Session 82

02/15/2025

Quick Recap

The group asks Seryna a few more questions about Maeryn in order to see what they are going up against before heading to him.
After leaving Seryna’s, the group heads to Maeryn.
Halfway there they are attacked by an assassin under Lyza seeking the blade and means to kill Orianna.

Story Moments

Garthos

The marble floor gleamed like polished ice, a mirror for the three figures who cast their reflections upon its surface…..Orianna, Sirius, and Garthos.
Garthos spoke first, his voice thick with satisfaction. “A joyous occasion for you, my daughter.” He regarded Orianna with a smile that did not touch his eyes. “The Gem of House Melanthas. Many of power will gather to witness the event, and all will leave envious, knowing that none shone brighter than you.”
Sirius shifted, waiting for the moment to cut in. He had learned when to hold his tongue, but he had also learned when to risk speaking. “Garthos…Father…Orianna isn’t ready. We should wait, prepare her for what lies ahead. You have many enemies,“ Sirius stumbles on his words, “I meant to say the Melanthas have many enemies. If we do this now, we throw her to the lions.”
Garthos smiled, or he attempted to. His lips twitched, the expression faltering before he forced it back into place. His voice was silken, poisoned honey. “Sirius, you open your mouth like a whore spreads her legs. I do not recall asking for your counsel, yet here we are, stained by your unwelcome thoughts.”
Garthos started to walk jslowly, deliberately, “Perhaps an example is required.”
Orianna stood frozen, her breath shallow, while Sirius remained rigid at her side. He had gambled and lost. Before him lay nothing but the sharp edge of consequence, the inevitable descent.
Garthos circled them like a vulture drawn to fresh carrion. “Perhaps I send Orianna to fetch Ozdos, so we may have ourselves a lesson.”
Sirius’s mind raced, desperation twisting through his gut like a knife. He took a breath, steadying himself. “I can do this,” he said quickly. “Please. Orianna need not trouble herself before the ball. If this is a lesson to be learned, let me bear it.”
Garthos smiled again, and this time it was genuine, sick with amusement. “It seems you are learning, Sirius. Good. Then fetch him. Meet me in the dungeons.”
His gaze flicked to Orianna. “And you, my dear, make yourself dazzling for our guests.”
Orianna seized her opening. “Maybe… maybe we call this the lesson for today?” she said carefully. “The ball is important. We wouldn’t want to tarnish it.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and unnatural. Garthos’s smile quivered at its edges, his patience fraying. Sirius stiffened, trying to warn her without words…stop talking.
It was Sirius who spoke next. “Garthos, this is my fault. I unsettled her. I’ll take the lesson for today.”
But Garthos was quick, and his mercy had long since withered. “You two believe me a fool? That Ozdos is anything more than the worm he has become? He surrounds himself with filth, with those who shame our name. No, this course has made itself clear. The path is set.”
His voice dropped to a growl. “Sirius, if your feet do not carry you to Ozdos this instant, I will kill you myself. The dungeons. Five minutes. Or pray to the goddess Edmeera that pain is the only thing you suffer.”
Orianna’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She wanted to fix this. To fix the family, the game, the unending war of whispers and blood that had taken root among them. But every attempt only tightened the noose around Sirius’s throat.
And Sirius? He wanted one thing. Power. Power to end him.
He turned, heading towards where Ozdos would be. But he would not let Garthos win so easily…

A well-timed stumble…could delay the inevitable.

If Sirius could buy Ozdos a few more moments, if he could force Garthos to wear that fucking look of irritation, it would be worth it.
This fucking life, Sirius thought as he stepped through doors that lead to the outside of the manor. Was it rage or was it compassion?
The bridge stretched before him, an ancient artery of wood and vine woven between the towering Ruunmaire trees. Ozdos would be loitering among Ardos and Ozdos senior, carving at some plank, free as the wind in the leaves. Sirius envied him for it, even if that freedom meant more toil, more suffering. He did suffer more than any of us.
The bridge was well maintained, not leaving many areas of danger. A twisted ankle wouldn’t be convincing. Not at the very least. No, if he meant to stumble, it would have to be from the stairway where grandfathers lived. Their living quarters were perched high among the boughs of the upper canopy, nestled in a neighboring Ruunmaire tree, their home kissed by the clouds at times. A simple misstep, a long tumble down the stairs, and the matter would be settled. No questions asked. No whispers of sabotage. Just murmurs of carelessness.
Or he could make it more than a stumble.
He stood on the bridge, the wind coiling around him like a serpent. One step forward, and it would all cease. No more lessons. No more blows. No more sharp words slicing him apart like a butcher at his block.
His father’s hands were not merely cruel…they were instruments of pain, crafted for suffering. And the worst of it was not the beatings, nor the ridicule, but the pleasure the man took in them. There was no love here in this family. Only survival.
And survival, Sirius decided, would have to be enough. Not today, then. Not yet.
They all needed me, he thought. Not a savior, but a player. The game could not be won without pieces, and each of them had a part to play. Ozdos, that thick-headed fool, never listening. Orianna, ever the dreamer, drowning in her optimism, blind to the past’s warnings. And himself… venomous, scornful, burning bridges even as he built them.
A cold thought coiled within him, sharper than a blade. The image of Garthos, smiling his wicked little smile, always sure of his place, always looking down on them all. How sweet it would be to carve that grin from his skull. But not yet.
Time was the game, and patience would be the victor.
Yes. A stumble. A fall down the stairs. Pain was something that the Melanthas knew well. Bruises and broken bones were nothing new. If fortune favored him, this would postpone the ball. Give him time to speak to Orianna. Time to place her in the right light, to let the rest breathe, if only for a moment. Best foot forward, Sirius thought as he found himself midway up the stairs, a place where dew would collect and make this step he was on slippery.
The world was a stage, after all, let’s make this look convincing. Sirius’s last thought as he committed to this stupid revolt.
Ozdos came into view as Sirius lay sprawled upon the floor, his vision swimming, the warmth of blood spilling from his temple. His left wrist was dead to him, but pain meant he was alive. Ozdos was wide-eyed, his worry plain.
Sirius tilted his head toward him and hissed through gritted teeth, “You stupid cunt, get the fuck away from me. Away from all of us.“ Strength was leaving Sirius, almost fainting but he gathered his last breath, “My luck. This fall be your doing. Father is to make an example of you, of your stubbornness and unwillingness to become a part of this family. I hope your pain is tenfold.”
Ozdos was kind and would have rendered aid without dwelling on the past, Sirius knew this. Sirius also knew how to make his words hurt. Ozdos’s face twisted, worry turning to something colder, something deader. He turned without a word and disappeared from Sirius’s blurry view.
Maybe Father wouldn’t find him this time…Now I’m sounding like Orianna, Sirius thought.
Garthos’s magic would not allow that for long, Ozdos would probably be found and Garthos would get his way…just not yet.