Call it what you will (Closed to BaBE)

[Cards of Fate]

An incredibly wise man once said life is like a box of chocolates, and I couldn’t agree more with him. You never know what you’re going to get. One moment you could be chowing down on some sweet milk chocolate with a nice creamy caramel filling, and the next you could find yourself eating the bitterest dark nougat filled with essence of ass. Ever since I arrived in this strange world so very different from my own I’d had my fair share of both milky goodness and essence of ass. My line of work, striving to uphold the balance of the world, doesn’t come without its perks and downsides. Fate tends to be a cruel mistress, doling out rewards with one hand, and ass with the other. Some would call Fate cruel, other would say she had blessed them.

All I knew for certain, was she had just set a piece of chocolate in front of me, and I wasn’t going to turn it down.

As I sat in the rather posh café located in Etheria Port, I found myself in a rather uncomfortable situation. Over the past few months I had made a bit of an intellectual rival as it would seem, and after months of heated discussion we were finally going to meet in person with the texts we had been citing to hash it out. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, I met people from all walks of life for all sorts of reasons in my line of work. Yet today I found a knot twisting in turning in my stomach, writhing itself into one hell of a mess that would make even the most skilled of fingers hesitate. For starters, I had only ever been privy to a penname for my would be lunch date. The anonymity had afforded me a bit of leeway within our scholarly group, but it also meant that I never truly knew who I was ever writing to. Secondly, sitting next to me were three tomes so ancient and valuable that it was likely that they were the last copies in existence, making them valuable. Thirdly, my fucking tea was taking ages to make it to the table.

My sapphire eyes glanced around the small building, eyeing up the staff and other patrons with expert care. Any one of them could be an assassin, or a would be thief just waiting for me to drop my guard. Nervously, I ran my right hand through my unruly mane of blonde hair and chewed on my lower lip, contemplating whether or not I had in fact been stood up. We had agreed to meet at high noon, and the sun was already well into the center of the sky. All I could hope was that they could find me, after all I had stated I would be the one in the purple suit and massive tower of books.

I can only hope they’ll be able to spot me.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I tugged a little bit at the cloth mask that covered my mouth, hiding a set of razor-sharp bone teeth from everyone as we walked down the streets of Etheria Port. "Hype, I don't know how you wear these things all the time. It's so fucking stuffy in here."

Hyperion, first of the parasitic Briarbane that I modeled after my own biology, cocked her head to the side. "I don't think it's that bad. I find it easier to breathe in the sifan mask than the metal one."

Today, instead of my standard attire of a mythril mask and all black everything, I borrowed one of her sets of ornately-woven robes. For the task at hand, I figured it was safer looking less like a dark, brooding storybook villain and more like a Fallien fortune-telling plant monster.

"It feels like this whole outfit is going to unravel and fall apart any second now," I grumbled as the waves of blue and gold and purple fabric shifted with my every step. The getup was less a proper set of shirt and pants and more like a loose body wrap.

Tired of my bitching about one of her favorite outfits, she changed the subject. "Who are we seeing today, again?"

I wish I had a complete answer to that question. The fact was, I wasn't entirely sure myself.

Long ago, I picked up the habit of "debate by post". A handful of scholars established a collective where they all send missives to one another, sharing their discoveries and arguing the finer points of their hypotheses. I discovered and wormed my way into this group a few years ago, back when I first started dabbling in artifice and biology. I had to take a pen name, of course. Given some of the horrible things I've done and learned, it was kind of necessary. Had the group learned that the Scourge of Eiskalt was one of their members, they would have scattered to the seven winds and I would have lost access to some of the brightest minds the world had. I had a sneaking suspicion that the person I risked a return to Alerar to meet likewise wished to remain hidden behind a fake name. Why that was is none of my business.

Over the past few months, I had taken up correspondence to one scholar in particular. It started off pleasant enough as we debated the extent of damage that the necromancer Xem'Zund dealt to Raiaera with his plague and whether that blasted landscape could be repaired and revived, but as the days flew by our dialogue grew increasingly heated. He rattled off talking points from all these books, while I drew on my first-hand experience dealing with the corruption of a Forgotten One. We decided to meet face to face to continue our arguments, since the couriers were took what seemed like an eternity to make their deliveries.

"Somebody in the world is wrong about something," I finally told Hype. "And it's my sacred duty to correct them."

It wasn't long after that we arrived at this quaint little cafe in the nicer neighborhoods of Etheria Port. A quick look at the sign confirmed that it was the place me and the other scholar agreed to meet at. They wrote that they would be inside, dressed in purple and surrounded by books. I glanced through the window and noticed someone fitting that description was inside. Good, he brought his "evidence".

A small wave of malevolent crimson energy rippled through my body--a reminder of my time in the service of the Red Witch. The only evidence I needed to counter his. It caused a sudden bout of unease to strike me. My briar-knit hand hovered over the doorknob for just the briefest of moments.

What the hell caused that to happen? She had been quiet for so long...

Amber light flared inquisitively from Hype's eyes. "Is everything alright, Madison?"

No.

"Yes," I said, my voice wavering for a moment. I took a deep breath and tried to suppress the hate the emanated from the remnants of Pode that I kept locked up inside me. "I'll be fine."

With a twist of my wrist, I opened the door and walked inside the cafe.

[Cards of Fate]

Have you ever had really bad food poisoning? You know, the type that has you bent over the porcelain throne spewing every ounce of your stomach contents out until you’re soaked in sweat and praying for it all to end. The type that’s so bad that the mere scent of whatever made you sick was enough to make you gag reflexively? That’s the feeling that crossed my entire being as this strange duo that looked something out of a fairytale walked into the building. Nothing looked more out of place in this cosmopolitan little café than two, what I presumed to be women, dressed like Falleni gypsies. I immediately knew that this was going to be my company. It had to be, there was no way in hell it could be any other way.

My life was never that simple.

Yet I couldn’t shake this ill feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I’d just eaten the gnarliest burrito from Taco Bell and all hell was about to spew from both ends of me. It was the type of dread that I’d remember for the rest of my life, like when I took that arrow straight through my knee, or when I faced off with Tobias Stalt with my sword drawn, or like…

Or like when I’d fought against Pode…

The though cracked across my mind like a peal of lightning, surging adrenaline through my body. Pode was dead, I’d killed her, or at least part of her. From what I gathered several other people had killed the other parts of her, and together we had managed to wipe her from the face of the world. So why was I sensing her now? I didn’t have time to make sense of it all before the two were at my table, taking a seat. I couldn’t discern much of them from behind their garb, now openings beside slits for the eyes that were beyond too dark for me to see into. I forced myself to swallow, hard, and then I spoke.

“Bookwyrm I presume?”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Without meaning to, I clenched the top of the chair a little too hard with a briar-knit hand as I pulled it out to sit down.

Sitting across from me was this little unassuming man dressed in purple and surrounded with books, just like he said he was going to be. But the feeling that I got, this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, wasn't going away. The hum of red coming from Pode's soul shards inside me grew stronger with each passing second.

I barely heard him greet me, distracted as I was.

"Yes, yes," I finally managed to choke out. My voice sounded incredibly distant and foreign to me. My mind was consumed with familiarity. I've never met this guy before in my life, only speaking with him through couriers once every few weeks. Why did he seem so familiar to me? Why did I feel like there was a link between the two of us

I hesitated for a moment before reaching out to shake his hand. He took it up, and the moment his skin made contact--

--I knew everything.

There were five of us on that fateful day in the Red Forest. The day that Pode betrayed me, and I took from her what was rightfully mine. I didn't know it at the time, but four others had gone through her trials and rose up to fight her and rid the world of her corruption forever.

The moment the scholar touched me, I could taste the mark she left on him with perfect clarity. He was one of the five who killed Pode--

I violently tore my hand away, nearly knocking my chair over as I recoiled back. "Sorry, I--" I sputtered behind the silk face mask as I scrambled to make sense of what the fuck was happening here. I absentmindedly started to massage my hand, trying to force out the spark of crimson that ignited when I touched his skin.

The warmth in my chest only grew hotter and hotter. I heard the echoes of a violent laughter in my head.

Hyperion frantically looked back and forth between myself and the other man. Sensing that I was starting to shut down emotionally, she leaped up from her chair and shot out her hand over the table, nearly knocking over his stack of ancient-looking tomes in the process. "Greetings! I'm Hyperion! You must be the man who is wrong about something! It's so nice to meet you! What's your name?"

[Cards of Fate]

I reached to grab her hand, but the moment we made contact I was met with a shock so violent I instinctively recoiled. Information flooded into my mind, as if our mere touch was the linking of a fiber optic cable flooding my mind with terabyte after terabyte of information, filling my mind’s eye with death and destruction. Her hand shot back as well, and my eyes instinctively shot to her mask, my mind racing with thousands among thousands of questions. Despite the cacophony of questions in my head, I could tell one thing was certain.

She was a Podeslayer, just like me.

She and I were like two peas in a “Pode”, members of some mega exclusive club of “cool kids” except instead of getting rad jackets, we were given tremendous amounts of trauma. Yet as I faced the “woman” before me, I found that something wasn’t quite sitting right in the back of my mind. Something about the brief moment I had actually touched her hand seemed to just into my mind like a stray thorn. Then it hit me.

That didn’t feel like an actual hand…

Suddenly the pieces clicked together in rapid succession, piecing together a puzzle depicting a train barreling towards a dangerous stop. Then the assistant spoke, breaking the silence that felt like an eternity. I blinked for a moment, and then plastered a smile across my face, as if she had just told the funniest fucking joke I had ever heard. I opened my mouth to speak as if nothing was wrong, as if I wasn’t sitting across from the scourge of Eiskalt, the queen of poxes and plagues.

As if I wasn’t sitting across the table from Maddison Fucking Freebird, one of the most dangerous women on this planet. The one woman who I needed to talk to the most.

“Whether or not I’m wrong is still up for debate.” I replied reaching for a tome and setting it between us. My voice shook just a little, betraying my calm demeanor, but I was pretty sure the woman across from me was equally rattled from what had just transpired. “But let’s begin shall we? I’m rather eager to get to disproving your points on the Raiaeran Plague.” I shifted my weight a little and leaned forward a bit. “I get the feeling that our perceptions of eachothers level of expertise have changed quite suddenly, and thus our argument might reach a different conclusion.”

I slid the first journal to Ms. Freebird and opened it to reveal ancient yellowing text written in a handwriting that may or may not be quite familiar to her.

“For starters, I would like to submit a handwritten journal from the Forgotten One Pode and her accounts of the work of her peer as my first piece of evidence. She has a lot of insight into the work of Xem’Zund it seems.”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

As if the floor hadn't dropped out from underneath me enough today.

The lingering sparks of Pode's mark on the scholar were still tingling the back of my mind when he presented me with an ancient, musty, tattered tome that looked older than time itself. Etched into its faded red leather cover was a black script that I could not translate.

But if what he said was true--and this was in fact the hand-written work of the Red Witch--

I took a deep breath or two to try and center myself. My head was swimming, and I needed to think clearly.

Somewhere next to me but a million miles away, I heard Hyperion order two glasses of water.

I sat down in my chair, scooted up to the table, and hesitated for the briefest of moments. She was being quiet, almost curiously so. I pictured Pode, a sly, malevolent grin on her face, waiting for me to discover for myself the authenticity of the book.

"If this is truly what you say it is," I said without looking at the man I knew as Cain, "Then I am doubtful of several things."

As cool as I was able to keep my composure, I could feel the heat of the blood rushing to my head as I gingerly flipped open the front cover of the book. It harmlessly fell against the surface of the table with a soft thunk. I took another breath before I began sifting through the pages. Each yellowed piece of parchment was littered with obtuse diagrams and foreign writing. Although I didn't recognize the language written therein, a soft voice was in my ear, translating each piece of forbidden information.

It truly was her book.

And I suddenly wanted it more than anything in the world.

It would be incredibly easy.

This wiry little fuck looked simple enough to take out. Spit acid in his face, and then whisk all of the books he brought with him away in the chaos.

Hyperion would hate me for it, but she would ultimately understand. She's very good thinking about the greater goal like that.

Wait--no.

Focus.

Focus, Madison.

Proving this smug bastard wrong after several months is worth more, is more satisfying than any ancient texts.

I shook my head, clearing my mind of any desire to murder anyone in public. I tried to refocus on the conversation at hand. I had a whole list of arguments to present to Cain. One at a time, Madison. One at a time.

"For starters," I began, recalling one point in particular that would be general enough to start up a good discussion, "Pode may have had knowledge in the creation of the undead plague--" I tapped the open book with the back of a gloved finger for emphasis.

"--but that does not mean her writings are still accurate to this day. I've conducted studies of my own into the nature of the necromancer's plague over the past year or so, and everything I've been able to uncover about it suggest that it is viral in nature."

The waitress, a stout little dark elf who wasn't afraid to wear clothes that accentuated her ample curves, came over with two glasses of water and a steaming cup of tea. We traded smiles as she deposited the drinks on the table and shuffled off.

"That isn't to say that the potency of the plague wasn't amplified by the magic of one, two, or even all five of the Forgotten Ones. It's entirely possible that Xem'Zund and Pode got together and created this terrible thing that to this day continues to ravage the Raiaeran countryside."

I took a sip of my water before continuing, quickly removing my mask and replacing it as to not frighten the scholar with my ghastly appearance. "I'm certainly open to the suggestion that it's being spread by a magically-enhanced virus, which would explain the absurd effectiveness of it and its capability to impact everything that it infects. Flora, fauna, the earth and water..."

I waved a briar-knit hand dismissively and closed the book. "But, as someone who..." --I have to be careful here-- "extensively researches diseases, I am positive that the reason that nobody has found a cure for Xem'Zund's plague is that it evolves too fast to be cured. It is the nature of all life-forms to evolve to stay alive, is it not?"

I had to be incredibly careful with what I said next. That feeling I got when Cain and I shook hands--I knew he felt it too. I knew that he could feel the tainted remnants of Pode I carried with me. But I didn't want to risk him discovering that I had done far more than help kill her. Nobody could know that I studied to become her agent and heir.

"In my studies," I tentatively began, "I have also come across the corruption that Pode spread throughout the Red Forest. To simplify things greatly for the purpose of our discussion, she dabbled in the hyperevolution of life-forms. Twisting and mutating things until they were perfect in her eyes. If what you suggest is true and the Red Witch had a hand in designing the undead plague--and the evidence all over Raiaera certainly implies that it could be--then she could have imprinted the virus itself with the ability to change to protect itself should someone find a cure and attempt to eradicate it. And if that is true, then I stand by my initial conclusion."

[Cards of Fate]

I nodded along as Maddison spoke; chewing on my lower lip as I turned over everything she seemed to have to say. She raised a good point; perhaps the viral nature of the plague was the source of the issue. If it could truly evolve at such a rapid pace, than a cure would be nigh impossible. A smirk came to my lips, however, as she finished.

“Perhaps you are correct in that assumption, but here’s some food for thought.” I paused as a waitress came by with two glasses of water, and my tea. Scowling I took a sip and sighed, it was already stone cold. Lousy fucking service, I’ll have to remember not to come back. “But in the case of the Red Forest, the woods seem to be naturally recovering from Pode’s curse. Slowly but surely we will once again see a beautiful forest of Raiaeran Redwoods, home to no more a menacing creature than the Taigan wolf pack. It seemed that in this case, the curse was a side effect of her lingering presence. Once Pode was removed, things began to recover.” I paused to let this sink in.

“In the case of our necromantic plague in Raiaera, however, we have a different sort of game going on.” I sipped my tea just to give myself a moment to better work out how I was going to phrase this. “If we declare this a highly advanced and evolving virus rather than a curse, it needs to be handled differently. Yet I can’t help but wonder if the virus’ evolution is natural. There are a number of deathlords still lurking in the plague lands, could they not be tending to this disease? Adapting it to our attempts to destroy it?” The waitress came back and I ordered a small appetizer platter of breads and some various cheeses for us to split, allowing my musings to sink in.

“Another prospect I want to bring up is the idea of a Counter plague.” I drummed my fingers for a moment before I continued. “The idea would be to make a new ‘disease’” I paused to make air quotes around the word, “To fight the plague. Something equally as rapidly evolving, but catered to strictly counteract the rot and decay of the other plague. To consume and adapt, possibly also being engineered to help restore the ecosystem.” I shrugged for a moment and turned to my opponent.

“But you’re the expert, do you think such a thing could be done in a relatively…controlled way?”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I think I was starting to piece together Cain's goals here.

He had been a part of the ordeal in the Red Forest, after all. One of the many that the remnants of the High Bard Council called in from the four corners of the world to help solve problems they couldn't be bothered to take care of themselves. Through our correspondence, I had this image built of the scholar that didn't sit that well with me. It was officially confirmed with this conversation.

He was a fucking hero.

I hate heroes.

Not in a literal sense; but heroes as an ideal for people to strive for. Real world heroes aren't like the kind you find in books; the kind that save the kingdom and win the girl and all those other fantasies. Real world heroes are just as terrible in their actions as the so-called villains they fight to achieve their goals. In his own mind, he clearly saw himself as the former and ignored the reality of the latter.

The wiry boy in that ugly shade of purple wanted to save Raiaera. Again.

He would waste decades of potential research opportunities to try and purge the country of Xem'Zund's terrible necromantic plague. All in the name of doing the "right thing".

Was that why he agreed to this little meeting? He was far more blunt in his line of questioning than our discussions via courier. He wasted no time asking me how I would go about trying to fight the infection that had a death grip on the home of the high elves.

I never should have taken his hand. That was the moment everything started to go downhill.

My mind raced as he babbled on about how Pode's curse was starting to drain away from the vast forest that covered the southern reaches of the country. I had one of the necromancer's Archivists stashed away already; I would have to find as many more as I could before anyone else associated with Cain found them. I can still salvage my research. I would just need to humor him and try to stay as close to his project as I possibly could.

It was clear that he knew I am an expert in virology. I could exploit that. I could make myself his most valuable asset. And then, my work could continue unimpeded under the cover of working towards his goal.

All is not lost just yet.

I leaned back in my chair and templed my gnarled, gloved fingers in my lap. I hemmed and hawed for a moment before speaking. "It might be possible," I began. "It would involve a lot of research and hard work, trying to find an inherent weakness in the virus. That nobody has been able to find one in the years since the Corpse War means that there just might not be one."

I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head in a subtle show of the dramatic. "Perhaps Xem'Zund crafted the perfect disease."

Leaning forward, I removed my mask to take another sip of water. "But then again, maybe everyone was just looking at it the wrong way. Trying magic and mysticism when maybe a simple antibiotic was the answer. But, your idea of a predatory plague bred specifically to combat his designs just might be possible. We would have to figure out how exactly the virus is programmed, and if it has anything in its design that can be exploited. From there, it might be possible to manipulate or engineer an organism or another virus that preys specifically on what we may discover."

A flash of amber light from my eyes briefly illuminated the inside of my hood. "But there's no telling what it might do to Raiaera. For all we know, the damage that he inflicted cannot be reversed, even if the plague is cured. Hells, there's even the chance that the cure could be worse than the disease."

[Cards of Fate]

Knowing who someone is when they know nothing about you is a funny thing. I could feel that I was dancing on thin ice here, a dangerous game in an attempt to recruit the expertise of an even more dangerous woman. I had a rare opportunity to pick her brain, and I wasn’t going to waste it. The world needed me to succeed here it seemed. I could sense a change in direction here, a door opening for me to possibly exploit, to get what I needed.

No, what the world needed.

“Perhaps all the land needs is an antibiotic, but I’m not so sure it will be that simple.” Vincent cracked his neck and paused for a moment. “But perhaps magic might not be the proper answer, you have a point there.” He drummed his fingers on table before him and chewed his lips. “I’m working on establishing a lab to study the plague, perhaps when it’s done I could invite you and we could study it together?”

Don’t press a cure, that might scare her away. The thought of having such an expert on virology involved in this endeavor was enough to make me want to shiver, but I had to withhold my excitement. Cool heads prevail, they don’t give away your tells.

“It’s still a ways off from being completed, however. Until then, I am incredibly curious about your studies. You have an impressive amount of knowledge, but I have yet to see any official scholarly papers by you. What university are you associated to?”

I had to switch things up. As far as she knew, I knew very little of her. I could use her desire to hide her identity as a tool to press the advantage. If she’s busy tripping over excuses and lies I can easily maneuver around her when it came to other discussions. I would have to move carefully from here on out, one slip up and things could go…sour.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

My ears perked when he said that he was working on a facility built specifically to study the Forgotten One's contamination, and floated the possibility that we could work together on the subject.

That would give me access to the tools necessary to continue my own work. Equipment to examine and analyze the plague, the brains to pick to help me find a cure, and the means to keep tabs on everyone else so I could continue my quest to recover the rest of Xem'Zund's hand-written books and the misshapen hunks of flesh they were chained to.

I was about to say that I was open to such an offer when he suddenly changed the subject.

Curious.

Why would he do that? Why the sudden interest in my education? He inquired about my affiliations with any institutions and the lack of any papers I've published.

May as well humor him. See where this goes.

"The fact is," I began, "I'm not affiliated with anyone. Nor have I published any papers on my findings." It made no sense to lie to the scholar at this point. He'd see right through them, and I'd probably lose any chance I had to align myself with him and his apparently vast resources.

"Everything I know, I've learned myself. I was raised as an assassin, and of course learned a bit of phytology and alchemy along the way to help create poisons and their cures. It triggered some sort of curiosity in me, and in my spare time I devoured every book on the subject in my parents' collection. From there, it grew into me getting my hands on any book about other ways nature loved to kill us. Venom, disease, you get the picture."

I casually shrugged my shoulders. "I suppose that's what happens when you're trained from birth to kill people. You learn whatever you need to in order to be good at your job."

I soldiered on with my story. "After I left my clan and retired from slitting throats every weekend for a couple gold coins, I devoted my time to furthering my studies. I opted to avoid universities and their rigid structures and all those rules, since my interests tended to lean to the kind of research they frowned upon. As much as an official affiliation would help me out, there's something to be said about the freedom of being an independent researcher. You're left to your own devices and given the opportunity to pursue your own desires and ideas without having to deal with all that red tape."

Hype shot me a worried glance, concerned that I was about to spill a few details that could lean towards the incriminating side of things. I gave her hand a quick squeeze under the table to reassure her that I was being as careful as I could and still pique Cain's interest.

"And so, I spent my time burning through every book I could in Radasanth's Grand Library and did some odd jobs to raise a bit of gold for some research equipment of my own. Mostly, I studied various fungi, viruses, and bacteria and their effects on lifeforms. And as for your question about papers--" I jabbed a gloved finger at him, "--there's one very good reason why I haven't put out any.

"For starters, the academics tend to stonewall anything that doesn't fit into their neat little agenda. Had I published my findings on a particular strand of cordyceps and its ability to control creatures larger than spiders and ants, I would have been labeled a renegade and a mad scientist." I consciously left out the part where I modified Nemo's Marionette spores to reanimate the dead and other fun things that have helped me in my endeavors.

"They're a old boy's club filled with paste-eaters who hold back true progress out of a desire to feed their inflated sense of self-importance. And while I'll admit that it's been a difficult go at it without the community's backing, my particular interests are better served without their constant nettling and interference."

I could picture all the furrowed brows and finger-wagging I would've endured if I published a paper titled How to Kill an Island Nation with a Bucket of Rats: A Study in the Spread of Viruses in an Isolated Environment.