Post by The Thorn on Dec 9, 2009 19:47:02 GMT -8
The greatest benefit of having taken on the Tetrarch Council is that no one wanted to take credit for it.
For years, as word of mouth carried her exploits to the various taverns and thieves dens, someone would inevitably attempt to take credit for her work. Usually it was the very inexperienced looking for acceptance or the very old struggling to remain relevant. In either case, if the local authorities didn’t take care of it, The Thorn did. Not that she minded these misguided individuals diverting her pursuers, but she did have a reputation to uphold. The Thorn would never boast of her accomplishments- it scared away potential clients and would have shortened her career considerably. However, a glory hound would have been ever so useful after her last production. Some fool claiming to have single-handedly committed the Council Family Massacres and been collared and publicly executed for them would have negated her need to go into hiding at all. On the other hand, it would have made a re-emergence extremely difficult. As it was, the demand for The Thorn had waned out of fear. The few offers she had needed to be researched carefully and two had already been exposed as attempts to entrap her.
More than a year had passed since then, and few were speaking of the Massacre except in hushed tones near the fire. Undoubtedly, the Tetrarchs had not so easily been distracted- but one had to make sure of these things. It simply wouldn’t do to have them forget such an important lesson. With a small smile, she surveyed the Council Chamber in its readiness. At each seat was a simple scroll inscribed with the name of the Tetrarch who sat there and inside, the name of the family member that had been murdered. At Thiffiel’s seat, lay a sealed envelope that (per custom) would be opened at the beginning of the session, after the pouring of the wine. In the center of the table was a beautifully arranged bouquet of blushing red roses. As she surveyed the scene, she could hear the approaching Tetrarchs. Moving to the sideboard, she picked up the chilled wine pitcher and placed it at the head of the table, drying her hands as she bowed her head at the entering Tetrarchs and quietly left the room.
The view from her window was an unobstructed one of the main entrance to the Echoes of Darkness clan hall. As she awaited the arrival of the Celebrant and her Dancer, she again replayed the chain of events as they would have unfolded in the Council Chambers (Oh, to have been a shadow in the rafters!). First the Tetrarchs would have entered, paying no mind to the acolyte who had prepared the room as she left. The wine would have been passed and a ceremonial toast and drink to start the proceedings. Then each Tetrarch would open the scrolls before them, likely shocked and confused at first until Thiffiel read the accompanying letter (she rather fancied that he would have thrown some sort of tantrum before sharing the contents):
There would undoubtedly be some raised and blustering voices- Until the hallucinations began. The slow acting drug in slipped into the wine preying on their fears and pain of loss. Add to that a little more dramatic effect, the roses on the table would start to blacken and lose their petals; the air filling with the acrid, putrid stench of decaying flesh as the poison in the vase voraciously consumed dying flowers. As the Tetrarchs stumbled about in their nightmare, paid couriers would be delivering letters to their remaining family members and other temple clergy across Aden. Letters like the one she held now:
The Thorn gently placed the letter into the flames of the fireplace and watched as the edges blacked and turned to ash.
No. They would never forget.
For years, as word of mouth carried her exploits to the various taverns and thieves dens, someone would inevitably attempt to take credit for her work. Usually it was the very inexperienced looking for acceptance or the very old struggling to remain relevant. In either case, if the local authorities didn’t take care of it, The Thorn did. Not that she minded these misguided individuals diverting her pursuers, but she did have a reputation to uphold. The Thorn would never boast of her accomplishments- it scared away potential clients and would have shortened her career considerably. However, a glory hound would have been ever so useful after her last production. Some fool claiming to have single-handedly committed the Council Family Massacres and been collared and publicly executed for them would have negated her need to go into hiding at all. On the other hand, it would have made a re-emergence extremely difficult. As it was, the demand for The Thorn had waned out of fear. The few offers she had needed to be researched carefully and two had already been exposed as attempts to entrap her.
More than a year had passed since then, and few were speaking of the Massacre except in hushed tones near the fire. Undoubtedly, the Tetrarchs had not so easily been distracted- but one had to make sure of these things. It simply wouldn’t do to have them forget such an important lesson. With a small smile, she surveyed the Council Chamber in its readiness. At each seat was a simple scroll inscribed with the name of the Tetrarch who sat there and inside, the name of the family member that had been murdered. At Thiffiel’s seat, lay a sealed envelope that (per custom) would be opened at the beginning of the session, after the pouring of the wine. In the center of the table was a beautifully arranged bouquet of blushing red roses. As she surveyed the scene, she could hear the approaching Tetrarchs. Moving to the sideboard, she picked up the chilled wine pitcher and placed it at the head of the table, drying her hands as she bowed her head at the entering Tetrarchs and quietly left the room.
The view from her window was an unobstructed one of the main entrance to the Echoes of Darkness clan hall. As she awaited the arrival of the Celebrant and her Dancer, she again replayed the chain of events as they would have unfolded in the Council Chambers (Oh, to have been a shadow in the rafters!). First the Tetrarchs would have entered, paying no mind to the acolyte who had prepared the room as she left. The wine would have been passed and a ceremonial toast and drink to start the proceedings. Then each Tetrarch would open the scrolls before them, likely shocked and confused at first until Thiffiel read the accompanying letter (she rather fancied that he would have thrown some sort of tantrum before sharing the contents):
To Our Wise and All Powerful Lords of the Tetrarch Council ,
In Remembrance of those devoted and loving family members you have lost.
May their sacrifice never be forgotten.
May She ever hold them in Her comforting embrace.
And may YOU never experience Her Embrace for yourselves.
In Remembrance of those devoted and loving family members you have lost.
May their sacrifice never be forgotten.
May She ever hold them in Her comforting embrace.
And may YOU never experience Her Embrace for yourselves.
There would undoubtedly be some raised and blustering voices- Until the hallucinations began. The slow acting drug in slipped into the wine preying on their fears and pain of loss. Add to that a little more dramatic effect, the roses on the table would start to blacken and lose their petals; the air filling with the acrid, putrid stench of decaying flesh as the poison in the vase voraciously consumed dying flowers. As the Tetrarchs stumbled about in their nightmare, paid couriers would be delivering letters to their remaining family members and other temple clergy across Aden. Letters like the one she held now:
Let it be known to all that the Tetrarch Council is guilty of conspiring against the Temple of Shilen, Her Children, and The Mother Herself. They have on their hands the blood of all manner of Temple Clergy and devotees who would question or dispute their actions and proclamations. They have on their souls the blood of their own children, sacrificed to pay for the services of murder and mayhem in this unholy conspiracy against our Dark Mother.
The time for their betrayal is coming to an end and retribution will be paid to them in kind. Suffer them not to poison the dark waters of our un-birth with their self serving vitriol!
May Shilen soon be freed and may all Her loyal children live to see Her day of vengeance!
The time for their betrayal is coming to an end and retribution will be paid to them in kind. Suffer them not to poison the dark waters of our un-birth with their self serving vitriol!
May Shilen soon be freed and may all Her loyal children live to see Her day of vengeance!
The Thorn gently placed the letter into the flames of the fireplace and watched as the edges blacked and turned to ash.
No. They would never forget.