A chance meeting

Approaching Enorian. (road)
A large block of stone is standing here, waiting to be carried out of the quarry. An elegant white letter is in danger of being soiled here. Rashar is here, shrouded.
You see exits leading northeast, southeast, and west.

Rashar inclines his head towards you. There is a twitch in his lips, but otherwise his expression stays mild as he murmurs, "It's been a while."

You have emoted: "Indeed" Comes the cold and curt response as Benedicto mirrors Rashar's gesture. "From citizen, to Herald, to Vanguard and then...where? To the bosom of my ex-wife and her uncouth, lick-spittle outfit that she calls a guild?"

Rashar's twitching lips twist into something close to a grin - familiar maybe, crooked and half-cocked. "Someone is bitter," he comments wryly, with a slight shake of his head. "Mostly right, though, with some exceptions. I am not interested in the slightest in Moirean's tits, for one." The pacing begins, slow steps taking the dusky skinned Idreth in a loop back and forth across the road. He's either unafraid of or trusting of you, because he seems to have no qualms about turning his back from time to time.

You have emoted: Benedicto smirks as his pearl-white eyes follow Rashar's ponderous pacing. "Bitter? Enlighten me?" He replies with the barest hint of amusement in his voice. He folds his hands into the voluminous sleeves of his robes, his arms held across the chest of his burnished chest plate. The soft dawn sunlight plays across the polished surface and illuminates his face as he watches Rashar, his own form relaxed and still.

Rashar glances sidelong at you, flashing him a continuation of that wry smile. "Just seemed like a rather, ah.. emphatic greeting, is all. You know me well enough to know I'm no lick-spittle, feller." There is nothing of nervousness in his pacing, really. Just that sense of constant energy, being used rather than allowed to build within. He reaches down, snatching at a flower growing near the side of the road. Spinning it idly, he moves back over to halt somewhere close to you. Preceding his words with a jerk of his chin to the southeast, he asks, "Things alright in there? I'll admit that my information is scarce, lately, and I haven't bothered to speak with anyone since they informed me of my wife's punishment."

You have emoted: Benedicto follows Rashar's gaze to the southeast. "Why do you care?" He asks, turning his attention back towards him, his tone and expression genuinely curious though he does not wait for Rashar's answer. "Everything appears to be fine since I've returned from slumber." He rolls his shoulders in a slight shrug. "The city has coped with betrayal before. It will no doubt do so again. Life goes on."

Rashar snorts at that, soft and derisive. In the same quiet voice, he replies with something that comes very close to sounding like a snap, "Betrayal my ass, Benedicto. I left. That was the end." Lips pressed into a line, smoldering eyes narrowed, he stares intently at you. "If I had left to join the Council, would it be a betrayal? Because I have done, since leaving, not one thing that could be taken as an attack on those walls - or anyone in it, besides Mersalis." This with a look of contempt. "Don't accuse me of lacking honor just because you fellers can't see the world in more than two colors. You've got what you want now, anyway." His arm comes up, waving towards the gates, "A nice set of shepherds in charge, to herd that great big flock." It takes him a moment to settle, during which his expression remains unreadable. Seething, perhaps? Certainly bitter himself, but it's hard to tell what occurs now, in his head. "I still care for some there. Nola and Kerryn, though they've both turned their backs to me. Jami. Valingar is a good feller.. My wife, who has done nothing but serve for a century and was to be punished for -my- decision. This is why I ask."

You have emoted: Benedicto allows Rashar's tirade to wash over him with a placid expression, the hint of humor in his earlier words now reflected in his eyes as he listens. As you finish he takes lets loose a sudden huff of breath. "Well. That was very interesting Rashar. But I never said it was you who betrayed the Beacon." The humor in his pearl-white stare now spreads across the rest of his face as his lips twist upwards into a grin. "I was actually referring to Haven. The outspoken so-declared paragon of Light." His shoulders rise and fall in another shrug. "But you are obviously harboring some guilt. Such an outburst. I do not think I have ever seen you some...impassioned....-feller-." He says, his voice heavy with sarcasm on the final word.

Rashar grunts now, hardly placated. "Haven left quite a while before I did," he states simply. "Old news by now, unless something's happened that I don't know about. You'll forgive me for being a bit defensive.. I've only been called a traitor a dozen times in the last two or three months." His arms come up, crossing over his chest, and he directs something close to a scowl towards the south.

You have emoted: "I was awake for none of it. Not Haven's betrayal, nor your drama." Benedicto responds seriously, his grin fading. "I can hardly feel sympathy to you. You are a traitor. You have turned your back on Life and Light. You have chosen to become a crony of Moirean's instead. You and that equally traitorous brother of yours." He sniffs disdainfully. "I do not know what happened to your wife, however I would never condone the punishment of an individual for the actions of the ones they love. However misguided that love might be."

Rashar holds up a finger. "My brother was a traitor," he agrees. "And I cast him out for it. His work was threatening to the Beacon, not to mention the simple theft of it." And now, his arms fall down to sink back into his pockets. He blows out a puff of air and shakes his head once more. "A crony. You make it sound like I'm lurking about with a hunchback, sweeping the floors after she leaves. You know.. nothing of what I do, Benedicto." At this, his head tilts to the right. "I never considered you the type to run your mouth on assumptions. Pity. As for my wife.." And here, the bitterness returns. That subtle crimson embers in his eyes begins to intensify, pushing threads of liquid fire through the stormy gray depths that surround them. "Your Council has voted to leave her homeless, to cast her out because of her loyalty to me should I stay a citizen of Spinesreach. Homeless, after a unicornsing century. With nary a thanks for her service, a pat on the back for her dedication. That is the loyalty Enorian boasts of."

You have emoted: "You do take commands from her? She is your leader now and therefore you answer to her. Thus, you are a crony." Benedicto says indifferently as he directs his stare northwesterly, his eyes following the road towards the Raim Vale and Mournhold. "As for your wife. You say you were able to cast him out, cut your ties. So should Roux have done with you. Her years of service should have made her more than aware of that."

Rashar's eyes narrow, and his answer to the first comment is a quiet, derisive laugh. "By that measure," he states simply, "There are very, very few men in this world who are not cronies. Yourself included, Benedicto." His arms spread slightly, the gesture almost inviting as he makes that mild jab. "Hm. I see now the extent of your own heart, though. With a love that shallow, it is no wonder that you spend your days alone." His smile is twisted, slightly lopsided. A smirk? A mild one, if so. Mostly, he seems careless, as if the statement were nothing more than a simple observation. He turns, walking back across the road. "I'm surprised there isn't a line of fellers waiting with open pockets, offering to purchase her divorce." A lifted eyebrow is cast over his shoulder. "Half surprised you're not one of them."

You have emoted: Benedicto's gaze is drawn back to Rashar at his words. "It has naught to do with a lack of love. If you love her as much as you say, you should never have put her in that position. If she loves you as much as you say, which I have no doubt she does, then she should have followed you." He chuckles at something, his head shaking slightly. "I call it idiocy. Plain stupidity. As for me..." He looks Rashar over with a measuring stare. "I am alone because I choose to be. If I wanted someone I could have someone." His grin widens. "If I wanted Roux, I could have Roux."

Rashar's laughter falls like a whip of absolute mirth across you, ripping free of his lips before he can even begin to contain it. It continues, loud and shameless, as the Idreth casually finishes another loop of his pacing. "I am sure," he agrees, eyes tight. He nods, and despite the difference in height it can remind one of nothing so much as an adult, nodding his head at some adorable wisdom spoken from the lips of a child. "I am very sure, Benedicto. On both counts."

You have emoted: Benedicto chuckles in reply, his mirth coming easily. He nods at Rashar, his eyebrows raised in gentle emphasis as his laughter joins Rashar's.

Shoulders still shaking slightly, Rashar moves with silent steps to stand very, very close to you. His laughter stops, and he lifts up to his toes to rock forward slightly and whisper, "If you ever disrespect her again, Benedicto.. I will fucking gut you like the fish you are."

You have emoted: Benedicto laughs all the louder, his eyes wide as he looks directly into Rashar's face. "Oh....dear..." He manages to gasp out. "I've obviously touched a nerve." He eventually manages to wrestle his humor under control, though a secret smile still dominates his features. "Ah well." He sighs, his smile widening as he tilts his head oddly at Rashar.

You focus the might of divine will into Rashar to force him to obey your command.
Rashar is unable to resist the force of your faith.

Rashar has been bludgeoned to death by a Daru firebrand.
You divine the location of this death as Valley road in Enorian.
They were assisted by: Benedicto.

You have emoted: Heaving a satisfied sigh, Benedicto unfolds his hands and heads back towards the city. "What a lovely day." He says to himself before starting to whistle.

The aftermath...

You pick up the corpse of Rashar.

Rashar's thunderous rumble rips across the land like a tidal wave, "Cute trick, Benedicto. Now I see why you are more a memory than anything else, hmm? I am available, should you find your balls any time soon and wish a fight."

You drop the corpse of Rashar.

You begin chopping away at the neck of the corpse with a jewel-encrusted sacrificial dagger.

You finally manage to sever the head from the corpse of Rashar, leaving only a pool of blood where the head had been.

You pick up the decapitated head of Rashar.

You shout, "Oh dear, it seems that you've taken on the favorite pastime of your new Mistress. I know very well where my balls are, as does your wife should you wish to ask her. A memory you say? Yes, alas I am a memory. It is the memory of my face she see's when you clamber atop her to do your duty as a husband. A memory of my tricks that pleased her, I am so full of those, you are right."