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WoV Book 1, chapter 13: Meeting the Neighbors.
🕑 Added 2025-02-08 20:01:23 +0000 UTC“Hey, wake up. Food’s getting served,” Muur woke up to the sound of knocking, and the voice of the brat that had ‘welcomed’ her to the temple on her first day in this world. What was her name again? “If you take too long, there won’t be any bacon left.”
That got her bolting out of bed and getting herself presentable faster than anything.
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“My, you are certainly… Enthusiastic about your breakfast dear.” The girl’s mother said as Muur buzzsawed through her meal, breathing through her nose while she chewed and preparing the next bite while she swallowed.
“It’s like she’s inhaling it all,” The younger elezen whispered in horror and wonder as she looked at the pile of food vanishing one forkful at a time, “Don’t you need to breathe?” She eventually asked.
“That’s what I have a nose for, no?” Muur said in the brief pause as she finished a plate and grabbed another. Great many things about her situation sucked smegma encrusted donkey dick, but good food was good food. This body agreed with binge eating even more than her previous, so she may as well pack it in and run off of breakfast until supper. “Hunger is the enemy.”
“While that is true,” A viera said as he sat down at their table, “Gluttony is a far greater foe. Are you quite certain you’ll be able to eat all of this, and not regret it?”
“I know my limits, this big a load just means my gut won’t complain about spending the whole day working and studying.” The lizard woman replied with a bob of her head. Her eternal love for buffets had given her a damn good sense for how much she could shove between chest and spine before feeling like microwaved dogshit. Sure, this was a new body, but that’s what the fabricated memories were for, gave her a good enough measure to adjust to.
“Ah, I see,” He replied evenly, as he dug into a mound of food just as big as hers, “Eating your fill for the entire day then?”
“Pretty much, outside of anything Guildmaster Cocobuki has in store for me today, I’m just going to be bashing my head into getting a better grip on my mind and aether. The corrupted crystals did a number on me on the way here and I’d rather be able to prevent or at least clear out that sort of thing on my own next time.” Muur explained, gesticulating animatedly with the hand that wasn’t mixing up her rice with the sauce and meat it had been served in.
“Speaking of the Guildmaster,” He asked, before taking a bite of a boiled egg, “I don’t suppose you recognise me?”
“You were in the aetherite chamber, although damned if I can recall your name. I was too busy trying to figure out what the Gatekeepers do beyond, y’know, keeping an eye on the funny magic crystal.” Muur said as she tore out a chunk of bread and dipped it into the mess on her plate. Looked like a burst sewage pipe but damn if it didn’t taste like heaven.
“Oh! That’s where I remember you from!” The other girl at the table piped up, “I could swear I’d seen you somewhere. But I couldn't recall.”
With a nod, he began to introduce himself, “Algar, of the order of the Black Blades– our actual name, not Gatekeepers,” Only to cut himself off with a grumble, “I’ve just finished my shift, and I was wondering if you could help me with something?”
“Well, that’s a classic ominous organization name if I ever heard one.” Muur grunted appreciatively, sometimes old school was good. The three letter alliteration certainly helped, even if it would only be in writing in this mess of a language. “And sure, I’m all ears. Or horns, rather.”
A shift of her head had her hair parting, showing that she had nothing but keratin where funny floppy cartilage should be.
He opened his mouth, paused, then bluntly asked, “What’s Mememeno Syndrome?”
“Too much and too wild aether, basically. Discharged whenever I so much as stubbed a toe and wore away at my body whether I used it or not.” Muur explained without missing a beat, easy to be casual about this sort of thing when you hadn’t actually spent most of your life dying by inches to it. “Between the wards in the Ossuary and a talisman that Guildmaster Cocobuki made for me, I’m fine now and I should be able to work my way up to everything being copacetic.”
“Uuuh, what’s that word mean?” The smaller elf wondered aloud, “Never heard it, or read it, before.”
“Things working together properly, like a set of clockwork mechanisms turning smoothly.” The lizard wizard replied with a bob of her head.
“I can’t imagine being unable to control your magiks,” Algar said between two forkful of his food, “I can barely cast spells as is. Poor nutrition as a child, I’ve been told. Still, it’s good that you’re finding your way to health;” He ate a bit more, before adding, “If you’ve any questions for me. Please, feel free.”
“What’re the duties of the Black Blades?” Muur asked without a second thought.
“We are a religious order, most of the Twelves have one in some measure. They take various shapes, in our case our duties are similar to the Paladins protecting the Sultana,” He told her, “Only it concerns the clergy of the Twin Gods– Just as they are twins, we have our own twin order, the Gold Blades. And yes, the Blass Blades named themselves after it.”
“So basically making anyone trying to invade the Ossuary regret it, plus maybe some bodyguard work for high ranked clergy?” The lizard woman asked. Honestly, she had no idea who would think breaking into this fortress full of pyromaniacs would be a good idea, but human stupidity was as fundamental a force as gravity.
“In a sense, yes. We are meant to safeguard not just the Ossuary, but other major centers of worship of The Twins. Unfortunately, we are too few to do so, and while yes we are meant to serve as bodyguards, our ‘true’,” He said in airquotes, “Duty is to serve as the thaumaturges’ shield when the priesthood is deployed en-mass. A truly rare thing considering the current political landscape of the city.”
“Do I even want to know?” Muur asked, grimacing at the mention of politics.
“While we are part of the government through our lady the Prioress,” The matron quietly explained, “We are not a military, or peacekeeping, organization. To put it simply… Well, I am uncertain if it will mean much to you. But imagine if a shopkeeper made use of his private guards, that he has hired, trained and equipped, to deal with the city’s crime.”
“Ah, private military company versus army proper squabbles, got it.” The lizard woman said with a nod and a pinched look. Eesh, miss her with that bullshit, she was just here to blow things up and make money.
“Quite. As a result, thaumaturges are deployed as ‘proper’ combatants– and thus with us as escorts, only when the city is at risk,” The bunnyman said with finality, “Plenty of their numbers are attached to other groups, such as the Immortal Flames. But they’re… What’s the word… auxiliaries? In theory, their role is to serve their priestly duties first, and set things aflame second.”
“You can probably guess how well that goes.” Orliane said with a chuckle.
“It is a good thing that most of Ul’dah is made from stone.” Muur drawled, earning a few knowing chuckles from the rest of the table.
Her breakfast ended not long after, the rest of it spent on small talk about this and that. The matron, Olfane, as she eventually introduced herself, feeling embarrassed that she’d forgotten to do so all the while, spent most of it trying to mother her daughter and Muur. Orliane, for her part, proved to have a somewhat sharp tongue. Algar, on the other hand, was a bit harder for Muur to get a decent read on, but he’d given her the impression of a rather serious and reserved man.
After showing Muur where to put the dirty dishes, the four of them parted ways. Olfane and her daughter left to meet with her husband, and Algar had to attend combat drills. Which he invited her to take a look at if she ever felt so inclined.
Tempting, but giving herself a fighting chance if something stuck its finger in her brain again came first. In response, he gave her a nod and bid her goodbye, “If you ever decide to come take a look at some other point, it shouldn’t be too hard to get directions to reach the training grounds if you ask around.”
Before long, he’d vanished around a corner, leaving her alone, “Excuse me?” It didn’t last long, as a black robed clerk quickly tried to get her attention as she was left to ponder what she would do for the day, “Are you Muurzama Himma?”
“Yes, what’s the matter?” She asked as she smothered her wince at the mangling of her new name. Was the talisman done already? Or did the Guildmasters need something?
“The guildmasters wanted to see you?” He said, sounding a bit unsure of himself, “I think? Two of them told me to find you and inform you that you were to ‘brave the labyrinthine depths of the dark, for the salvation your soul cries out for is nigh’ and that they were expecting you at ‘the sanctum where they showed you the virtues of the order’.”
“Hah, alright, I know what it’s about. Thanks!” With that, Muur was off to pick up her talisman. One less weight over her head.
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Unfortunately, haste made waste, and in her hurry she took a wrong turn. Or maybe two, leaving her lost in a part of the catacombs she didn’t recognise at all, “Here’s hoping the Guildmasters don’t mind the delay.” Muur muttered under her breath as she walked, building up a map in her mind even as she kept her horns peeled for… anyone who could give her directions, really.
But no matter how hard she strained her hearing, she couldn’t hear anyone. The only things reaching her being the sound of her footsteps and of her breathing, this section of the underground labyrinth she was now calling home seemed completely empty. Devoid of anyone but her– which didn’t seem right with how the halls were all lined with candles, their purple flames leading deeper and deeper into the darkness.
Frowning, Muur was about to turn back and retrace her steps. Only to catch a glimpse of a dark robe, turning silently around a corner. She didn’t think twice about hurrying after them, not in the Ossuary, “Hello!”
Rounding the corner herself, she only saw the retreating form of whoever was ahead of her. She couldn’t quite make out what they looked like, only that they were tall and wearing a long, dark robe that seemed to glide weightlessly across the floor. But whoever they were, they must not have heard her, as they kept on going forward.
“Excuse me!” She called, cracking her tail like a whip behind her to draw attention.
For all that good that did, as the annoying bastard– who clearly heard her. Just kept going, even starting to walk a bit fast– “Hello there,” A voice, barely even a whisper with how it caressed her horns came from behind her, “I don’t suppose you are here to deliver my morning tea, young one?”
Which was how Muur found herself three meters up in the air, a strangled yelp on her throat and a jet of fire on her tail.
Her flames were immediately drawn away, the candles’ purple glow drinking of her spell and melting in the process. But as she stumbled back to her feet, she quickly saw that the hallway behind her was completely empt– “Most certainly not here to bring me my tea, it seems,” The voice returned, this time with an armored hand being laid on top of her shoulder to to keep her in place, “But now, I must ask this question: What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way to get a talisman from the Guildmasters and got turned around.” Muur explained after a second jolt that barely even merited the hand on her shoulder this time. The worst part was that she couldn’t even bitch out the guy for being such an ass with his teleportation, because she’d have done the exact same.
Pushing off Muur’s shoulder, the person slipped into view. They were tall, almost as much as Olfane and moved with an uncanny, floaty grace, “A talisman, you say? How… interesting,” Now that she was more calm, and not getting the life startled out of her, the lizard realized that she couldn’t place their voice. Perfectly androgynous and without a shred of accent,, “While I stand as an expert of trinkets and baubles. I suspect mine are of a decidedly different nature than whatever they have in store for you–”
Their outfit wasn’t any better in nailing down their gender, or race for that matter! While she could eliminate lalafells from the equation, the dark and voluminous robes hid any sort of identifying mark that could tell her if this was a roegadyn, a miqo'te, or something else. What they did tell her though, was that whoever this was, they weren’t just another thaumaturge. Compared to the robes of the other mages and priests she’d seen, theirs was of a far deeper black, and covered in embroidery so fine it would have been invisible if not for the sheer amount of it on display.
They also wore their hood up, a vaguely avian mask made from smooth obsidian was sewn into it and hid the top of their face. The whole thing was probably enchanted too, since it seemed to drink in the surrounding light, shrouding their lower face in complete darkness in the process.
“–But why didn’t you respond when I first called to you?”
Muur blinked owlishly, running the whole interaction through her brain a couple of times and coming up blank, “I didn’t hear you at any point before the ‘Hello there’.”
The mage stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time, before eventually relenting, “You do not appear to be lying. How bizarre could you please describe what exactly was taking place before I made myself known?”
Well, far it be for her to say no to one of her shitgoblin seniors. Thankfully, spending the last decade doing little but writing and editing had a way to help one recount events in detail.
“You were following someone?” They whispered, tilting their head towards the dark. Shrouded as they were, Muur couldn't see their eyes, but she could almost hear them narrowing, “I suppose one of our guests thought to misbehave without consequences… A lesson in manners might be appropriate~.”
Sliding behind Muur once again, the mage gently pushed her, “Now, walk along to the grandmasters’ sanctum little one. My duties call, and you have a talisman to receive–” their words hung into the air for a moment, almost like they were listening for something, “–first to the right. Fifth to the left and the second door on the right in the hall should get you back on track.”
“How come I am not surprised at the Ossuary being seven kinds of haunted?” Muur chuckled wryly, shaking her head as if to say ‘what can you do?’ even as she turned in the pointed direction, waving goodbye over her shoulder–
Only to find the mage gone, dead air hanging silently in their place. She wasn’t deterred in the slightest, “Mind if I come by later with tea and snacks? I don’t need to be a wizard to know you’d have some advice on how to keep things from sticking a finger in my skull.”
Silence was her only answer, but as she turned to return to the more populated parts of the ossuary, Muur could swear that she caught a glimpse of two pinpricks of red, glowing in the darkness she'd been shooed from…
She stuck her tongue out at them.
Comments
Menthewarp
the description sounds like an Ascian
