An Unseelie Patron

Yarrik leaned back on one of the chairs, careful not to rest his feet in the blood pooling on the floor. The corpse's had been removed and tossed into the dark crevasse beyond, another putrid tribute to the strange creature lurking in the dark. Yarrik shivered as his mind circled back to his encounter with the Nothic. He had felt the creature reach into his mind. Closing his eyes he winced as he probed the mental bruises and scars from its foul touch. Thankfully, the created hadn't been able to scour his mind - a boon from his patron from what he could gather as there was no basic psychic defense he could employ against a mental telepathic such as a Nothic.

The concept of the creature made Yarrik shiver. At one point in time, the creature had not been a creature - it was a wizard. A man or women not unlike himself that was able to bend the magics woven into the very essence of the world around them. Like any true wizard or mage, the Nothic was once an astute scholar; one passionately driven to the pursuit of knowledge. Somewhere in their studies, they found something. A sinister truth, a forbidden secret, a lost treasure of knowledge which wasn't meant to be discovered by mere mortals. Perhaps an Archmage or a Mage Circle may have been able to endure the reality of the secret but this wizard was fatally unprepared. They were turned. Becoming an unstable aberration from the very magics they were trying to master. The lost all their memories, their wits, their physical form all contorting into a one-eyed horror. The only vestige of their former self is a faint notion that they may be able to return to their former self. Their was an old Bard's Tale that a Nothic could be turned back if you were able to expose it to it's former self. A near impossibility given that most Nothics were centuries old and in their former lives were often reclusive scholars, choosing the solace of stacks of tomes rather than that of others. There was also the added complication of actually surviving an encounter with a Nothic unscathed.

That thought troubled him for a moment. He propped his feet up on the table, careful again not to settle his boots into the blood pooled on the table. He sighed and leaned back, folding his arms behind his head and exhaled.
"Kind of odd isn't it?" he said to the group. "That we have a brush with a Nothic and escape alive? Not even a scratch." he said. There was silence in reply. Yarrik frowned, shocked more at the fact that in his present company no one had replied. This could was nothing if not ever at a loss for words. He opened his eyes to chastise his peers.
"Oh," he said. "Not again."

He was no longer in the dank cellar beneath Tresandor Manor but now in a verdant green meadow, deep in a slumbering forest. The air was cool, but not so cool as to be uncomfortable. The wind blew a cool breeze over your face and carried with it a bouquet of delicious aromas all mixed together in an almost intoxicating wave. The smell of freshly baked bred, budding flowers, the crisp smell of morning dew on grass, and other luxurious aromas filled Yarrik's nostrils and his shoulders dropped noticeably as the tension began to evaporate from him. He stood up from his chair and then turned around realizing that there was no table in front of him and he had awoken in this strange place with his legs propped up. Turning around quickly he was shocked to see that there was neither a table or chair around him, just the tall grass blowing around his knees, it's yellow-green blades glinting in the warm summer light.

He walked through the glass, listening to the noise of the forest slowly enveloping him. He had awoken on the outskirts of a dell, the small valley opening before him. The trees were massive with thick roots cutting deep into the rich soil. Their bark was perfect, obviously immune to diseases, rot, drought, or pestilence which would usually wrack the woods and claim some of the ancient sentinels. This forest was devoid of death - it was almost as if it was life incarnate. A manifestation of growth. Yarrik was smiling when the realization hit him. He knew where he was. He saw through the perfection and the glamour. It was too perfect.
"Fey," he muttered and reached into himself, trying to draw forward the well of magic from within.
"Now, now." a rich female voice cooed from behind him. "That's not going to work here, love."

Yarrik whirled and where there was once an lush opening in the forest there was now a large stone pagoda. The shrine was large and light sheer linens of hundreds of colors hung from the pillars, blowing whimsically in the wind. There was a pathway of intricate stonework, a colorful mosaic of tiles so infinitesimally small they began to unravel Yarrik's mind as he considered their scale. They blended together like waves lapping lazily onto a white sand beach, the colors shifting from turquoises to blues to whites in a moment. Statues on plinths lined the sides of the walkway with nude depictions of slender woman in opulent poses. Their features were...flattering to say the least with no modicum of decency. There was no tool mark on them or blemish from the craftsman's hand. It was as if the beautiful figures were pulled from the stones naturally. Tables lined the pathway and were piled with the most extravagant display of fruits and pastries piled on golden platters. Massive glass fountains and statues, as detailed as the stone, were laden with chocolates and delicacies, all masterworks in their own right.

At the end of the walkway and on the precipice of the pagoda was a lounge chair on a large dais. On the lounge chair there was a figure. She was so beautiful Yarrik struggled not to avert his eyes. She was a tall slender woman with features that could only be described as perfect. An almost unnatural perfection which made it difficult to truly comprehend her beauty. She lounged on the couch and was draining wine from a slender crystal glass. Her long red hair flowed down over her shoulders and covering her bosom. Yarrik blushed when he realized the sheer green fabric which was draped over her curves was quite transparent and left very little to the imagination. Beside her stood a tall slender man with long dark-brown hair. He was wearing what appeared to be decorative armor which, on closer inspection, did have some functionality to it. A serpent like scale-mail inlaid with gold filigree. A cape of a dark verdant green hung from his shoulders and a staff with a web of green-gold leaves wrapped around the shaft was in his hand. Unlike the woman who smiled warmly at Yarrik the man glared as if the warlock was truly inconveniencing him.
"Yarrik," purred the woman. "You are always so happy to see me," she said and shifted, her movement exposing even more of of her supple figure. Yarrik, blushing deeply, shifted uncomfortably and cursed his body for betraying his more baser urges.
"What do you want, Elyseth?" he asked.
"You speak Elyseth Laire, a lady of the Court of Summer and the tari of this domain," the man sneered, his eyes flashing to a wild green. Yarrik felt his body tense as an unseen force bound him and began to squeeze.
"Stop it Immeral," the woman chided. "You're hurting my toy." The force immediately subsided and Yarrik gasped for breath.
"Apologies, mi lady. I forget myself in the presence of the edan." The woman smiled and stood up, robes falling and the full magesty of her beauty exposed. She glided forward and reached out to touch Immeral's face. He closed his eyes and shuddered at her touch,
"I know my love. You were forced to debase yourself with those others in that one place? What was it called again,"
"Ten-Towns, mi lady." he said with a slight nod of his head. Elyseth glided gracefully over to a table of fruits and plucked a grape from a vine.
"Ah yes, isn't that where that silly man has declared himself King?" she said with a deep laugh. Yarrik struggled not to get caught up in the depth of the laugh.
"It is, mi lady."
"What an inconvenience." she said. Her face darkened and the entire forest seemed to fall under cloud. Yarrik gasped as a sudden rush of piercing cold wind bit his skin and he shuddered. A moment later, it was gone and Elyseth popped the grape into her mouth and turned to Yarrik.
"How are you? Are you enjoying my gift?" She said playfully, hiding behind her hands.
"Yea it's great. Really appreciated the binding servitude in exchange for some parlor tricks." Yarrik muttered. Elyseth feigned hurt and closed the distance in the most alluring display of sexuality and sensuality possible for a figure of her design.
"Stop doing that," Yarrik groaned, turning away from her again.
"I don't blame you. I take it as a complement," she said playfully. With a flick of her hand she motioned to a nearby attendant who seemed to fade out of one of the pillars. Elyseth waved lazily towards Yarrik and the attendant moved quickly to comply. She was smaller than the Fey noble with a beauty unrivaled save for her patron. The slender woman glided up, her eyes submissive to her mistress but looking hungrily at Yarrik.
"A gift," purred Elyseth to Yarrik and the woman shrugged off the sheer fabric which clung loosely to her. Yarrik swallowed, unsure how to react in the circumstances. The woman moved up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulders, moving in to plant a kiss on his neck. The moment her hands touched his shoulders she let out a piercing scream and threw herself backwards, howling a banshee like cry. Yarrik spun and saw her clutching her hand and screaming in agony. Black veins shot out like tendril from her hand as if a virulent poison coursed through her veins. Others moved to help her but Immeral pushed them back.
"She is tainted! There is nothing we can do for her," he said and glared at Yarrik. He pointed his long staff at Yarrik, the end beginning to glow a wild green. "You will pay for this Edan," he threatened and Yarrik saw the conviction in his eyes. Yarrik fell to his knees suddenly as a force took him from behind and forced him down. He felt the edge of a sword cutting into the back of his neck, a thrust away from driving through and ending his life. The woman convulsed on the ground, the black tendril under her skin enveloping her face and causing her to gag. She coughed violently and a putrid black sludge began to gurgle out from her mouth and nose. Yarrik grimaced at the horrific display and tried to look away. A moment later - she was dead. Her form limp and devoid of life, a stain on the beautiful canvas that was this place. The blade's edge pressed harder into the back of his neck and Yarrik winced.
"What have you done human?" Immeral spat. He motioned for one of the guards restraining Yarrik to pull him up and bring him forward.
"I don't know what happened!" he pleaded and tried to shake the guard's implacable grip.
"Lies!" spat Immeral. "Make your peace human. You will pay for this." He said and motioned for the guard to end him.
"STOP!" bellowed Elyseth. The light of the forest suddenly brightened to a blinding light and Yarrik had to shield his eyes. The light began to subside and the figure of the wounded Elyseth was gone and replaced with a figure of such divine and magical beauty that it almost brought him to tears. She moved forward, a wild light of power in her eyes.
"You have been marked." she said. Her voice deep with power.
"I am have been what?"
"What. The hand of darkness has touched you." she said. Approaching him she held out her hand a short distance from his face. Closing her eyes she frowned as she appeared to be studying something within him.
"I don't know what you're talking about? How could I-" Yarrik began and then stopped as he realized. "The Nothic." he whispered.
"Yes," she said, her voice shaking the stones around them. "An old creature. A malignant tumor sent by my adversary no doubt".
"Adversary? Glasstaff is your adversary?" Yarrik asked. Elyseth smirked and motioned for the two guards to release him. They shoved Yarrik forward and stepped back, bowing their heads in reverence to the Fey noblewoman.
"No, that man is but a insignificant spec. He nor his benefactor warrant even the dignity of me naming them," she said dismissively. "You have become embroiled in a conflict which was waged longer than you could possibly imagine. A battle - outside time." she said.
"Who could threaten you?" Yarrik asked rubbing the neck where not to long ago a dagger was pressed into it.
"Other Fey," she said. "I am from the Court of Summer, in service to the Queen of Summer herself, Titania." Elyseth said reverently. "But for the Fey, there must always be balance. And so, there is a Court of Winter. Unlike summer they are a cold and desiccated husk, choosing to instead employ the services of denizens and beasts to do their bidding."
"So they're evil?" Yarrik asked. Elyseth let out a deep and rich laugh - the mirthful display juxtaposed against the decaying corpses of the attendant.
"Oh my sweet child. As your simple mind can understand them, yes. They would be considered evil. Although the truth of the circumstances remain unimaginably more complicated." she said and walked back towards the pagoda.
"The Fey cannot fight each other openly. Such a conflict would unravel the Feywild and likely the mortal realms with it. As such, we are relegated to a game of shadows. An endless proxy war in which we covertly strike at one another while maintaining a delicate balance. There can never be an imbalance between the Courts. For every one being, their is an equal. If one is removed, the mantle of power is passed to the next and so on." she said.
"So there's a Winter version of you?" Yarrik asked and then pointed to Immeral. "Him to?" Elyseth nodded.
"Yes...Mavis" Elyseth said with a sneer.
"So what was that then? And what does the Noctis have to do with this?" Yarrik asked and motioned back to the corpse. He avoided looking back and instead focused on Elyseth.
"The Noctis is but a pawn in a bigger game. It carried with it the mark of winter. Something is placed upon you with the intent of killing me," she said, a sudden fierce light flashing in her eyes.
"So what? I'm like a powder keg now?" Yarrik asked. Elyseth turned to him and pursed her lips.
"Potentially not," she said. She motioned to Immeral who stepped forward. Turning to Elyseth, he bowed deeply to her.
"Service to you has been my greatest honor," he said and before Yarrik realized what happening, Immeral placed his hand on his shoulder.

Nothing happened.

Elyseth smiled and strode forward. She embraced Immeral and kissed him deeply. After an awkward moment for Yarrik she stepped back and nodded to the Fey. He stepped back, bowed, and then took up a position at the edge of the pagoda.
"It appears as if the mark has run it's course," she said passively and waved vaguely to the corpse.
"So we're safe then," Yarrik said and exhaled. " It's over."
"It...is not." Elyseth said firmly, that same dangerous light flashing in her eyes. "This cannot go unpunished and as my champion is it you that will exact my retribution to demonstrate my ire."
"What? Well I don't know about that," Yarrik said. Suddenly his pain was wracked with pain and he doubled over. Clutching his chest he gasped. It felt as if his heart was going to burst from his chest. He heard Elyseth move close to him.
"Listen welp, I placed that power into you and I can rip it out just as quickly. You will do my bidding or by the Queen's Hand of Summer I will unmake you," she hissed.  Yarrik, unable to respond through the pain, waved her off and motioned a thumb's up. The pain subsided and he gasped, his heart beat hammering a thunderous cadence in his chest.
"Good," Elyseth said, all the anger disappearing as if it was blown away on the warm summer breeze.
"As I said before, the Fey Courts must be in balance. As I have my champion, you - Mavis has hers."
"There's another one of me?" Yarrik said, recovering his composure slowly.
"Yes...another warlock by the name of Alderoc. You will find him and you will kill him." she said curtly.
"Where am I supposed to find him. It's a big world out there." Yarrik said. Suddenly he felt a weight around his neck. He looked down to see a thick gold chain hanging around his neck, on it was an intricate green gem. The stone was as verdant as the summer garden he was in. It was set into a vine of golden leaves.
"Take my mark," Elyseth said. "It will guide you to him". Yarrik nodded, trying to feign his certainty.
"Alright - I can do that. Find the warlock using the magic rock and kill him. What is he like an old man or something? Blind beggar by chance?"
"No he's quite powerful from what I can gather - I trust you will come prepared." Elyseth said.
"Great..." muttered Yarrik. "Anything else?"
"Yes, " she said and turned to face him. Yarrik was struck again by her beauty. "Alderoc will have a weapon with him - a staff. It is an ancient Fey artifact; very powerful and a gift from his lady of winter." she added. "Take it from him. I will use Mavis' own trinkets against her." Elyseth said more to herself than to Yarrik.
"Fine," said Yarrik. "Find Alderoc, take his staff, and don't die in the process." he finished. He looked around him again and then motioned to his surroundings.
"So are you going to send me back?" he asked expectantly. Elyseth smiled slowly, an alluring seductive smile and her eyes drank in Yarrik hungrily.
"Not quite yet," she said and waved her hand. Yarrik's shirt buttons popped open from some unseen force.
"Right..." muttered Yarrik.