The orc opens a door and then closes it behind him.
(Twiggy/ Zarbyn)
Varis closes the door behind him and strides down the dim corridor, his steps carefully measured on certain tiles. Red glass lanterns cast warped shadows across masks mounted on the walls—faces twisted in ecstasy or pain. The air grows thick with incense and the faint sound of laughter.
He enters a velvet-draped salon where a black elf woman, wearing a gown of black satin and silver stitching, lounges at a round table of black glass, mid-hand in a poker game with a pale one eyed human male in a mourning coat and very well dressed women wearing black leather decorative armor and well tailored black gloves. A pile of strange winnings—coin purses, gemstones, and a bottle with a glowing liquid—glitters between them on the table.
The black elf woman slides a silver dagger through her cards onto the table, smiling as the man sighs and folds. The slender elegant looking woman says, “Your bluffing Serethys.” (Twiggy sees a brass colored hand under the see through glove).
“Perhaps, but you’ll need to pay up to find out Hand.”
The woman referred to as Hand, also folds, as Serethys smiles and collects her winnings.
Only then does she glance up as Varis bows.
In Black elf tongue: “Mistress Hookblade,” he says, voice smooth as oiled steel, “the guests have revealed their patron. They claim they were sent by the Serpent Queen.”
In Black Elf tongue: “Ah, she has sent her envoys to do her bidding. Very well, I will see them in my chamber.”
With that, she rises (In common), “Please excuse me friends but we must continue our little game later.” She exits through a side door in the room.
Twiggy continue to follows Varis silently, (He touches a latch on the wall) and is no longer deliberate with his steps on the floor of the hallway. He opens the door back to the room where the party awaits.
The door opens fairly quickly and the Varis steps back out. "Mistress Hookblade will see you. Please follow me."
Vydar's jaw tightens when he catches Lev's look. He's not really sure what to think of this whole situation already as he doesn't really like having to entertain this snake woman's request. He'd been anticipating an information exchange, he was not expecting to have to run errands. He's also not pleased with being singled out due to being a dark elf, he's fully aware that he's not very good at social interactions and he doubts his heritage would help with that. ... he's also not sure how to feel about meeting another Dark elf. He stays quiet as the group talks to the orc behind the door.
Serethys Hookblade is a dark elf of great fame. Like Vydar, she is an anomaly, as dark elves do not commonly walk openly on the surface. She is considered legendary. One of two who have survived Baron Sukumvit's Trial of Champions (the other is Varis Pell.) This could only be survived by wit, cunning, elegance and ruthlessness. Rumor says she killed no fewer than three of her fellow competitors during the trial--not out of hatred but to ensure her own survival. It is said she turned her discipline into an institution--The House of Pain. It is a delicate solution for justice without death for those who have wronged others, a business that takes "eye for an eye" to a new level. Vydar might admire Serethys, as her survival of the Trial of Champions would resonate with his own story---a life or death ordeal would change a person, and perhaps replace fear with focus. Perhaps, he would feel awe, intimidation, and even curiosity of both the rumors of her legend and her true self. Unlike Malbordus, another dark elf who took a pack with evil, Serethys is a self-made dark elf, who owes allegiance to no one.
“Mistress Hookblade will see you now, if you are ready.”
Varin Pell leads you down a narrow corridor draped in crimson velvet, the fabric soft beneath your fingertips yet heavy with age. Ornate mirrors line the walls, their glass darkened and warped so that your reflection seems to move a half-second behind you.
A flight of black marble stairs descends into the lower halls of the House of Pain. You pass several large doors that look more like those used in dungeons to hold prisoners before coming to a large door in front of you. At the end of the corridor waits a tall, arched door bound in black iron. Varin opens it without a word.
Inside, candlelight spills across a chamber revealing some light, yet shadow as well. The walls are wrapped in velvet and inset with mirrors, their reflections multiplying the light until the room seems to shimmer with heat and shadow. Chained chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and various ornate weapons and whips line the walls and several racks.
At the room’s center stands a polished obsidian table, its surface gleaming like still water. Upon it rest two small dragon statues — one red, one blue — each so finely carved they seem to breathe in the candlelight.
Behind the table lounges Serethys Hookblade, draped in silks and leather worked with silver filigree and cruel little hooks that catch the light when she moves. Her chair is an artwork of bone and wrought iron — elegant, terrible, and perfectly suited to her.
Her long black hair spills over her shoulders like ink, her skin pale as polished marble, her eyes cool and unreadable. When she looks up, the motion is deliberate, her voice smooth as silk drawn across a blade.
“Ah welcome guests. I am Serethys. Varis was telling me of your...request and that you represent the Serpent Queen. I have had my people go to retrieve the painting so we can get a better look at it. This may assist us when we present you with your options. It will be here momentarily." Varis stands behind her, both relaxed, but also at the ready.
Various couches and floor pillows seem to indicate the group should relax and recline.
In the center of the room is an obsidian carved table. On it rest two small statues — one carved of red jasper, the other of blue lapis — shaped like coiled dragons poised to strike.
“While we wait for the painting to arrive, and before we get down to business, I’d like to chat with my brother of shadow.” She looks at Vydar.
“You carry yourself well. A flicker between pride and restraint. But…anger and distrust as well. Alas, our people have not been treated well.”
She rises and circles the table once, her long fingers tracing the edges of the two statues but never touching them.
“In this House, we value choice. Not right or wrong — simply choice. The act itself… the moment when thought becomes will.”
She gestures lightly to the table, eyes never leaving Vydars.
Both curiosity and uncertainty fill Vydar as the group waits to meet Hookblade. He's certainly heard of her before and is glad to know he's not the only surface dwelling dark elf... though he's not sure what to think of her work. He takes no issue in taking vengeance against wrongdoers, he may have been against sticking his nose in other people's fights when he was younger, but over time his adoptive mother had instilled a sort of justice in him. ...something that got him into a lot of street fights which he could have otherwise avoided. However, he's not sure if Hookblade's House of Pain really aligns with his ideas of justice. While he has no issue bashing in the face of someone who'd been beating and stealing from another, torturing someone over an offensive painting seems like a bit much. Regardless, he keeps these thoughts to himself. He won't judge the situation until he's seen all the details.
When Varin returns to lead them to meet Hookblade, Vydar follows wordlessly and walks with his arms crossed as he studies the architecture. Entering the meeting room, Vydar scans the various weapons before his gaze lands momentarily on the two dragon statues. Though that is a short moment before he looks up at Serethys. He can't say he approves of her choice of decor, but he can't say it's not fitting for her either. This woman feels even more dangerous than the Serpent Queen had. Despite the mix of emotions spinning through him, he does his best to maintain his usual indifferent demeanor. This is the first time he's met another dark elf in person, and he refuses to let that mess with his sense of reason.
He nods slightly when she mentions her people retrieving the painting, he'd like to see just how offensive it really is especially now that he knows his party will get a say in what the punishment will be.
His eyes meet Serethys's when she suddenly asks to chat with him. This isn't surprising to him, she likely hasn't met with many other dark elves either, but it still caught him off guard for some reason. He feels both flattered and a bit uncomfortable at her description of him, it seems he's easier to read than he thought. He narrows his eyes a bit in thought when she mentions that dark elves are not treated well. These words are true, though he knows the hatred that surface dwellers hold for them didn't form for no reason.
He holds her gaze as she rises and circles the table, and her next words tell him exactly what kind of person she is. There is nothing wrong with valuing choice, but not valuing right and wrong... His gaze shifts to the two dragons. She wants him to choose one? Is this some sort of game? Pushing his personal opinions of morality aside, he unfolds his arms and approaches the table. As he does so he's extremely aware that her eyes have never left his. Regardless he keeps his own gaze on the two statues. Red or blue, flames or storm, she's already said there's no right or wrong so no reason to overthink it.
Reaching forward, he picks up the red dragon. "Blues not really my color," He says. Holding up the red dragon he turns it in his hand to look over the intricate carving, then meets Serethys' eyes waiting for her reaction.
Several men in plain clothing carry a large painting. An easel is set up and then the painting is placed on top of it. Finally, they uncover it and leave the room without a word.
(The image appears as below, but the Serpent Queen is naked, her body is grotesquely exaggerated with distorted and elongated limbs and neck.)
Seeing the two dark elves having a conversation Zarbyn keeps quiet until the painting is brought in and revealed.
"I can see why no one likes his work! Why hasn't he been dealt with sooner by others he has offended?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
"Well, Garolons must assume his fame and noble parents protect him. Years of impunity have perhaps made him careless, and....he has finally overstepped and insulted someone who holds no patience for his creativity without reverence."
She rises gracefully, trailing a finger across the edge of a silver blade mounted on the wall.
"Do you know what I find most tragic about artists?" She pauses, as if savoring the silence.
"They believe their genius excuses them. That mockery becomes wit when painted in oil."
Her voice softens.
"So, the Serpent Queen desires a lesson taught. A performance, and you get to choose what form it will take. She must be testing you."
"Now....shall we get down to business? The House of Pain offers many methods... each one artful, precise, unforgettable. An elegant solution to just killing the man. Varis I believe discussed several options, let's go through them again so that you may choose the proper punishment that won't disappoint the Queen."
Varis pulls out a rolled up scroll. On it he has written the four options he had given.
"That is a fun one. Garolon would be delivered a gift. An exquisite silver mirror framed in roses and gilded gold." Serethys shakes her head.
"Let the artist see in his mind what he paints in others. The mirror would be enchanted by our illusionist. When Garolon gazes into it, his reflection will twist into a grotesque version of himself: Older, uglier, proportions out of place. In addition, he will hear the paintings surrounding him in his house whispering insults at him. It will last perhaps three days. He will suffer this effect regardless of what reflective surface he looks into."
She looks the group over. "If the Serpent Queen is indeed testing you, make certain that our Houses gift satisfies her."
"I believe she wanted to relish in his humiliation... what does The Haunting Muse and The Iron Hand entail?"
Zarbyn feels a little uneasy discussing a humiliation to be visited on another but quickly pushes it aside, reminding himself that this is the custom of retribution here and is definitely lighter than simply killing the miscreant.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
Serethys lips curl into a smile, her eyes twinkling. Clearly, she delights in the creativity of these punishments.
"For the Haunting Muse, I would arrange for a sorrowful shade, a ghost of sorts to be bound to Garolon's home. It would take the form of one of his past subjects, perhaps another woman he painted and mocked here in Blacksand. She would appear at night, weeping, gazing at his paintings. When the artist paints, she would stand behind him, whispering words of doubt and failure into his ears." She looks up at Zarbyn, as she pictures the moment in her mind. "Most satisfying I should think."
"As to the Iron Hand, Garolon would wake up with his dominant hand bound in a locked iron gauntlet. He keeps his talent, but it is locked away where he can no longer use it. The gauntlet would not be unlocked until I choose to unlock it, or as a special touch, we could give that choice to the Serpent Queen. While the gauntlet is in place, small runes would slightly burn and itch at his skin, not enough to cripple, but enough to remind him that every brushstroke is precious, that his choice of art has burned others."
She looks at the group, "A very artistic choice."
Whether the tales are true or embellished, Serethys Hookblade and Varin Pell remain the only two known to have survived Baron Sukumvit’s Trial of Champions. Whatever horrors they endured within Fang’s labyrinth, they did not emerge unchanged—those trials forged them into the creators of the now-infamous House of Pain.
Jharek studies the explanations of Serethys, not certain what her intentions may be. He finds her strangely attractive, for a creature barely resembling a human. Her reaction to Vydar’s selection seemed celebrated, as if she approves of it. He wonders why. He remains quiet, but continues to study her actions, wondering if she can be trusted.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
The orc opens a door and then closes it behind him.
(Twiggy/ Zarbyn)
Varis closes the door behind him and strides down the dim corridor, his steps carefully measured on certain tiles. Red glass lanterns cast warped shadows across masks mounted on the walls—faces twisted in ecstasy or pain. The air grows thick with incense and the faint sound of laughter.
He enters a velvet-draped salon where a black elf woman, wearing a gown of black satin and silver stitching, lounges at a round table of black glass, mid-hand in a poker game with a pale one eyed human male in a mourning coat and very well dressed women wearing black leather decorative armor and well tailored black gloves. A pile of strange winnings—coin purses, gemstones, and a bottle with a glowing liquid—glitters between them on the table.
The black elf woman slides a silver dagger through her cards onto the table, smiling as the man sighs and folds. The slender elegant looking woman says, “Your bluffing Serethys.” (Twiggy sees a brass colored hand under the see through glove).
“Perhaps, but you’ll need to pay up to find out Hand.”
The woman referred to as Hand, also folds, as Serethys smiles and collects her winnings.
Only then does she glance up as Varis bows.
In Black elf tongue: “Mistress Hookblade,” he says, voice smooth as oiled steel, “the guests have revealed their patron. They claim they were sent by the Serpent Queen.”
In Black Elf tongue: “Ah, she has sent her envoys to do her bidding. Very well, I will see them in my chamber.”
With that, she rises (In common), “Please excuse me friends but we must continue our little game later.” She exits through a side door in the room.
Twiggy continue to follows Varis silently, (He touches a latch on the wall) and is no longer deliberate with his steps on the floor of the hallway. He opens the door back to the room where the party awaits.
The door opens fairly quickly and the Varis steps back out. "Mistress Hookblade will see you. Please follow me."
Vydar's jaw tightens when he catches Lev's look. He's not really sure what to think of this whole situation already as he doesn't really like having to entertain this snake woman's request. He'd been anticipating an information exchange, he was not expecting to have to run errands. He's also not pleased with being singled out due to being a dark elf, he's fully aware that he's not very good at social interactions and he doubts his heritage would help with that. ... he's also not sure how to feel about meeting another Dark elf. He stays quiet as the group talks to the orc behind the door.
History for Serethys Hookblade? 21
Vydar
Serethys Hookblade is a dark elf of great fame. Like Vydar, she is an anomaly, as dark elves do not commonly walk openly on the surface. She is considered legendary. One of two who have survived Baron Sukumvit's Trial of Champions (the other is Varis Pell.) This could only be survived by wit, cunning, elegance and ruthlessness. Rumor says she killed no fewer than three of her fellow competitors during the trial--not out of hatred but to ensure her own survival. It is said she turned her discipline into an institution--The House of Pain. It is a delicate solution for justice without death for those who have wronged others, a business that takes "eye for an eye" to a new level. Vydar might admire Serethys, as her survival of the Trial of Champions would resonate with his own story---a life or death ordeal would change a person, and perhaps replace fear with focus. Perhaps, he would feel awe, intimidation, and even curiosity of both the rumors of her legend and her true self. Unlike Malbordus, another dark elf who took a pack with evil, Serethys is a self-made dark elf, who owes allegiance to no one.
(OOC: You will have about a minute of time where no one else is in the room, before Varis Pell returns.)
“Mistress Hookblade will see you now, if you are ready.”
Varin Pell leads you down a narrow corridor draped in crimson velvet, the fabric soft beneath your fingertips yet heavy with age. Ornate mirrors line the walls, their glass darkened and warped so that your reflection seems to move a half-second behind you.
A flight of black marble stairs descends into the lower halls of the House of Pain. You pass several large doors that look more like those used in dungeons to hold prisoners before coming to a large door in front of you. At the end of the corridor waits a tall, arched door bound in black iron. Varin opens it without a word.
Inside, candlelight spills across a chamber revealing some light, yet shadow as well. The walls are wrapped in velvet and inset with mirrors, their reflections multiplying the light until the room seems to shimmer with heat and shadow. Chained chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and various ornate weapons and whips line the walls and several racks.
At the room’s center stands a polished obsidian table, its surface gleaming like still water. Upon it rest two small dragon statues — one red, one blue — each so finely carved they seem to breathe in the candlelight.
Behind the table lounges Serethys Hookblade, draped in silks and leather worked with silver filigree and cruel little hooks that catch the light when she moves. Her chair is an artwork of bone and wrought iron — elegant, terrible, and perfectly suited to her.
Her long black hair spills over her shoulders like ink, her skin pale as polished marble, her eyes cool and unreadable. When she looks up, the motion is deliberate, her voice smooth as silk drawn across a blade.
“Ah welcome guests. I am Serethys. Varis was telling me of your...request and that you represent the Serpent Queen. I have had my people go to retrieve the painting so we can get a better look at it. This may assist us when we present you with your options. It will be here momentarily." Varis stands behind her, both relaxed, but also at the ready.
Various couches and floor pillows seem to indicate the group should relax and recline.
In the center of the room is an obsidian carved table. On it rest two small statues — one carved of red jasper, the other of blue lapis — shaped like coiled dragons poised to strike.
“While we wait for the painting to arrive, and before we get down to business, I’d like to chat with my brother of shadow.” She looks at Vydar.
“You carry yourself well. A flicker between pride and restraint. But…anger and distrust as well. Alas, our people have not been treated well.”
She rises and circles the table once, her long fingers tracing the edges of the two statues but never touching them.
“In this House, we value choice. Not right or wrong — simply choice. The act itself… the moment when thought becomes will.”
She gestures lightly to the table, eyes never leaving Vydars.
“Take one. Whichever draws your hand first?”
Both curiosity and uncertainty fill Vydar as the group waits to meet Hookblade. He's certainly heard of her before and is glad to know he's not the only surface dwelling dark elf... though he's not sure what to think of her work. He takes no issue in taking vengeance against wrongdoers, he may have been against sticking his nose in other people's fights when he was younger, but over time his adoptive mother had instilled a sort of justice in him. ...something that got him into a lot of street fights which he could have otherwise avoided. However, he's not sure if Hookblade's House of Pain really aligns with his ideas of justice. While he has no issue bashing in the face of someone who'd been beating and stealing from another, torturing someone over an offensive painting seems like a bit much. Regardless, he keeps these thoughts to himself. He won't judge the situation until he's seen all the details.
When Varin returns to lead them to meet Hookblade, Vydar follows wordlessly and walks with his arms crossed as he studies the architecture. Entering the meeting room, Vydar scans the various weapons before his gaze lands momentarily on the two dragon statues. Though that is a short moment before he looks up at Serethys. He can't say he approves of her choice of decor, but he can't say it's not fitting for her either. This woman feels even more dangerous than the Serpent Queen had. Despite the mix of emotions spinning through him, he does his best to maintain his usual indifferent demeanor. This is the first time he's met another dark elf in person, and he refuses to let that mess with his sense of reason.
He nods slightly when she mentions her people retrieving the painting, he'd like to see just how offensive it really is especially now that he knows his party will get a say in what the punishment will be.
His eyes meet Serethys's when she suddenly asks to chat with him. This isn't surprising to him, she likely hasn't met with many other dark elves either, but it still caught him off guard for some reason. He feels both flattered and a bit uncomfortable at her description of him, it seems he's easier to read than he thought. He narrows his eyes a bit in thought when she mentions that dark elves are not treated well. These words are true, though he knows the hatred that surface dwellers hold for them didn't form for no reason.
He holds her gaze as she rises and circles the table, and her next words tell him exactly what kind of person she is. There is nothing wrong with valuing choice, but not valuing right and wrong... His gaze shifts to the two dragons. She wants him to choose one? Is this some sort of game? Pushing his personal opinions of morality aside, he unfolds his arms and approaches the table. As he does so he's extremely aware that her eyes have never left his. Regardless he keeps his own gaze on the two statues. Red or blue, flames or storm, she's already said there's no right or wrong so no reason to overthink it.
Reaching forward, he picks up the red dragon. "Blues not really my color," He says. Holding up the red dragon he turns it in his hand to look over the intricate carving, then meets Serethys' eyes waiting for her reaction.
Forgot to roll insight. Vydar's trying to gauge where this 'chat' might be going.
Rolled 17
(INSIGHT) Vydar assumes: She is sizing him up, seeing what type of person he is.
As Vydar picks up the red dragon statue, Serethys's lips curl in approval.
“Ahh… the flame. You still believe in something, then — love, rage, purpose… something worth the burn.”
“Most of our kind lose that when they crawl into the dark. You, at least, still bleed.”
Varin Pell inclines his head slightly showing respect of Vydars choice.
"You may keep this statue. May if give you strength in your time of need."
She looks back at the group as there is a knock at the door.
"Ah, perhaps the offensive painting in question has arrived."
Several men in plain clothing carry a large painting. An easel is set up and then the painting is placed on top of it. Finally, they uncover it and leave the room without a word.
(The image appears as below, but the Serpent Queen is naked, her body is grotesquely exaggerated with distorted and elongated limbs and neck.)
Seeing the two dark elves having a conversation Zarbyn keeps quiet until the painting is brought in and revealed.
"I can see why no one likes his work! Why hasn't he been dealt with sooner by others he has offended?"
Serethys frowns at Zarbyns comment.
"Well, Garolons must assume his fame and noble parents protect him. Years of impunity have perhaps made him careless, and....he has finally overstepped and insulted someone who holds no patience for his creativity without reverence."
She rises gracefully, trailing a finger across the edge of a silver blade mounted on the wall.
"Do you know what I find most tragic about artists?"
She pauses, as if savoring the silence.
"They believe their genius excuses them. That mockery becomes wit when painted in oil."
Her voice softens.
"So, the Serpent Queen desires a lesson taught. A performance, and you get to choose what form it will take. She must be testing you."
"Now....shall we get down to business? The House of Pain offers many methods... each one artful, precise, unforgettable. An elegant solution to just killing the man. Varis I believe discussed several options, let's go through them again so that you may choose the proper punishment that won't disappoint the Queen."
Varis pulls out a rolled up scroll. On it he has written the four options he had given.
Serethys looks over the list. making some notes.
The Painted Fool – Garolon is captured, painted, and mocked as a living parody.
The Dung Cart Masquerade – Garolon is dumped in filth during a parade to public ridicule.
The Mirror of Shame – A cursed mirror distorts Garolon's image, breaking his vanity.
The Harpy’s Song – Bards and drunkards sing a mocking ballad, making Garolon a citywide joke.
Serethys looks over the list approvingly,
"Of course I could give you several more options. Lets see."
The Haunting Muse
The Iron Hand.
Amdaeng thinks for a moment then points to The Mirror of Shame with a raised eyebrow to the rest of the group....
Varin smiles and nods at Amdaengs suggestion.
"That is a fun one. Garolon would be delivered a gift. An exquisite silver mirror framed in roses and gilded gold."
Serethys shakes her head.
"Let the artist see in his mind what he paints in others. The mirror would be enchanted by our illusionist. When Garolon gazes into it, his reflection will twist into a grotesque version of himself: Older, uglier, proportions out of place. In addition, he will hear the paintings surrounding him in his house whispering insults at him. It will last perhaps three days. He will suffer this effect regardless of what reflective surface he looks into."
She looks the group over. "If the Serpent Queen is indeed testing you, make certain that our Houses gift satisfies her."
"Other ideas?"
"I believe she wanted to relish in his humiliation... what does The Haunting Muse and The Iron Hand entail?"
Zarbyn feels a little uneasy discussing a humiliation to be visited on another but quickly pushes it aside, reminding himself that this is the custom of retribution here and is definitely lighter than simply killing the miscreant.
Serethys lips curl into a smile, her eyes twinkling. Clearly, she delights in the creativity of these punishments.
"For the Haunting Muse, I would arrange for a sorrowful shade, a ghost of sorts to be bound to Garolon's home. It would take the form of one of his past subjects, perhaps another woman he painted and mocked here in Blacksand. She would appear at night, weeping, gazing at his paintings. When the artist paints, she would stand behind him, whispering words of doubt and failure into his ears."
She looks up at Zarbyn, as she pictures the moment in her mind. "Most satisfying I should think."
"As to the Iron Hand, Garolon would wake up with his dominant hand bound in a locked iron gauntlet. He keeps his talent, but it is locked away where he can no longer use it. The gauntlet would not be unlocked until I choose to unlock it, or as a special touch, we could give that choice to the Serpent Queen. While the gauntlet is in place, small runes would slightly burn and itch at his skin, not enough to cripple, but enough to remind him that every brushstroke is precious, that his choice of art has burned others."
She looks at the group, "A very artistic choice."
Whether the tales are true or embellished, Serethys Hookblade and Varin Pell remain the only two known to have survived Baron Sukumvit’s Trial of Champions. Whatever horrors they endured within Fang’s labyrinth, they did not emerge unchanged—those trials forged them into the creators of the now-infamous House of Pain.
Jharek studies the explanations of Serethys, not certain what her intentions may be. He finds her strangely attractive, for a creature barely resembling a human.
Her reaction to Vydar’s selection seemed celebrated, as if she approves of it. He wonders why. He remains quiet, but continues to study her actions, wondering if she can be trusted.