Chapter 3.a: Citadel Infiltration

From a more... whole human face, the wide-eyed look Squeaky gives Verrian would appear bewildered. With mismatched eyes and no facial expression to speak of, it's significantly hardly to interpret. "Who iss Garand Dissoss?"

His one hand clutches out toward whoever it might be able to reach. "Lee-ing ssoon. Ildeh-oo, the crows. Leht ee here to rrot. Lee-ing town." He reaches his hand toward a pouch at his belt, but with his mangled physiology, he can't manage to do more than rip it free and toss it at Viani's feet. "Take that. It ill o-en the restraints. In the cells."

His eyes flicker between the faces of those he recognizes. "He knows who you're here... to rescue. Ildeh-oo."

This speech seems to sap him of energy, and his frame goes limp. His breathing is shallow and labored.

Inside the pouch are a few knick-knacks of significant interest only to Squeaky; a shiny red pebble, a small wooden hand-carved flute, a bit of cloth. The other item seems a bit more unusual: a piece of black metal shaped like a plus sign or X, small enough to fit in the palm. The metal isn't just black, it's so dark as to seem like it's drawing light toward itself, and curiously cold to the touch regardless of who touches it.

From the tiny viewing area the panel affords, Verrian can see a windowless room with a single light source hanging motionless above the center of the room: it's a light globe like they have back in Meriava, but unlike those you've seen around town, this one is still working. There are two chairs, both occupied. In one is a middle-aged woman, streaks of grey through her dark hair. She sits stiffly in the chair, blindfolded, and her wrists bound in front of her by what appears to be a white rope.

Draped idly in the other chair, one arm flung over the back, legs stretched out with feet crossed, is Ildemu. He's looking directly at the door, a lazy smile crooked on his face. As the panel opens, he says in that casual half-drawl, "You can stop fiddling with the lock, Red. It's open."

"Be my guest," Ildemu says with a smile. He sits up a little more in his chair, though he still manages to look as though he's been casually flung into his seat like one might toss a coat; loose-limbed and utterly unconcerned. He's dressed much as you saw him the last time you met, wearing a chain shirt over clean, neatly tailored clothing, black pants tucked into black leather boots. He wears an iron ring on his the ring finger of his left hand, which you only notice because he absently twists the ring with the neighboring fingers while he talks.

"It's taken you long enough. Moon and stars, did you go all the way out to the estate and back again? Long trip, for no benefit," he says with that lopsided smile. "She was right here the whole time."

"Countryside’s a lot more pleasant now that it’s been cleaned up a bit," Ildemu agrees, gesturing calmly at the bound woman next to him.

"But no, sadly, I didn’t know what you were after until you left town. Communication out here is sometimes... unreliable. Not like that soft life you all lead back in Meriava, where everything still works like it used to."

Verrian smiles calmly. "So my friend and I are here for this lady," she says, gesturing toward Renaya. "Perhaps we can make some sort of deal."

Ildemu rises slowly from his chair, not making any sudden movements that might provoke a response. He stands behind Renaya, hands on the back of her chair. "A deal? For her?" He shrugs, evidently unconcerned. "She's all yours. We've taken care of her, so there's no more use for her."

He lifts one eyebrow, smile angled across his dark face. "Really, I just wanted to make you and your little gang one last offer before we ride off into the sunset. Figuratively speaking."

"This... thing you're doing," he says, waving sort of vaguely. "You don't have to follow them. They cower inside their wards, they cling to the dying embers of a fire that destroyed the world." His hands grip the back of the chair more tightly. "You haven't seen what's out there, Red. If you had... you'd be begging to join us, first in line to tear down that festering monstrosity that sits like a fat, bloated spider out there in the lake."

For once, his manner becomes intense, eyes hard and words clipped as he nearly bites them off coming out from his lips.