HHE15: Interlude 3 - Sun 03/04/16 09:24 UTC
"Yeah, well don't be a stranger!" Said the Griefer over his shoulder, before dropping from the sill of the Seneschal's window onto the battlements below.
The Diabolist's messenger had learned what he could from the Seneschal, his inside man. Enough to know his work was far from done.
The demon cat walked a while, skipping across crenallations before realising he was observed. Though to all appearances he was entirely alone.
"Oi oi!" He greeted you with a wink.
"Yeah I'm talking to you! Oh, right--- Not expecting a bit of tête-à-tête, hey? You're thinking 'Has he gone mad?' Nope, think about it. As long as you keep reading, I ain't talking to me self. Hah!"
The cat paused midstride to awkwardly lick his chest, then glanced up and around. He had to stay alert. There were roving patrols around the wall to discourage orc attack, according to the Seneschal. Griefer wanted to avoid conversing with dim-witted town guards, especially since he was enjoying the conversation he'd just started (however one-way).
"If it helps, think of this as a soliloquy. All the fanciest playwrights do it."
"So by now, you must have a sound idea that the Diabolist is up to something dodgy. Shame you can't tell anyone hey!
"That's right, she's trying to get Zoltan snatched by his dad, who's a right nutter... and so-called Demon Lord of Infernal Device.
"He's walled up in his palace in the Abyss, surrounded by an army and protected by impregnable wards. Untouchable... least by anyone who can do him harm."
Griefer huffed and started walking again, to the parapet where he could get a decent view over the rooftops of Rosencliff.
"Zoltan's dad always offs his kids with his own hands, so he can burn their souls and make sure they don't come back... ever.
"So his minions will have to drag junior back to the palace first, and that creates an opening for an assassin to sneak in.
"Yeah, the dark elf D, who else!? He still needs some work though, don't he, crikey!
"Notice how he's called Dusk, the Baronessa's Morgen, and that halfling's, Moonshadow. Bet you any money that dwarf with the tats is called something like 'Noon', or 'Lunchtime', or--- I don't bleeding know, but you get me point.
"Each one of them holds a soul shard of none other than the Prince of Shadows his self.
"Donkeys ago, the Black tricked our Prince into some proper naughty business, and the Prince had to find some way of beating a soul-destroying poison he'd been infected with.
"So he did, by destroying his soul! The Black was mugged off alright, and then the Prince's bird, Talitha, dropped the shards of his soul into four cups for four whores, unbeknowest to them. Nine months later, out popped four sprogs, sweet as a nut!"
The black cat frowned, his tail flicked.
"If only we could figure how to merge the shards back together, you know!! We'd have the world's greatest sharper at our beck and call, possibly the only one capable of shivving Yzarra in his backyard.
"What's that? Why's it so important? Pfff, now that would be telling, sunshine!
"And I reckon you got other things to worry about. Like the Aurenaur being found, and that high elf harping on about reforming the Aurenaur e Du... well someone did 'em in for a reason, you know!
"Then you have the Orc Lord chasing after Seyja. Have you seen the size of him!? S*** the bed! He's one proper moody geezer too, so don't expect him to forget about you in a hurry.
"I tell you now, that Iron Skull has nowt better to do with its time than chase your boys and girls. Don't matter whether they on land or sea."
The Griefer inhaled noisily through his nose. The town was clean, its people clean-living. He wouldn't find any food in Rosencliff.
"It ain't one thing or the other, see." He said to you, "It's everything, and it's gonna kick right off!"
He grinned and licked his lips, then dropped from the wall, to be engulfed by a darkness deeper than the shadows.
The Diabolist's messenger had learned what he could from the Seneschal, his inside man. Enough to know his work was far from done.
The demon cat walked a while, skipping across crenallations before realising he was observed. Though to all appearances he was entirely alone.
"Oi oi!" He greeted you with a wink.
"Yeah I'm talking to you! Oh, right--- Not expecting a bit of tête-à-tête, hey? You're thinking 'Has he gone mad?' Nope, think about it. As long as you keep reading, I ain't talking to me self. Hah!"
The cat paused midstride to awkwardly lick his chest, then glanced up and around. He had to stay alert. There were roving patrols around the wall to discourage orc attack, according to the Seneschal. Griefer wanted to avoid conversing with dim-witted town guards, especially since he was enjoying the conversation he'd just started (however one-way).
"If it helps, think of this as a soliloquy. All the fanciest playwrights do it."
"So by now, you must have a sound idea that the Diabolist is up to something dodgy. Shame you can't tell anyone hey!
"That's right, she's trying to get Zoltan snatched by his dad, who's a right nutter... and so-called Demon Lord of Infernal Device.
"He's walled up in his palace in the Abyss, surrounded by an army and protected by impregnable wards. Untouchable... least by anyone who can do him harm."
Griefer huffed and started walking again, to the parapet where he could get a decent view over the rooftops of Rosencliff.
"Zoltan's dad always offs his kids with his own hands, so he can burn their souls and make sure they don't come back... ever.
"So his minions will have to drag junior back to the palace first, and that creates an opening for an assassin to sneak in.
"Yeah, the dark elf D, who else!? He still needs some work though, don't he, crikey!
"Notice how he's called Dusk, the Baronessa's Morgen, and that halfling's, Moonshadow. Bet you any money that dwarf with the tats is called something like 'Noon', or 'Lunchtime', or--- I don't bleeding know, but you get me point.
"Each one of them holds a soul shard of none other than the Prince of Shadows his self.
"Donkeys ago, the Black tricked our Prince into some proper naughty business, and the Prince had to find some way of beating a soul-destroying poison he'd been infected with.
"So he did, by destroying his soul! The Black was mugged off alright, and then the Prince's bird, Talitha, dropped the shards of his soul into four cups for four whores, unbeknowest to them. Nine months later, out popped four sprogs, sweet as a nut!"
The black cat frowned, his tail flicked.
"If only we could figure how to merge the shards back together, you know!! We'd have the world's greatest sharper at our beck and call, possibly the only one capable of shivving Yzarra in his backyard.
"What's that? Why's it so important? Pfff, now that would be telling, sunshine!
"And I reckon you got other things to worry about. Like the Aurenaur being found, and that high elf harping on about reforming the Aurenaur e Du... well someone did 'em in for a reason, you know!
"Then you have the Orc Lord chasing after Seyja. Have you seen the size of him!? S*** the bed! He's one proper moody geezer too, so don't expect him to forget about you in a hurry.
"I tell you now, that Iron Skull has nowt better to do with its time than chase your boys and girls. Don't matter whether they on land or sea."
The Griefer inhaled noisily through his nose. The town was clean, its people clean-living. He wouldn't find any food in Rosencliff.
"It ain't one thing or the other, see." He said to you, "It's everything, and it's gonna kick right off!"
He grinned and licked his lips, then dropped from the wall, to be engulfed by a darkness deeper than the shadows.