isn’t a prophecy that was seen in the stars and written on a stone tablet. This is a riddle from an decaying manuscript. This prophecy is a pure glimpse of the future, or at least, the idea of the future.
“One of my mages found it, sealed away in a box. After opening it and seeing what he saw he told me that here, in this town there would be a devastating battle between two opposing powers. Well, he told me that after he regained consciousness.”
Anoril frowned, it wasn’t anything particularly remarkable, devastating battles were fairly routine and there was nothing extra-ordinary about two opposing powers conflicting with one another. These seemed to Anoril like fairly average occurrences. There was something that Armana hadn’t told him.
“Did you say Crusnik might be involved?”
“Knowing that a Crusnik is in this town confirms my belief this prophecy is truth. Look at this,” Sysquella passed Anoril a small piece of paper. It bore a horribly lifelike image of a man’s neck covered in blood emitted from a series of cuts scratched into it. “That is the mage after the prophecy hit him. They are sometimes a little to too strong, this prophecy had been maturing for a while it seems.”
Anoril attempted to look casual, “The prophecy did this to him, not a vampire.”
“No, but it shows that a vampire is involved at least!” insisted Sysquella.
“Okay, Duke Armana I’d like you to leave now,” said Anoril doing his best to sound powerful and in-charge, he walked over to the door of the chamber, “I will not have you come into my town and start accusing my staff of…whatever you’re accusing Crusnik of. He’s not evil, end of story. Now please.” Anoril held open the door for Sysquella.
Luckily Crusnik was nowhere to be seen in the town hall as Anoril marched Sysquella out of the building.
At the double doors of the town hall Anoril said, “Go back to the Lightbringers, we’re perfectly capable here.”
Sysquella nodded reluctantly and said simply, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that Anoril closed the door against the Duke.
He turned to find Lauren and Crusnik standing behind him. Crusnik said quietly, “I got the impression that our guest wasn’t fond of me. I thought it best to become scarce.”
“Good plan,” Anoril agreed, “Although, in fairness his reaction is to be expected.”
“Yeah,” said Lauren, Anoril was relieved to hear her voice, he could let his stress melt away on her melodic tones, “What’s his story anyway? He seemed a little weird to me.”
Anoril began to explain, “Duke Sysquella Armana is the Leader of the most powerful organization of Lightbringers in the land. He’s devoted his life to fighting against vampires, undead, necromancers, in short all evil.”
“Then I can understand his contempt for me,” nodded Crusnik, speaking in his quite voice.
Lauren’s face broke into an expression of confusion, “No, I meant why didn’t he even look at me?” she threw her arms out to display her figure.
“Hmmm,” murmured Anoril, “You were effectively in his lap.”
“Exactly!” agreed Lauren, pointing at Anoril with a tiny digit. “I mean, what more can I do? Is it my hair? It’s the hair isn’t it?”
Anoril decided not to continue humouring her, he turned again to Crusnik, “He thinks your part of a prophecy because you’re a…” Anoril stopped, looking uncomfortable.
“A Crusnik,” finished Crusnik not in the least offended, “There’s always another prophecy then.”
“It would seem. Anyway if I were you I’d just lay low a while, I doubt Sysquella travelled all this way just to be turned around again. He’ll be staying in town I don’t doubt.”
“How do you know him?” asked Crusnik with curious expression.
“Surprisingly enough, Crus, I did have a life before Cysero’s Defenders,” said Anoril sarcastically, and then, seeing Crusnik’s still curious face, “We both come from similar backgrounds, noble upbringing. Never knew him particularly well but we moved in the same circles. My father is a lord afterall.”
There was a silence broken only by Lauren’s extreme look disapproval at not being paid attention to.
Anoril sighed and said quickly, “Lauren, you look beautiful, you’re the best looking gold-digger I’ve ever seen.”
Lauren’s frown could have melted mountains.
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