Dangerous Secrets
6/2 Late Morning
I was a green dragon when I went to meet with Ysondre and our new contact. To my surprise, I knew her. Or at least recognized her name. Keristrasza was a tragic figure, an allied red dragon npc that aids the player character in a war against the blue dragonflight that starts a few years from now. She orchestrated the assassination of one of the Blue Aspect’s prime consorts, and then out of vengeance she was forced to fill the position herself.
For obvious reasons, they never really went into detail as to what that entailed. Why the writers decided to have an otherwise tragic figure like Malygos kidnap, brainwash, and rape a friendly and likable npc was beyond me. I’m not exactly able to take the moral high ground, of course, but that plot stuck out in my mind for… reasons.
Keri was in her visage when I arrived, which I appreciated. Both in general because I like being human and because both of the ladies present would utterly dwarf me if we were all in dragon form. Plus, Keri was a lot more enjoyable for me to look at in this state. No matter how long I spent as a dragon, I still didn’t want to fuck a giant lizard.
https://imgur.com/a/oVX0qFv
I handed her a necklace as a gift almost immediately; yes it meant that someone in Thrall’s assault team wouldn’t get collared today, but come on. I didn’t have a red dragon in my retinue yet and a fairly hot one walks right up to me? You should know what I was going to do already. Besides, with Sylvanas and Thrall both under control, controlling any given member of the Horde will be a formality.
“We only have proof that it will provide resistance to the Nightmare, but it should also protect you from other toxins like the Scourge plague.”
“I thank you; a gift really isn’t necessary though. I understand you need a way to get in contact with Vaelen?” She put it on of course; anything else would be rude. She’d never take it off again.
“Yes. We need to reassemble the Scepter of the Shifting Sands, and in addition I have reason to believe he may be in more danger than he knows.”
She thought about it. “Yes. You’re likely correct. He’s chosen a rather infamous black dragon as his enemy, and I don’t think he’s up to the task if it came to a direct confrontation. If you think he’s in danger I can get a letter to him securely. Just a short one; the spell has a weight limit before it becomes traceable.”
“Thank you. Would he recognize your name, Ysondre? Would he meet with you?”
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t bank on it. I’d only be a courtesy to get in contact with.”
I sighed. “Could you write something, Keristrasza? All we need is a rendezvous to trade information and assistance.”
She smiled at that. “Sure. There’s an old ruin he stays in when he needs rest. I’ll tell him to meet you there. Do you happen to have a map?”
“Not a physical one. But if you give me directions I think I’ll be able to find the right spot.”
She told me when and where Vaelastrasz would meet me, and I decided on a whim to move up the timeline with her. More breeds of dragon could only be good. I checked the Pickup line and winced. That’s just tasteless.
“Hey Keri, you’d be a great choice for a position under me. I could use another consort.” She didn’t take it as well as some, brushing me off initially. She did give me a pondering look as I teleported away, though.
••••••••••
Lillibeth drank another trollsblood elixir directly from her inventory. Just one of the weak ones. Malicia, after having her charm picked apart and undone, had insisted on Lillibeth donating blood to the Herald again. The instructor had been furious, and fully expected Lillibeth to die. She hadn’t, but she still felt awful. The rules of the school limited the teachers in how far they could go with punishments. Difficult was allowed, unpleasant was encouraged, but any task given must be both useful and plausibly survivable. Only failure was punishable by death. Giving a liter of blood to Kirtonos was generally considered a somewhat light punishment; giving again within the same day was frequently lethal. As a hero, Lillibeth recovered far more quickly than most, but it was still a lot of blood to lose.
She was lucky with her next class. Professor Slate was a huge softy by Scholomance standards; he largely ignored any student that didn’t pique his interest, leaving them to his teaching assistants. One of them was a young looking woman named Ingrid that had been stamped by Valeera, and the rest didn’t care enough to interfere with students that weren’t in their own sections. It gave her a few hours to recover while doing the bare minimum.
She had three room mates; two slightly younger than she appeared to be and one even older than she really was. They were easy to read. An Alteraci noblewoman looking for political advantage in what she’d thought was an elite social circle, a merchant’s daughter who wanted to feel special, and an old crone desperate for immortality. The noble girl had been the first one back to the room after her, and Lillibeth managed to perform the charm subtly enough that the woman didn’t know.She’d decided to start small and make the girl see her as incredibly useful. Exploitable. A new person to take into her orbit and cultivate. Someone who would help her rise. Affection and submission could come later; she was sure she’d be alone with her new besty again before long.
In the morning she was to report to the first class she’d been looking forward to, with Professor Vectus. The skeletal mage studied the corruptive nature of the Scourge on living creatures; generally speaking this amounted to growing about thirty percent larger and being ravenously hungry at all times, while also seeming to lose much of the actual biological need for food. Some creatures, especially carrion eaters and bats for whatever reason, took to the process better than others. Lillibeth gave her full attention to the skeletal professor, as it was only right to do so for a fellow member of the retinue. She was at a school; she might as well learn what she could.
When they reached the practical portion of his lab, Lillibeth was instead given the task of leaving the manor and fetching him something haunted from town. He believed that a pair of bound spirits would be useful for his research. He meant the Sarkoffs; the two ghosts they had captured on-site. Lillibeth agreed; Vectus could surely find some excuse to capture people though a love confession if he had ghosts to draw upon. Perhaps assigning the task of testing a new procedure as a detention? He had an amulet of his own, thanks to Pai.
Charm wasn’t all that tiring. It just couldn’t be used more than once every two hours, seemingly arbitrarily. If she reached out for it even one minute ahead of time the magic would not come. Lillibeth used it whenever she had an opportunity, targeting those who didn’t seem like they would have the knowledge to notice or the authority to punish her. She also tried to make the emotions line up with expectations. Awe from a girl that was essentially incompetent outside of alchemy upon seeing Lillibeth’s spellwork. Romantic desire in a handsome young gentleman who was looking at her just a little too intensely for her to want him to have anything else on his mind. Envy when she let slip her date of birth to a few of the old immortality seekers. She wasn’t trying to instantly capture them. She was trying to open exploitable doors for later. Ways to get people alone, or enticing secrets she can offer to share.
They were not the primary focus of the master’s attention, but between her, Ingrid, Vectus, and the Sarkoffs she thought they should be able to build a nice little power base. There was one other reason, of course. Her antics might be enough to attract the attention of the local shadow priestess, Illucia Barov. If she could capture the Lady of Caer Darrow, the woman who had the authority to invade the minds of anyone in the Scholomance save her fellow faculty at a whim, and who was used as a resource to counter suspected tampering, the mission would be half completed already. Further, all she really needed to capture her was a few moments alone for an orb of entrancement and Jewels of Discord to do their work. She wasn’t going to use half measures on this.
••••••••••
Nefarian tinkered with one of his more inspired ideas while his crystal apparatus decoded the information within the amulet network. He didn’t have access to all the same materials used to make the amulets, but he’d been able to assemble a vague blueprint of the amulets through careful study and intuitive leaps. The flashes of true brilliance that made his head hurt.
He didn’t know the precise composition of each part, but he could understand what they did. He could piece together their function, and nothing involved was individually impossible to reproduce with an appropriate application of one form of magic or another. Sometimes weaving a few together. This prototype wouldn’t be an exact reproduction; it would be quicker to get results, but not very subtle and probably wouldn’t be able to overcome the countermeasures installed into Netorarion’s thralls.
More importantly, additional copies would be hideously expensive. A thin arcanite chain was necessary to channel the energy without being blatantly obvious, and a few souldarite gems would be able to contain the titanic circuitry necessary to program certain responses; perhaps a larger collection of diamonds in a pinch. He could probably produce one every few days, at most, with his current inflow of resources.
The apparatus flashed informing him that it had completed its currently assigned task. The document labeled “missions.” It made precious little sense to him. Some of the tasks were reasonable campaign goals. Countering the rise of the old gods, seemed to be his largest goal, given the additional effort he put into specific campaign goals. Subverting the Dark Iron Dwarves was also reasonable. The rewards were odd, and linked to other documents he would need to decode, but he assumed offering treasure to your slaves would be a reasonable method of incentive.
Nefarian noted with mild insult that he had a bounty on his own head, which took the form of something called “capture tickets.” Would his killer be rewarded with 5 slaves of their choosing? Presumably high quality ones, but really? That was all? His death was worth far more than any five slaves.
There were also tasks which were… well, asinine. The death of a specific gorilla with white fur? Killing a large quantity of yeti? Convincing two teenagers to become mates? What possible tactical benefit could Netorarion derive from such actions? He must be missing something. He would need more study, but he was sure he could use this. Somehow.