View Full Version : Business as usual (Closed)
The sea air carried an unpleasant aroma as it made its way inland upon a brisk wind which blew along the river and over the dock where Wynken stood. It jostled his hair and, as he turned into the breeze, his cloak flapped gently at his back. There was something sobering about the cool night air, and Wynken accepted the sting as it nipped his exposed skin. It was a microcosm of his existence, bitter-sweet as the tingling and pain slowly gave way to numbness. Wynken found inspiration in the feeling of isolation, the feeling of insignificance, and, looking upwards, he envisioned himself alone in the cold expanse of the heavens. The stars appeared crisp through the unsaturated air and shone brilliantly despite the light pollution from the surrounds of Radasanth.
Wynken had been in the city for only a short time, but already he thought to make his stay permanent. He had always been more akin to city life, and Underwood lacked much of the busy and more opulent atmosphere. To the simple or the newcomer it may seem overwhelming, but to Wynken the city was predictable. Everyone wore a similar face, and they shared a commonwealth of problems. What’s more, weak or powerful, wealthy or destitute the solutions were much the same. Eventually everyone slipped into a sedentary routine which some people refer to as society. Wynken defined it another way – exploitable.
Underwood was different. It had its own social workings, to be sure, but for many it was merely a hub. The faces and the stories they shared were different from night to night as people passed through headed this way or that. There was little to anticipate other than change. Hub that it was, during his time there Wynken had stolen two sets of shipping records from couriers on their way to Radasanth. A man named Benson had tipped him off to the suspicious activity, and he leapt at the opportunity to investigate the anomalous ordeal.
Like all good mysteries – and truly all things worth the investment – Wynken anticipated his foray would require a great deal of time. Uninterested in paying rent to the swindlers in the city proper, nor to the scurvy innkeepers of Radasanth’s southern reaches, Wynken had checked in to an abandoned church building. Having endured enough of the frigid wind, Wynken returned there from the docks which were no more than two blocks away. Feeling cleansed and refreshed he lied down and rest.
The next morning he awoke to an unexpected commotion as several voices could be heard immediately outside the main entrance to the small sanctuary. Jumping to his feet, Wynken hastily obscured his bedding and considered the disturbance. A small padlock had secured a chain which tied the portal closed by its large handles, so Wynken had been using a steeple window to gain entry. The crude lock could have surely been picked, but he enjoyed the warning it would afford had another vagrant attempted to similarly claim the shelter. As the light of morning cascaded through the first floor’s stain glass it bathed the chapel in a kaleidoscope of color. The voices were unrestrained , and, being daylight, Wynken got the sense that they were there purposefully – legally. A key turned in the lock and someone worked the chain before a clear voice could be heard saying, “Shall we go in?”
Much to the chagrin of the gentlemen on the other side, as the doors swung open, Wynken casually bounded out to stand in their midst.
“Hello there”, he said with a smile. “Do you have some business here?”
They were three monks, and, unlike the many haughty religious officials Wynken had encountered, they wore drab colors of modest design. Each of them voluntarily adopted varying degrees of baldness, and there appeared to exist an inverse proportionality between hair and body fat. As they stood stammering loudly, the largest of the three finally quieted the protests of his colleagues and spoke in answer to Wynken’s question.
“Hrmph.” The man’s jowls shook and his bulbous lips reverberated to sound as the snort of a horse. “Of course we have business here. We’re interested in the purchase of this property. Who are you, and how’d you get in here?”
The other monks nodded to one another in show of their approval. Wynken ignored both questions and merely sustained his grin before quipping, “Well, if you’re interested in its purchase then you’re just in time. My investors and I are about to buy it!”
The nods ceased and were replaced by looks of heated concern, and the large man’s face grew red as iron in a furnace. “That snake said no one else was interested”, he bellowed.
Wynken inherited their looks of distress and shook his head in mock disbelief. “What a crook. He’ll pit us against each other to raise the bid.” The four of them fumed and vented for a moment before Wynken smiled as if he had an epiphany. “We may be able to settle this right now. My investors don’t need this place too badly. If you’re truly interested in the property, perhaps you’d give me a hundred gold or so and I’ll simply tell them it was sold out from under them.”
Sensing their trepidation, Wynken continued, “Think of it as part of your purchase rather than a bribe. Of course, if you’re uninterested we could simply allow the bid to take its course.” Wynken smirked and narrowed his eyes slightly.
The sea air, it was foul and pungent to Calbrena, it reminded her of the purifying salts that woman had used to chase her away, after the devil had stolen part of her son's soul. She had simply been trying her hand at being a sin on her own. Her eye had latched onto the young man when he had accidentally ran into her. Calbrena worked hard for his soul, being nice to everyone in his neighborhood, helping them, even sleeping with one of them.
Her prize had been claimed, and now somewhere in the world was a child with only part of a soul, and in return, Calbrena had given him the ability to light a small finger on the tip of his finger. He wanted magic, and she had given it to him. It was then that his mother threw purifying salts on Calbrena, and to her horror, the holy substance burned her.
She was in good health now though, the salts hadn't left any permanent marks. It was time for her to claim another victim. The morning sun beat down around her, revealing her form for all to see, so she wrapped her wings about herself, forming a robe to obscure what she really was, drawing the tips over her head to form a hood. Going just a few blocks, she spotted three monks unlocking a building. Moments later, a vagrant bounded out of the empty church the monks were unlocking, and began to talk hard and fast about how his investors were also interested in it.
“This one's quite the charmer. I may have found my next soul to steal. I wonder how this will play out. Come friend, can you succeed in your days endeavors?” Calbrena thought silently to herself.
She stood at the corner, the sun hadn't quite risen overhead yet, so the shadows obscured her, as she stood hidden a discreet distance away, obeserving, watching a man whose soul she intended to eat try to talk three monks into purchasing a building.
The three monks exchanged innocent looks before excusing themselves. “Just one moment”, the largest of the three had waggled his finger in Wynken’s direction and stated softly as if someone may overhear. They stepped away but remained within eyesight, and the gentlemen looked absurdly out of their element as they talked the situation over. Every few seconds another of the three would lift his head from their huddle and crane their neck to peer Wynken’s way. By his estimation they appeared to be well intentioned and genuine in their desire to procure the church for the purposes of good. It was, for him, a welcomed change from the greedy religious figures that had become so prominent. The monks would be so much easier to delude.
After their brief collusion the monks stepped back to the church’s entrance. “We feel it would only be right”, the leader began and paused looking for the support of his brethren, “that we would meet your investors.” He took a few heavy breaths as if his tongue had just run a city block. “We’d like to deal with them on honest terms.” The three again nodded to one another in approval before resting their attention on Wynken in anticipation of his response.
“They are extremely wealthy”, Wynken cautioned. “You’d have a much better chance if you simply took my offer. I can see that it means more to you than it does to them.”
“It’s for our own peace of mind. Win or lose, we’ll do it with integrity.”
Wynken tried for some time to persuade them, but recognized the futility in it. Their minds had been made. He silently commended them for the strength to maintain their beliefs, and he promised to fetch his partners. “I’ll arrange the meeting for this afternoon. Just wait inside the church and we can come to a deal there.”
The monks expressed their approval and their gratitude, and with that Wynken left them. He was no worse for wear, and, if he felt inspired, could always return to attack them unawares later that day. He smiled at the thought as he wound his way through the city streets.
Calbrena looked at the man, and at the monks. She had barely overheard his conversation inside the church, and as the man left the monks, she followed at a safe distance. As he wound his way through city streets, it became clear to her, his actions were not those of a man with a solid plan. Obviously he had made up his story on the spot. Otherwise, he would not appear lost. Calbrena felt pity for him.
Not everyone had the luxury of growing up with The Seven Deadly Sins, learning from them. One lesson they had taught her was simple. The best falsehoods, were those that were not falsehoods at all. Truth on technicality had saved them numerous times, and was the entire basis Calbrena wrote her contracts on. This man, he had potential. She would not consume his soul today. Tomorrow perhaps, but not today. She would make his lie become truth, and become his investor. She needed more than one though. Ducking down an alley that turned and met a dead end, Calbrena prayed to her father.
“My dearest Infernal Father, god of all demons, lord and master of The Abyss, I plead for my words to be heard. I ask you to send my family to me in human guise, for I need others to assist me with my current misdeeds.” She prayed.
She looked around, and nothing happened. From around the corner came a well armed knight in thick plate mail armor. A massive sword was at his side. He had no shield, but with his sword, he couldn't use one. He leaned against the wall, and lifted his visor, two black eyes peered out at her.
“Well sister, it has been ages since anyone in our family requested that we all unite in a single project.” the knight said.
“Yes, daughter, clearly you must be up to something big, to call us.” An elven sorceress said, appearing next to her.
“The others will join us shortly, why don't you fill us in on your grand plans?” her father said, in his normal form.
“I uhh, it wasn't anything really major, I just wanted a few people to act as investors with me. You see, there's this man...” Calbrena said, but was interrupted.
“Squee! My baby sister's falling for a man. Did you sleep with him yet? That's important you know, you can't have him unless he's a good lover.” Lust said, appearing as a common whore.
“Why don't we let her finish?” Greed said, appearing as a rich banker, Envy following as a banker's assistant.
“Yes, well, I do want him, but not as a lover. He has potential to be great, and I want to help him as helping him will help me become stronger, more powerful.” Calbrena said.
“I see, your first cohort. This is a momentous occasion indeed, we will help you.” Her father said.
As they walked back to the church, Sloth joined them, appearing as a normal man, and Gluttony tottered along behind, as a chef.
***
The monks were surprised to see nine people suddenly enter the building. The eldest of them stepped forward, and looked at them all, studying them. Calbrena had been turned into a normal human woman by Pride's magic. Satisfied, he nodded his head.
“Are you the investors? He said this afternoon, it's only been a half-hour.” the monk asked.
“Ahh, you must mean Wynken Vanaril, our solicitor. Yes, we are his investors. We decided to drop by and see how the acquisition of our new property was progressing.” Xith'rith'xail, Calbrena's father said, knowing Wynken's name through his dark powers.
“We too hoped to buy it, and he actually left to find you to arrange a meeting for this afternoon.” The monk said.
“I see. This is most troubling. It would set our plans back to lose this property.” Envy said.
“What were you planning?” the monk asked.
“A church, of course. Why else would we want this building? We believe that part of religious fulfillment, is material and physical fulfillment. It's all well and good to try and leave it all behind, but the fact remains, sweet dreams are made of these. Everybody has secret desires, wishes they can't have fulfilled, due either to choices they made, or events that happened to them. How can the soul achieve enlightenment and enter paradise, if its left forever wanting? We can solve this, we are uniquely qualified.” Calbrena said.
“I, disagree with that, but that is a discussion for another day. We would like to come to an agreement and have this building for ourselves, and our church.” the monk said.
“I'm certain that is possible. Though as my assistant said, it would be a bit of a setback, we could agree to let this property go to you, giving up our interests in it, for one hundred gold, the price we paid to secure it while we decided whether or not to purchase it. It is only fair that we get back that which we paid for a service not rendered to us.” Greed said.
“Your solicitor said the same thing. I find your price, and the price of this building agreeable. Come, I have the hundred gold.” the monk said.
“Give it to me, and I will wait here for our solicitor. Why don't you accompany my cohorts back to the realtor's office? They will extract your hundred gold from his sorry hide.” Calbrena said.
After they left, Calbrena pulled up a chair, and sat in it, the gold resting comfortably in her lap. She hoped she wouldn't have to wait too long before the man her father identified as Wynkin Vanaril returned.
As the sun climbed the stair-like clouds, the warmth of its light vanquished the nighttime chill of all that it touched. It was early yet, though for many the day was already well under way. The scent of fresh produce and hearth baked bread mingled as shopkeepers restocked their shelves after a busy morning. The musical ring of a smithy’s hammer could be heard in the distance, and the people of Radasanth seemed to move to its rhythm.
However, ambling would better describe Wynken’s movements. It was as if he walked in purposeful discord while maneuvering the meandering city streets. As though stepping in syncopation would somehow disturb those around him. With seemingly no intentions, Wynken scouted each location for opportunity. He had lost his shelter and would need to procure a place of refuge at the least. 'The observant could always find something', he thought. 'An overheard conversation or a chance encounter that could, with sufficient contrivance, be leveraged for gain'.
After some time his perceptions turned wholly inward and he focused less on those around him. He had become fond of the abandoned church and its relative safety. Its physical structure was sound and the lock was both sturdy and noisy. It had other, more appealing, advantages however. The symbolism of the holy monument was a psychological deterrent, as many malignant individuals would have developed a subtle aversion to such a place long ago. As Wynken justified his desire for the church building he thought also of his developed hatred for the monks.
“Self righteous bastards”, he quipped beneath his breath. ‘How virtuous will you be with a dagger in your back’, Wynken mused, thinking of the ambush he had previously laid. And with that, he altered his course. Wynken no longer wandered without purpose, but picked a swift path to his church. ‘The monks were unarmed’, he recalled. ‘And perhaps will have gold enough to barter with my investors’.
As he thought through various attack scenarios, Wynken turned the corner that would put him in line with his destination. So intent on his planning was he that, rounding the bend, Wynken promptly ran headlong into group of people. There was a brief instant of pushing, shoving, and crude accusations - each originating largely from Wynken – before all of them came to the simultaneous realization of what had happened. Three monks and an idiosyncratic group of “investors” peered at Wynken and smiled in unison.
The fat monk was the first to speak as he beamed, “Ah, we are grateful for your services, sir. It was a pleasant surprise that you could assemble your investors so readily.”
“Indeed it was”, Wynken replied through his teeth while attempting to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He curled his lips into a forced smile and eyed the band suspiciously as he replayed the morning’s events in search of some answer.
“Calbrena awaits you in the church. She has your payment”, Xith'rith'xail offered sensing Wynken’s volatile trepidation.
The mention of gold seemed to calm him slightly as Wynken began to consider the possibility that his exchange with the monks was overheard. Their seeming willingness to cut him in was both promising and suspect, but he was eager to be away from such unfair odds regardless. So, Wynken accepted another round of thanks, bid his own farewells, and continued on toward the abandoned building.
As he climbed its steps, Wynken pulled his cloak back from his long sword. Mirror Root, was its name, and the sentient weapon responded with the issuance of a subtle warmth. It bathed him in assurance and consolation, unlike those times when it communicated an urgent warning, and, for a brief instant, Wynken entertained the notion of betrayal. As quickly as it had come the thought was set aside, and Wynken pushed open the church’s double doors. Prepared for the worst, he slowly entered its sanctuary.
What he found was an appearently normal human woman, dressed rather provocatively. The money was resting on her lap. Seeing Wynkin enter, she stood up, and handed him the gold, then walked around him looking him over.
“I know it must be a surprise, to find investors you didn't know you had, but then, if you had studied hard enough, you would've known we've always been your investors all along. Your success is our success after all. I'm certain the others may have made some introductions, but allow me the formality of making official introductions, and explain why I helped you. Pardon me a second.” Calbrena said.
She stepped away from Wynkin, and sneezed a polite lady-like sneeze. Her wings exploded back out from her back, and her tail curled down. Her horns grew out, as her skin darkened and reddened until it was a dull red. Her nails grew from what one would expect of a noblewoman, to hardened claws capable of rending flesh. Her shirt and shorts suddenly fit a little tighter, seemed a little smaller. She stretched and relaxed.
“Mother's spells always feel, confining. It is a pleasure to be back to my normal terrible self again. This, Wynkin, is what I truly look like. Oh, don't be surprised I know your name, my father told it to me. You may have seen him if he was with the group of monks. Elderly gentleman, wearing a pinstriped business suit, welding a black mythril cane studded with jewels? Yeah, that was him. He is Xith'rith'xail, and he's not one to cross. My family was with him, they were all in human guise.
My name, if he didn't tell you, is Calbrena. I am the youngest member of a famous family of Arch-demons, known around the world as The Seven Deadly Sins. Thus my mother, as you might guess, is The Deadly Sin of Pride, and all sins are born of her. We master evil in all its forms, feeding off the souls of those who stray off the beaten paths of light, even they still nourish us with their secret unbidden desires. As for me, I am the Eighth Deadly Sin, Corruption. I am also no mere Arch-demon like my family. I am the first Devil to ever set foot upon this world, for I have evolved beyond demonhood.
So, your likely wondering, where do you fit in? It's simple, really. Your human, and I am not. It is my poor luck to be born now, when demons are widely untrusted, instead of long ago when I could have done everything myself. But lamentations have no place in the world. Fact is, I need you, humans can be trusted, Demons cannot be. You simply keep on doing what you've already done. Con others, offer them false promises, sell them the world.
Yet, with all of this, allow me to help you. You see, I have powers, like my family. I have the spirits of the Dark Djinn burning in my flames. I can grant wishes you see. In this respect, your selling my services for me. In return, I can promise you that which you seek, I already gave you a bag full. Getting sick of gold? Then diamonds, rubies, emeralds, the bluest sapphires to make the ocean jealous. Eventually you'll get stronger, requiring better weapons, fancier armors to sate your needs.
Still there are other needs I can fill. You are a man, I am a woman after all. Demons, especially those who have been trained by The Deadly Sin of Lust, like I have, we make excellent lovers. You, at this moment in time, are a nobody, in a big city. This is not an insult, merely a statement of fact, yet facts can be insulting all the same. Just know I do not mean it as an insult. I see in you potential to rise the ranks of the criminal underworld. I wish to help you.
Ahh, but there is one question remaining, isn't there? What do I get out of all this? Well, your selling my services, but no being would be sane enough to accept them if they knew what my price was. I'm not like my family. I don't want souls to keep trapped for all eternity, torturing them for my own delight, to increase my own power. I'm different. I want souls, to devour and consume. A feast not even Gluttony can dream of. I am the sole possessor of a power unlike any other, mistress of the flames that burn without end. I hunger for souls, I need them. That is what I gain. But, what do you care of my nutritional needs? You'll have your gold, and it isn't like I'm killing anyone. Just understand one thing, I cannot use some of my powers, unless a contract has been written out for their usage.” Calbrena said.
She stepped back, giving a moments time for it all to sink in. During that time, she procured a sheet of parchment, a quill pen, and an ink pot. Then she wrote out a contract.
“This document is a legally binding agreement upheld by The Dark Pantheon.
Calbrena, The Deadly Sin of Corruption (hereafter referred to as Party A) agrees to assist Wynkin Vanaril (hereafter referred to as Party B) with his efforts to obtain the total sum of ten thousand Althanian gold pieces. In return, party B agrees to help Party A with Party A's efforts to consume and devour souls across the world. This document shall be in force until Party B has in party B's possession the full sum of ten thousand gold.
Party B understands that Party A will require nourishment on a weekly basis, and if Party B does not deliver on time, then this document will become Null and Void. Party A understands that Party B's soul is not available for consumption at any time during this contract's activity. Party A also understands Party B's limitations, just as Party B understands Party A's limitations, thus failure on the part of either party will not cause this contract to become invalidated.
In the event of a dispute, both parties agree to seek arbitration services to resolve their differences. The decision of the arbitrator is final, and no appeals can be made. No power, not even those of an arbitrator, may dissolve this contract, besides those conditions already listed herein. However, if the mutual decision to dissolve this contract is reached, then the services of The Dark Pantheon may be sought, however, their influence upon this contract, and their decision, is final.” The document read.
There was no fine print, no hidden clauses. Everything was spelled out.
“When a contract is signed, it is binding, both upon me, and those who sign it with me. This is to assure you that I will not turn upon you, and to explain just what our goal is, to prevent confusion and misunderstanding. Besides, my powers can't function without a contract, as I have said, and ten thousand gold is a mighty sum to come up with. It will take awhile, and this contract is just vague enough, that I can do whatever I want. I can only grant minor wishes, ten thousand gold is beyond my powers, at the moment. However, I can use my powers in other ways to reach that total.
What do you say, friend? Will you partner with The Devil, becoming rich and powerful?” Calbrena asked.
Wynken watched in curious disbelief as the demoness revealed herself and divulged her scheme. It was a great deal to take in, and a range of thoughts and emotions flooded his being as she monologued. He fought to process the information, as well as his feelings of it, and Wynken was certain that he missed portions of what was said. It didn’t help that the sword at his hip was oscillating gently in a show of, what Wynken could only define as, elation.
As Calbrena fabricated a contract, Wynken seized the opportunity to more fully consider this complex turn of events. ‘I’m no con artist’, he considered. ‘Though I’ve played the role well enough to draw the attention of a devil.’
Wynken furrowed his brow and examined her skeptically. In the past, he had made it a point to not form partnerships wherein he would fail to claim the upper hand – not as a matter of pride but for the purpose of survivability. It unsettled him to lack such control. However, beyond her intimidating physical form, the demoness had claimed the power to grant minor wishes. Wynken was not an individual blind with conceit. He readily acknowledged the existence of more powerful entities than he, and he accepted that Calbrena was one such creature.
“What do you say, friend?” He heard Calbrena ask as he read the document she had penned. It brought a smile to his face to consider the generous use of the word. The smile, however, had a second origin. Power manifests itself in myriad ways, and while the devil would put him to task in a physical confrontation, Wynken understood that he may still find some leverage.
“You demand one soul per week, but make no provisions to pay me in a timely manner.” Wynken had looked up from his reading briefly. “No matter, I suppose. I trust that the exchange will be even.” Wynken signed with a grin, noting well the misspelling of his name in the document's opening paragraph – a legal formality that may later prove useful.
“You read too much into it my friend. I can't give you money unless I consume a soul first. It's like asking a starving carpenter to build a house. He can't unless he sates his hunger first.” Calbrena said.
She signed, and then the moment she did, the contract burst into flames and disappeared. She held out a claw, fifty gold coins dropped on the floor. She waved a hand, and they too disappeared in fire. Calbrena held out a claw, and a small vial containing a purple liquid appeared.
“A poison, powerful enough to kill with a single drop. I can't do these things unless I'm under contract. Oh, one more. It's always a joy to exercise my power. How about an innocent dolly for the little girl down the lane?” Calbrena asked.
The vial morphed into an innocent appearing doll that looked like a picture perfect woman. Calbrena pulled a string in the back and razor blades appeared on the nails. Calbrena made it disappear, chuckling to herself in amusement. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her shirt, and lit one.
“Now, onto business. With our combined skills, there isn't anything we can do. I'm going to recommend we move onto bigger targets, that's where the real money lies. Like the rich folks who live on the north side. Or better, we could target the Viceroys themselves, put them in our pockets and make them our willing slave. How would you like to rule Corone? The real power behind the throne, pulling the Viceroys' strings.” Calbrena said.
She took a few drags while she stopped and thought about what she had proposed. The allure of power was like catnip to her and it was clear she had become attracted to the thought of ruling. It would be fitting, if she held power, for power was the most corrupting influence of all. She took another drag and smiled.
“Yes, the viceroys. The only problem there, is that there isn't a single solitary thing that they need. Or the rich either. They already have lots of money, and can just buy whoever, or whatever they want. They could buy me if they wanted. The poor need a lot of things, but have little money. Their souls are nice and juicy though. So, what do you think we should do next?” Calbrena asked.
His sword continued its intimations of favor, bathing Wynken’s body in unnatural warmth as he ran his fingers along its branch-like pommel.
He had withdrawn slightly, unsure at first of her intentions, but Wynken soon watched with a wry grin as Calbrena pretentiously flaunted her power. ‘How lucky to have found such a useful associate’, he considered as the demon identified the vial of poison.
As Calbrena concluded her show and began to speak of her desires, Wynken’s mind worked to put the rapid events of the afternoon in order. He considered his own goals and calculated ways in which this new partnership could be leveraged toward their success. He analyzed the demon carefully, certain that she too had some other motives. She addressed him saying, “you” and “we”, but Wynken understood that the smile on her face was more likely betraying the truth that she lusted to rule alone.
“You’ve already solved the problem twice”, Wynken stated having resolved that he would aid the demon for as long as it may benefit himself. Ruling Corone, or even pulling its strings, seemed over ambitious and certainly lay beyond his desires. However, there was no harm in indulging for the moment.
Calbrena looked curiously at him and bade him to continue.
“Don’t be so unimaginative”, Wynken said plainly. “You said yourself that they could buy you if they wished. Well, if no such need exists then I propose we fabricate one.” He paused and grinned as the sketch of an idea became more defined. “You kill a few priests, perhaps a hired blade or two, then sell yourself as a solution to a problem that doesn’t truly exist.”
“Of course, that’s only one suggestion of many”, Wynken offered as he attempted to judge Calbrena’s thoughts.
There would come a time when historians and researchers would agree that this was the moment when The Devil went from being a mere crazy person without a plan, to being a megalomaniac. The moment that heralded dark days for Althanas. Many would find it strange, that something so small and simple as the partnership between Calbrena and Wynkin would cause the catastrophe to come in later years.
Calbrena listened to Wynkin, her eyes growing wide with apparent enlightenment. His words seemed to take hold in her mind, twisting and growing. A smile began to manifest as she finished her cigarette and put it out on the temple walls.
“Such a good idea. Better be careful, you might steal my heart with such wickedness; but enough teasing.
I really do like the idea, but to have me personally kill them, or you, it seems unnecessarily dangerous. I'm not afraid of a little danger mind you, but why should we put ourselves at risk if we don't have to? I come from a beautiful place known as The Abyss. There are creatures there that can turn even the bravest of men into the most craven of cowards. One such creature we call the Amuz. An Amuz looks like an ordinary cockroach, if you ignore the hundred some-odd eyes on its back, the legs, and the tentacles. It must fancy humans, for few humans can be found after encountering an Amuz. In fact, Demons seem to be the only creature it can't stomach. Of course since it has acid for blood, I don't know why not, not that I'm complaining.
I will call a small one, only a foot long, maybe half as wide. One will be more than sufficient. I will summon it, and release it into the city. Then you can sell me as the cure. A kind demoness willing to rid the city of this foul monster. Really, who would know otherwise? I won't be killing them, neither will you.” Calbrena said.
Her powers hit the floor creating a small vortex. They vanished, leaving behind a small white creature with numerous small eyes on its back. The pincers were normal enough, but the twenty legs was oddly disturbing, as were the tentacles underneath. It looked at both Calbrena and wynkin, using a racial ability to try and fill them both with Supernatural horror. It hit Calbrena, but due to the thing's young age, it wasn't completely paralyzing as it would be if it were older. It did make her run to the back of the church and into the darkness though, whimpering in terror all the way.
“D-do you think that would work?” she asked, her voice waivering in an effort to not burst into tears.
Calbrena’s voice was no more than white noise, a blustering of wind or the far-off creek of a wagon’s wheel, as it fell upon Wynken’s ears. The world beyond himself appeared as though it were stretched, and his mind registered no discernable sights or sounds. The misty vortex had cleared and Wynken immediately beheld the totality of the abyssal creature’s horror; its inbred, supernatural ability to invoke fear triggering something deep within his being.
The church anteroom became increasingly distant, stretching thinner and thinner until at last the blurred lines of color were focused once more into familiar geometric patterns. Wynken saw himself, as if in a dream, standing in a magnificent room full of countless books. Shelves were arranged wall to wall, floor to ceiling and each held such a great number of tomes that it seemed as though a single volume more would need be abandoned for the lack of space.
As he looked upon himself, Wynken noted how soft and vibrant his features appeared. He was little younger than his current age, no more than a year or so. However, his face looked pristine and his eyes bright, no longer bearing the burden of a life of experience on the deadly city streets.
As he moved closer to better investigate the vision of himself, Wynken saw that he was reading a book. Frantically, he turned the pages as if engrossed in their tale or perhaps scouring them for some expected knowledge. As he floated ever closer, Wynken attempted to peak over his own shoulder when he was overcome by the unmistakable scent of old books. The musty yet still pleasant odor of ancient but well maintained paper flooded his senses and the single vision became many as scenes of himself played rapidly through his thoughts.
What Wynken thought was a dream was rather a memory.
At that moment, as he was caught between consciousness and delusion, the memories shifted to more familiar visions. Wynken saw himself brandishing his sword, the Mirror Root, to climb the ladders of renown and success. He witnessed himself standing in his father’s bedroom, and he relived the sense of accomplishment as the sword fell upon the heartless man’s throat.
Then all was restored.
Calbrena watched as the moment passed and Wynken’s immobilizing fear melted quickly from his face. He was no longer afraid, no longer under the affect of the vile creature. He looked upon the Amuz with seemingly renewed courage and spoke in answer to a question that he had never heard.
“That will do.”
The sword continued its telling warmth, though more forcefully now, like a master petting a cat more out of spite than true affection.
Didn't have much to add so I took the opportunity to do some character development. :p
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