what the dust dragged in

[Taryn]

14 Frost 4621

A cool wind rustled over the feathers of Taryn’s wings, prompting him to tuck them closer. It was not that he was cold, the balmy breeze that wrapped itself around his body and played with the cloth of his shirt was nothing compared to the frigid winds of Northradica. He was bracing himself for the conversation that was ahead of him. It was not one that he was looking forward to but he was coming to a steady realization that there were eyes in Daravin that had begun watching him. There were eyes that always watched him but these ones in particular he did not want peering too closely. He had only been in the Empire of Rust for roughly a season and already he was contemplating turning himself toward the nearest transport to somewhere, anywhere else.

Velsign in Daravin served the Omen. He had only the barest grasp on what that meant but it was evident to anyone who took more than a passing glance at him, that he was not whatever they were accustomed to. That meant he attracted attention. The wrong kind of attention. That was problematic when the only attention Taryn wanted was the muffled moans of someone writhing between his legs whenever he wasn’t out hunting a quarry. Already he had been accosted by random bystanders assuming he was supposed to be what he could only guess was some type of enforcer for the faith. He was quick to dismiss that notion. The last thing he wanted was to be tracked down by whatever constituted the authorities in this land for impersonating something he was not.

So he had found himself work that would provide him enough money to live in a quieter part of the city, away from some of those prying eyes and out in the Badlands where things were more straightforward. Taryn found that he liked the Badlands. He could punch things there and not have people look at him as though he’d just committed some sort of cardinal sin. One of his latest jobs, having seen him be hired on as the bodyguard for a man who had touted himself as very important, had seen Taryn forced to save that same man from getting skewered on the end of a pike by raiders. They had been out in the Badlands researching some type of creature that was apparently of vital importance to something. Taryn had been fighting through a fairly bad hangover and hadn’t quite caught all the details. But he’d been sound enough to know that the area they were headed to wasn’t overwhelmingly dangerous and he would be able to do the job.

And he did. With a considerable amount of swearing. But he did it.

In the aftermath, the man had presented him with an offer. To visit an official representing an organization that could make greater use of his skills besides taking odd jobs whenever someone in a bar, brothel, or brawling ring needed him. He had taken the address and after accepting his payment, been on his way. He’d fully intended to never look at the damn place. Work, however, was getting more difficult to find. Whether it was because of those eyes that he felt following him everywhere he went or simply because of the change in season, Taryn didn’t know. But money was growing tighter so this was worth at least a shot. So he’d sobered himself up, thoroughly washed himself, dressed in the least worn clothes he had, and made his way toward the address he’d been given.

Looking up at the establishment, Taryn sighed. He rubbed his eyes. He thought about doing an about-face and just leaving altogether. Then he remembered he was stuck. Where else did he have to go? He barely had any coin to his name that didn’t go toward food, keeping a roof over his head, and finding the next job. Taryn reached up, rubbing his neck, palm sliding over the Guild-Mage mark branded on his flesh. Ignoring the shiver that went up his spine as he approached the main doors, Taryn raised a hand. There was only a moment’s hesitation before he knocked on the door. It swung open, the face of an elder gentleman. As soon as Taryn laid eyes upon him, he immediately felt very much like the peasant he was.

The finest clothes he owned were rags compared to the uniform this old man wore. His face was passive, even as he brought his eyes upwards from Taryn’s dusty boots and craned his neck to meet his gaze.

“May I assist you?” The words were spoken in flawless Gentaverese, a language that Taryn knew and was getting better at using but he remained horribly out of practice speaking it.

“I am looking for Lord Venger.” His accent was terrible. The words fell from his mouth clumsily and he could almost see the pinching of the man’s skin around his eyes as he butchered pronunciation. The old man arched an eyebrow. His gaze remained emotionless but behind those eyes, Taryn could practically feel his judgment. He resisted the urge to shift his wings.

“Is he expecting you?” Taryn shook his head in the negative. Before the old man could dismiss him, he extended the paper that he’d been given. The man stared at it. Carefully he took it from Taryn’s grasp then unfolded it. He read the message there, paused, then glanced up at him.

“Wait here.” The door was promptly closed in his face.

And this is when the guards get called.

He folded his arms over his chest and let out a long, slow, steady breath. This was a bad idea. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d had but it was a bad one. Or maybe just a stupid one. Just when he was certain he was about to be tossed off the grounds, the doors opened and the old man was there.

“Come in.” He stepped aside and Taryn blinked at him dumbly. That was unexpected. After taking a moment to make sure he had heard the man right, he stepped through doors that, for once, he didn’t have to hunch to pass through. He was led just into the main foyer and if Taryn hadn’t felt like a poor man before, he did now. He was certain that in front of him was more opulence and wealth than had been in the entirety of the town he’d grown up in. Once again, he considered just leaving.

No point in leaving now, Taryn. Might as well see this through and if you get thrown out, at least there’s a hovel you can go back to. For now.

He rest his arms at the small of his back, his posture naturally straight, and his stance one of an at-ease pose that he naturally fell into from years of life as a soldier. He closed his eyes and did what he always did when he needed to calm his nerves and he didn’t have a smoke, he breathed and just listened.

[Taelian Edevane]

Day... whatever it was, of attending Lady Ald's court, had concluded. He was certain at least two months had passed; two months away from Lorien, from the civil war, from where he belonged until things were better for his people back home. More and more, he thought of that frigid landscape as his, particularly as death disconnected him from the warmth and familiarity he once held for Sil-Elaine. It was strange, even feeling unwelcome here, in a place ruled by a liberated Sil'norai queen, and surrounded by the landmarks of his kind. He felt more at ease in that human-led, gothic realm than within the ancient halls of Ardenserat. And when court ended and he was left to his own devices, all the rest fell apart.

Daravin was cruel, and unkind. A foreigner, with a Rien accent, he was treated with inherent suspicion and met with disguise. Spite seemed a vice common to the Daravain man, and it was one that bludgeoned him without relent. As Taelian returned home, he was relieved as always to be met with the features of his valet, as haughty and 'Rien' as his expression often was. The Sil'norai wasn't learning the local language well, either, so he was glad that he could at least talk to him.

Once the two exchanged some words about the weather and their relative state, Taelian returned to his room to dress-down, and shortly after emerged to sit and read about Silorian history within his small study. The estate provided to him to be Lorien's 'embassy' was far from impressive, compared to the lodging he'd had in Retzen, but it was nice. It had ornate, dark mahogany furniture throughout, the seats and sofas lined with a deep red velvet padding. The curtains were satin, and the estate was divided as a proper estate would be: an opening foyer met by a grand stairwell, with rooms on each side, and an upper level where the residents would sleep. It was warm and cozy, and more than he could have ever asked for, living in damp barracks for most of his life.

Taelian heard when the first knocks struck the door, his sharp ears perking up at the sound. The man stood, wearing his pantaloon-breeches and a tied bathrobe, approaching the wall behind the stairwell to listen to the words of his visitor. He had a deep, unfamiliar voice. For a moment, his head lingered outward from behind the wall to peer at him, and he almost felt he was familiar - a man he used to see all the time, moons ago. Taelian shook his head, knowing he was mistaken.

Wait here.

He returned to his study to conceal his eavesdropping, silently treading along the floors so as to not make his presence known. His valet, Harald, found him within as intended, and passed him a letter of recommendation that suggested that 'Taryn' might serve as an excellent Understudy (or apprentice) of his in consideration of full membership. He was a strong warrior, and a talented mage worth honing.

Taelian nodded, wordlessly gesturing for the man to allow him inside. After he scurried off, he rose from his seat again, this time prepared to appear before the large man and introduce himself as a Lord should. He slipped on a brocade vest, found some proper slacks and made his way to the stairwell again, appearing from the corridors of the upper level with a meticulous, steady walk. His arms behind his back, clasped together by his glutes, Taelian casually passed a glance at the other man up-and-down, as if he hadn't seen him already. This time, at least, he got a better look. 'Taryn' was massive, and as expected from before he could see his wings, he was a Velsign.

A damn attractive one, too . . . even if he was dressed like he'd just stepped out from a pub in Lower Nivenhain. It didn't matter. Taelian had never been one to diminish others by their class.

"Hello," he greeted him, climbing down the stairs until he was at their foot, and flashing him a brief smile. His arms switched positions, now clasping together at his front, his fingers sliding along one another as if to reveal some... nervousness, or uncertainty. "You are Taryn. A mutual friend of ours spoke highly of you -- I'm pleased to determine whether he was wrong. You are not with the Omen, yes?" he inquired. Given his poor Gentevarese, as he had spied upon earlier, there was no way that he was.

"Ah - wait." The styling of his clothing, his features... "Radenor. I lived there for a few seasons. Welcome."

[Taryn]

Lord Venger presented himself, descending the steps. Normally, Tary kept a bit of distance between himself and other people out of practical reasons. It was burdensome to constantly have to bend his neck to meet other’s stares. He did not have to do so nearly as much with this nobleman, which was a surprise. From the slight point to his ears, to the graceful movements, Taryn immediately got a hint of elven heritage. That might have meant something to his former countrymen but Taryn had abandoned such notions some time ago. Elven coin was just as good as any other in his mind. The man was broad shouldered with a muscular build from the way the vest clung to his physique and from how his pants fit along his long legs. His eyes were bright with intelligence but from the subtle movement of his hands, Taryn couldn’t be sure if he noted uneasiness. His eyes drifted to the movement for but a moment before returning to Lord Venger’s face. Taryn was used to people being uncomfortable around him. This was nothing new.

“No. I am not.” Taryn, for his life, could not wrap his head around the Omen. So he hoped, to whatever gods were listening, that he was not asked about it at length. He spoke in Common as he had been addressed in Common, much to his relief. He bowed his head, offering a slight bow at the waist upon the welcome. He did not deny his homeland, the brand on his neck would be evidence enough for anyone who knew of Radenor customs. The nobleman’s choice of words did strike him as curious but he didn’t linger on it overmuch.

“You lead the Covenant here?” He cast a glance around at the foyer they stood in. He was neither envious nor judgemental…okay perhaps a little envious. He could imagine it was a lot more comfortable sleeping on a mattress than on a bedroll laid out on the floor because your own bed was too small.

“How do I prove your friend right?” Taryn could not help the slight tipping of his chin at the question of his abilities. He was not an idiot. Lord Venger did not present himself as an idle man. He most certainly did not have the body of one if he was judging him solely on appearances. Like with most jobs, there would be an interview. Either he had what this man was looking for or he did not. Either way, he couldn’t now say this had been a total waste of time. He’d been expecting some old, waifish shut-in. If he failed whatever assessment awaited him, at least he’d have something to think about later.

[Taelian Edevane]

He was glad that Taryn was not affiliated with the Omen, considering what Taelian was in Amoren to do. He had come to seek allies in killing Von Rabe and ending the Omen's reign over Lorien, and although there was tension between the sect of Ulendreaism and Blathe-Feiz, Taelian couldn't grasp their sectarianism as charged enough to support his endeavors. A divided Lorien was better for Daravin, anyhow, so he imagined that many of the instruments of power present within Couronne would not wish for him to succeed in gaining Brilan Ald's alliance.

His features settled, his composure becoming more casual. He looked almost tired, though not disinterested. When asked whether he led the Covenant in Daravin, Taelian pondered for a moment; it was a good question. He was the only Thespian stationed in the Empire of Rust, meaning he was the highest-ranking member of their local chapter; the one to defer to. He was perhaps trained to answer that the 'council' led the Covenant wherever it was, but Taelian had not the patience to explain such things, and perhaps to spite Eloise he would simply answer... "Yes," nodding his head once. "If you're unfamiliar with our structure, I'm a Thespian. An Officer of the Guild, the only one in Daravin. Most of the other ones are off in Lorien fighting the war... as I was, until I was placed here."

Peering lower, his eyes narrowed. It was obvious that he was dissatisfied with his circumstances, though he tried not to make that fact all too evident to a man he did not know. Taelian lifted his face, beckoning the other man to follow him as he led him to the common room of the main floor, placed behind the staircase and accessible through the side-rooms along the foyer. Within, there were numerous chairs and a set of lounging seats alongside sofas, circled around a byzantium rug, a circular table and a lit lamp within. Paintings covered the walls, the moody atmosphere accentuated by dim, somber light.

Taking a seat on the sofa, he gestured for Taryn to sit where he desired to, even if he would look like an empty bag of potatoes settled within a display case at some royal museum.

"You want to prove my friend correct?" he began, his features flat as he met the Velsign's eyes. "Prove your usefulness to me. I have a... particular task that I need to complete, that no one can know about. Are you aware of Bel -- the Infernal Plane?"

That nervousness again. If Taryn noted it, he might soon decipher the source of Taelian's constricted nerves; the topic he intended to raise. The very thought rattled him, more than anything else could.

"I intend to go there," he whispered. "Soon. The coincidence of your arrival is... strange, but... not unwelcome. As strong as I am, I'm reluctant to go there alone... and I don't have many friends."

Certainly not any who would come.

[Taryn]

Taryn tucked away the information that Lord Venger gave to him regarding the structure of the Covenant. Every organization had its hierarchy and he was being given instruction in a part of that hierarchy. He supposed that he would learn his place in due time, if that time came at all. At the mention of a war, his eyebrow quirked. There was a war in Lorien? He supposed he had been hearing talk of conflict in the far eastern kingdom but if it had reached Radenor, it had been in parts that were not overly concerned with the affairs of Lorien. He had to wonder, who all was fighting in this war and to what purpose? Those were questions for another time however. The nobleman was preoccupied with another, more pressing matter it seemed.

Taryn followed the man into one of the side-rooms away from the foyer. He gave the man’s backside an appraising look and had to admit he appreciated what he saw there. He shook off the momentary distraction when Lord Venger took his seat, gesturing for him to do the same. For a moment, he gave the furniture a dubious look but if they were capable of carrying the weight of a man of Lord Venger’s size, they should carry his easily enough. He took a seat on a backless sofa, allowing his wings to rest behind him. He shifted them slightly so that they were comfortable without feeling cramped. The black feathers rustled lightly before settling. When Taryn was settled, he listened to what Lord Venger had to say. His expression remained neutral, with only the barest twitch of an eyebrow as the man spoke on the Infernal Plane.

“You need someone to watch your back.” The task, even if it had not been explicitly stated, was a clear one. Lord Venger needed someone who could fight alongside him in that hellscape. He had heard stories of Bel, the Infernal Plane. Not enough to know anything significant but enough to know that whatever dwelled there was nothing good. Certainly going there was what some would deem a form of suicide. Taryn folded his arms over his broad chest, letting out a breath through his nostrils.

"When?” Hell didn’t scare Taryn. He’d lived through his own personal hell to know that whatever waited for them in that place, terrible as it may have been, was not worse than what he had lived through. And if he was wrong? There was only one way to find out.

[Taelian Edevane]

It was clear enough that Taryn was unphased. He was no stranger to threat, it appeared, enough so that the idea of traveling to Venadak's prison did not seem to unravel him. It was more than any initiate of the Covenant would ever have had to do, but... it was also a proving, a chance for the man to show the full breadth of his work. When Taelian emerged from Bel a Draedan once more, he fully intended to challenge Eloise for the position of Umpire. If the man remained an ally to him when that time arrived, the favor would be returned.

The man lifted one leg over the other, his elbows pressed against his upper thigh as his hands clasped together, locked in a slow moving flux. He appeared to contemplate on Taryn's words at first, before nodding. "I need... much. I need someone to ensure I do not lose myself. Bel is a place of madness -- a place that no one should tread through alone. Two minds often paint a clearer picture. When delusion fills my thoughts, it will be better to have a rational mind to dispel it in the crib. Of course, I can't simply bring Harald. I need someone who can survive down there -- someone like you, I reckon."

Even if he knew little of the man's capabilities, from his stature and build alone it was clear that he was powerful. He was a Velsign; the apex of physical capability. He was also a mage, obviously, though the Thespian did not know which schools he held or how far he had developed them. He only knew whatever he could determine on the surface, which was not much.

When. A solid question. Again, he needed to contemplate. He hadn't fully expected a well-timed visitor to arrive, and to help catalyze this plan of his. Now that Taryn was here, though, he recognized that they would need to venture out some time before the thirty-first, considering that was when he was intended to gather Arkash and Midhir to meet with Lady Valriese. It had to be within the next few days, considering how long the journey might take.

"Fortunately, this place is already on the energy line to connect to Bel... we needn't travel to any specific location in order for me to perform the Interplanar Resonance," he said. All he needed was to form another Shard Resonator, to prepare for the intense wave of energy required. They would also need to take the device somewhere else, lest the windows of the home shatter, the items scattering. "I believe I'll need until the eighteenth. Four days from now should be more than enough to suffice. As for the journey, well..."

He sighed. "I need to make it to the gates of the Mantle of Adena," Taelian whispered. He doubted that Taryn knew anything about the layout of Bel, but it was clear from his eyes that it was an arduous task. "There, I will demand an audience with Venadak, the Creator of this plane. There is something I need from him -- something I believe he will give me. If he does not, then... you will still have your payment, your induction into our order, and my eternal gratitude. I hope that is enough to persuade you."

[Taryn]

“I can help with that.” Those who had worked with him knew Taryn to be a level headed individual when confronted with a challenging situation. He had lost himself only once and that had been…well…it was not something he chose to dwell on. Not at the moment at any rate. Beyond that however, Taryn’s powers had a corrosive quality when it came to brushing up against mal-aligned afflictions. In the bowels of Bel, the Infernal Cradle, Taryn could think of no better place where his abilities would be well suited.

“Four days?” The question was posed plainly. Taryn considered what he would need to prepare in that time. He also thought on what he would do to both purge his system and clear his head in that time. If he was going to plunge into the maw of hell, he might as well enjoy at least one day before he was faced with his potential annihilation. He propped his elbows upon his powerful thighs, rubbing his face as he let out a heavy breath. He rubbed his eyes, rolled his shoulders and nodded. His violet eyes came to rest upon Lord Venger once more.

“What do you expect to face along the way? Do you have a map? How long do you expect the journey to take? What wounds should I expect to receive? Other than the obvious ones.” He knew nothing of Bel except stories. Vague ones at that. However it was clear that the man in front of him was far more familiar with that place than what anyone else would consider comfortable or normal. He spoke of Bel with an intimacy that told Taryn either he had been there before or that he was very studied in the matter. He didn’t have much in the way of money but he could spare a few coins to prepare for…something, anything that might be thrown his way.

“You should know that I am a Risen and Nightfallen. Others might say I am a Necromancer too but what I know is only about enough to keep an infection from eating away at that pretty face of yours.” He smirked before growing serious again.

“I’ve enough training to be considered lethal with both of my Marks. A fact that earned me the brand in Radenor.” He turned his neck slightly so that the nobleman could see the Guild-Mage mark burned into his flesh. His gaze was steady as he watched Lord Venger’s face closely.

"I take it this is not a traditional trial?"

[Taelian Edevane]

Taryn had many questions; a product of his analytical mind. Taelian was not certain he had suitable answers to all of them, but as he sat and stared he tried to come up with something competent enough to appear convincing. Of course, there would be some improvisation once they were down there... but not all that much. He had a relative idea of how they would approach descending through the Mantles, and if things became severe enough they could always use Interplanar Resonance to return to Atharen, even if they arrived someplace relatively unexpected as a result.

"Well... what we face will vary significantly. Certainly, we will face the local race: the Orkhai. The Endless War rages, and those unaffiliated tend to be assaulted rather than left alone. Dregs will likely stalk and pursue us, as well," he nodded. "I do not have a map; I do not believe any reasonably accurate map of Bel has ever been drawn, as it is too dangerous for cartographers to sketch. But -- I know that at the center of Arun, there is a massive gorge with whole cities of dwellers lining the tunnels and engaging in commerce. When we find these tunnels, we can descend them until we arrive at the Mantle of Velyar, and the entrance to Adena... it is not physical. Once we make it to Velyar, I will simply have to call out for Venadak to allow us inside."

That meant, of course, that they needed to find the center of Arun. That likely meant... interrogation of some kind. Being that they were in Daravin, he imagined it would not be all that far away. His first thought was to travel to Carine -- closer to the Straits of Adena, which held one of the Barrengates -- but according to Regis, that would not matter significantly. Bel was divided regionally, not by a land-to-land match. It was on a different dimension, and interfaced with Atharen differently than one might expect.

Even if they did have a map, they likely wouldn't know where they were, for some time.

"Dregs have unpredictable weapons and abilities; some of them can even use magic," he said. "There's also the matter of Corruption -- it can seep into wounds, infer Mageblight upon you unexpectedly. The Orkhai, also, tend to have serrated weapons that are dirty and infectious, and the environment of Bel - I have heard - makes infections prosper far more than on the surface. You mustn't allow yourself to be cut very deeply. Blunt force, while traumatic, will be much more suitable to your long-term survival if you must choose between the two."

Taelian listened for a moment, nodding along as Taryn described his two magics: Baptism, and Nightfall. They had one in common, but not both. Taelian had never actually seen Baptism in action; it was fairly uncommon where he had learned magic. In truth, it wasn't very common at all outside of Ganeron.

"Pretty face?" he chuckled, briefly. "I am also a Necromancer, but only enough to vaguely patch up that nice physique of yours." As he said this, the man's eyes flicked up-and-down, a coy smile gracing his lips. "Fortunately, I have a kit that I'll be bringing with me, so we can help each other with some basic combat healing if necessary."

Taryn then revealed his brand, causing Taelian's eyes to lower. He had only narrowly avoided receiving one himself, during his time spent in Radenor. The Covenant did not support that practice -- it was something they sought to dispel. Mages and their way of life were continually being compromised in the present time, more and more as Grisith's influence grew, and as Daravin stoked hatred and rage. He supposed Taryn must have had a very strange and compelling life, before he had come to Daravin. Taelian was curious to learn about him; to know all of the facets of him, his depth. He would be a fascinating Understudy, and maybe a friend.

"This... isn't a typical trial. It is far more than any Thespian would ever ask of an initiate, to be honest. Normally, we just sort of... test your magical fluency. But I'm desperate, and I need a companion in Bel -- and I'm the one in charge down here, damn it," he teased, waggling his brows. "So this is what I'm asking you. If you're willing to go to hell and back just to join our little club, then... you're a sodding swell man. I'll already need to begin contemplating how to pay you back," Taelian laughed.

[Taryn]

What Lord Venger had to offer by way of information was about as much as could be expected. It was certainly more than Taryn had but it helped give him an idea of the approach they would be taking. From the sound of it, their journey would be largely investigative.

“I can deal with Corruption. I imagine it will be more potent in a place like Bel, but I can mitigate it.” He had done it before. In the Badlands when a wounded creature had charged at one of his employers. It had almost been like hearing a drop of water before the rush of a downpour. Taryn had simply acted and unleashed his powers against the monstrosity only to watch as it was practically burned away as his waters cleansed it.

“When we find those tunnels? I assume you do not know where they are specifically then?” His words were spoken more as a statement than a question. He considered their options briefly. “If it comes down to it, I can get information from people. Willing or not. It’s not perfect but it would be enough to lead us in the right direction. Easier if we can just ask though.”

He thought on the process that went into extracting information from another person. He’d done it a handful of times. It was not pleasant to him and he didn’t like doing it but he had, on more than one occasion, been forced to employ the technique in order to finish a job. The water always tasted bitter in his mouth when he drank it, which made a slight frown cross his features before they settled. When Lord Venger chuckled at his comment, Taryn simply stared at him unblinking. He slowly, pointedly, eyed the man from head to toe before returning his gaze to the nobleman’s face. He made no comment but he made no secret about the fact that he liked what he saw.

“Well, then at least we can stitch each other up.” He nodded, listening further as the man spoke on the very unusual circumstances in front of him. Taryn rolled his shoulders. The great wings upon his back extended lightly before settling once more. He shrugged.

“This sounds far more interesting than just standing in a courtyard flinging spells at a dummy.” A smirk touched his lips when the man brought up the subject of payment. He met Lord Venger’s stare, mischief alight in his violet eyes.

“Oh, I can think of a few ways.” He winked. “On a more serious note, I have plain leather armor. It’s not much. It has seen its fair share of wear and tear. My weapons are sturdy and well used. They’re not poor quality but they’re what a commoner can afford. If anything, I would say what we need most are things to keep us on our feet.”

[Taelian Edevane]

The Sil'norai curled his lips. He knew of the Risen and their ability to mitigate Corruption, but he wasn't certain that even 'Baptism' - the ability - would be able to cleanse the sheer mass of Corruption that could face them in Bel. He had also read that it tended not to work particularly well against Mageblight, as the irradiated strands were too difficult to dispel from within a living organism. It was better used preventatively, or to sterilize an object or environment. He knew that Baptism would have its uses, though, and he was glad to have a Risen above any of the other alternatives that might have presented themselves... especially if Taryn was as skilled as he seemed to infer.

"...I do not know where those tunnels are, no, only that they're at the very center of Arun. The Mantle is split down the middle by the gorge, though, which should be a massive split. If we can find any point along the gorge, we can keep following that rift in the land until our eyes catch the cities leading into the tunnels." It wasn't the most fool-proof plan, but Taryn was already considering the same thing he was; interrogation. Orkhai were stupid brutes, mostly, which meant they would likely fold easily. There were cultists that resided there as well; their zeal would be more difficult to penetrate, but they did not intend to slight any God. They simply wanted to know the direction of Velyar, which meant they were a neutral party. If anything, finding a cultist might be their best option; they could lie and pretend they wished to pay pilgrimage to whichever Corrupted One they served.

He also knew, vaguely, that the Risen were among the best mages at interrogation and discerning truth. Taryn became a more invaluable asset by the moment, and it didn't hurt that he seemed so... interested in him, in a less-than-formal way. There was nothing quite like wanting to impress someone that could keep a man's head straight. He wanted Taryn to keep enjoying what he saw, which meant staying alive, unwounded, and sane. He figured that much was mutual.

Taelian couldn't help but feel as if a wind of fortune had passed him by. In every way, Taryn appeared the ideal companion to bring with him to Bel. Perhaps more importantly than anything else, he was willing to come. That alone told of his bravery, and strength.

He smiled warmly as the other mused at the thought of displaying his skills against a dummy. The Covenant was more meticulous than that, but not much. Taelian had been forced to travel through an arcane maze, and to clean up one of Wylen's messes; a Necromantic abomination he'd allowed loose. That had already been above and beyond the norm, though even then he almost wished he had been allowed to show more. Taryn would miss out on nothing. If he had any intention to reside within Taelian's 'chapter' of the Covenant, there were still so many waves he wanted to make.

He eyed the other man as he flirted again. There was mischief in his eyes, but also seriousness. The Sil'norai's smile became smooth, as he leaned forward somewhat, extending out a hand and briefly running it over the other man's arm, before letting it linger by his bicep. "With you, something like that would be my honor - and my pleasure," he said. No wink to be had, but his statement was clear enough: Taryn compelled his eyes equally as much. Anything they shared would be no 'payment', or compensation.

"I'll provide you whatever you need to purchase a superior set of armor and weaponry. Consider that a gift -- it won't deduct from your payment. I have plenty of coin, Taryn, and only one brave Velsign willing to risk death to aide a man he scarcely knows. You've already proven your worth; let me prove that I treat my friends, and companions, well."