Friend of Taara

The Temple of Vardama is a place where people can pay their respects for the dead. There are also, however, rooms for people to speak to the departed. It's one of these chambers that Harkashan, Auranar, Rune, and Eztli see themselves in this evening, a Daeshen cool breeze following them into the temple and passing through the halls to occupy a dark chamber.

A cleric that has been thoroughly vetted by Auranar, an elf woman that she knows through her wife's occupation as a Mourner, sits in the center of the room. The hood of her gray robe is down for the moment, and the chamber is intentionally lit somewhat dimly, only a few candles here and there to light the chamber and leaving shadow to linger in corners here and there.

"When we are ready, I will light the incense and contact the man you wish to speak to," the Mourner says. "I suggest that, if you have not already, coordinate the questions you wish to ask among each other. You will get about seven questions. The soul you wish to contact may be cryptic about the answers he wishes to give, and answers will be brief."

Auranar finds a convenient corner of the room to stand in, making herself comfortable, but not _too_ comfortable. Thus the standing and not any sort of sitting. She has an aura of displeasure about her, and it's clear that she's not happy to be here, but she's here with a reason and a purpose. Like doesn't need enter into it.

The normally cheerful elvish woman has an owl on her shoulder, the bird offers no more pleasure to its gaze than does Auranar. She pulls an empty scroll from her belt and a means to write on it. She has only one question burning in her mind, but she knows that if he can, Karan'taara will avoid answering it. Thus she must be prepared to readjust and of course, the others may have questions of their own for the necromancer.

This is not the first time that Rune has attended one of these sessions reaching out beyond the void to speak with the dead. The last time had been unsettling at best, and there is every expectation that this time will be no different.

"I don't have any intention of talking to him directly if I can help it. Fucker was a creep who deserves what he got. Wouldn't fucking surprise me if he doesn't just use this as an opportunity to twist the knife in us a bit more." Rune clearly has opinions about the man in question. Her last experiences had been, troubling...

Rune flicks one of her smaller knives between her fingers, but the tension in her body suggests she would like to be anywhere but here.

"Earnestly, the main thing I will wish to know who it was that Karan'taara spoke of. They seemed to imply the existence of a co-conspirator or 'friend'." Harkashan rumbles, as the Mourner speaks on the matters of coordinating their questions.

"They were clearly too far gone, mentally. They didn't even seem to care they were suffering or dying. So it may also be good to check if they had any... 'plans' to come back, so to speak." He rumbles, glancing at the room's occupants.

A small sith-makari propped themselves up against one of the walls of the room, where they idly fiddled with one of the sleeves of their robe.

"Smart, makes sense to get all our plans sorted sooner rather than later." Eztli nods once. "Either far gone, or pretending to be, hard to tell with someone as twisted as them." They grumble. "I really hope nothing more is going on, but we can't rule it out just yet."

When the group gives their consent to the Mourner, she draws up her hood, lights the incense, and recites an incantation that notably contains the name 'Karan'taara' at the end. It becomes apparent then that there's a reason why the lights are dim and the Mourner drew her hood up: there's not much way to see the face underneath the hood. It's a comfort for those who are contacting a loved one who has passed on, so that they can really believe that it's them, come back to speak and act just the way that they always have.

Unfortunately, that means the same is true for those who are called back to speak with less than happy feelings for the departed.

The change is subtle at first. The woman's head tilts to one side. And then to another. And then an awful laugh leaves the Mourner. A thing that starts low and quiet but builds up--

And then ends with a wistful sigh, before it can become a high and thunderous thing.

"I didn't expect to be called again," comes the voice of Karan'taara. "Did you _miss_ me? I can only assume it's one of my adoring fans come for a little chat. Oh tell me--hah--is Telamon here?"

So much for brief.

Auranar waits for the mourner to be prepared, her heart beating in her throat. She isn't looking forward to this. Karan'taara will make this as much about his own grotesque desires as he can. Cause as much harm with his words as he can. Withhold as much as he can. Just to be obtuse. She licks her lips and leans forward slightly. "What is the name of the one that told you that those you killed would follow you to the afterlife?" She's not playing into his questions.

There's the sound of lips being licked. And then Karan'taara responds. "He who eats the flesh of the deceased earns their strength."

There's something cloying about his voice that suggests he's relishing his wordplay.

GAME: Harkashan rolls Knowledge/Religion: (4)+13: 17
GAME: Auranar rolls Sense Motive: (11)+3: 14
GAME: Eztli rolls sense motive: (8)+1: 9
GAME: Rune rolls sense motive: (10)+8: 18

The smell of the incense causes Rune's nose to scrunch, likely having built up a bad association with the smell from her previous encounters with it. The rogue reaches a hand up and rubs beneath her nose.

Then, the laughter. Even from the mourner, it still sends the same shiver down Rune's spine. "Still mad as a hatter, even in death." She mutters to herself, reaching up to wrap her hand around her mother's necklace, taking some solace from the connection to the Sky-singer and what minimal protections that might give against such evil.

She doesn't answer his question, however. Instead, Rune's expression tightens, obviously disgusted.

Harkashan can't help but grimace a bit as the woman's head tilts, then tilts again, and then that laugh escapes. A laugh he still remembers quite well.

He crosses his arms a bit. A small twitch at his right eye as Karan'taara asks if Telamon is here. He doesn't answer.

Instead, he tilts his head slowly. Eating the flesh of the already diseased?

"Some kind of carrion." He rumbles.

"Pretty smug for a corpse." Eztli growls once she's finally able to hear the voice, freezing just a bit as they listen. "Remember to avoid asking any questions by accident, in case they try to avoid answering anything." They warn, blinking for a moment. "They said again. Karan'taara, what is the true name of the person who called you prior to the cleric we are currently with?"

A sound like a hiss of breath between clenched teeth escapes the Mourner who is hosting Karan'taara. "I am not permitted to speak his name."

Auranar writes everything down. Every word. Just to be on the safe side. The eerie sense that Karan'taara is in this room sends a shiver down her spine, but she doesn't dare fall to the feeling. Instead she falls upon an idea that is sparked by the fact that the name does not come. "What is the reason you are not permitted to speak his name?"

This one comes as a snarl. A thing that's a _hateful_ sound. "I swore an oath to him that I would not speak it." Karan'taara offers only that for this question.

As questions and answers come, Rune seems to narrow in on two distinct facts. One, that this doesn't seem to be the first time someone has spoken to this individual. And two, she may very well have a good idea of who the nameless one might be.

She looks to Harkashan, then. "Remember... there's a specific Fey being we know of who may very well be called after the act that he's describing." She raises her eyebrows, hoping that this is enough to spark his memory on the matter.

Then, looking to Auranar, "My little understanding from working along side a few others who know about such matters... deals and bonds with other-worldly beings, especially the Fey, can come with some pretty tight strings attached." Harkashan, spotting Rune's glance, and description, he raises his hand; "We know who it is. No need to continue along that line of questioning." He remarks based on what Rune just gave, then drawing his hand down again.

Instead, he touches his hands to his back and tilts his head slowly. Trying to piece things together slowly. "It would make sense this one allied with that one. They share a similar madness and enjoyment for seeing pain inflicted." He remarks.

"Alright, so we've got a name, hopefully. Seems you have some ideas on who that is and I hope you're right." Eztli sighs. "This is why I hate contracts, must be something big if it'll force them not to answer truthfully even in death, though."

More writing. The others make an excellent point and she nods to their words, focusing on the things that they don't know and that the necromancer might well. Auranar could ask if he knows the location of the Corpse Eater's lair, but that might be a waste... "What are the exact directions to Legus'elain's lair from your own?"

There's a peal of laughter. This one is the thunder that had been threatening before, but more like thunder in that it strikes suddenly and loudly. When Karan'taara regains himself, it's with a gasp for air and a mimed motion like he's going to brush a tear from his eyes.

"Teleport to Alexandria's Northern Gates," he begins. And then he begins a list of directions. Chillingly to everyone in the room except for Eztli, it leads somewhere familiar--

It seems to be a house only a few streets away from Cor'lana and Telamon's house.

GAME: Rune rolls knowledge/local: (2)+10: 12
GAME: Harkashan rolls Knowledge/Local: (9)+4: 13
GAME: Rune rolls knowledge/local: (14)+10: 24

"What I've seen from Fey contracts... death usually isn't an ending condition." Rune explains to Eztli, suggesting that she may very well know more about that topic. However, now does not seem like the time to delve into that.

The laughter, however, causes Rune to flinch. It is a sort of sound that runs bone deep and is unsettling to her very core. Like a feeling of cold water splashed down into her stomach. She bites at the edge of her lip, trying to shake off the unease that even being in this man's presence, in his deceased form, brings with it.

Then, as the directions start to be listed out, Rune is forced to close her eyes, trying to track the movements through the city. At the end of the string of directions, she looks to Auranar and approaches. She mimes writing and holds out her hand.

Once the writing utensil is handed over, Rune writes plainly: 'I have passed this house. It is near Cor'lana and Telamon's home. He must be keeping tabs on them.' She then lifts the page briefly so the others can see before handing paper and writing utensil back, her expression worried. She, clearly, doesn't want to mention her friends names aloud in this man's presence.

Harkashan follows the path in his mind. One can see him lift a finger, following each motion along... and then rumbles a huffy sound. A bit of flame bursting from his maw in response.

When Rune finally lifts the paper, Harkashan is already rumbling; "He lost me at the turn past the pastry shop."

"So, they have a base in the city. Interesting, and more than a bit foolish. They must think they wouldn't need to make a quick exit, if it's in the wards." The small makari chuffs, taking a look at the paper and crossing her arms. "So, there are others you are dealing with, good to know. Karan'taara, what are any plans you or anyone else has made for your resurrection?" She asks, the growl creeping back into their voice. If there were any, then they would be making sure they stayed dead.

"My benefactor has expressed interest in my resurrection," Karan'taara replies. Except he seems... almost bored with his reply. Like the idea of coming back isn't much fun at all, for some reason? "If he has use of me."

GAME: Eztli rolls sense motive: (10)+1: 11
GAME: Harkashan rolls Sense Motive: (20)+19: 39

Auranar takes her writing supplies back from Rune. It doesn't surprise her that the Corpse Eater is keeping a close eye on Cor'lana and Telamon. It does trouble her though. He must intend to strike in some way soon. She bites her lower lip and looks into the darkness of that hood with a piercing gaze. "What exact questions did your benefactor ask you when he questioned you in this manner?"

Harkashan rumbles a deep and concerned sound for a moment. His brow furrowing, and his tail ending up lashing at the ground. Scuffing the ground with heavy swiping motions. It seems Harkashan didn't like something about that answer, not at all.

He is holding his words for now, but it's certain he will reveal what he just figured out when this spell ends.

"If I wanted to come back to life, if I wanted more power upon being brought back to life, if I was content staying in the Halls, if I wanted Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon delivered to me in the Halls, if I wanted Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon delivered to me in the Halls, if I had encountered an individual named Zalgiman Joaki in the Halls, if I had encountered an individual named Kiira Theran in the Halls."

It's a list delivered almost exhaustively. Very pleasantly. If it wasn't said by a madman, that is. The hood hides what is surely a bright, teethy grin.

The last thing that Rune wants is to have to deal with this particular asshole ever again. She mutters a curse in draconic at the idea. Despite not having as many encounters with him as some others, the churning in her stomach at the mere thought of him returning has her stepping backwards, one hand instinctively going for one of the blades holstered along her back.

It takes a moment to remind herself that he cannot hurt her here. He cannot hurt anymore children, not if they have anything to say about the matter.

The irritated sway of Harkashan's tail draws her attention, however, making it clear that she is not the only one feeling 'off' about what is going on. So, she steps over to lean slightly against the cleric's side, offering her presence if nothing else.

Of course, at the mention of her mother's name, Rune tenses slightly. Her eyes narrow but she keeps her mouth shut on the matter, at least for the time being.

Eztli pinches their brow as the voice comes back. "If your face wasn't actually the face of a rather pleasant and helpful cleric, I'd punch it right now." The small makari grumbles quietly to herself. "Gods, he's a smug bastard, and he's actively subverting the messages he's giving with his words. I just can't put a finger-er, claw on what it is. Clawed finger."

Something makes the small makari's tail twitch agitatedly, and Eztli chuffs again. "Okay. Karan'taara, what are your plans in the Halls of Waiting?"

Laughter.

It's an explosion of laughter so loud it echoes all around the chamber. A thing that's truly lost to madness, a sound that's horrendous and awful in all the ways that monsters keep children up at night, and in all the ways that people keep adults up at night. The shadows in the room are as dark as the depths of Karan'taara's laughter.

"My plans?"

He laughs more. Laughs even harder, gripping the table where the Mourner he's taken a hold of is sitting. But a person would be running out of breath at this point. Choking on air. Begging for mercy from the assault of comedy.

Maybe laughter isn't all that different from dying.

"Everyone I've ever killed: they're _all in the Halls_. I'm enjoying myself so terribly much. To see them wilt and cower before me, to watch them shiver and flee in a place where they've been told over and over and over and _over_ again that they'll be at peace--"

He lifts his face up. It's just enough for the dim light in the room to catch the glint of his teeth.

"I see them all one by one by one by one by one by one by one, full of despair, the despair that I've made. They have been promised a pretty lie--I am the one who torments beyond death! One by one by one by one by ONE!"

Then the Mourner slumps down to her table, breathing hard, like she's struggling from having just been throttled. In a way--she has.

Harkashan's tail whips HARD on the ground as the man, within the halls of the Death Singing Dragon, chimes about ruining the lives of those even after death. A snarl hisses from him, and flame snorts from his nose in response.

Rune has seen him get angry before when people defile corpses. But the way his tail is twitching... Harkashan is /outraged/. And is doing his very bestest to hold himself together in that moment.

It takes him a moment, trying to get himself together, before he grunts; "It seems I may need to speak to one of the Deathsinging Dragon's Psychopomps about paying that man a visit within the Halls..."

Auranar wishes that Eztli had never asked that question. She's knows that, prays that, it's not true. That the madman will not be able to torment those that he's killed ever again. That they're at peace. Harkashan's sudden outburst makes her flinch and she holds herself, arms around her middle as she looks at the poor Mourner with sorrow in her eyes. "Vardama protect those poor souls." She says softly. She rolls up her scroll and tucks her writing things away slowly. The owl on her shoulder unmoving. Unblinking. Watching.

In the end, the monster of a man goes out as he did in life... laughing all the way. "Well, that last bit is pretty much what I expected from the get go. It may be true in some sense, but I have a feeling that it's more of his bullshit meant to get to us." Then again, Rune isn't trying to read into the actual intentions of a madman. "Seems he enjoys fucking with people, both the living and the dead."

She lets out a sigh, "Not so happy to find out that the Rook is trying to find my mother, either. Then again, I'm fairly confident that she /isn't/ in the halls. Otherwise, I would have had a far easier time of all this."

Just what 'all this' entails, that may be a conversation for another day. Instead, she looks between the others, making sure she rests a hand on Harkashan's arm briefly, but there is no attempt to calm his fire. "We should make sure that the others are warned."

Eztli probably had a few more angry retorts in them, and it was clear they weren't happy about the answer, but the abrupt end has the small makari hop over to the table and pull the cleric into a better position to recover.

"You're a vardaman right Hark? I don't know much about the halls, but this shit doesn't sound right, he should be judged and sent somewhere accordingly, right? Not, this." The small makari huffs. "I don't care what his intentions are, but if he likes harming people so much, then it can't be let to continue."

The Mourner catches her breath. She says not a word more to the group, only nodding and then walking swiftly to the doors of the chamber. She opens them and practically sprints once the light is upon her face again.

It's not hard to imagine why.

"I need to go and talk to Cor'lana and Telamon." Auranar says swiftly, heading for the door herself. "The sooner they know the better." The owl on her shoulder makes a soft whirring noise and she glances toward the group behind her. "If anyone cares to join me; you are welcome to do so..."

She takes a breath, looking off after where the Mourner disappeared off to. "Hopefully, we will have a chance to strike before he realizes that he's in danger."

Turning to watch as the Mourner makes her quick departure, Rune lifts her brows, "Yeah, not surprised at that, either. I would want to be out of here, too, if I had that asshole swimming around in my brain."

At Auranar's quick movement to depart, the rogue gives a nod, "I'll come along with." There is something in Rune's expression that suggests she may know more about the current threats facing her dear half-elven friends, but it is not something she explains given their current circumstances and public location.

"Come on, Hark." She looks to the Makari, "If nothing else, you need a walk to let off some of that steam. And not in the erupting volcano sort of way."

Harkashan huffs, and shakes his head to Eztli. "I will look into it." Is all he manages for now. "We have many people to speak to on this." He then adds, and is tugged away by Rune. He looks like he's about ready to blow.

Get it? Like a volcano?

"That's okay, they don't really know me well." Eztli shrugs as the cleric books it out of the room. "Yeah, can't blame them for that. Hope they've got support for things like that."

“Yeah, I get it. Don't let it get to you too much, Hark. We'll fix things." They add with a sympathetic look. "I'll, I've got know clue, really. I'm sure I'll find something productive to do.

-End