Feb 20, 2019
This is apocryphal, and also doesn’t fit into a cohesive timeline, but I was inspired by a recent event. Tagging @dianadw although I suppose if Cauld was to write something like this, he wouldn’t know how to get it to her.
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This is apocryphal, and also doesn’t fit into a cohesive timeline, but I was inspired by a recent event. Tagging @dianadw although I suppose if Cauld was to write something like this, he wouldn’t know how to get it to her.
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Ten-thousand butterflies aglow in red and black
Cauld arrived in the Shadow Vault to find it conspicuously barren.
He hadn't brought any goods or supplies to drop off per anyone's request. In fact, for days now he had been outright ignoring whatever chatter might have been crossing the Scourgestones. Maybe no one had been calling for him.
No, this time he had come only to retrieve a missing knife, knowing there was only one place it could be. And indeed, such a quick mission it would be, that he wouldn't even need to put away his stone in the meantime.
As his eyes adjusted to gloomier surroundings than those his Scourgestone had teleported him from, he crept into the Vault's central area, to cross to the dead man's chamber. The halls of the Saronite-bound fortress weren't always abuzz with death knights (or the swarming insects that infested some of them), but nary a soul (if they could be called that) was in sight. No knights stood in idle conversation or busied themselves with routine duties. Not even a dour guard stood at any usual post. And in the silence scuffed only by his footfalls, no ring of metal or echo of a grave voice sounded to drift through the hall's rune-inscribed colonnade.
He almost called out, but stopped himself. He'd go about his business unseen, and consider himself fortunate for it. "Everyone out on patrol, or somethin'?" he mumbled instead. "Guess I came at the right time."
The silence was foreboding as he paused at the door to the dead man's chamber. No.. No, it wasn't. "Nerves," he assured himself, steeling his own with a shake of his head and the steadiest breath he could muster before he eased the door open by the slowest of increments.
What if Evelyne was inside? What if Shawdius's body still was?
a brush with death
(Note: simultaneously posted with perspective counterpart here)
Three had been tasked with escorting the exiled death knight out of the Shadow Vault, and Cauld waited until they returned to their posts to venture outside. He had filched a pail from one of the storage areas, and had even thought to grab an ice pick to reinforce his alibi: if anyone stopped him to ask what he was up to, he'd simply been sent out to fetch some chunks of ice to be melted into water.
Maybe it was a foolish idea that had wormed its way into his head, but he couldn't help wanting to meet the knight he'd had an unwitting brush with before, and with whom he'd since discovered an unlikely connection.
"He's dangerous. Steer clear of him." Ky's warning remained anchored somewhere between his ears - the gravity in his thin voice had ensured that the words wouldn't merely float into one and out of the other - and yet, curiosity prevailed, its prodding louder and more insistent than paternal admonition and his own caution combined.
It's now, or not at all. You're probably never going to see him again.
And so he ventured after the exiled knight, every muscle tense under his cloak as he trod with care upon the frostladen road. Piss, but it was cold outside the Vault.
At least he didn't have to travel far in his search.
The death knight, an imposing form even from a distance, stood in stark contrast to his surroundings, a blot of dark armor against bleak ice. He was standing still, many paces from the road, his head canted skyward.
Nervousness threatened to wobble Cauld's legs as he picked his way toward him, as if the ice streaking the road didn't make the journey treacherous enough. He's dangerous. And the Ebon commander who called himself Reaper had threatened to throw him into a cell with him. Still, his voice rang out clearly. "Dregan! You're Dregan Clare, aren't you?"
The knight turned to regard him, a withering glare on a gaunt, gray face. A moment's scrutiny, and then a cold voice rasping without inflection against chill air. "What do you want?"
Cauld's feet came to a prompt halt -- or would have, had the slick slope underfoot not stolen his footing. Heels splayed, then his feet flew up in front of him as he crashed onto his backside, joined by a clatter and a clang of borrowed supplies.
"Ow, shit -- Wait, wait, don't hurt me! I jus' wanted--" Frantic words came blurted in the wake of a groan, and then more still as he writhed his way to his feet. "I used to-- I knew your wife!"
The knight's glare remained steady and severe, but he didn't advance. "What of her?"
"I, uh-- I- I know what you did! I saw-- I mean-- I know you didn't mean to." Indiscriminate words continued to stammer out of him, as though they might insulate him from an impending assault. Or dig a grave for him. What are you thinking? Just shut your mouth! Stop talking! He managed to stem his babbling in the face of that icy, unblinking stare, and as uneasy seconds passed under those inscrutable lichlights, his trepidation distilled into self-consciousness. "..What?"
"You're that cripple's boy."
Cauld's heart skipped a beat as he fumbled for a response to that unexpected remark, and then anxious adrenaline sparked boldness. "Yeah, I am! An' you shouldn't have hurt him!" There it was - the steel that had left his legs when his feet went out from under him.
Even if he might come to regret his brazenness.
"He took a good deal of interest in my eye socket," Ky had said. An uncomfortable allusion to a recent injury, uttered as a hasty afterthought to some other matter. He hadn't been willing to speak more of the incident, and Cauld had been left to imagine what transpired. At the time, that had been enough to put an end to his thoughts of seeking him out.. And yet, here he was. And already, it was too late to retract his impertinence. He managed not to start shuffling backward -- his ass was still smarting something fierce, and he didn't need to fall on it a second time -- but an unsettling thought needled his mind. If Dregan decided to do the same now, he might not hesitate to gouge out one of his eyes right here. He started fishing his Scourgestone out of his pocket. He was still close to the Vault, but it could probably transport him back from here. At the first sign of the death knight drawing back a fist, or conjuring forth some wicked magic, he'd simply --
"Send him my apologies. The others were starving me."
Taken aback again, a knot of nervous anticipation unraveled between Cauld's shoulders, to escape as a huff of a sigh and a shaky, slack-jawed nod. Whatever he'd expected out of the knight, that wasn't it. "Oh-- Alright." A swallow, and a dart of a tongue over dry lips. "I will."
"See that you do. Now, leave me be." The death knight turned away then, one half-gauntleted hand rising as he began to tear a death gate into existence.
Relief, in spite of the violent black crackle that cast the rift open, and the deathly gale that howled within it. Further questions swirled in Cauld's mind like the shadows in the death gate, but this would suffice. He could part ways knowing that, for all of Dregan the exile's fearsome reputation, he was perhaps not a monster. And that would be enough. "You know, Miranda said you were nice. I'm glad she was right."
A ghost of a word escaped the death knight, too hushed to be heard distinctly amid the wailing that echoed from the death gate, but he seemed to have no further response to give. Not until Cauld began to pick his way back toward the road did he hear Dregan speak again; he looked to see the knight facing him, a thoughtful crease etched into his grim visage.
"I have a task for you, if you would agree to it."
Cauld hesitated, caught between misgiving and inquisitiveness. Could he get in trouble for carrying out a request from a knight who'd been ousted? But he still had his curiosities about this elusive knight, and wouldn't turn down the opportunity. "What is it?"
"Consider it a final matter I wish to resolve with the Ebon Blade. Merely a letter to be delivered."
That seemed simple enough. "Yeah, I can do that."
"Good. I'll see to it that you return here. Now, come along." With that, the death knight swept an expectant arm in the direction of his grim portal.
He had his own way back. With a surreptitious pass of his fingers across his pocket to ensure his Scourgestone was still where it belonged, he paused before the gate, before the steady, cold stare of the exiled knight, swallowed a breath, and pressed through.
Nature’s way of saying “stay in bed”. #cauld #cold #freezybreezy #scottishspring #thanksbutnothanks (at Lochend, City of Edinburgh) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNUVaKwDuH2/?igshid=1kaezrmzvtbkw
Saunter in the snow ❄️ (at Colchester, Essex) https://www.instagram.com/p/CLFQHF7hWE9cgQA8eab2qxvoHmal6mfa7Sj-V80/?igshid=1te5d3nd9u9sg
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Wee early morning to Newcastle. #cauld #sunrise (at Newcastle Centre, Newcastle, Co Down) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsFzl4uhtsHtgy_e1wjPveok1vK_hMXgIKehgQ0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=a9n3pzxiunyq
For posterity
((With the dissolution of the Sixth Sword Accord -- a portion of Cauld’s living acquaintances -- I am posting here this small collection of Cauld’s inner thoughts and reflections as they pertained to some recent experiences.))
Cauld by @arcadechan !