The Matter of Bromn's Bangle

[SinVraal]

The silver serpent coiled upon itself. Metallic scales massaging its length while its tiny wings flutter. An obsidian, forked tongue occasionally tested the air as it settled upon the bed. Bromn's bed. It slowed and stopped altogether; its scaled hardened back into actual metal while the wings melted seamlessly into its wrought body. In the darkness the object was almost indiscernable save for the potent glint in its eyes that set it apart as a treasure amongst the valuables that Bromn enjoyed.

Tiny, ruby eyes glittered as the ancient creature drank in its surroundings. This was, it assured itself, Bromn's chamber - it carried his distinct scent and taste. Satisfied, the creature waited, motionless, for the would-be governor to arrive after the long day's work of uniting a rebellion to seize power. He would come home to find the precious gift of a dying man, swayed by Bromn's integrity of word and deed, laying for him as an omen and a promise. A promise of the future and the.. right ordering of things.

It waited with a single message to press upon Bromn's thoughts whenever he happened to approach:

"You no longer need to run from who you are. We will take care of everything..."

[Carnath-Emory]

A treasure amongst valuables; a glinting note of light amidst a very opulent assortment of such lovely things. There shouldn't be quite so many of them, of course, for Ariane had spent some time housed here, and there had been visitors who bore the most unlikely gifts --

But this is the day to rectify that: in the aftermath of her business with Helstone, and en route to a visit upon the Rememdium, she has paused here for long enough to collect the last of her belongings. Such things as brass looking-glasses, bright with burnished metal and gleaming lenses. Such things as chess-boards and their puzzling pieces, and books bound with gilt-edged pages, and even the last of her garments: those few pretty items brought here in case of a need that did not surface.

Such errors as these make Myrken Wood what it is today: a sprawling township born of mishap and mistake, of deceit and confusion and a great helping of pride. But mistakes most of all, perhaps, so that really, it should surprise no-one that this pretty thing has fallen into her small bag of goods...

[SinVraal]

The creature remained still as the woman, distinctly not Bromn, swept into the room and set about claiming various items as her own. Its cold, dead gaze remained such until she seemed to pause for a second, her shadow blotting out what little light it could see by. After a moment it is being moved, and then falling, scraping against other random objects before it is sealed away in some portable treasure-trove.

Calmly, the silver serpent tasted its surroundings. It licked small, smooth panes of glass as well as hardened pieces to some mortal game. With the thief's every step its prison swayed and gently rocked the solidified creature about. Tempted with the notion of slithering free and burying its serrated fangs into the interloper's throat, it instead hums a quiet, simple melody...

***

Sin'Vraal paused in the darkness of his ancient temple. Something pricked at the back of his mind. A message: a warning from his serpentine servant. He turned on one heel and strode quickly towards a broad pool set in a tall basin in the center of his haven. About him towered statues whose features were lost in the darkness yet who gaze upon him with a collective gaze weighted with the passing of the ages. A low rumble marked the semblance of some sort of life amongst their chiseled, stone features.

Vraal, however, paid them no heed. Instead he peered into the tepid depths of the water and traced a gloved fingertip along the surface. In its wake he left a slender trail, as if he were a child drawing in the sand. Every few moments his finger curved as he outlined an arcane symbol upon the water that held its shape as a precious thing. There was silence. And then there was sight.

From the basin's depths erupted a brilliant, silver fire that threw Vraal's mark into a sharp, writhing shadow upon the wall and illuminated the monstrous heads topping the four statues that surround him. Each bestial visage bore stoic witness to their captor's power. The light dimmed but remained pulsing as an aquatic, sorcerous heart. In the throbbing surface Vraal beheld the servant he forged from blood, silver, treachery and shaped into blind servitude. He himself was amongst the woman's claimed possessions and he caught the scent of polished glass and worn play-pieces shaped from wood and clay. Their textures teased his senses with the whisper of reality.

His gaze then pulled away and he felt the cool, metallic strength of the servant leave him as he beheld the woman herself casually making her way from Bromn's appartments. Obsidian eyes alit with a scheming light that began to puzzle out the story which unfolded before him.

"You are too brazen for a thief," he hissed. The sibilant syllables echoed throughout the empty chamber. "A woman who has such ready access to Bromn's quarters can mean few things..." A leather-sheathed fingertip glided across thin lips pressed into a thoughtful line. His gaze settled upon her features as she moved. He caught every detail and closed his eyes to relish the imprint that remained within his mind.

"No," he muttered and leaned forward, supporting his weight on his palms. "You are something else entirely. Someone of.. significance. Or soon to be. This one bears watching. And possibly more when the time comes."

He bade his servant to listen, to understand, and to serve. This woman would prove to be the first. He offered her a cold, cruel smile that slithered across the breadth of angular features before dismissing the magic with a wave and a thought. There were many plans to make... many indeed.

[SinVraal]

He watched as the serpent uncoiled itself, its scales darkening as it melted into a semblance of life. Slender wings released from its sides and, with a few flutters the creature lifts into the air above the Broken Dagger. Its ruby gaze stained the earth red and, noting Ariane and her company, it sped off to carry out her will that coursed as blood through its cold body: to find a pebble from the highest peak of the Sikasoon Mountains.

As the creature soared towards the mountains, Vraal slowly shook his head at Ariane's suspicion. His reptillian lips pressed into a slow, broad smile that caught at his harsh, angular features. A glitter of silver light whispered across the threads that adorn an ebon cloak as he turned from the great, still basin that squats in the center of the vaulted chamber.

"Your suspicion serves you well," he murmured to himself. The purred syllables wound their way about his own ears before echoing, barely, to touch against the ceiling lost in darkness. Still, he considered, it would not serve her enough. His gaze, black as pitch and deep with the depth of a thousand caverns, fell upon the matching bangle that coiled about his other elbow.

"Go," Vraal commanded and watched as the sister-serpent uncoiled itself from his elbow and, soundlessly take to the air. "Go and aid my servant. Let the bond of your former flesh guide you to serve this.. Ariane.. that my servant may stay with her."

It circled about its master to gain its bearings and to enjoy the command that carressed it from eyes to bladed-tail.

"And," Vraal added as the intricate black brand upon his brow began to glitter in the darkness. The perverse light reflected off the surface of the basin, framed in stone, and flickered to the far corners of the vast chamber. That light revealed a room that spread out to five points; four along the ground and one far above, and walls without crack or seam - as if hewn from a single, solid piece. "Give her something... to dream about."

The creature hissed its pleasure and obedience before making its way from its master's temple. As he watched it leave, its brilliant length reflected in his dark gaze, Vraal considered that there was no one as dangerous as a faithful servant. And there was nothing as dangerous as a consuming fantasy.