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Mischance Conversations


Telling Deminatza of the death of Torak was clearly the wrong thing to have done. When he had asked her if she loved the scoundrel, she was insulted, insisting they shared only a childhood friendship. However, she had accused him of murder, and when that happened, all the memories of his vile, sordid, past – all the shades of innocents he had made along the murderous path of his former, evil, life – flooded his mind, taunting him, cursing him. They accused him of trying to pretend he was other than the corrupt necromancer he used to be; that nothing had really changed; he was being himself. None of that could he deny. He had killed a man outright; perhaps not intentionally, but he did go to find him and had he not, the man would still be alive.

Following their heated confrontation, after she had departed for the Abbey in Yew, he had, as usual, drank too much wine and stumbled over to the Schloss, the castle of blood where his father (not really his father but his great great-grandfather, the Elder Scaramandine, the only real father he ever had) reposed and ruled.

He mouthed the foul, forbidden, words and was allowed entry this time as previously he could not since he refused to utter them. The guards knew him and watched him closely but said and did nothing else. Presently a dark robed, hooded, figure appeared and they talked; him asking if his father were there. When the answer was negative, the figure led him to a dining room where he ate and drank more wine.

The nameless host heard the arrival of someone, excused herself, and departed. It was then that a stunningly beautiful woman, dressed in a red and black formal dress, appeared in the doorway. He, thoroughly inebriated, invited her to sit and speak with him which she did gladly…



Virani pushed the curtains aside and noticed a man looking back at her, drunkenly smiling in her direction goblet raised.

“Welcome! Join me!,” he invited.

“You are?”

“A murderer,” the man informed flippantly.

Virani’s curiosity peaked, “Oh really now? That sounds exciting.”

“Oh it is. I am Scar. My father lives here. And you are,” Scar peered at her, “Very pretty.”

She smiled like a cat who just caught a canary, and he returned her smile.

“Why thank you,” she cooed as Scar took a swig of his drink. She leaned in close and touches his cheek lightly, “You are not so bad yourself.”

“Have not shattered any mirrors lately I suppose,” he quipped grinning.

“So tell me, what brings you here,” she inquired while gesturing to the servant to refill Scar's goblet.

“Me and my wife had a bit of a tiff.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes... pretty, like you.”

“Oh? She is a pretty as me?”

Scar leans over and scans her face slowly, then fixed his eyes on hers. She, in turn, leaned in closer.

“Ummmm, well,” he stated hesitantly.

“Yes,” she asked in a sultry tone, her eyes traveling to his lips.

“I'd say it is a tough call milady,” he sniffed.

“Look closer,” she cooed.

“I feel...,” he said gruffly as he touched her lips softly.

“What is it you feel,” she said breathlessly.

The inebriated man’s eyes widen. “Something... not... right. Who did you say you were?”

“Anyone you want me to be,” Virani purred taking his hand and caressed it lightly.

“I think... I have had too much to drink. But you are pretty.”

“Thank you,” she offered demurely.

“You have no man,” he questioned, to which she ignored, raising his knuckles to her lips and kissed the middle one lightly.

“Wait. Do you know Magnus?”

Vira'ni looked to him, smiling sweetly, yet remaining silent.

“Tall fellow. Bald. Nearly as handsome as me,” he grinned then winked at her.

“None is as handsome as you. Tell me, Scar. Why are you calling yourself a murderer? Hmm,” she probed, caressing the top of his hand watching him smiling sweetly.

“Well, this time, I killed a bandit. Did not intend to, but, yeah, figured he would resist me. He had his chance though. Three on one.”

“I hardly call killing a bandit murder especially if you didn't intend to. You were outnumbered. You were merely defending yourself,” nodding in complete agreement

“Aye. They were criminals. I went to take one of them. I needed him.”

“You needed a bandit?”

Scar nodded. “Dropped off his head at Alderia's. Reward for him.”

Virani’s eyes widen a fraction at the name. “A reward for the bandit?”

Again, Scar nodded. “50,000 gold. Name's Torak. Dead as a hammer.”

“He's dead,” the woman’s eyes flash angrily and this announcement.
“Well, unless he can live without his head, yeah,” Scar bantered, proud of his wittiness.

“His head was removed,” she growled under her breath. “Just so I understand,” she asked after composing herself, “You killed a bandit name Torak. You had his head as proof?”

“Yes? I did. Had to have proof.”

“Do you have it with you now,” she delved, once again, gesturing to the servant to keep refilling Scar's cup.

He shook his head. “No, I had to turn it in to Alderia to prove he was dead,” he managed before a loud hiccup.

So Alderia has the head.

“Sorry, is he a friend of yours? A relative?”

“I wouldn't say friend. More a woman scorned.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly, “He made a lot of women like that. She may still have it. May hang it up or something. Wouldn't wait too long though, she might pickle it,” he said chuckling at the thought.

Her eyes look past him and gesturing to one of the shadows looming nearby. They silently and imperceptibly made their way to her, Scar none the wiser to their presence. “Confirm his story and report to me immediately,” she commanded. They bowed respectfully and removed themselves from the room.

As she gave the shadow their directive, Virani unknowingly began digging her nails into his palm.


Once again, composing herself, she shifted her focus to her prey. Turning it palm up and rubs the inside of his palm speaking cooingly.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Where does it hurt?”

Withdrawing his hand, as if the pain provided a moment of clarity, Scar attempted to stand, but stumbled a bit, taking hold of the curtain to steady himself. “I think I need to go.”

“You may stay. No need to leave so quickly”

“You've been wonderful,” managing a smile in his drunken stupor.

“Here, let me help you.” Virani made her way to his side and looped one of his arms around her neck. “You know, we have beds on the second floor where you may wish to sleep. Just until the alcohol has worn off.”

“I will go home. This place stinks,” he proclaimed with a slight sway. Virani held him steady.

“Well, I have another place where you may rest and I promise you, you will be safe. Even from me,” she said as she winked. “I promise.”

“I feel sick.” Scar covered mouth and she released him. “Going out.” Scar made it down the stairs before throwing up mightily.
“Oy,” was all he managed to say before his stomach declared it was not yet done declaring its dismay at the copious amounts of alcohol it was forced to ingest.

Virani walked up behind him and began rubbing his back. He looked over her shoulder and said weakly, “I... never do this.”

“It's okay. Come,” she offered, “let's get you washed up. You got it all over your clothes.”

Scar wiped his mouth with his shirt, appeared confused a moment then suddenly alarmed and ran off without saying a word.
Pity, he was a fine specimen. Oh well, she shrugged before ascending the stairs to retreat into Schloss von Blut.