Dogs of War - Ivesk

You don't have long to watch when Clemens comes to find you.


"Sir, you um, you really need to see this."


He leads you down to the labs, to the door of the sealed rooms.


Ketcher opens the door some way and invites you in.


The room is dimly lit, and empty but for a blank desk and another heavy door.


"It's a prisoner sir. I think." He says, after a moment's thought
 
Now this was something worth a double take. And confusion. Several questions flash through the veteran's mind, but in the end he settles for the simplest, most obvious one. "What?"
 
He scratches the back of his neck, shakes his head.


"It's... some kind of creature. Looks like a person, but it's not. Can't be. It refused to speak to me; said it would only talk to you."
 
The Major furrows his brow. He's tempted to ask on the elaboration on the 'looks like a person' bit, but... well, he'll see soon enough, it seems.


"Well, hopefully it's not an elaborate trap..." Well, yes, it sounds paranoid. But you never know.
 
"I don't think it is. Anyway, I'll just..."


He unlocks a heavy, complex mechanism from the inner door, and holds it slightly ajar to let you in.


He closes and seals it behind you.


"Just a precaution, sir. I'll let you out when you're done."


Opposite you, in a heavy cage of uncertain material, sits a man with skin like polished black glass. He's tall and muscular, and sits on a metal stool.


"You are the commander." He says, in perfect Kaeri. He stares at you with golden eyes.
 
The veteran nods. "Major Ivesk." He would normally add 'at your service', but in this situation.... "I was told you wanted to speak to me."
 
"I do." He says, examining you with an intense, but inscrutable expression.


"I am a prisoner to your authority. I find this distasteful, but I was fairly bested within the agreed bounds of the combat, and with the death of my previous captor the boon of my honour is extended to you. I will gift you with the power necessary to destroy your enemies in exchange for my freedom."
 
The Major scratches his chin in thought, somewhat intrigued... for all the paranoia he might slip into at times, a part of him considers the proposal to be more than worthy of interest.


"They say that chances are when something sounds too good to be true, it is. What sort of power do you offer? And what would you do once set free?"


...in the end, he's still careful. There's got to be a catch. The Quill wouldn't have kept him in a cage and box like that without a good reason.
 
"You are a leader of men, and a warrior. I respect that." He says, keeping his eyes on yours. "I offer you the power to destroy your enemies and lead your men as never before. And to escape the petty bonds of mortality, which weigh so heavily upon you."


He leans forward, hand on his perfectly sculpted chin, light reflecting from his bald scalp.


"When freed, I will simply return to my own mission. I too have an enemy to fight."
 
The man frowns. "What enemy?" This sounds... almost acceptable. Though the enemy of this strange 'man' could be anyone and anything.


And the offer... well, that's highly intriguing. There is no denying that. Even though he's slightly alarmed by how quickly the man realized he struggles with his advancing age, it's not exactly hard to guess. Men like Ivesk always hate the idea of encroaching weakness. Chances are, everyone with modicum of perception can tell.


And of course, a chance to destroy Kromsians... how could he not be tempted? Of course there's no telling what the actual power the being offers is, merely all this vague talk. Plus, if it can truly offer him something like that, it has to be something... different. He's no expert, he can't tell what he's dealing with, but all stories in all nations agree that there is always a heavy price to pay for power.


The difference is, of course, that he'd consider many of the prices more than acceptable, if it meant tipping the scales of war.
 
"My foe is not your concern, neither are they a party of whom you could possibly have knowledge." He replies, gaze fixed on you.
 
"Very well. But before I seriously consider accepting your offer, I will need a guarantee that you will not harm any of my men - short of self defense - or the interests of H'kaer. I cannot let someone who would endanger the war effort go free, as you surely understand."


Even tempted as he may be, he's got his priorities.


Well, Quill will surely be upset if he lets the being go regardless, but they can do nothing to stop him at the moment, nor were there any orders not to.
 
"If I am promised safe passage, so too are your men safe from me. Likewise, I have little interest in your war - though I truly wish you a victory, and that old shame is wiped out." He says, leaning back some, seeming somewhat relaxed. "I have nothing but time, Major. This is not the battlefield, you are not required to balance life and death on the edge of a blade. If you would consider my proposal, allow me to grant you a gift; a symbol of our pact."
 
The veteran can't help but chuckle. Looks like he's had the quick decision making of the battlefield ingrained a tad too deeply...


Well, a symbol doesn't seem too likely to end up being something bad, and he's certainly considering the offer rather seriously. He nods.


"Very well, then."
 
"Your weapon of choice is the spear, is it not? I once served a master who likewise favoured the reach and versatility."


As he speaks, his eyes glow with golden light, and you see veins of it spread throughout his body. There's a brief, near blinding flash, and he's offering you the haft of a beautiful golden glaive.


"If you would accept our pact, merely plunge that blade into an enemy. The contract will be sealed; you will have power, and I will walk free."
 
The man accepts the glaive, admiring the craftsmanship. Quite the simple way of sealing a deal, to merely wound an enemy... and convenient. Worst case scenario, he can simply never use the weapon, as much as it would pain him to leave such a thing as mere decoration. Nevertheless...


"That sounds agreeable. Very well, then. It shall be considered. I will also make sure that if you walk free, you will see no harm from my men, unless you initiate aggression. And I trust you would not bother." It's true. The being seems to have little interest in revenge for the capture.
 
The man nods. "Authority proceeds from worthiness; one must respect a worthy authority. I like you H'kaeri, you understand this. You strive for power without sacrificing practicality." He tilts his head, as if listening for something. "I marvel to watch you. It is good to have fought your fellows."


The glaive is light in your hand, and seems to hum slightly, musically where the blade trails through the air. It is simple, unadorned by any engraving or carving, but the craftsmanship is of such exquisite simplicity any effort to improve it with embellishment would only mar it.
 
Ivesk spends a few moments thinking on the "man's" words, looking at the weapon. Quite the praise, hm?


"Well, then. If there is nothing else you wished to speak of, I will return to my duties. I will give your offer consideration."


A small part of him has already decided. But to accept right away is... more than a tad lacking in reason. And the Major was never a fan of impulsive decisions.
 
The remains of the day pass without incident - dinner, evening reports, some reading, sleep.


Two more days pass. On the third day, around midday, you're perusing Atrix' plans for some bullshit new siege weapon (he calls it a ballista, you call it bullshit). Then Relias knocks on your door.


"Sir, there's a slight problem. Looks like someone is stealing rations."
 
The Major was already frowning at the plans, which saves his facial muscles the effort of doing so now. Stealing rations... now that's something you don't see happen every day. It can be a major problem in the long term, but generally there's no point to doing so at all. Everyone receives enough... short of extreme circumstances. And there are none at the moment.


"And there goes peace and quiet." He mutters, though not entirely upset about it. He was growing restless anyway. "Have we any suspects at all?"
 
Relias shakes his head. "None yet, sir. It's only small amounts of the good stuff - tobacco, sugar... Thought you might know a good way to proceed. Or I can leave it to the sergeants."
 
Well, that explains it at least. Tobacco could be quite sought after. At least it wouldn't be too hard to keep a better eye on the reserves. Briefly, Ivesk considers the option of simply speaking with the men and giving whoever did it a chance to step forward and avoid punishment.


But then, some have already been thinking he's getting a tad too fatherly. No, the usual method should suffice.


"I'm sure the sergeants will mange just fine."
 
Back to the bullshit, for the time being. It's fascinating how nonsensical some of Atrix' plans are. It's so bad, but so hard to look away from.


After a good few minutes more of frowning and shaking his head at the baffling plans, Ivesk decides to pay a visit to The Prisoner. Got a few questions for him, as he mulls over the pact. Many questions, in fact.


Its name, for one. Can't just refer to it as 'the prisoner' forever. It's awkward.
 
You're soon in the bowels of the garrison.


"Sir?" Ketcher greets you with some confusion. "Need to interrogate the prisoner again?"
 
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