Atka Marduk Character in Forgotten Realms | World Anvil

Atka Marduk

Atka Marduk

Atka “Ideal” Marduk, mid-30s in appearance and stamina, grey to bluish skin depending on how close to a heat source she appears. She stands 6’4” boot-to-horntips. Long, black hair. Long, twisting tail that displays mood. Eyes that reflect differently (appear purple, reflect teal). She has a twin brother (Mamnen) who she feels deeply connected with at all times. She is an empath, feeling the room physically before most can visually assess. She is lithe, and well-balanced in step. Graceful, but haughty.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Lithe and toned from a lifetime of sword play (but yet not sword play)

Body Features

Mood-defined tail, protruding horns, eyes that reflect in water or glass, skin that changes based on body heat.

Facial Features

Very charismatic and soft features.

Identifying Characteristics

Affinity for possession of her journal and letters

Physical quirks

Tail has a “mind” of its own

Special abilities

Mephistopheles attributes

Apparel & Accessories

Journal, letters

Personality Characteristics

Motivation

The mission. Living without them. Righting the wrong.

Social

Family Ties

Mamnen - twin brother Vereella - younger sister Jone - mother Ire - half-uncle (devil)

Religious Views

Acolyte of Sarissa Runesblood

Social Aptitude

Awkward at times. Language doesn’t translate perfectly the first try.

Speech

Fast. Deliberate. Loud. Huge diction.

Haughty, unkempt, and passionate, Atka is a youthful spirit who just wants what she wants when she wants it.

View Character Profile
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
Age
34
Children
Gender
Female
Eyes
Teal or purple
Hair
Raven black
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Grayish bluish hue
Height
6’4”
Weight
200 lbs
Quotes & Catchphrases
“Don’t tell me ‘don’t.’” “They call me devil.” “I was just shitting bubbles.”

Mini-Session Response: What Atka Wants

Atka lied in bed, thoughts racing between seeing Imperius, screaming at Orion, sorting things out between Nomad and Illidrex… She knew she had to square with her inner demons, which seemed to be external devils – herself included. Could she reconcile that every devil she had come into contact with had, in some way, tried to influence her to feel, think, do a certain thing–most of them in petrifying ways? Simply because the results had turned out in her and the party’s favor due to Imperius’s suggestion/role/influence, should that directly exclude the very “nature” that seems to become them all?   “Us all,” she corrected and threw the pillow over her face. How could promise to end Nomad but save Mamnen for ultimately the same crime? Foolish girl, she thought. You can’t befriend everyone; there will be those you like who don’t like you. Her observations–the facts:   Orion has been her companion. Orion has had Imperius aiding him for a long time. Imperius is a devil. Orion and Atka descend from devils, as tieflings–Atka more recent in the bloodline, as her mother is half-blooded. Nomad admitted to working and living as a devil. Nomad admitted to a change, and a risk of regression. Imperius suggested Atka embrace hate as fuel for prejudice and not experience.   Insofar, evidence suggests that it’s not devil and angel–just like Mamnen said all along. Devils appear to do good–but it had never been Atka’s contention that they were impervious to good, just impervious to altruistic intention.   She threw the pillow off of her face and rolled onto her side, sighing loudly. Atka saw Illidrex’s three cards circling her mind’s eye. Elementalist, Enchanter (reversed), and Missionary. What did she truly want? She knew she didn’t want to hurt the people she loved, she knew that she wanted Mamnen to be safe, she knew that she wanted not to fear the storm that Illidrex was talking about just because she heard it roar. The Missionary discussion weighed on her a bit. Illidrex had suggested that she find what she wanted or not, and bring that out to the world around her.   Atka squinted into the darkness and attempted to recall those late nights reading in Neverwinter at the Hall of Justice. She had found some old prayer books that were likely from prior to the priests of Torm’s and Lord Dagult’s moving in for Tyr. Very intriguing, and Atka had always remembered loving the idyllic beliefs but didn’t dare pursue more about Tyr, as she would’ve directly opposed Lord Dagult. The prayer had suggested that Tyr considered them all as family, who encouraged them to try and want to be perfect, who valued trust, courage and love toward one another. That had always made her think of how she would’ve wanted those in her life to feel around her.   Did she dare ask for guidance from a god she’d never spoken to?   As if she’d asked rhetorically, she said aloud, sitting upright, “Oh, wise and mighty Tyr, if you’re listening to this humbled and confused tiefling mercenary, I ask for your directive guidance. I’d like a nudge somehow on how I break the need to fulfill two perceived expectations of me–be a natural devil, or be a natural angel–when I don’t have sure-footing on a natural me? Please, please consider this appeal to your wizened, altruistic nature as an honest cry for help.”   Atka opened her eyes, leaned back onto her hands while sitting upright on the bed, and waited to feel or perceive anything.

Session 10: Just Who...

Session 10: Just Who Am I Fighting With?   The rainy battle is relentless and fierce. The skeletons, zombies, ghostly apparitions in the forms of tables and even figures, and cultists seem to seep through every crevice. I am relying heavily on my devil magic traits. Too heavy for my comfort. It just helps me to see more clearly in the practically black house and it also appears to be effective. I clean up my area with the help of some of my companions, and begin to chastise more my way from the smokey corner I was in.   The sounds of the ensuing battle behind me begin to drown out and a nondescript says in my head "Sadachbia is captured. Exit out the door in front of you if you don't want him to die." It's not a voice I've heard. I have no intuitive inclination if I trust it, and I also know I don't want Sadachbia dead. Behind me the desperate voice of Angus calls out, "Atka! Where are you?!" I snap back into my focus, ready my sword, and dart out the door.   Nomad's inquiry to Angus of what's happening is the last thing I hear before my eyes drink up the scene. A boneclaw--one that I read about in the libraries of Neverwinter while training to be Lord Dagult's bodyguard--stands with eyes burrowing into me, a nearly lifeless Sadachbia run though and casting a spell. As if on a cue, the boneclaw parts his spindly, gigantic arms outstretched, seeming to rip my companion into pieces. I scream. There was no blood or matter at all, and my ears pick up his and Nomad's voices behind me. I turn my focus back to what I had run out there for.   I charge forward to swing the Flame Blade, and before it connects, the boneclaw extends the reach and grapples me, moving with me away from the door and my backup. It was not long before I hear "ATKAAA!!" from behind, the familiar voice of Illidrex. He's suddenly upon us with radiant energy and attacks clipping both me and the boneclaw. I don't care that I am bleeding and nearing passing out. I call up a second wind, brace myself, and rip out of it's grasp just in time for a winged, hastened attack from the powerful Nomad. It still unnerves and exhilarates me, watching his true power. Mamnen says that I will come into my own once I stop resisting conventions of limits. We'll see.   A loud scream from a ghoul behind me. Kal makes quick work of that one. And with Nomad and the others filing out, we clear out the rest of those enemies... I know the natures of boneclaws... I know it'll be back if we don't kill the source...   Running on nothing, the team pulls itself back into a fiery tavern. Sadachbia and others put out most of the fires around. I see a saw group of us gathering behind a figure at the bar. It's Illidrex. His mask is on the table. None of us try to see his face as he shovels down a bottle of wine. He asks Honorine how much she saw. Eventually, he reveals to us all his incredible history of being tortured...to the degree of wanting vengeance on the five responsible. Angus, Nomad, and I attempt to reason out how vengeance can be done without torture--I go one step further to say without punitive interests but that's me--Orion validates the feelings, extends an offer to help Illidrex, and when Nomad protests, Orion suggests that Nomad may have abandoned him to some degree? They may be family, and they may have shaken each other's hands afterward, but the water under that bridge be not still, as Helja would tell me.   As things tense up when Illidrex asks Honorine for his pendant back and she leaves stating she'll "make it right", my anxiety rises as I hear Sadachbia reiterate to the group that Manshoon took the Stone of Golorr. So our first key on this, my ridiculous sidequest, is gone. I hear Manshoon's name and it's like I feel color draining from my face. Knowing what I know of him from my past (his influence over my future, his toying with me in his challenges, his energy), and knowing what I know from him from this crew's travels together (the almost fantastical, tyrannical lore, the cloning, the devil/demon play...), I don't want to be the one to have to put us in his grasp.   There are those I won't tell, Illidrex one of them now... so keen to torture someone, to feel good when inflicting such physical punishment... It makes me physically ill to look at him, despite my aches for his experiences. At any rate, I call out to Angus and Nomad and say that I need two people I feel safe around. I first share the voice in my head before rushing out to help Sadachbia. Angus said he heard a command in his head to follow me! My suspicions, questions, and anxieties make bumps rise on my arms. He says that Orion needs to be present for the conversation, and he fetches him. Angus begins to explain the voices to which Orion states that he had specifically told Angus never to mention them. Pleadingly, I ask for information from Orion. Anything helpful about who this voice was, where it might have come from, or its motivation for me. Orion "crumples his parchment" for the first time and attempts to lie to me, saying "It could be anyone. Sadachbia maybe?" I'm terse, but firm in that Sadachbia does refer to himself in the third person. He attempts again to spin a web but missteps when he says that the voice in Angus' head could be any helpful voice. I asked to clarify whether he meant that because he had just said that he was responsible for the voice in Angus' head and didn't want him to mention it.   Orion claps and stands stiff and asks me, "What do you want to know? Just ask plainly." There are one thousand questions racing through my head.   I list off I want to know who he's getting this ability from, how he got, whose voice it is, what interest it has in me, and what it's intention was with intruding in my head? Orion states in brevity that he paid the sum of 500 gold in exchange for some unique abilities that allow him to do things helpful to his cause. He did not answer who.   "I'll say it, Orion. Don't make me use it like this, and don't think I won't." I say, referring to our promises made to each other. He had used his when Renear arrived to drop my reactive state. I thought it was a misuse. Was this really how I wanted to use this? I went over it in my head: the people who had been in my head unwelcomed were Honorine and Sadachbia, Ire, and Mamnen...and now a mystery individual. What if it was one of them? Or worse...?   "Say it," Orion challenged. Mistake, I thought. I follow-through on my challenges.   "1000 pushups."   He snaps his fingers... and an impish, devilish figure appears silhouetted behind him, and I lose all color in my body--purple to gray.

Session 8: What am I doing?

There was an explosion outside our new tavern and "home."   I raced out among the rest of the party, and my eyes fell shocked to the scorched red hair of the boy whose father I called...no, there isn't time for sentiment! I raced to Renaer Neverember, only to be shocked further as he simply stabilized after Nomad laid his healing hands upon him. Regulus, in all his might and call-to-action, scooped him up and raced to the interior of the tavern. I immediately followed and ushered Regulus to go to help the others. There were the sounds of screams, arrows flying... I saw one hit Orion in the sky from the window.   Am I really doing this? Am I really about to abandon the mission? THE mission? I thought. Gritting my teeth, I threw up a nearby table on its side against the wall and pulled Renaer's stabilized, yet unconscious body behind its cover across the room. I asked Lif, that friendly ghost, to hasten and search for ANY potions that might have been left there. He found one, and color seeped back into Renaer's face a bit as I administered it to him softly. After, I swiftly coaxed Briggs, Illidrex's hound, to the tableside in the hopes that he would protect him somewhat as I knew I wouldn't be there. After a quick, tender gaze down at what it could mean to leave him behind, I turned and darted out of the tavern and into the chaos.   There was an enormous hole in the building beside me, but I didn't enter through it as I saw what appeared to be branches from a tree peering out from the hole and into the building. There was no time to investigate THAT, so I ran in the door to see Illidrex at the foot of the stairs within the tree's branches inside, flexibly holding himself and weapon. He waved at me, his hand covered in fresh blood. I immediately looked around and saw the victim, who apparently was not innocent in his own intentions as he had a weapon on him. There was a commotion and fury of steps on the level above and suddenly a body flew down onto the stairwell, of which Illidrex made quick work. After his ascent to the next level, I carefully followed to see my friends Nomad and Illidrex over the body of a knoll.   Nomad broke through the bay window and hoisted himself upon the roof. Illidrex asked if I was okay, and I said that I was fine until I heard--or we heard--the cracking of what sounded like stone and a surprised gasp from Nomad. I darted to the window, and asked, "Nomad! What is it? Do you need help?"   "It's a gargoyle. And yes, I just might!"   "Where is it?!" I asked not wanting to peer out, but an idea starting to come to mind.   "To the left!" came his response. There was not a lot of feet to the left. I had it. I climbed out the bay window and caught myself on the upper ledge, nearly missing the first time, and allowed myself to dangle by my right hand. I inhaled deeply, remembering what Mamnen had told me about the limitations--or lack of limitation--of my abilities. I visualized what I wanted to do to this thing as it was breaking out of its "shell" and emit a thick, fiery cone from my left hand meaning to engulf it in flames. It worked and didn't take it down. But it's attention was now on me.   Arrows from other buildings did fly by but seemed to miss for now, the gargoyle's slashing and biting I somehow dodged initially... until Illidrex used my hips as a training pole or something. He swung from me and attempted to finish the gargoyle off, but ended up dismounting and near the opening with the tree on the ground. "Illidrex! I guess I'll just have to do this on my own, eh?" I visualized a sword of fire now, knowing my sheathed great sword was too heavy with one hand. I connected with the creature enough times to kill it, and he with me to make me bleed somewhat. After his demise, I dropped to the ground, and found myself exhausted and weaker than I've been in awhile.   Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nomad, Sadachbia, and far ahead of them Regulus rushing off in an opposite direction. "Illidrex, where are they going? What's going on? Is Renaer with them?"   "I don't know. Nobody tells me anything," is what I think I heard him say.   I heard a voice say that Orion was in the house with him, and I immediately cried out, "That's WORSE!" I rushed back into the house, arrows pelting me through my armor and by the time I got into the house, I heard Orion say something about following the party for the stone and next I noticed he was gone. I pried myself over to Renaer and Briggs to see that they both had remained in the same conditions. I propped up against the wall to rest, stroking Briggs down his head and back, and Renaer's shoulder-length red hair on the floor to stay grounded.   Not before long, Angus appeared. My breath caught in my throat as he walked directly through the house and out the back. Figuring I'd be needed, as I sensed Angus' concern, I pulled myself up and followed him. And just like that, I exited the house only to find myself back IN the house and bumping directly over Angus, who was also in the tavern... I turned to see everyone was here, in varying degrees of wellness, plus someone more--a young woman with horns similar to mine. She and Nomad were arguing. My gods, I thought, could this be she who I remind him of???   We woke Renaer up. Questioning ensued of which I can't remember much...until the two--Renaer and Zora, I guess her name is--were asked about the explosion. "We this," "we that," "so-and-so in a hood" everytime they said something, someone asked a question or someone else would get terse, and yes, once or twice it was me.   "Can you describe the hood?" Honorine asked.   "Black... All I know is that he had a metal hand."   Zora spoke through my exhaustion, my mental fog, my pain, and my unclarity. "Metal hand? No, no, no!" I said... Someone asked if I knew him.   "Is it who I am thinking of?" Nomad asked hesitantly.   "No," I said immediately, then couldn't remember what I had told him all in our history. "Maybe. I don't know. Who are you thinking of?"   "Well, you told us of Ire or Mamnen--"   "No, it's not who you're thinking of." I explained to him, loopily, the Ring of Dex, the Ring Master, and then immediately asked Zora what he had to do with wanting the stone, which is what they got apparently, and also reminded Renaer that he was GOING back to Neverwinter.   Through the questioning and putting our heads together. My Ring Master is Nomad's secret Black Network leader is Zora's awareness of Manchoon (SP?). And the stone was found in Victoro something's house, where there is DEVIL summoning going on, which was the name Nomad heard in a battle he was in before all appeared in the tavern.   The two--Renaer and Zora--go to rest and we stay up. Sadachbia retires, Regulus leaves the premises, Honorine seeks him out, and Nomad talks with many of the others... And Angus and Lif nurse me to "health" with food and liquor.   Time passes and I feel a strong shift in the light energy. Regulus appears out of sorts as I place hands on my stomach to feel the sickness growing with me from it. I challenge him to a keg-pressing contest. I pound one five times. He does three, then struggles at four and five, almost deceptively. I call out to him "How come I won?" but there was no answer.   I return to drinking and watch as bizarre behavior unfolds around this..."stone." People who seem to talk about it, take it absentmindedly and won't return it. It's probably some devil-shit. Orion suggests Nomad tune into it, whatever that entails... And all I know is that the face Nomad made is a very similar face to the last one my mother made when she realize Ire was taking her "home."

Session 7: To reconcile self or him?

Atka flipped through the journal briefly as she nervously waited for the message to come back from the Mage's Guild. She thought about what Nomad had said to her about not wanting to involve her in his battles, which is why he wouldn't show his face to her... and she had thrust him so deeply into hers without much thought of a consequence... Focusing back on the journal to rid herself of the sadness, she resumed waiting. Angus had graciously agreed after his successful trial to get in touch with his mentor, Delgin Quik. She really hoped he could help protect her from becoming like Mamnen had become...is becoming? She thought about trying to hide herself to ensure no one could help Mamnen identify and seek revenge/vengeance on her for his death, if he had died. He must've died. She held his corpse. But to hide herself truly would be so incredibly difficult: she had these horns that really helped her to stand out...that and how to hide in dreams?   Angus came to her after a while and said that they could go meet with Delgin. He knew to ask if she wanted Illidrex to come along. Atka played it cool and said, "If he wants to come..." Angus just replied "Yes, I'll get him." He saw right through her. Still a terrible liar, she thought of herself. Illidrex, Angus, and she did all go to Mount Waterdeep's edge. Just seeing it so close again gave her chills about that day.   After being led in, Delgin was quick to meet. Angus and he embraced. Atka relayed her story and concerns about becoming more like what a devil might be like, succumbing to intense feelings and eventually the dreams about her brother. Delgin was quick to confirm that perhaps, yes, Mamnen was still alive, and that she should seek him out and attempt to reconcile and save him. She, taking the knowledge of staying in control and not succumbing to temptation, thanked Delgin. Angus and he resumed catching up while Illidrex and she looked on.   Suddenly, Angus took out his weapon and placed it on his lap, very stoic. Illidrex coaxed it out of him that he was feeling a certain "foreboding" and they all might have to leave. Atka placed a hand on her abdomen to feel something, anything from those and did feel a distinct hole in the pit of her stomach, as though nervousness or fear gripped some of who she knew.   Upon arriving back at the Wandering Spirits, Atka saw Nomad praying and decided to wait patiently before approaching him about news of Mamnen. A crowd of her comrades formed around him: Angus, Kal, Orion... after some intense discussion she couldn't hear, things lightened up and she figured she could approach. She sat down and revealed Mamnen being alive, the dreams about him, what Delgin had said, and eventually, even around those who didn't really know--thank goodness Illidrex had shown up!--told them all about Ire Mennith. Kal seemed to recognize the name, stating he was a "trickster" devil. That was an interesting description pulled right from the journal. Why or how he knew that, Atka would have to explore later.   Nomad had stiffened, she noticed, after the mention of Ire and seemed to grow defensive or angry (to her) when she had said that she had been considering summoning him to make a deal to help her mother. Nomad firmly lifted his visor, displaying his face for the first time. Atka just stared and took it all in. He told her never to mess with this devil, that she reminded him of someone he cared for, and if she (that person) had ever been in this position, that is what he'd want her to know. Atka reassured him she was far too scared to go through with it, but her brother may not have been.   Nomad went on to tell everyone that it wasn't there only issue. That he had found out some things from his contact about the Black Network and the Stone of Galore. He stated that they knew where to start looking for this key, if it is a key... Atka immediately asked, "Do the people who are otherwise looking for it know that Renaer doesn't have it?" No confirmed answer. Her heart raced, she thought of Renaer being alone and at risk, having to later possibly bring Dagult bad news...   An explosion interrupted the conversation from just outside the door, one that shook the walls and rattled the windows... What in the Nine Hells....?

Ire's Ire: Mamnen Alive

Mamnen gasped and sputtered, eyes wide and drinking in a bright blue sky above him, evident that he was back on Faerun. He ran his hands wildly across his chest, gasping audibly instead of breathing–breath not catching because of his obvious panic–and closing his eyes taking in his last experience.   “How did she defeat you?” Ire’s dual-corded voice was more of a low growl.   “Baator is– Is–”   “I know. You’re out now, and I won’t ask you a third time: How did she defeat you?!” Ire erupted . Mamnen flinched at his uncle’s forcefulness, and gently fluttered his own eyes open to look into his face, feeling meek for the first time in a long time.   Baator had been awful. The screams, the wind seeming carry thousands of them for miles, there was torture, creatures he’d never seen–most violent–and he had been truly alone.   “She didn’t,” Mamnen whispered. “I think I may have been ambushed.”   Ire’s beady little eyes widened, making the pupils seem to shrink. “She dared to ambush the mighty Mamnen? She broke your covenant?!”   “Y-yes. I remember now,” Mamnen sat up and felt his back, feeling no pain but finding his tunic in tatters. “She didn’t come alone–”   Ire stood straight, looked to the sky, and belted out an outraged yell, shaking the ground and scaring birds and others around to take flight away. Mamnen looked at him curiously and drew his knees to his chest, resting his forearms on them.   “Uncle, I will make this right.”   “This is exactly why I wanted your detachment from her, Mamnen. You couldn’t see that she is like her fucking mother–”   “Mother betrayed you,” Mamnen determined. “How?”   “Jone Mennith is naturally deceptive and managed to convince me that in getting out of Baator, she and I would both be benefitted. She would add to my soul pool, I would add to my soul pool, and she would get her freedom. But one day the innocent souls stopped filtering in and she cast a protection around herself to guard her from my finding her physically or in dreams.” He was getting more and more escalated as he recounted this, Mamnen noticed. Ire’s fisted hands were at his waist. “Jone Mennith found out she was pregnant and must have ‘fallen in love’ because that was around that time. It took me almost eleven years to track that fucker down.”   Mamnen sat piecing it all together, not wanting to further question the devil. His mother had contracted her freedom in exchange for souls and the potential of her future children, changed her mind part way through, and vanished. If that simple act of soul collection stopping enraged him, what would he have done if she had attempted or accomplished what Atka had done to Mamnen? He knew from his reading what Ire was capable of unprovoked, as most of the examples in the books were tales about his play, but he couldn’t help but to wonder just what else his uncle could do…?   “I’m sorry she did you dirty, uncle. It sounds like it hurts you.”   “Hurts me?” Ire was disarmed and suddenly laughed. “No, it does not hurt me, Mamnen, quarter-nephew. It enrages me. It sends me into a fit, and I cannot be held responsible for what her actions inspire me to do–that is why I hunted her down: the more active I am, the more likely whoever might be looking for me from Baator will take notice.”   “Hm. I understand. You think this situation with Atka risks you too–”   “Of course it risks me! Mamnen, I had to bring you back from Baator, from the dead! That kind of interference is noticeable–by the Nine Hells and Celestia, for certain.”   Mamnen paled. “I was…” he trailed off.   “Dead? Yes. You were dead.”   Mamnen’s face suddenly hardened to a stone-like, cold visage. “I do not know this woman. Not anymore. Nor will let her and that fucking hidden sword bearer go.”   “Just what are you planning to do? Did you even see his face?”   “No, just Atka’s. Although, I heard his unmistakable voice. Uncle!” Mamnen pushed off his knees to stand and took a step toward the devil, who did not react to the sudden excitement. “Quickly. Scold me again with that deep, echoing voice of yours.”   “What? Are you going mad?”   “No, please say something.”   Ire gritted and bared his teeth at the young tiefling, hissing, “You disappointed me, Mamnen. I told you not to.”   “Yes! That voice was–wait, I did?” Mamnen asked, defensively. Ire waved his concern aside, so Mamnen continued, but was shaken in that he didn’t believe the devil at that moment, “That’s a voice he used I think. Or something very similar… It was low, raspy, and I’m not sure but it felt…familiar. I can’t describe it.”   Ire cocked an eyebrow at Mamnen hastily talked about this mysterious slayer of a member of his family, his apprentice. “Hm. I’ve never really thought about influence through familiarity with a voice. You could try–”   “No. I got the distinct impression that I should not try to influence the familiarity I was recognizing.”   “Why?” Ire crossed his arms. “Afraid of disappointing me? Possibly again?” He was toying with Mamnen now, Mamnen figured. He knew disappointment was not a quality he wanted to share with anyone.   “I can’t really say. Other than the fact that just trying to analyze the connection as the…life drained out of me after the twist of the sword…” Both men slowly growled. “...I noticed that it struck a healthy fear in me.”   “‘Healthy fear’? What even is that?”   “It’s when you know you should heed what it says, Uncle.”   “Mortals…” Ire sighed. “Alright, don’t find him by the voice. How do you intend on finding and fixing this? Because I expect retribution, Mamnen. I risk my freedom for you, you owe me something until I determine we’re square.”   “You want Atka’s soul. I’ll get you her soul.”   “No, I just want her subdued. Taken off my radar. Send her to Heaven, send her to Hell, send her to Fantasy Land–so long as she doesn’t come back.” Ire said definitively. Mamnen paused, having two questions but not wanting to ask. Ire entered his thoughts, stating Just speak.   “Two things: what has she done to you personally to make you react this way, and also how can I ensure she doesn’t come back when I can plainly see that I came back?”   Ire grinned and held up two fingers, one on each of his huge hands. “To answer the first, I will just say, she has continuously disappointed me and now I am not amused.” Mamnen frowned, drawing a similar link between Ire’s disappointment and Ire’s own wrath. He did not want to fall onto Atka’s bench in his eyes. “And to answer your second question, if there’s no one around to care about her leaving, no one will bring her back.”   Mamnen inhaled sharply, quietly, hoping that Ire didn’t hear the surprise in the small gasp. “Those are the souls you want? You mean to say, anyone who might bring her back?”   Ire grinned horn-to-horn, that grin that comforted Mamnen most days into thinking he had been doing something right, that he’d been making progress, that he’d been getting somewhere. “I wasn’t going to ask for the souls, but since you offered so nicely. Yes, fetch those for me and we’ll call ourselves square.”   “What?”   “You kill, banish, subdue At-ka. You hunt down and collect the souls of all who may try to undo it. Do those three things for me, and I will consider us even for risking my freedom with this ambush debacle.”   Mamnen didn’t like the implication that he had done it on purpose, but his devil uncle was right in that because of ignorant inaction, that sneaky twin of his and her compatriot had gotten the better of him, forcing Ire’s hand. “Alright, consider this a covenant, uncle. I will ensure that Atka–and anyone she’s ever associated with–are ended…only…”   “Only what?”   “I don’t know how to trap souls and give them to you.”   “Small potatoes. Let me show you something…”

A New Pastime

Mamnen tossed a few more purses into the back room of Mammy’s Place and shut and locked the door, so anyone entering the shop couldn’t find his stash of riches. He expected Ire any minute of any day now to teach him the new skill, although he had to admit to himself that he’d been trying it on his own and failing. His uncle would likely not be pleased with that–not the attempting without direction part, but the failing. That’s all Mamnen needed: to disappoint his powerful devil uncle.   “Hello, Mamnen,” someone said, walking in. It was a curly, red-haired human woman in a handsome chemise and kirtle. Mamnen eyed her soft features and slipped his eyes up and down her petite figure. She instantly blushed, catching him doing this. “Mamnen!” she giggled. “What’s that look for? Did I get something on my clothes?”   “No, you look ravishing…” Mamnen stared blankly for a moment at her, having forgotten her name. She smiled sweetly, reading him like a book there.   “Eblee, remember?”   “I remember you, but I didn’t remember your name, Eblee. I am very sorry,” Mamnen said. “I think I may have been a little taken with you that night,” he added in a whisper. She blushed again, and timidly tucked some of her curls under the coif she wore over the top of her head.   “I don’t usually do that sort of thing. I can’t even remember what you said to convince me to go home with you…” she murmured. Mamnen slowly made his sauntery way over to the smaller framed woman and leaned down to her ear to whisper,   “I told you exactly what I wanted.”   He felt her shudder with anticipation, so without hesitating he released a soft, lingering, warm breath into her exposed ear. He felt her hands suddenly grip each side of his tunic at his waist. Smiling and forgetting his expectation of Ire’s arrival any minute of any day, he lifted his hand and coaxed the door to lock them in. Mamnen pressed the side of his head against hers, and nuzzled forcibly breathing into her ear and onto her neck.   “What is it that you want, Eblee?”   “Oh, please don’t make me ask,” she pleaded, leaving small kisses on his chest. Mamnen used both hands to remove her coif by tenderly stroking over her shoulder length hair.   “I want to hear you say it,” he cooed into her ear. She whined and exhaled as if she were in pain. Mamnen realized she was lusting after him right now, of course, and it exhilarated him that he was in complete control without having to actively influence her. Eblee was legitimately interested in him.   “I want you to take me in whatever way you can.”   “Deal,” he said and gripped her head with both hands, thumbs in front of her ears. Mamnen forced his tongue into her mouth hungrily, and she moaned with delight into his mouth, only making him want her more. He wrapped his tail around to her back and began to lift the kirtle, bringing one hand down to meet her now exposed posterior. He squeezed for another moan from her, and not surprising to him, she leaned into the touch.   He opened his eyes, sucking on her lower lip, and caught a glimpse of another figure in the room. Mamnen did not stop what he was doing, but increased his movements as if countdown had started. Using his other hand, Mamnen rather toughly grabbed her left breast and twisted, causing a very audible gasp from Eblee. The satisfied looking devil Ire watched briefly through Mamnen’s impending glares, and then mouthed, “Watch this.”   Ire blew softly on his own palm and placed it on Eblee’s shoulder. She instantly tensed, but she wasn’t reacting to the touch of Ire. No, she was reacting to the touch of Mamnen. She was angry now. “You let me go, you fucking asshole. You did it again. You tricked me into a compromising position!” Eblee shouted and began striking him with both fists on his chest. Mamnen flinched and backed up, releasing her. “You do that to all women, don’t you? You disgusting freak!” Suddenly, she grabbed a short sword off his wall and lunged at him.   “Eblee! Stop! I didn’t trick you–”   “Oh, please,” she scoffed, swinging widely. “As if I would ever go with you willingly. HELP! HELP! WATCH! GUARD–”   Mamnen froze her instantly, catching her and the shortsword midswing. He looked at Ire. “What in the Nine Hells is that behavior?”   “I severed your romantic and sexual connection. Just like I said I could do. I can also sever connections of familial relationships, professional relationships, and friendships–but those are the most advanced. That behavior there is the only viable aftermath.”   Mamnen looked at the frozen woman before him and brushed the hair out of his eyes, only for it to fall right back. Eblee was the only woman he’d lied with in any kind of carnal sense… and she had come back to him. And now? She wanted him dead.   “I get it,” he admitted. “Now, fix it so she can leave.”   Ire belly-laughed and shook his head. “There’s no giving it back once severed! Have you ever tried to befriend an enemy? Or sleep with, well…” Ire motioned to her. Mamnen’s heart sank a bit.   “So, she’s going to hate me forever?”   “Oh yes.”   “That was lowly of you,” Mamnen said and ripped the shortsword out of Eblee’s frozen, floating hand.   “Oh, what? You’re going to fuck with me now? There will be other women for you,” Ire laughed at him and gasped Mamnen cracked his neck and slit Eblee’s. “I would love to know why you did that.”   “She was going to go to the Watch or the Guard to call me an assaulter of some kind. I can’t afford to be out of the shadows yet. I can’t portal away, uncle. The least you can do is help me to clean your mess up.”   Ire grinned approvingly at the young man before him, snapped his fingers, and drained a small light out of the dying body on the floor between them into his hand.   “What is that?”   “Her soul,” Ire answered. “You don’t have a use for it. I do.” Mamnen nodded and levitated the body to cast it into the fire, he figured. “Oh, stop it.” He snapped his fingers again and it disappeared from the room, minus the blood that seeped into the floor. “We have work to do if I’m going to teach you how to do that. How do you suppose you’ll use it?”   “As a threat to start. But I need to ensure I can do it, in case it sparks an actual reaction.”   “Ah, Atka.” Ire determined. Mamnen’s lips curled up at the corners and he nodded. “Alright, that sounds good to me. I support anything that helps you detach from that pisspoor excuse for a Mennith.”   Mamnen looked at him out of the corner of his eye, not judging but not not judging. They spent the rest of the afternoon going over the activation of Mamnen’s palm’s rune and then Mamnen went on a walkabout to test his skill by touching the shoulders of people in groups. He didn’t stop until he’d gotten it down.

A Fitting End

“Mammy, I can’t believe you threatened her!” Vereella exclaimed. “She just came back to us, and you’ve driven her away again, probably for good!”   “I did not threaten her, Vereella. I was trying to warn her what would happen if she continued down her chosen path. She’s in a dangerous scenario where she is… An affair with Dagult Neverember is basically a target if it gets out, and his son knows and is not approving of it. It is only a matter of time before–”   “I perish the thought!” she whispered. “We have to get her back, Mammy. I can’t let her fall in the hands of jail, or an actual physical target–or worse! We’ve got to go, Mammy! Now!” Vereella darted into the back room to get dressed for hastened travel.   Mamnen knew what had to happen to prevent Vereella from actually doing this, and again, it was not the content that surprised him. Actually, the trigger didn’t either. Nothing did.   “Vereella, I really must protest this. Atka is haughty and strong. Who knows what she might do if we follow her?”   Vereella came out in travelers clothes now and glared at him. “And just who is to blame for her hostility, Mammy? She said so herself; if you show restraint, we’ll be fine.”   “I don’t think she said that.” Mamnen raised both eyebrows at her, wondering if that’s truly how she took Atka’s counter-threat.   “She said if you didn’t, she’d end you, meaning that IF she was to see us again, YOU’d have to show restraint for her to allow it.”   “How do you suppose that’s what she meant by it? It sounded to me like she was just trying to say that if I didn’t show restraint, then neither would she–and her comrades. Who’s to say she wouldn’t involve the others?”   “Oh, come now, Atka doesn’t associate with anyone who would just kill to kill. She’s smarter than that.” Vereella said, waving his notion away.   Mamnen got very serious and attempted one more time to convince not to do this, to rein her back into his fold. “No, people are who they show you to be. One of her associates is Renaer Neverember, who held a rapier to my throat for defending her, and we know another associate of hers to be his father–and we both know what atrocities he’s capable of, with a smile no less. People are what they show you. That ‘smarter than that’ assumption is just your optimism. We have to treat her not on who we think she can be, but instead on who she shows us she chooses to be.”   Vereella hesitated and looked down, considering his seemingly wise point. He knew he was right for the most part, but he honestly didn’t know Atka’s associates from a stranger, so he was taking a gamble there. Atka had given him enough fire power with her association with the Neverembers. Thank goodness for that, too, because it looked like Vereella would–   “Even so, it’s our responsibility to get her out of this. You said so yourself, it’s an unspoken agreement. She’s in danger, so the family gets her out.”   Family is nothing, he wanted to say. “I’m not going, Vereella.”   “Fine, I’ll go on my own. Probably for the best anyway, since you two seem to be threatening each other’s lives under the mask of flowery language.” Vereella said, adjusted the pack on her back and started for the door. As she passed by her brother, who grimaced the entirety of her response, she said, “Don’t think I’ll forget this. There’s no buying your way back from sentencing our sister.”   Mamnen growled slowly in the back of his throat, a decision being made at that moment. He turned to her as she opened the door. “Vereella, wait!” he said. She stopped and turned to look at him, intrigued to know what he wanted. He sighed and lowered his tone of voice. “I should come with you. You don’t know where she is staying. It’ll be quicker.”   Vereella’s relieved smile and nod was all but sickening to him. He led her out the door, locking it behind him. Mamnen felt like he should say something sentimental or something, given the nature of their trip and how it might change the future of the family. “Say, ‘bye, apartment,’” he jokingly sang, nothing better coming to mind. Oh well, he thought. He wasn’t Helja, he didn’t have a patron like Atka, and he certainly was not going to appeal to Ire right now.   “Bye, apartment,” she repeated, softly chuckling at the reemergence of her playful brother. He grinned slightly into the nothingness before him, knowing she wasn’t looking to see.   “Come, it’s a long walk to the docks,” he said.   “She’s staying at the docks.” Vereella stated, wrinkling her nose. “That doesn’t seem right that Dagult Neverember would put her up there.”   “Of course, she’s a traveler. How do you suppose she gets down and up the Sword Coast?” he asked and began leading them down a rather deserted thoroughfare. Night was falling, most were in their homes or in taverns carousing.   “Oh, so she’s a sailor.”   “Mhm. She told me so.” Mamnen lied and cleared his throat. Vereella didn’t say anything further but instead walked nearer to her brother, a bit nervous. “What is it?” he asked.   “I’ve…never been to the Dock Ward. Is it as scary as they say?”   Mamnen chuckled. “People go every day and are fine. It’s as safe as our Trade Ward.” Vereella wasn’t convinced. “Besides, I’m here to protect you, and once we find Atka and her friends, we’ll be in even greater safety. There’s no need to worry.” For now, he thought and visibly shook his head trying to rid himself from thinking about the future actions, in case anyone dared to read his thoughts or be watching him.   He thought for a moment about Castiel’s eyes being on him, which began to make him a bit paranoid. But he hadn’t done anything…except threaten a noble in the middle of the street by the library where the angel tended to matriculate. That was stupid. Mamnen sighed and wondered about any repercussions. He quickly banished the worry when he remembered that Ire said the consequences wouldn’t be his. He didn’t fully understand what that actually meant, but it was reassuring in this moment.   “Mammy, this is stupid. Going to the Dock Ward at night and possibly getting in a fight is stupid.”   “No, it’s not. You were right. Family helps family. We have to get her back at any cost…” Mamnen struggled to sound convincing. He recognized this voice as his own at fourteen. Such a strange thing to hear it again.   “Any cost? What do you think might happen?” Vereella nervously wrapped her arms around his as they walked.   “Well, I can’t rightfully say, darling. What I can say is that anything unexpected will be met swiftly and tactically. Remember, I’ve trained for this–it appears Atka has too.”   “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Vereella sighed. They walked in silence past closed shops, the few carriages trotting by, and people eyeing the two tieflings curiously. Mamnen was impervious to their curiosity, but Vereella felt exposed and vulnerable, which he could feel.   “Could you do something different to try and relax?”   “Like what? We’re going somewhere I’m not familiar with and which is reputed to be dangerous, all to find someone who doesn’t want to see us. It’s anxiety provoking!” she stated. Her volume caused a few stares, which Mamnen caught and he stopped their stroll. Vereella looked up at him. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t be talking so loudly when we’re trying not to startle her.”   “Or others.”   “Right,” she said. Mamnen pulled her close, stroking her hair from her head to her shoulders. She instantly relaxed in his arms and hugged him around his midsection. “I don’t want to lose her again, Mammy. I’ve missed her so much. I took her for granted. I don’t even think she knows I love her… I don’t know if she loves me…”   “Oh, darling,” Mamnen started and held her tightly. “Of course she knows that you do, and of course she loves you. We both do. You’re our little sister.”   “Yes, but like you said, I’m not a twin–or I guess a triplet. I’ve always been ‘other’ for you two. It’s always made me sad and jealous. But when she left all that time ago, I told myself to abandon those feelings and make space for her, and I knew just as you did that she’d come back. And when she did, I would make space for her as my sister, without the sadness or jealousy to get in the way.”   “Vereella–”   “But now she’s left again! And I don’t think I can bear it–”   “We’re getting her back.”   “Are we? You don’t seem overly worried. You’re not speed walking, or talking about your concern, or anything. You’re consoling me.”   “You’re here with me now, you’ve been with me your whole life, and you wonder why my attention prefers you to the twin who deserted me twice?”   Vereella released him, face downcast, and nodded. “That is true. I didn’t consider that,” she whispered. “You don’t harbor any self-blame, do you?”   “Why would I? Atka and I provoke each other in ways that only twins can.”   “I guess, but you have to admit that the fights you had on both occasions were terse.” She emphasized the word ‘terse’ and Mamnen’s eye twitched slightly at it, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he thought of the recent fight and really wanted to see Atka try–just try–to take him down one-on-one. Their first fight didn’t bother him anymore, though he could tell it still held a soft spot for Atka.   “Yes, but I was not wrong.”   “Does that mean that she was?”   “Well–I suppose so.”   “Oh.” Vereella shut up at that point and they started for the Dock Ward again. Buildings around them seemed to lose their upkeep as they walked, as though the owners slowly lost money for or interest in them.   Mamnen peered down one of the alleys and looked at Vereella. “I think it would be faster if we cut through here.”   “Are you kidding me? In the dark? In the Dock Ward?”   “Don’t be such a child. Come on,” he said, grabbed her arm, and pulled her with him down the alley. The opposite mouth of the alley showed another road, much more deserted and not as kept up as the ones in the Trade Ward. Vereella’s fear had intensified, he could sense it. He felt her racing pulse in her wrist, but she did not fight him and continued to keep up.   Mamnen peered around the corner of the alley and saw the sign he was looking for. To Docks. He grinned a bit. “Alright,” he whispered and turned to look at her, “We have to go to a small house at the end of one of the docks, but we should be quiet so as not to let her know about our advance.”   “You really think she’d hurt us, Mammy?”   “My worry is that I don’t know, and I won’t take the chance of us getting ambushed and you possibly getting hurt. I swore that I would protect you, remember? I’m not losing another sister.”   “You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself,” she whispered. “Just be careful with that. I don’t want you to bring yourself pain.”   Sweet of you, he thought with disdain, but feigned a smile at her. “Let’s just be stealthy, alright?” Vereella gulped and nodded. The two began following the signs toward the docks, Vereella taking in all the lamps and homes along the road. They were butted up against each other like in the Trade Ward, but were mostly dark, and there was hardly any room on the road. Mamnen looked for the torches at the end of the dock he was thinking of. Seeing the small shack down the way, he led them to the edge of the dock, stopped them, and motioned at the dark shack and then shushed his sister by bringing a finger to his lips. She nodded knowingly and they tiptoed down the dark dock, the only sound being the rolling sea.   There was no moonlight, due to the clouds. Mamnen shook his head at the dumb luck. With the way they were dressed and their natural coloring, no one would see them. This will be over quickly now, he thought… They reached the end of the dock, crouching below the window of the shack. It was dark in there, and Mamnen sat down on the dock, leaning against the shack and letting the torchlight from the edge of the dock fall onto his face. He shushed Vereella again and motioned for her to peek in the window.   Quickly nodding, her eyes left him and began to rise to peek into the open hole in the shack. Mamnen’s face hardened as he watched her face change from concern to confusion, probably because she realized there were no people in there, but instead fishing and boat supplies. She made a movement to question him, but then gripped her throat as if it had closed.   Mamnen’s fists were rolled tightly as he ensured no air entered into her body. He stood up without his hands, concentrating solely on the task at hand. She began to claw at her throat, shooting him a look of terror and pleading eyes for help. His face did not change from the stoic, unfeeling one that had looked upon her a final time before her last inhale. Her eyes began to flutter, arms quickly becoming too heavy to control and falling to her side. Mamnen allowed her body to slide down the shack and sit on the dock as her limbs twitched and then went limp. He released his fists at his sides and eyed his handiwork. Upon his release, Vereella’s lifeless body fell to its side on the dock.   “I couldn’t have you outing me to Atka, Vereella, you understand,” he said into the dark, and raised his hand to levitate her body to his waist. “Her and my story isn't over yet. I’m sorry that you saw it fitting that ours had to be.” Without moving stance, he guided the corpse gently by moving his hand over the edge of the dock and released her into the water.

Severed Connection

Atka rolled over on her spot on the ground in the designated outdoor sleeping area. She liked to sleep outside, “under the shiny star” as she called it. She couldn’t lie on her stomach tonight for some reason. The discomfort was too great to handle. So, it was to be on her back then. She continued to roll each shoulder and fidget her legs in an attempt to get comfortable enough for sleep to take her.   “Oh, for the sake of–”   “Hello, Atka, my sweet quarter-niece.”   She leapt to her feet, after making sure her greatsword was in her hand this time. Atka stared down the demon Ire who seemed to radiate in the dark, his yellow eyes appearing as bright as small stars on his glimmering face. She panted as she had been startled up and was not at all at ease. “What do you want, devil?” her voice shook, remembering all of her night terrors and seeming to know what he was capable of.   Ire grinned that smarmy, smarmy grin at her and stepped forward, toward her readied (sort of) figure. She bounced back a step or two and raised the sword, wielding it in both hands naturally now. His cacophonous laugh made her tremble. “Retribution.”   “For what?”   Ire pondered that for a minute, as though he’d only said it because it sounded decent to say as an answer to her. Or that he hadn’t considered that she’d ask him to explain at all and wondered if he should tell her. It was probably that, she thought. “I want Jone’s promise. I want my contract fully fulfilled.”   “YOUR contract,” she spat back at him. “You sell her to those fighters in the Nether Mountains, north of Waterdeep, Neverwinter, pretty much all of Faerun, and you dare to tell me she promised you something–”   “Don’t insinuate that I’m a liar. There’s no money in it…for now. Read.” Ire instructed and dangled a thick, old-as-the-hills piece of parchment directly in front of her.   It was a long document, but Atka read it. It started simply, “An accord between brother and half-sister in the Mennith family line…” As she scanned her way through the contract, it became painfully obvious what it was saying. Her mother, Jone Mennith, was bartering for her freedom and the expense was essentially exceptional children. She (Jone) had mentioned that twice to him that night of his kidnapping of her and that she “wouldn’t do that” but would “pay the debt.” The debt was, according this parchment before her, 100 innocent souls to the contract holder.   “Did you read the last paragraph? My favorite part is when it says ‘And if I should bear children and any of them show promise for the work, I leave them to your care and direction should anything happen to me.’”   “You made something happen to her,” Atka said through gritted teeth. Ire’s grin did not fade, his affect of arrogance intact.   “She never specified that it had to be natural causes.”   Atka scoffed. “How was she supposed to fulfill her freedom–the benefit of the contract–, or pay her debt if she is under another type of contract, one of servitude?”   Ire shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”   “You literally do.” She was exasperated, still frightened, and a little intrigued as to what he wanted. Ire’s laugh trickled down her spine, and reminded her of his hand going up it in her night terrors. She shuddered, careful not to let her eyes close. “So, what? Are you here to care for and direct me because of my promise for the work? I refuse to do devil’s work.”   “Ha! You show no promise, don’t you worry. It’s not you that I am after. I am here to do something far, far worse.” Ire’s face had descended into a maddening staidness. Atka’s face lost its color as the fear replaced intrigue. Ire shot forward, rolling the parchment and kicking her swiftly across the face so intensely that she spun fully midair to land on her back on the ground, winded and swordless.   Atka thought better than to grunt, better than to scream and wake everyone in the camp. She didn’t think her crew was around, nor did she want to assume that anyone in the camp was able to fight this level of foe. She wasn’t, that was certain.   “Ask me.” Ire said placing a heavy booted foot on her chest and kneeling his weight forward. His eyes clawed their way into her brain and she couldn’t process the order at all.   “W-what did you say?”   “Ask me what my intentions are, quarter-niece!” Hissing like a snake, he spoke through his barely parted lips. Atka’s labored breathing increased shallowly, but was too pressured for her to catch up with as her chest was pressed up against his weight. She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent him from the satisfaction of her fearful tears.   “What are your intentions with me, Ire?” she asked meekly through whispers.   He leaned down so that they were cheek-to-cheek and horn-to-horn, the weight of him on her chest almost too, too much. “You? Nothing. I come to ensure your knowledge that my intentions are for your twin.”   “Don’t you touch Mamnen. He’ll see right through you and you’ll have to kill him. And you don’t want his death on your hands,” she threatened loosely. Ire didn’t move a muscle except his yellow eyes to look at the side of her face.   “Touch? Touch. I don’t intend to touch him violently, even should he ‘see right through me.’” He almost purred as he added, “How does he…feel?”   Atka didn’t respond, knowing what he meant, not liking the double-entendre, and refusing him the satisfaction of her disappointment again.   “Oh, so it is gone.”   “Something must have happened to him, because I felt–”   “As though it was ripped from your very soul. The flame that burned and attached his and your feelings and intuitions is severed.”   “What have you done?” Atka whispered, wincing a bit.   She was met with another boisterous laugh right in her ear, and he pushed on his knee weighing her down to stand, causing the wind to flee from her unexpectedly. “What have I done, Atka Marduk? My job. He will not be pining after you, temptress devil, ever again.”   “Pining.” she repeated and forced herself onto her elbows, glowering up at him and wishing he’d remove his foot from her chest. Ire lowered his chin in a single affirming nod. “No matter. Even without it, he knows right from wrong, and was not raised by devilish influence–”   “Jone may have only been half of my sister, but she was completely evil. She did not have any intention of her children not falling under my care at some point. If she had not run from my check-ins, it would’ve been made as an understanding quite early as to her intentions with you three. She ran when she discovered she was having twins, because that potential is interesting and usually is highly unexceptional.”   “Unexceptional…”   “Jone didn’t want children of her own. She wanted freedom to do as she pleased. Make merry with many men, ‘mercenary’ work, and general epicurean living.”   “You’re lying,” Atka attempted to push off the ground and stand, but his leg pressed her down again. “I saw her with Mamnen. I remember her myself. She nurtured us.”   “She did her best to make you both exceptional.”   “Y-yes…?”   “But why do that if not to pawn you off to me as per the contract? Why not let you grow and mold as you naturally would?”   “Stop spinning. Just stop!”   “Mamnen shows promise, but he won’t continue to grow in his potential with your flame anchoring him to concern. Family is nothing.”   “You’re nothing.”   “I…” Ire paused to emphasize, “...am all that matters now. Your future is now in my control, whether you like it or not.”   “But I thought I didn’t make the cut.”   “You don’t think I’m just going to knife out the flame and leave you to your free musings, mini-Jone, quarter-niece?”   Atka gulped and said nothing, so he continued,   “I hope he infests your mind, intends to twist you, and plays games with you for my amusement. Yes, I hope it begins to drive you mad with fear when you see his authentic self.”   “Are we still talking about Mamnen? He wouldn’t harm me.”   “No, you’re the only twin that harms with words and twists of the mind, aren’t you?” Ire grinned and stepped off of her. She inhaled deeply, and again said nothing to him.   “Well, how about it?”   “Shut up.” Atka attempted to pacify herself with the order.   “I am truly sorry, but I can’t hear your frightened whisper. Did you just admit to me that you did harm him intentionally or just not refute doing it?”   Atka squeezed her eyes closed again, and covered her face, “I said, ‘Shut up!’”   Raucous laugh. Sulfur smell increasing. Depth of voice lowering. Ire appeared to be preparing his end game. “I encourage you to travel through Waterdeep and wander around, quarter-niece Atka. It might be traumatic, but reunions are touching. Sure, Waterdeep is a big city, but I know that your path is bringing you back there close to full time. Just how big of a city can house two rather large, prominent, showy tieflings? Just test the waters and see what kind of influence my power has.”   “What are you saying?”   “I’m saying that the longer you stay in Waterdeep, the stronger my webs spin you two meeting by ‘chance.’ Isn’t it funny how your dream lover assigned you to a mission here in Waterdeep, how you suddenly have people, comrades in arms, who seem to complement and accept you here in Waterdeep, and how you have somehow managed to rope a musical elf’s interest so tightly here in Waterdeep?”   “Are you actually claiming you influenced all that?” She asked, doubtful, and stood up to square with him.   “Well…” Ire grinned at her, “How about it?”   “My relationships are real.”   “Who’s saying they’re not ‘real’? What is ‘real’? I’m just saying that they’ve been touched or nudged. You have to admit that it’s peculiar that they all are happening right now, when you’ve essentially been a lone soldier across this plane for almost two decades.”   It was weird. Coincidences were real, though, she believed, and she wasn’t about to take the word of some devil. She slipped her boot under the blade of her greatsword and hoisted her leg up to throw the weapon into her adept hands. “Leave, devil.”   “Oh, I’ll leave you to stay in Waterdeep–Promise you’ll stay in Waterdeep.”   “I don’t fear you.”   He began to glow red, grin unfading, a sulfur smell protruding within her nostrils now. His ebony hair as long as hers began to levitate as though he was weightless. Atka readied her stance knowing he would attack her. “Yes, you do. And you should be afraid.”   He lunged forward, forearm connecting with her readied swing of the blade and knocking it just enough to the side that his heavy forehead slammed against hers.   And she woke up, eyes on the stars, back to the ground. Another night terror? But it seemed so real. She inhaled deeply from her spot on the ground, trying to get a scent of that strong sulfur. Her head didn’t scream in pain from the headbutt, or the kick. She couldn’t tell and it frightened her.   Placing her hand on her abdomen, Atka flinched. There was a radiating pain within her gut. She couldn’t explain it, but it was the same pain she felt a year after she left. She couldn’t sense her twin, she couldn’t sense his feelings, or whereabouts…   Surely someone saw the devil interaction, she thought and sat up slowly. Sleepers all around her who did appear to have been disturbed. Atka wanted to cry. Why were these terrors so vivid, appropriately relevant, and more importantly, why were they BACK?   Fuck you, Ire, Atka thought and glowered at the night sky. No, thank you, quarter-niece, she heard the snakey hiss in her head. There! She postured herself upright. Was that real? Or just what she imagined he’d say? “Oh, gods, gods, help me please,” she whispered and wept.

Mamnen's Visitor

Mamnen's heart was in his throat thumping away for the second time that day, except this time he wasn’t staring into the face of an angel that could end him without heed. No, this time he stared into the face of a tall, lanky red-skinned devil with thick horns protruding out the sides of his head, the left one appearing to be filed down to a hollow valley three-fourths the height of the other. Ire Mennith stood before him now, a small portal fading behind him.   His eyebrow arched, his hands on his shirtless waist above his pant-line, Ire stared at his long lost quarter-nephew. “Your mother was not wrong, it would seem,” he said.   “How’s that?” Mamnen choked out in an attempt to sound brave. He, using every ounce of bravery he could, stood up to meet Ire’s height. He had never met another person he wasn’t taller than, but Ire was close.   “She said that all of her children are exceptional. I’ve been watching you, Mamnen,” he grinned and began to circle him in a proximity much too close for Mamnen’s comfort. “Like a good uncle, I have watched you grow in your own right.” Stopping suddenly, he brushed and held back Mamnen’s bangs to expose his ear.   Mamnen did not react or lift his face from that stoic reflection he’d perfected in times of stress and helplessness. His tail jostled, showing the true nature of his anxiety, but his form was otherwise perfect.   “You. Are. Exceptional.” whispered the devil through his signature grin, bare chest pressing against Mamnen’s arm.   “M-Mammy?” Vereella’s small voice came from around the corner. Mamnen reacted instinctively, and lifted his hand in a balled fist. Vereella, suddenly unable to move and suspended up in the air, could not respond or react.   “Extraordinary,” Ire intuited, eyeing the handiwork. “Can you disarm her as well?” Ire reached out to grab one of her frozen arms, but before he could touch her, Mamnen waved his hand and she flew down the hallway. There was a crash into the backroom, a slamming of a door, and the movement of heavy furniture to prop against it. “That won’t stop me from going in there, quarter-nephew,” the devil smirked, turning back to face the tiefling youth.   “I’m keeping her in, not you out,” Mamnen said, arching an eyebrow of his own, “Uncle.” He paused and swallowed once, almost having to do it manually because of how fearful he was in the moment. “Why watch us?”   “You. I watched you.” Ire pointed a long, almost accusing finger at him. Mamnen’s heart raced in anticipation of the reason. “And you have not disappointed at all, but you are so modest and meek yet. I did not suppose that you would be ready to see me for at least quarter a century more, but you truly are exceptional.” Ire began to laugh that raucous laugh that Mamnen heard that night he last saw his father’s body, his mother alive... “You have yet to be charged for your murders eight years ago, is that right?”   The color drained from Mamnen’s stoic face, but he held it strong regardless. “No, and I won’t be charged. It was deemed an accident.”   Ire began circling him again, dragging that accusing finger across Mamnen’s midsection. “You freely admit to me that you’re guilty of this. That’s so dangerous of you. Do you realize how many people in this town I could have come after you for that very thing?”   “You want me for something, so you won’t do a thing to me,” Mamnen hoped and determined. Ire laughed loudly again, gripping Mamnen’s shoulder and squeezing. Mamnen flinched at the sheer magnitude of his strength and began to shift a bit at how strong the smell of sulfur was. “Well, how about it? Why watch me?”   “Because you needed me.”   “I didn’t–don’t need you. Or any devil.”   Ire lowered his chin, furrowed his brow and smiled crookedly at him, knowingly. “Now that’s just not true. But if not me, then who? Which devil does Mammy truly need?” Pacing around him again. “Who is it that he longs for? Searches for? Whose devilish influence calls to him like a flame if not me?”   “You know where Atka is.”   “WRONG!” Ire interrupted. “I don’t need to know where she is, because she is hardly the twin flame for someone like you. You’ve seen it yourself. She’s passionate, loyal, uncontrolled and between the two of us, she’s kind of a b-i-t-c-h to you.” Mamnen looked at the ground, chin falling right into Ire’s cupped hand. He lifted it so that their eyes met again, and continued, “All your training of her, your love, your advice and it’s disregarded in a second at the first opportunity of rebellion. She never should’ve not heeded your warning about the Ring of Dex! You knew then that I had nothing to do with your mother’s role in Baator.”   “You didn’t?” Mamnen verified. Ire cackled and released his nephew’s chin to a joking shrug. “You don’t know?”   “I don’t make decisions in Baator; I follow my own path. I was to keep her to her promises, and once I found her again, I did just that. You knew. You told Atka yourself. ‘Have you considered that Mom wasn’t under contract?’”   “Holy shit, I was right!” Mamnen said under his breath. He meant to sit back down on the couch, but Ire grabbed his shoulders and steadied him. Mamnen’s jaw dropped a bit and he stared at him. “What?” he asked in disbelief.   “Nephew Mamnen, there were many red flags for you in regards to your twin that I want to help you cut. 1) She fought you daily. You trained her not to, and she pushed back daily. She always thirsted for more offensive training, more brawling training, more weapons training–females! They don’t need that.   “2) Your word was never enough. She didn’t believe you about the fighting, she didn’t believe you about Jone’s lot, she didn’t believe you about Waterdeep, she didn’t believe you that the consequences of her doing such things would land her in the lot she got–”   “Did you…have a hand in that?” Mamnen asked curiously. Ire showed him his palms, grinning, sunken eyes burrowing into Mamnen’s worried gaze.   “Look at my hands. No dirt on them there. I may influence this plane, but I don’t play without contracts. 3) She trusted Kira Jerty over you. 4)--”   “She did, didn’t she?” Mamnen dropped his shoulders and sank down slowly into the couch. They weren’t even five hours away from the farm, and she fought in public, and then sheathed her sword before knowing if Kira was still a threat, and then went with Kira to the Ring of Dex over his advising her not to.   Ire’s voice lowered as he drifted down to his knees, a thin tail flicking softly behind him. “4) She severed your empathetic twin connection about a year after leaving so you couldn’t find her.”   Mamnen snapped his eyes up to Ire’s and said, “She didn’t!”   “You tell me.”   “I can’t feel her anymore. I haven’t been able to ever since my telekinesis started.”   “Funny how you have a moment of exceptionality and she cuts you off. Do you suppose she felt it and–”   “Reacted in–”   “Jealousy.” Ire finished for him. “Yes, I believe that’s exactly what I would say. She’s so reactive, your twin. I bet she felt your powers surge and she grew to feel that anger she felt at you all over again and in a fit of her own, she shut you out.”   “But… what can I do about it?”   Ire placed both hands on each of Mamnen’s knees, pursing his lips and looking up to the right as he pondered. “Yes, what can you do? What can we do?”   Mamnen inhaled sharply at the prospect. Ire was going to help him. But with what? He wasn’t sure he wanted to free Atka now, if those flags he mentioned were true. They were, at the very least, plausible.   “What would you suggest I do?” Mamnen inquired hesitantly.   Ire grinned broadly, slid his hands up Mamnen’s legs to hug him around the waist and got very close to his face. “Dear quarter-nephew, I am not one for sentiment, nor am I one to play the helping hand, so if I were you, I’d play the selfish card and do whatever in hell I want.”   “But what do I want if not to free her?” Mamnen wasn’t sure what to do with his arms so he just kept them raised, careful not to touch the devil holding him. One of his horns was thicker than Mamnen’s visage. It freaked him out a bit.   “What could you do to be free of her?”   “That’s not what I asked,” Mamnen clarified to which Ire quickly replied,   “It’s what I asked. Mamnen, have you ever thought about where you’d be if you truly aligned yourself with yourself?”   “I don’t understand,” he was ashamed to admit because he was smart, but he was also intrigued enough to risk being chastised by his uncle. None such beratement came.   “What could you do if you were able to do whatever inspired you in that moment, without thought of consequences or influences? Mamnen alone. I have a feeling if you disavowed yourself from this twin flame of yours, and nurtured your own abilities–”   “Be my own flame?”   Ire leaned back, fingers floating from Mamnen’s lower back to rest on his waist as Ire debated his response. “Not exactly.”   “Then…?”   Ire studied him, face cocked to the side so that he looked at him out of the narrows of his eyes. He waited for Mamnen to figure something out. He waited and waited until Mamnen covered his own mouth with both hands.   “You?”   Ire’s chagrin was palpable.   “You want to help me detangle from the attachment of my sister and nurture my twin ability by harnessing part of your ‘flame’ to me?”   “You are the exceptional one here.”   Mamnen was silently staring at him. But Ire didn’t move. The young tiefling leaned back, dropping his arms onto his own lap between Ire’s protective arms at his sides, and he exhaled deeply. He was tempted by this, he admitted, but he remembered still he was dealing with a powerful devil…   “You’re doubting my motives.”   “You said you don’t influence this plane without contracts. You and I don’t have one–”   “Oh, we don’t?” Ire stood up and pulled from the pocket of his pants a small scroll case with a rolled up piece of parchment. He began to read, most likely from the bottom, “And if I should bear children and any of them show promise for the work, I leave them to your care and direction should anything happen to me.”   “My mother contracted future children? Us?”   “You.”   “Me.” Mamnen was enraged suddenly but was immediately disarmed when Ire’s large hand engulfed his head, horns and all.   “Not the time, place, or company for that aura shift, quarter-nephew.” He removed his hand after stroking Mamnen’s hair twice. “I am an accomplished care and direction leader. I fulfill my duty with pride, even love.”   “Can devils love?”   “Can you love?”   “Well, yes–”   “Then yes, devils can love.” Ire clicked his tongue as if it was obvious. Mamnen wasn’t even angry that this time he was linked to a devil. He had accepted that he was in part. He was accepting that Atka was too, despite her not fitting the “showing promise” role that bound Ire to assisting her. As he pondered that, he could not help but grin. He showed promise according to his mother, according to Ire, where Atka and Vereella seemed not to.   “So, do you want my assistance or not? I’m like a vampire; you have to invite me in.”   “Um, alright? That’s awkward,” Mamnen stammered, “Yes, uncle, I would like to see my potential through to its maximum by linking your flame to my own.” Ire’s chagrin returned in its palpable state. “What do I have to do to start?”   “Let’s say… we shake on it and my flame will seep into you at a rate you can tolerate.”   “At a rate I can tolerate?”   “Think of it like kindling growing into a blaze. It starts with a flicker and as you feed it, it grows,” Ire explained and then slowly extended his hand. “Have we got a deal, Mamnen?”   Mamnen felt like he knew the terms and there wasn’t a downside. His soul was intact… Ire was contracted to help him. All he was doing was putting some of his connection with him. What harm could that do? Mamnen stood up, inhaled deeply as he stared at the extended, large hand, and reached out to grab it.   Their palms touched, fingers curled around the other’s hand, and it felt warm momentarily so Mamnen closed his eyes to see when he felt different. When he opened them in a second, he stood alone, arm outstretched in the room. “Uncle?” he asked and looked around, finding no sign of a portal or an open window or door. “Hm.” He looked at his hand and gasped, finding a red, inscripted rune on his palm. Having no idea what that was, if it did something, or would be recognized, he sought out gloves.   What was done, was done.

Homage to Atka

It took almost three hours before Mamnen “came to” after the tense, angry blackout after Atka left his apartment to find the Ring Master. Once he did though, full of regret and despair, he charged out in the darkness and searched the horizon as if he’d see her somewhere waiting just outside. She was gone, a figment now in his memory, lost in a city not meant for a budding, female tiefling to be lost in and asking to be entered into the dangerous Ring of Dex. If anything happened to her, it would be most assuredly his fault.   Closing his eyes, he searched his own feelings and threw them out beyond himself to reach hers. Atka was…not frightened. She appeared dogged, determined, slightly confused? What on this plane could have her–now she felt joyous, silly, laughter. His eyes opened. She was with someone. Fuck, he thought to himself and hoped it was with someone who would not harm her.   Cringing at the thought of his lilywhite, passionate twin sister out in this rather seductive city, Mamnen shuffled his way back into his apartment. He collapsed back onto the couch and sprawled awkwardly across it–far too long for its five foot length. He draped his legs over the arm and rested his chin on his forearms on the other arm. Sighing, he spoke to nothing,   “I never got to share myself with you, Atty. Not my true self anyway… I hope that the note I left in that journal is decipherable. You’re brilliant; I know you’ll figure it out and find your way back to me. Know though, that I will not stop looking for you, because we are twin flames, you and I. Destined to be one and the same. I see your true potential though not how it will manifest, and I wish I would’ve kept my control enough to be able to teach some to you so we both could thrive in our outstanding exceptionality.   “I love you, Atty. My passionate, haughty sister. Your love for this family mirrors mine from that night until my dealings in the library. I know that you’ll sink into the idea, the realization that my logic is the righter, as it is not based on a temporary feeling state like love or hatred, despite what you might have thought. It’s calculated. You’ll see. You’re brilliant. I know you’ll see.”   ***   Mamnen followed the word of his blacksmith mentors on how to get updates on the tourneys and results of the Ring of Dex, and hung out in that district waiting to hear the phrase “female tiefling.” It was not long. On his first day of listening, near its end, he overheard many people sprinting from the tourney arena exclaiming, “She conceded! Someone actually conceded!” Mamnen’s heart sank so deep that he thought he might throw up right there. Atka, he knew. Atka, no, he thought, not in the arena. He knew what that meant. She’d be auctioned to the highest bidder, or worse! He couldn’t save her.   “I can’t save her.”   “What, buddy?” someone asked, turning to him, most likely assuming he had addressed him.   Mamnen reached over and gripped the collar of the man’s chemise, pulling him closer. “She’s gone forever. She conceded. I can’t save her.”   “‘Ey! Tiefling! Hands off the merchandise, alright? You want me to pummel you–”   Mamnen’s face faded to a stoic reflection of nothing but a glare, and he eyed this human man below him square in the face. “That is exactly what I want you to do.”   “What the fuck is the matter with you? Let GO,” the man said. Mamnen smelt his fear, obviously intimidating him. Mamnen was a tall, burly tiefling who was so poignant in his stance and hold that it must’ve felt really threatening. “Seriously, let go, alright?” His human voice shook a bit now. Breathing rate increased. Exposed arms began to glisten with a nervous sweat. Face colorless.   “Tell me I can save her.”   “You can do whatever you want once you let go!”   “Tell me and mean it,” Mamnen growled.   “Alright, buddy, alright! You can save her!”   Mamnen released the shirt collar, face unchanged. The man suddenly stumbled back awkwardly, and then took off running, but Mamnen took no heed. He knew that a truth told under duress was still a lie, so he felt no better…

Mamnen's Research

Mamnen, being over twenty and employed in a specialty now, found himself more confident than ever in researching his mother Jone’s disappearance again. It was likely the only way he’d see his sister again, he knew, since he knew he went looking for her–and, if she was still alive with the purchasing lord, she likely would look again.   A dark thought occurred to him as he made his way to the Waterdeep research library where he had unburied all those notes almost eight years before… What if, he thought, I was able to secure Atka’s whereabouts with a contract? What was a soul used for? And were the Hells really worse than what his mind was doing to him every day?   Mamnen banished the thought before entering the structure that hopefully housed his answers. There was a reference desk with a familiar angel leaning down and reading a book of some kind. Mamnen sighed and knew that if he was to truly find out, he would have to ask. He flipped his hair over his horns and head, white bangs falling right back over his face. Marching himself to the angel’s side, he arched over to rest on his forearm on the high desk so that he sat at the angel’s height.   “Castiel.”   The angel looked up from his reading and peered over at the tiefling curiously. “Can I help you, sir…?”   “Mamnen Marduk.” he said and smiled as sweetly as he could muster. Castiel’s jaw tensed and he asked,   “Mammon?”   “Mam-nen. It’s funny how alike they sound though. Is Mammon a friend of–”   “No, how can I help you, Mam-nen?” Castiel pronounced his name deliberately and carefully. Mamnen wondered how he started off on such bad footing. Mammon must be terrible, whoever he is.   “You don’t remember me, do you?”   “Should I?”   Mamnen shook his head. “I suppose not. You thought at the time I was asking questions to joke with or bother you, which I suppose makes a sort of sense now that I have a bit of background and recognize my youth at the time was suspect.”   “Youth ‘at the time’?” Castiel clarified and gestured to the tiefling. “Your youth is still very much intact. Are you here to joke with and bother me now?”   “I’m not joking, and I certainly hope my inquisition about it doesn’t bother you as I think my research of this individual will help me prevent the needless suffering of two of the women in my immediate family.” Mamnen rested his hand on his opposing wrist that he leaned on. He tried to look serious. He tried to look intimidating, although he didn’t know why. He was not going to take on an angel.   Castiel straightened up and closed the book he was reading. “Come with me to one of the private rooms. I’m listening, Mamnen Marduk.”   Mamnen waited for him to lead the way and grinned after his back was turned. “Thank you,” he said softly and quickly eyed the book Castiel had been reading. A monster’s guide of some kind. Not important to him, he figured. Mamnen pushed off the counter of the desk and jogged a bit to catch up with Castiel. They walked through some of the tall shelves, around some patrons and workers, and found an open room for study, typically along the back wall.   They sat at the singular table–why were study rooms so hopelessly drab, Mamnen thought–and Mamnen coaxed the door to shut after they were seated with his telekinesis without much forethought. As he attempted to tuck his bangs behind his ears, Castiel growled lowly,   “How did you do that?”   “Shut the door? Surely you’ve heard of magical ability… I–”   “Mamnen, I know magic. I’ve studied magic. I’ve met people who gain magic from books, patrons, and birthright. What powers you?”   “Uhh…” Mamnen vocalized confusion in answering such a direct question. One certainly didn’t lie to angels, but telling the truth on this seemed irresponsible. “Birthright is closest, I guess. It was simply something I woke up with one day.”   “Stress induced?”   “You might say that,” Mamnen struggled not to smile, remembering his retribution that day with those abusive traitors. Castiel’s face softened, though the amusement and intrigue did not leave outright.   “Who are these people who you believe to be in danger?”   “I know for certain one is in danger. As far as the other, I think she may be heading to seek the danger out.”   “Why would she do that?”   “To save the first. Much like me,” Mamnen admitted. Castiel chuckled and crossed one leg over the other, turning sideways in his chair, large glowing wings folded neatly over its sturdy back.   “Just what is troubling your family, Mamnen?”   “Ire Mennith, I think.”   Castiel grew serious and immediately repositioned himself again to face and lean towards the young tiefling. Mamnen was struck with the same dismissiveness that he gotten at their first encounter, except this time, instead of ostracizing him, Castiel said,   “You suppose a devil like Ire gives two shits about a small tiefling family on this plane? Why?” the voice was a harsh whisper, a knowing whisper. Mamnen cleared his throat to maintain some kind of confidence in his ability to “run with the bulls.”   “My mother may be his half-sister Jone…”   Castiel didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t react. He was waiting. Waiting for what? Mamnen didn’t rightly know, so he kept talking. “My sister has my journal with all the research I’d done eight years ago about my family history in the hells and why Ire might have slaughtered my father, kidnapped my mother back ‘home’ and then enthralled my sister’s mind so tightly that she entered the Ring Master’s obstacles only to lose and be sold to some lord.”   “That’s a lot to unpack, young tiefling.”   “I’ve lived more than most. I’m young, not ignorant.”   “We’ll see.” Castiel muttered. “I’m sorry that you experienced Ire’s wrath firsthand, nephew of Ire.”   Mamnen cringed, squeezing his eyes shut, baring his gritted teeth, and twisting his neck awkwardly. “Please don’t associate me with devils.”   “But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re the nephew of a devil–a powerful, ugly one–”   “Half, half nephew, and I wasn’t raised in the hells, I am not influenced by–”   Castiel’s flat hand slammed on the table and Mamnen flinched, opening his eyes again to look directly at the angel. His tail lowered and instantly tensed. “You cannot tell me you’re not influenced by your half uncle to some degree, Mam-nen Marduk. You share his blood, you seek his name, you spin intentions with me very self-interestedly… I wouldn’t be surprised if I were mortal and you had the opportunity, you take my soul for something.”   Mamnen disregarded the last insinuation, focusing instead on the middle one. “How did you know I sought his name?”   “I do remember you now, nosy little boy at the time. I told you to stop looking, yet here you are, right back with me, asking more questions.”   “But my family–”   “Are devils. They belong in Batoor. As do you, I sense. You are rotting with mal-intent,” Castiel stated and leaned across the table and inhaled deeply, almost like a starved wolf appreciating the first kill after a long, hungry winter. “I smell your fear, and I know that given this conversation, you want to lash out. Your fists are balled, you’re prepared to use your birthright on me, aren’t you?”   “Are you trying to tempt me?”   “Angels are more observation than temptation seekers. That’s devil-work.”   “Please stop aligning me with devils!” Mamnen sighed, actually pretty loudly for someone whose heart was thumping in his throat. He was angry and did want to lash out, yes, but he was terrified. Castiel could end him where he stood, couldn’t he?   “I’m not aligning you, Mamnen Marduk. You wear a devil name. Devil lineage pumps through your veins. I see devilish intentions rattling in your head and dripping off your tongue. If you want me to stop seeing devil in you, stop trying to manipulate an angel.”   Mamnen inhaled sharply in a caught gasp. Castiel had indeed found him out, and he hadn’t even really attempted to start “manipulating” him. “I did–I wasn’t manipulating. Is it manipulation to have an intention?”   “Yes.”   “Then how do angels get stuff found out and done?” Mamnen was glowering now.   “I dwell in each moment and read it on its own terms, Mamnen Marduk. There are no intended outcomes with me, because I don’t have the expectation of getting my way.”   Mamnen was getting annoyed, frustrated, and beyond angry. Castiel was saying everything that he didn’t want to hear and it was not going over well.   “Do I need to keep you here to calm you down?”   “No. I dwell in self-control.”   Castiel laughed, quite amusedly. “Yes, you look as though you do. Everything I say brings you one step closer to your true nature, and it doesn’t even terrify you, does it?”   Mamnen arched an eyebrow at him. “How do you mean? What makes you think I’m not terrified right now?”   Castiel folded his arms across his chest and smiled. “You’re terrified of me, that I can smell on you. But of yourself? What you are capable of? That’s never scared you, has it, Mamnen?”   “Why should my own capability–”   “Because,” interrupted the angel, lifting a hand to stop the tiefling, “only devils are fascinated by their own power. Only the corrupted obsess with nurturing their own ends without the thought of its influence or consequence. Tell me, Mamnen, have you ever done anything where there were dire consequences and you felt directly responsible?”   “I don’t do anything with dire consequences,” Mamnen hissed. “I am calculated.”   “You’re a liar, too. I can tell that. You have something in mind already, and you’re lucky I don’t know, would be my educated guess.” Castiel said. Mamnen didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to give in to Castiel’s bullshit. Castiel continued, “Now, if you think I’m going to help you get the name of Ire Mennith so that you may reunite with your family, you’re truly lost. If you want to go home, however–”   “The Nine Hells is not my home.”   “Yet.” Castiel pushed off the table, chair toppling back onto the floor behind him. He walked out, having determined that little conversation was over. Mamnen stewed in his agony. He placed a hand on his abdomen like Atka used to do when he said he missed and loved her and tried to discern her whereabouts. Nothing. He couldn’t tell where she was or if she was alive. Normally their connection was insanely powerful, but after his powers revealed themselves to him, he lost her. Castiel would probably say that was “life’s way” of protecting her from his “devil manipulation.”   Mamnen leaned back against the chair and placed both hands on the table. He wondered if his twin was experiencing similar accusations because of her relationship with Ire… If she were smart, she would heed his former warning and keep her mouth shut about it, but he knew she wouldn’t (she did go to the Ring Master with the problem, after all). Mamnen sighed, calling today a loss and not feeling like researching more, and walked home–being sure to shoot a haughty glance at Castiel as he passed the reference counter.

Session 6: Cleaning house/Coming clean

A lot had happened, Atka realized after Illidrex was led off by the guard, Saith and Barnabus (the detectives)... Angus seemed to move everybody along and started cleaning up the place. Atka couldn't get the memory of Lif Calloway's poltergeist's messages of warning, the demons upstairs, almost getting arrested--and almost having to namedrop her lord to get out of it, but she thought better of it.   Her thoughts turned to the history of the problem. Glasya...the archdevil with a growing cult apparently. Why had they done this? Everyone knew you don't summon a demon...right? The demon had said something about them breaking a contract. She wondered what contract that was, and if that would come back to haunt them. Hm, she thought.   Illidrex returned with all of his weapons some time later (was it really the next day already?) and he thanked Angus for the protection, and promised to have his back. After his return the group really seemed to relax. Jain, who must have been boiling over with anticipation, asked if they'd all like to go to his distillery down the road. Atka said she would if he bought her drinks. Jain obliged and even made her a cocktail when they got there.   The night quickly turned tense for Atka though... Jain asked Orion just how he was able to feel like something bad was going to happen and how he made the portal disappear by saying "Fuck the gods." It hadn't occurred to Atka that it was weird until Jain asked... Orion began to spin a tale that Tieflings had a long devilish lineage that he tapped into and harnessed to receive warnings and such. I guess Atka's face (and comments) said it all, because any time Orion said, "Tiefling" anything, she felt eyes on her dispelling the idea. Illidrex attempted to verify with her, asking if her grandfather's grandfathers were devils.   Unbelievably, she shook her head and replied, "Uncle." Then she waved her arms when he was about to question and shook her head attempting to dismiss it. Atka felt the suspicion in Illidrex, and worried that he'd find her out through his own intelligent intuition and out her to everyone and Angus would end her or something due to the risk she posed. Fear rose within her and she whispered for Illidrex to come talk with her in another room.   She unloaded everything. Her devil lineage. That she had a twin that she suspected was succumbing to devilish influence. How he had killed those blacksmiths, how he threatened her, the Neverembers, and her friends (them)... how she worried it was happening to her. Illidrex admitted that he didn't know how to help and recommended that she use the code word of "Ideal" in a terse voice if she felt that Mamnen was nearby and hostile, and that she talk to Angus. Atka got scared a bit and expressed that Angus reacted so poorly with anyone who made mention of devils and demons, and she actually had a direct link. Illidrex reassured her that he would likely help and offered to go with her.   So, they went together to Angus. With Illidrex's help and direction, Atka reiterated everything to Angus. She felt the severity in his voice when he was questioning her. Did she hear devil voices in her? No, but Atka admitted to her dreams and feelings about her brother. He offered to teach her about controlling her emotions, and his mentor's help in "protecting her mind." Atka thanked him. She wanted anything to preserve herself from becoming like her brother. Angus carefully warned though, that Mamnen, her twin, may be too far gone to be saved and he may need to be taken out. Atka nodded, thanked him again, and let that thought roll around in her head. She wasn't strong enough to kill her brother. She didn't know if they all could, because she didn't know the extent of his ability. Atka knew that if that were to happen, they'd have to fight dirty with dirt.

The Request Heard 'Round the World

Atka bounced her leg in the small room, wondering if he’d actually show up. Her anxiety told her that he wouldn’t, but he had always come through for her when she needed him. Knowing that Nomad would surely come logically, yet doubting it anxiously, was exactly what she and Ilanir worked on together–her imbalance. She began to drum her fingertips on the table that she sat at, forcibly stopping her leg from bouncing.   “Relax,” she said aloud to herself, “He’s not even late yet.”   How was she going to start? Atka began to go over talking points in her head, but this was no easy task. She was going to have to sell it. How do you sell fire to a devil, she wondered, and chuckled to herself… Nomad wasn’t a devil, but she sort of was? A bit? She shook her head to try to banish the thought, nervously clicking a flame on and off in her palm for a minute.   Atka began to obsess about the way her clothing was falling on her–anything to take her mind off the waiting. Readjusting the chemise and kirtle, she then brushed off any particles that may be on the linen fabric going down to her ankles. She hated kirtles. The dress-like quality made them impractical for a fighter to dress in, but this wasn’t going to be a fight. Was it? No. Nomad wouldn’t fight her for requesting this…   Kirtles. Atka stood up and looked at herself in the mirror on the wall behind her. She doubted anyone would be threatened or even attracted to her in this. Her tail was restricted underneath the gown, and it was bothering her a bit. She began to tease her black locks around her protruding horns, so that they began to fall neatly behind her.   “Atka? Well, don’t you look nice?” Nomad’s voice entered her mindspace just as he entered the room. She smiled at him in the mirror.   “I hate kirtles,” she beamed and placed her hands on her waist. “You’ll never see me in one again, so, just drink it up.” He chuckled, mask and hood alienating her a bit. Still now, he was not quite comfortable with her, she had determined. Or maybe with himself? She didn’t really know, and this was not the time to ask. Nomad shut the door, sat down at one side of the table and “drank it up” until she spoke again, “I’m glad you came.”   “Of course. You sounded pretty uneasy when you asked for me to see you. Is everything alright?”   Atka sighed, looking to the ground and wiped her hands on the front of the kirtle. Sliding back into the seat across from her comrade, she shook her head softly. “Not even a little. Did you schedule some time for this meeting?”   Nomad leaned back into the chair and Atka felt his curiosity and concern as she placed a hand on her abdomen. “You have me for as long as it takes.”   She didn’t believe him, but she didn’t have to. “I have a request, but before I ask, I want to tell you a bit about how I am coming to ask this at all. Nomad, how much have I told you about my brother.”   Nomad scoffed. “Very little. Renaer told me more actually.”   “What did he tell you?” Atka whispered, eyes and hands in her lap.   “Nothing I’m happy to hear…” muttered the older warrior. “What about him?”   “It’s important that I know what you know, and how you understand it,” Atka redirected.   Nomad cleared his throat a bit, pausing at the redirection. Clearly gathering his words and thoughts, most likely remembering Renaer’s recount of what happened, he began to speak, “He has a certain power over you. He made you unable to move? He almost hurt Renaer as a way to ‘free’ you from Lord Neverember. Am I close?”   “It’s not about what’s right. It’s about how you understand. And yes, I imagine that’s exactly how he would’ve understood Mamnen. He thinks he’s manipulative and controlling and means to harm me.”   “Does he?”   “Renaer? Yes, I think that’s how he understands it–”   “No, does Mamnen mean to harm you? Is he manipulative and controlling?”   Poignant questions. Straight to the point. Atka remembered her talking points and lifted her eyes to look at Nomad’s face, at where she thought his eyes might be. “Mamnen and I are twins. We’ve constantly been close, even when I left him to find out more about how to save my mother. I felt his feelings here…” She looked down at the hand on her abdomen. “I knew the minute he stopped missing me.”   Nomad said nothing, which she was grateful for, because it meant that he was listening and not hastening her to ask him her request.   “It was about two years after I arrived in Neverwinter under Lord Neverember’s direction. It was like a knife cut a hole into my gut. It’s never gone away or filled up the same. Whatever happened that day changed him from the brother I knew and loved, and who knew and loved me, into someone else.”   She paused again. This time, the pause was for her. “The person he became, the one that Renaer met, is and isn’t Mamnen Marduk. I can’t explain it, but I don’t think I recognize him.”   “Recognize him? You mean, because you’ve been apart for so long?”   She shook her head. “No, I mean, when I tap into him, I see someone else.” Her eyes had widened, she could tell, as if by the mere insinuation she was about to make would summon the devil. “Nomad, I see the devil that took my mother and killed my father. I see Ire.”   Atka felt a tension tighten the muscles in her abdomen and she watched Nomad tense up and reposition himself in the chair. “I’m not saying what you’re probably thinking. I don’t know that he is Ire or even if he is under Ire’s influence. I don’t know enough about these kinds of ordeals to make that conclusion. I know that Ire is our uncle, I suppose. My mother was his half-sister… However what I do know to be true about Mamnen is that he is very much like me in that when he gets his mind to something, that’s truly all that matters.”   “You said that he wasn’t Mamnen, though. How do you know that trait followed?”   “I said he is and isn’t him. And I don’t know enough about Ire, or my family, to know if that particular trait is genetic.” Atka said and fell silent. Both of them sat there awhile, studying the other, probably drawing all kinds of conclusions that were wrong. In light of that realization, Atka continued,   “Anyway, after that scenario you mentioned with Renaer, I stayed with him and he showed me his ability. He has a strong sense of telekinesis, and can manipulate objects’ motions, even people’s motions at will.” She lifted an open, cupped palm into the air and clicked on a flame. “Much like my ability, it is dependent on emotion, but he has learned to wield it as a profession. I watched him weld a greatsword and even detail it with precision. Compare that with stopping me dead in my tracks, I worry what he could do if unyielded.”   “Unyielded?”   Atka closed her palm and the flame disappeared. “Remember that time at the docks, where I had had too much to drink and flames burst forth from my hands without my wanting or control?”   “Gods… you think if he were appropriately tempted, he could do some damage?”   “On anyone he’d like. Without mercy.”   Nomad exhaled, obviously not liking where this was going. “So, how do you want to stop him, since I assume that’s what you want to do?”   “Nomad, I can’t.”   “Excuse me?”   “Stop him. He fires me up without even trying. He knows all of my buttons, most of my moves because he helped to train me, and he’s threatened to end me, and my contracts–so the Neverembers–, and my associates if he sees me again and I don’t change.”   “Why?” Nomad was surprised slightly by the threat, but not enough to move. The tone of his voice had changed though.   Atka teared up, though she fought them from rolling down her cheeks, “Because I refuse to bend to his will.” She cleared her throat and inhaled, shakily, “It seems I know his buttons too, which makes this doubly difficult. We irritate and provoke now, in ways only siblings can–TWIN siblings. My fear is that if I square with him first to attempt to subdue him–”   “He’ll implode with his abilities uncontrolled.”   “Or I will with mine.”   “So what are you thinking?” Nomad asked her and crossed his arms.   “I need a comrade in arms. Someone who can stay out of it long enough for me to try to reason with Mamnen and appeal to his sense of sanity, and if not, then try to forcibly subdue him, and if I fail, a sneaky end…”   “By subdue, you don’t mean…”   “Kill. Yes.” Atka was stone cold as she said it. “He may be Mamnen, but he is not Mamnen, and I can’t have my life dictated by the fear that one day he might kill me and everyone I have ever cared for. He’s not an honorable, venerable warrior Nomad. As a tiefling child, he raised us both with the belief that we fight by any means necessary, the dirtier and quicker the better.”   “You’re asking me to protect you, right?”   “I’m asking you to come with me and if, should the worst happen, take him out,” she said, stressing the last three syllables. Nomad cleared his throat and said,   “Atka, if I am anywhere in the area, and he means to kill you, that will be a natural response.”   Atka smiled a bit and then leaned forward to say in a more hushed voice, “Nomad, I mean this when I say it, if you give him an inch, he’ll take the mile without hesitation. Don’t let him know you’re there unless you have magic protection, and even then, I’d advise getting in and out unnoticed.”   Nomad nodded slightly, and exhaled with her in understanding. “When is this going to happen? We have some planning to do.”

The Last Breath (far future...or is it?)

Atka exhaled deeply, focused on her brother. She knew it was frustrating him that the mantle she had found, borrowed from Sadachbia’s knowledge of magic protection, prevented him from using his magic on her. Mamnen wouldn’t be able to just freeze her in place now. He’d have to use cunning with his scrawny body. Atka thought she had been smart to lead him to a grassland essentially without people, buildings, or objects to throw. To subdue him would be easy.   “You’ve gotten sneaky, Atty,” he said. “That is a wonderful trick.” He was referring to her mantle. Atka shifted the ball of her right foot into the ground, steadied her breathing, and watched him through her greatsword’s blade positioned ahead of her across her body, ready. “But,” he continued, “You still constantly underestimate my ability.”   Nothing was provoking her at this moment. That was truly all he had on her…   “Well, say something!” he shouted abruptly.   “I want you to abandon this mission of yours. Trying to get me, end my contracts, kill my associates must stop.” Atka said without hesitation. Her form was loose, ready to strike or act; she didn’t want to get too frozen or rigid.   “It must run in our family.” He said, looking at the ground. Mamnen ran a hand through his hair, throwing his bangs over his horns as he ripped his head back up to look at her. “Seems we both have trouble abandoning our supposed ‘missions.’ You’ll have to end me.”   Atka looked at him sadly, because she knew he meant it. “So be it,” she whispered and shot off her back foot, charging full-force at her twin.   ***   A nine year old Mamnen and Atka sat, leaning on each other in the moonlight. They had finished a long day of sword play, brawling, and general shenanigans. Sitting in silence was the name of the game now, one that Atka didn’t like or play well. She shifted uncomfortably, and looked up at her brother, trying to get him to say something, anything. He looked down at her briefly and then back out at the scene.   The moonlight showed the stream they sat overlooking, glistening and rushing with playful gurgles. The trees of the forest cast dancing shadows around them, and it was truly serene, beautiful. Atka was getting bored from it, though. She was not very into the reverence or meditation of nature. She was still nine. She thought, and thought, and thought.   Mamnen started to chuckle and shake his head. “You’re incorrigible, Atty. Why can’t you just sit still after a day of movement?”   She wrinkled her nose and shifted against him, beginning to pick at the imaginary dirt under her nails. “Whatever. I’m not incorrigible.” She pressed against him and stared out over the stream, imagining how her life could be more exciting. What if they saw little lights floating around? Fey? Wouldn’t that be neat? She knew not to give them her name, but she wondered what else she needed to know? Ultimately, her boredom and lust for adventure knew no bounds. Inhaling deeply, she held her breath and tried to count how long she could do it. Not long, because she exhaled loudly, and Mamnen nudged her.   “Why do you even try, little Atty?” he laughed. Atka leaned over, propping herself up away from him at being called “little.”   “Do you think I’ll be happy when I’m older?” she asked him.   “You’re not happy now?”   “Well, sure. But grown-ups are different. Mom and Dad aren’t always happy like we are.”   “You won’t have to worry about that, Atty. You’ll always have me. And we are going to make each other happy for a long, long time.” Mamnen hugged her close. “We just have to be careful. Follow my lead, and I’ll never steer you wrong.”   ***   Atka cried out in surprise as Mamnen met her charge by whipping his hand up and a mound of dirt flew into her eyes. The sword dropped from her hands as she felt the dirt pierce her eyes. Quickly rubbing it out, she got her bearings and looked to see him wielding the greatsword now.   “Been awhile since I fought with something so grotesquely oversized, but let’s see how fast you can dodge and run.” Mamnen didn’t wait and swung a hard swing that would’ve landed on her head, but Atka pulled two handaxes from her sides to catch the blade with them. “You’re full of surprises, sister! Just how many weapons do you wield?”   She pushed him back adeptly, and twirled the axes in her hands. “All of them just take attention. I wield whatever I want to.” Mamnen grit his teeth and swung with both hands again, Atka dancing agilely to its right and coming down with axes toward his back. He dropped the sword and somersaulted forward, jumping back up to face her. She was met with a pointed greatsword to her face, it suspended in mid-air.   Suddenly, she watched the sword dismantle itself. Mamnen had willed it apart and rendered it useless. Atka gritted her teeth at him and twirled the axes again. “You’re a special kind of stupid, aren’t you?”   “I don’t want to hurt you, Atty. I want you to fall in line–”   “YOUR line. Not mine.” She sheathed her handaxes and smacked her chest. “When will you see that what I want is not what you want for me, and that it’s perfectly okay?”   “Because, Atka, it isn’t okay. It’s going to get you killed; it’s already gotten you enslaved, what more proof do you need?”   “I’m happy!”     “You aren’t. You just think you are, because that’s what you’ve been conditioned to feel.” Mamnen hissed and began to approach her. She jumped back a few steps and snapped,   “Conditioned? You’re a conditioning agent yourself. You want to mold me into something I’m not–just as much as you think Lord Dagult does!”   “Please don’t call him by his first name. It’s–”   “Dagult, Dagult, Dagult!” she erupted, eyes closed, and suddenly she was tackled onto the ground. This will be too easy, she thought, and whipped them both around on the ground, being the obviously stronger one. She pressed her forearm into his throat. “I’ve got you, you–”   “Atty,” he choked, “I know Ire’s real name…” Atka pressed harder and called him out as a liar. “No, I do…” He coughed. “Let me up and I’ll tell you–”   She had been distracted long enough not to notice his arm grip the mantle around her neck and rip it with every ounce of might he probably had left. It ripped off! He tossed it away and she was instantly frozen. He threw her off of him and she landed like a ragdoll beside him. He stood up, walked around her, cleared his throat and spit down on her.   “You’re pathetic. Predictable, one-track-minded, unwilling to do right by yourself. And here you’ll die.”   “Not very brotherly of you,” said a deep, raspy voice behind Mamnen. Before he could turn to react, a blade bore into his back and twisted without hesitation, mercy, or remorse.   Tears streamed down Atka’s face as she was able to push herself up and catch the fallen figure of her twin after the blade was firmly ripped back out. Blood gushed from the unclosable wound. She stroked his cheek and whispered to him,   “You’re pathetic. Thinking I would come alone…”   Mamnen was already gone, the life in him sucked out. Atka rolled the body off her blood soaked lap. “I’m sorry,” Nomad said. She shook her head and accepted a hand to help her up. Standing now, she replied,   “He was never going to stop. He and I have similar patterns, but he succumbed to his.”   “Let’s get you cleaned up–”   “Stay with me for a prayer?” she asked. Nomad smiled and nodded. Both of them knelt before the lifeless twin, each saying words to their respective patrons in silence.

Mamnen Alone

Vereella had done a poor job of making this shirt, he noted as he adjusted it over his shoulder for the fourth time since starting on his way to the library. The neighborhood was still bustling over the rumor that there was a tiefling participant in the Ring Master’s tournament who had refused to fight. He knew what that meant and he knew who it was. Atka had made it through to the tournament only to back down. He was both relieved and sad, because the rumor was she had been sold to the highest bidder, name undisclosed.   He felt tears welling up in his eyes, feeling his other half severed from him. Mamnen did not want to believe it, but he may never see his twin again. He had been too harsh with her. And he never would sleep again.   He made it to the blacksmith and began to sneak tools into the backroom to work. Everyone thought he made it with his psychic ability, which he admittedly didn’t have, so he needed to do his work in the background as best he could. As an apprentice, he could get away with this. Today, though, as he worked, the shirt Vereella made had other plans, slipping down his sweaty biceps. He got heated and ripped it off. He was about to strike the hammer down on the blade again, and stopped short, eyes wide and frozen. “Shit,” he thought, “what are they doing here?”   The blacksmiths were talking in the front of the shop, joking and laughing. Before Mamnen could dress and exit to greet them, they burst in. “What’s this now? Trying your hands at the craft?” asked the first. The second laughed and agreed, “Seems like he’s been working a sweat up.”   Mamnen laughed nervously, lowering the hammer to rest its head on the ground and catching his breath. “Very funny. But yes, that’s all I’m doing…trying out a new style in case I lose my abilities…”   “Please. We know you’re a fucking liar, and we want you out of here. You’re bad for business and have been since you got here.” said the first again. Mamnen felt an anger brimming up that he had never experienced. He had worked there a year and they’d treated him like absolute second-class. He put out quality work. He wasn’t bad for business; they just didn’t like his look.   He threw his bangs out of his face, standing up to tower over the two. He just stared down for a moment, fingers drumming on the handle of the large forging tool propped between his legs. Mamnen rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms, chest, abs, because he knew that they could see him. “You’re going to see me out? Me? When will you know what I’m capable of?”   “Please, we know you’ve been doing this by hand the whole time–and your stature and muscles don’t scare us. Two on one, check!”   They laughed.   LAUGHED.   Mamnen closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “May this place fucking come down right behind me…” He whispered and pushed past them. He opened his eyes and walked out of the shop, slamming the door behind him. He took two steps and flinched as he felt and heard the collapse of the top of the building. Mamnen turned around quickly and saw a hole in the shop. Curious he lifted his hand and flicked his wrist as if to shoo the outer wall away. It toppled over on top of the pile effortlessly. Yes, surely they were dead, and surely the crowd wouldn’t suspect him…but his next course of action was clear: alert Atka discreetly, because if his powers were true, then it was possible hers were too.   ***   It didn’t take long for the neighbors in that crafting district and the regular clientele to miss a blacksmith shop at that location. He was approached by an artisan guild to take over the mess, so long as they helped clean it up, and take over the process as a full-fledged blacksmith. It would be a perfect front for him. Everyone around there knew him as an apprentice who psychically detailed their works… Now that this had awakened, he could harness, control, and grow this ability in secret, out in the open.   And grow they would, to have exceptional health.

Renaer vs Atka - Take 2

I dragged myself back into the Yawning Portal late that night. Mamnen was clearly losing it and gaining something significant at the same time. I had a terrible feeling I was going to have to fight him, subdue him, or worse... My feelings are usually not wrong in these matters, and I wonder if he feels similarly when he thinks on me and my ability.   The tavern was still bustling--guess I wasn't as late as I thought. I scanned the room for anyone I knew, and saw some of my party relaxing at a table and carousing, but not all or even most. They weren't who I was looking for. Then my eyes locked with his: Renaer's. He sat at a separate table with Volo and Floon, who were obviously talking with him and my arrival had truly interrupted his involvement jarringly. Great, I thought, I probably will get chastised for that. Not really knowing what else to do, I half-smiled and waved slightly, curling my fingers lazily.   I saw him lean into the table, whisper something to the effect of "Excuse me" and make a bee-line straight for me. I bit my lower lip like I was in trouble. What should I tell him about Mamnen? Should I even at all? I quickly walked out of the way of the entrance and met him in the middle.   "Are you alright?" I asked him. "Yesterday was...pretty surprising. I am sure you weren't prepared to meet and experience my exceptional brother." I joked, hoping that's as far as it would go.   "Me? I'm fine. Are you alright? Did you find out what he did to you?" Renaer was eyeing me up and down like I was storing the ability in my traveler's clothes. I sighed and shook my head. "He led you off into the crowd, we don't see you for an entire day, and now you appear before me looking like you haven't slept and a ghost walked through you."   "Wow, I sound really attractive..."   "Atka--"   "Listen, I expect you to trust my ability to handle my family and whatever they throw at me, even the surprising bits," I said. He looked unconvinced. I was unconvinced. I'm a terrible liar. I'm better with dice; this is why I don't play cards. The first look he gave me was disgust, which I visibly saw him shake off and re-approach as concern,   "He was prepared to do irreversible things in public. Like, kill me. To prevent you from how you're feeling about my dad. Atka, I don't like you, but I would never tell you how to feel about my dad--I would tell how I feel, and I believe I have, and how I feel about how you feel, but to attempt to control your feelings? That's manipulative and controlling."   I grit my teeth a bit as I took it all in, eyeing the ceiling. I suddenly grinned and shook my head, eyes dropping to the ground. "Mamnen is not manipulative and controlling. He just cares about me."   "Funny way of showing it. He uses unspeakable abilities on you to prevent natural action, then when you protest his natural action, he silences you--or attempts to."   "Just stop, alright? He's my TWIN. I think I know his character a little better than you."   "Really? When was the last time you saw him?"   "About an hour ago." I said confidently as though I beat the game. He gave me a look. "Fine! Like almost 20 years or something, I don't know. But we're very close."   "Are or were? You write letters all the time. Any of them to him?"   "Him?" My mind was immediately on Dagult Neverember. He was my 'him.' "Oh, Mamnen? No. I never write letters to him... and we are--were--Look, we just got into a spat when we were young that I never recovered from. It's my fault."   "Hells, I've had lots of childhood spats. I wouldn't say that any were definitively my fault." Renaer said, and just looked at me. I placed a hand on my navel. He was...sad for me? But why?   "I guess you're better than I am to have such self-control that you don't create your own problems uniquely."   "Uh," Renaer blinked confused and cocked his head slightly, "what now? I didn't say anything about that at all. I just meant that most spats in childhood or youth--or even adulthood--are rarely one person's fault. It takes two to dance together." I swallowed hard and remembered what I said to my brother about resembling a devil and then the image of him holding Renaer up to his face by the collar came flooding back. His expression. Ire's expression in my dream. Mamnen's behavior was rather devilish.   A whistle and a snap in my face.   "What?"   "Where did you go? I was talking to you." Renaer said. I rolled my eyes, instantly tired of his nonsense.   "Go home."   "And we're back to square one. You're stubborn as all get out." Renaer sighed. "Just remember, I only have so many olive branches, Miss Secret."   "STOP CALLING ME THAT." I announced loudly and was met was his back walking away.

Powers for the Tieflings

“I said, Atka, STOP!”   Atka suddenly felt herself being unable to move, mid-run. Her eyes were stuck, her body rigid, but instead of crashing to the ground, she just hung midair. Without warning combined with haste, she was thrust back the way she came toward her brother again. She landed gently cradled in his arms, his head nestled down to kiss the top of her head. Upon the touch of his lips, as if permission granted, her body became her own again and leaned against him to struggle to stay standing after the ordeal.   “What in the hells was that?” she asked and craned her neck up to see his face upside down above her.   “I might ask you the same question, sister.” He released her arms after steadying her and displayed the burned cloth. His skin had been quickly healed by nearby medics and magic-users, but the remnants were there. Atka swallowed hard now as she stared as the blackened, disintegrated clothing hanging tattered over freshly fixed gray skin.   “I think we need to talk, Mamnen,” she whispered and bumped her back and shoulders off his upper chest to turn quickly to face him. “I am under contract right now, and I do need to see that through, but this… We need to handle this. I didn’t realize that it was happening to you too.”   “I sent you a clue. Did you not receive my poem?”   “Mistaking devils for dealers, and dealers for devils? That poem?”   “Yes.”   “Makes zero sense out of context. I still don’t know what that line means, and as for the rest of it, your ‘power’ could have been intellect, strength, anything other than whatever the fu–ow!” Her hand involuntarily left her side and struck her under the chin before relaxing back down at her side.   “Don’t take tones with me. You may be soldiered up, but you’re still a lady to me.”   Atka struggled not to laugh, and she was equally surprised when another person’s laugh came boisterously from behind her. Both tieflings shared similar confused looks as they faced the red-haired, noble human youth. Atka’s face immediately dropped. “How much bad luck can one tiefling have to run into two people I didn’t want to see in one afternoon?”   “Hey…” Mamnen drifted off and then eyed the human curiously. “So, Atka, who is this now?”   “Renaer Neverember,” she muttered. Renaer grinned a bit and extended his hand to Mamnen. “Renaer, this is my twin, Mamnen.”   “Twin? My heavens, I didn’t know you had a family; you try to absorb other people’s families so much.”   “What does that–”   “Nevermind, Mammy,” she hastened to say and shot a knowing glance at Renaer. He looked at her with an equally knowing smile, ran a hand through his hair, and said,   “No… Atka, really?”   “Atka, is this a partner of yours?” Mamnen asked, looking the young, roguish figure up and down and preparing for the worst of conversations.   Renaer’s laughter could’ve sniped birds out of thin air, Atka knew. She closed her eyes and began to massage her temples with her two pointer and middle fingers. Mamnen eyed her, she felt, and then turned to secure an explanation from the human.   “She hasn’t told you? You’re not the typical twins then.” Renaer jabbed, and then caught a glare from the tiefling ‘lady.’ “No, I’m not a partner of hers. She’d love to be a member of my family though.”   “Shut up.” she whispered. Mamnen looked from one to the other, pulling his arms across his chest.   “Ask her if we’d look like a good stepmother/son duo?”   “Oh, Atka, really! Not the buying lord–”   “That’s it. I’m out,” she stated and turned on a copper piece, beginning to flee. She was met with Mamnen’s mysterious ability to take away her body’s permission to do anything and she stood there, frozen.   “Bye, Atka,” Renaer laughed and peered at the stiff figure of Atka Marduk. He looked from her form to Mamnen who eyed him with inquiry. “What’s happened to her?”   “She’s learning some ability to cool down and self-control in real time,” he said calmly. “Now, are you the real Renaer Neverember or someone reportedly flaunting himself as he? Because if so, that would mean that the lord who purchased my sister at 16 years of age to do gods-only-know what with her was your dear father Lord Dagult Neverember?”   “You know Waterdeep history. And I get the impression you’re not infatuated with my father in the same way as your sister seems to be, so already, I like you.”   “Poor decision. I don’t like your father for what he’s obviously done to my sister–”   “More like what she’s tried to get him to do–”   Atka collapsed onto the ground as she was suddenly released from Mamnen’s whatever-the-hell spell. His concentration was obviously on Renaer now as he had him hoisted up by the shirt collar so they could be nose-to-nose. “Mamnen, stop!”   Mamnen shifted his eyes without moving his head to glance at her briefly, speaking to her, “I know you think it’s wrong what I’m doing, but the spell they have on you is worth hating me for.”   “Mamnen, let him go now.” She stood up and quickly brushed the hair out of her face. Renaer looked at her and then back at him.   “You’d really risk everything on the off-chance she’d stop what she’s doing with my father by taking the life of a noble on the streets of Waterdeep?” Renaer asked him, tiptoes struggling to find ground for the seven foot tiefling in front of him.   “Want to find out?”   “Nope!” Atka exclaimed, jumping behind Mamnen, placing both hands flat on his back, and willing the flames to expel through her palms. Mamnen cried out in surprise and dropped Renaer who was quick to draw a rapier. He placed it across the throat of the twin brother tiefling, who was now on his knees, back singed.   “Thank you, Atka.” said Renaer.   “Animal,” she hissed at him. “Put that away.” Renaer reluctantly did so, but shot Mamnen a warning look of not to rise. Atka put a hand on the human’s chest and pushed. “Go, go…” she demanded softly. “Leave us.”   He hesitated looking at Mamnen and then back at Atka. “What did he do to you?” he whispered, leaning in.   “Leave,” she whispered back, softening her gaze at someone who she ought not recognize, “please…” With that, he disappeared into the crowd she was now aware that had formed around the three.   Mamnen stood up. “Follow my lead, Atka,” he whispered into her ear, feigning a kiss on the temple. He put an arm around her shoulders and together they bowed. “Thank you, thank you! Please tip as you see fit, as we know the show is not for everyone.”   They didn’t wait long for people to decide if it was real, faked, or something in between. Mamnen leaned on her and walked the two of them off to a small shop in the middle of the craftsmen’s district.

Renaer vs Atka - Take 1

Fuck Willard, I thought bitterly as I began to march from the property I had been raised at since I was 14 years old. Willard shouldn’t talk that way to a guard anyway–isn’t that above his status or pay grade or something? I was all huffed up. And really, it had nothing to do with that servant of the house Willard anyway. He spoke to me like that in private all the time; we had a nice rivalry thing going. I don’t talk to a lot of people outside the planning room, and even then my purpose is not my tongue, it is my presence behind Dagult Neverember, the one and only.   I made the silent, conscious decision that I should just get to Waterdeep before looking for any kind of tracking. Renaer’s evidence of living here his whole life was going to get in the way; that, and, as much as I want to say dear old daddy Dagult was being one hundred percent forthcoming with me, I doubt he was. Why? There’s a reason why he wants me to start in Waterdeep, I just don’t know what that is yet. Because if Renaer had truly just run off, he would not have a clue where to start, and I would be holding up likenesses in Neverwinter, asking, “Have you seen this young man around?”   ***   I snapped out of bed at the Yawning Portal, the dream from what seemed like moments ago burned into the back of my eye sockets. I couldn’t shake the memory of Renaer screaming at me that “Oh, my dad, you mean, the embezzler of Waterdeep?” and “I’m here to make it right.”   Dagult had pointed me to Waterdeep with the intent of me starting here, and I found his son…well, within a moment of my actual searching. Dagult’s reminding letter when I was with Ilanir hadn’t been suggesting that I was not searching in the right place, but that I wasn’t searching at all. As if he knew that I was in Waterdeep, that Renaer was in Waterdeep and that we were not yet united as missionees.   I threw off the covers, instantly cold, dressed quickly and walked outside, instantly cold again. Gods, I hate the mornings. I shivered and shook out the sleep from my arms.   “Oh great. We have the same problem with sleep too.”   Renaer’s voice was palpable into the dawn. I felt my teeth grind together and my eyes slimmed. I looked at him without turning my head. There he leaned against the building, his red locks pulled back into a lazy tail behind his head, whereas I’m sure my dark, thick ones were haphazardly stacked one atop the other down my back.   “Maybe we just have the same problem of you being you.”   “I don’t keep me awake at night,” Renaer hastened to say. “And if I’m keeping you up at night, that’s a personal problem.”   “Oh, go home.”   “Are you appealing to my rebelliousness or something? Why do you think I would just go home because you say so…yet again. I’m not going back to Neverwinter. Not until I fix this mess my dad made.”   “I can think of another mess your dad made that I have to fix…” I muttered under my breath.   “Did you say something?”   I closed my eyes and was instantly in the planning room with Dagult. “Did you say something?” he had asked. Instinctively, I reacted in kind and leapt in front and away from Renaer. “No! Of course not!” And quickly Renaer looked at me as if he knew that 1) I was lying, and 2) he didn’t care enough to argue.   That face. Dagult shared so much of that expression when planning things with his allies. I could feel in my gut if someone was lying to me, but I guess Neverember men wore it on their faces.   “What are you staring at me like that for? Are you asleep with your eyes open?” he asked, penetrating my thoughts.   “You wish, and I wasn’t staring,” I said and sighed.   “Atka, you still are,” Renaer waved a hand in front of his own face. “Stop it.”   “You just… I miss home. I’ve been traveling most of my life and I’d like to have time to stop and do what I want–”   “Did I miss something? Are we bonding?” After an awkward, tense silence, he spoke up again, “You know, you really are something. I’ve gathered enough information to know that you played around with this crew that we found Floon with for what? A ten day at best, and you call them friends? And now you open up to me about one of your deepest wants of ‘not having enough me time’?”   My expression didn’t change. “So, what? Are you saying that those people who saved your scrawny ass, and got Floon out of danger, should not be considered my friends?”   “I’m saying that from what little I’ve seen, you have questionable boundaries.”   I scoffed, cocking my hip out and flicking my tail around the waist. “You’re just saying that because you don’t like that I like your dad.”   “Love.”   “What?”   “I’m saying that because I don’t like that you love my dad. Atka, that’s like me… loving your mom with your dad and you still there and very much a part of the picture.”   I grit my teeth. “You don’t know shit about my family, and it’s not the same.”   “How?”   “You don’t know what he’s like when we’re alone together.” I said, confidently. Renaer grinned as if he had already won something. He strode over to me, leaned up to whisper in my ear, making my eyebrows want to bury my eyes…   “But… I’ve seen when he’s in public with you. He doesn’t love you. And I think you know it, Miss Secret.”   I turned my head slightly to be cheek to cheek with the boy I thought was a coward, and who now, I could see, was clearly not afraid of me. “Shut up.” I whispered back. “Or I will drag you home by the ear, and it’ll be the longest 15 day trip to Neverwinter you’ve ever had.”   His grin broadened. “That’s not a denial. Gotcha, didn’t I?”   “I said ‘Shut up.’”   He took two steps back, looked me up and down, and shrugged. “I can see why he wants someone like you standing behind him in the war aftermath, but why do you run his errands? Fetching me? Don’t you have some sort of pride?”   “Shut. Up.” My tail was squeezing my waist as my tension grew. If I killed Renaer… my happily ever after may never be realized, and I would never hear the “Thank you, Atka. You’re enough” that I deserve.   “Is that all you have to say?”   “I’m going to bathe. And if you follow me, and don’t shut up, I’ll tell your father I found you in a hot springs with an ogre.” I flipped my hair, hearing him laugh a bit to prove to me he was unphased, and walked away. It didn’t matter if he won or I won… because now, I began to doubt…

Oh, my lord. Oh, my heart.

I snapped awake as I felt an object pelt the back of my head. Not cognizant of my own horns in that between asleep and awake state, I could feel the perpetrator beside me leap back out of the way of a prick.   “How do you sleep like that?” he asked, composure never lost even in the haste of his jumping back.   “Like what? With my forehead on my arms on the table?” I outstretched her arms pretending to yawn, and gently brushed the fingers of my right hand down his chest. I felt my hand become enveloped in his and soon followed by the other one. My smile was chiseled into the ceramic that is my face now; it would’ve taken a true artisan to remove it. Placing my left hand on the table, I pivoted her body to face him. “Or did you mean to ask how I slept with these alluring, dashing horns?”   His lips curled up in amusement, as he stroked the top of my hand. My eyes lifted up to his, studying his intent, and I could feel the air in my nostrils as I inhaled–everything exemplified. “I just doubted your need or ability to sleep, my dearest. Shall we discuss your trip?”   I nearly melted in an air of heaviness. “My trip? Must we talk about something that I am truly dreading? I feel like I just got back here.”   The charismatic lord brought my hand to rest on his shoulder, moving his soft hands to his hips. “Do you not believe in the mission?”   “Of course I do,” I whispered. A silence befell us both. I began to hear all the voices in my head from prior missions and how I had always reluctantly left and he had always ushered me on. “Do you… not believe in me?”   He moved to rest his cheek for a moment on my hand on his shoulder. “Have I ever doubted you, my dearest?”   As he lifted to straighten his head, I patted his cheek twice and brought my hands together on the table, tail flicking to curl around his ankle as I sensed he was about to depart from my chair-side. We exchanged knowing smiles, and I was instantly reassured. This man would never betray me so long as I continue to perform well–and I have quite an amiable ability to perform well.   “You do not want company? I wanted to sit with you.”   “Please, have this chair. It’s practically your staple,” I said, knowing I sat at the head of the table, his usual spot.   “Atka Marduk, you truly pay attention to detail, and that is what I love about you,” his voice didn’t crack, or deepen, or anything… It truly sang. I stood and let him sit as I stood to the left of the chair. I allowed the crux of the tip of my tail slip up his pant leg a bit, playfully. He did sit, and before I could make a true move, I heard the door to this planning room open and Willard, a known servant, walked in. I rolled my eyes and knew the play was over too soon, yet again.   “Begging your pardons, my lord,” he said, “I just–”   “--were seeing yourself out,” Lord Dagult Neverember stated, nonchalantly. “And see to it the door is completely locked behind you; this business cannot be interrupted again.” I wet my lips, back to the door and Willard, trying to figure out the meaning of “business.”   “Yes, my lord,” I heard without contention, followed by a shutting and locking door.   “I’m surprised. You’re usually not so dismissive to those you employ,” I said, inviting explanation. His face gave me nothing. He was lost in the distance already. I spun on the ball of the foot next to the chair to face the back of it and his lordship. I placed my hands on his shoulders and squeezed slightly, massaging them to the best of my ability through his robes.   “How much have I told you about this mission?”   “I’m to retrieve someone important and you feel he might be in danger.”   “My son, Renaer,” his voice trailed off as if he meant to say more about him and forgot. My lips parted. I obviously knew about him. There was that gods-awful time I saw him… But I didn’t know him.   “He’s missing?”   “Run off, I think. And I’m not sure where. I think it may be prudent to start in Waterdeep. That is truly one of the only other places we have ties.”   I wrinkled my nose. “Waterdeep? I cannot believe you want me to go there–”   “You wouldn’t go to the ends of the world for the mission, or in this case Renaer? Or for me?” His voice pleaded with my hands to continue their reassurance, so I continued to massage his shoulders, and awkwardly dropped my forehead down to rest on the back of his, my hair sliding off.   I breathed my solemn vow, “I would do anything for you, Dagult.”   “Did you say something, my dearest?”   I snapped up, away, and into a seat next to him. I shook my head, sheepishly, and draped an elbow over the chair. “Tell me about this mission. Anything you know that I need to know about Renaer, where he might be, and what might have happened.”   “I will not divulge personal information about my son, besides what you need to identify him. His name you have, his age is probably close to your own, and his likeness from last I saw was a lithe, red-headed man without much flaw in fashionable taste.”   “Takes after his father most assuredly.”   “Indeed.”   I reached across myself and placed a hand softly on my lord’s face, attempting to guide it to see me directly. He allowed this; his permission is always foremost for me. “Lord Neverember,” I stated, letting the full name embitter my tongue. “I promise you I will find him.”   “Deliver him back home. I need him here.” His eyes pierced my empathic gaze and bore into my brain.   “I know you do,” I said and dropped my gaze to my lap. I was surprised to feel his hand take my hand and rest them both on my lap between us.   “I can only trust you with this. Don’t fail me.”   “Yes, my lord.”

Finding Floon - Take 1.

It all started with a quick visit to the Skewered Dragon (where Volo said he and Floon went). Illidrex knew where it was, so we knew where to go. However, as we approached, a large crowd was surrounding the place. Angus and I were able to see over the guards three Xanathar (as we discovered) men murdered in front of the bar. After asking around, we found out which way two rich looking red headed men were heading.   We followed that street. Kal spotted a halfing man peering out a shop window. We investigated, bribed him for the information that one was drunk, both noble and red haired, and both went to the Blushing Mermaid after encountering “men in black” on the street. Sadachbia got poisoned by dream most that was wafting in this place.   Being that the Blushing Mermaid is Illidrex’s home, we investigated there. Found that the two never made it. So being that we had time to kill while the murders at the Skewered Dragon were cleaned up, we attempted the sidequest of the child’s lullaby being heard from a well.   We found the well…which gave no echos to our voices and basically had no bottom - it seemed to eat the falling torch I dropped down there. Illidrex played a child’s lullaby and it echoed that! Kal and Sadachbia went to research abyssal and demon knowledge at their library because Angus noticed a peculiar reaction from the war he was in as Illidrex played. Illidrex, Angus and I experimented with the hole during that time.   Sadachbia discovered that it was part of a demonic ritual that needed to be completed to be put at rest (either summoned or pushed back). Kal ran back to tell the others to stop experimenting. Then Sadachbia talked to the mages of the library and found that there was a container to bring the material component causing the abyssal illusion to a safer place to perform the ritual but it would take our time. He went back to the group to inform.   Angus, upon learning of the nature of the well, fashioned rations to a hunting trap and rope to “fish” out the material component. It worked. And it was revealed to be a small girl’s teddy bear. Kal adeptly (almost too adeptly according to Angus) performed the ritual exposing and then pushing the demon back, reducing the component to a normal bear. He pocketed the item.   Then we went to the Skewered Dragon. Atka gambled, Angus arm wrestled, Illidrex, Kal and Sadachbia listened for any clues. To create distraction (and drunken openness) Illidrex and I performed for them: me dancing and Illidrex throwing knives through my act. It got us the information we needed. Floon was taken to Candlelane, a dark street with only one light.   Once there, the group spotted a warehouse. And long story short, because of the markings being the same as those rumored to have taken Floon, we ambushed them. I fell through stairs and discovered a red haired prisoner I recognized. Not Floon. But I knew immediately, my long mission for HIM was over.   After the battle, Illidrex and Angus interrogated the remaining enemy. They found out that Floon was at “their headquarters” and we were to “follow the yellow signs.”   The other red head? The son of my Dagult Neverember (Rainor). He hates me for actions between me and Dagult, who he believes to have embezzled money from the people and is now responsible for nefarious people wanting him (Rainor). I begged to take him home because Dagult needed him, swearing that he didn’t love me. He refused and demanded to know my feelings. I dodged the question.   Illidrex convinced him to join our party if we helped find Floon then fix the embezzlement, since it was in our interests anyway. He disguised Rainor, we agreed to meet and depart in the morning at the Yawning Portal...

A Horrid Nightmare (27 years old)

Atka was asleep in her bed after the festivities of another mission accomplished. She knew that her true mission was still a bust, yet she could feel she was getting closer. Would he appreciate her more if she accomplished it? Would it break the anhedonic spell over him? She moved her hand to her navel and felt herself waking up. Oh, I hope so, she thought. Atka let her eyes open softly and meet the ceiling of the room. The light of a small candle twinkled near her open window.   Something smelled though. She smelled something truly burning; burning of ash, perhaps. It was strong, too. She leaned up in her bed and saw a familiar figure standing at it’s foot. Mamnen? No… worse! It was--   “I hear your pain, you know. You’re so alone and afraid. I hear you cry out in the night for me.” That smooth, self-assured voice… She hated it. It brought her right back to that night of her parents’ tragedy.   “Away, devil!” Atka said and reached for the sword next to her bed only to find it not there. She looked back at Ire, the only name she truly knew him by, the name her mother called him. He grinned and shook a finger at her.   “Ah, ah, ah. They call me ‘devil.’ But it’s your heart that’s empty. I call you ‘devil.’ I wouldn’t try and tempt you.”   “What are you talking about?” she asked, regretting it immediately. He grinned a grin that she probably had worn herself a time or two and suddenly she understood. “You take it back! I am nothing like you or devils. I--”   “Serve your own interests, I know. But how about it? If you could get my soul to save Jone’s lot, you would, wouldn’t you?”   “I...”   “Atka Marduk, so sheepish… You know that I already know that it may be midnight or midday, you would do anything to save her.”   Atka had enough. Haughtily, she drew herself from the bed, standing on it to tower over him and bending down to lock horns. “I’d die for her freedom.”   There brimmed a flicker of delight in his eyes, his ruby skin almost beginning to glow like embers in what was left of the candlelight. “Why use your venom on me? I don’t want Jone in a mine on this plane, and neither do you.”   “I want her on this plane.”   “I want me on this plane, I want her on this plane, I want you on this plane.”   I don’t understand, she thought. Let me show you, she heard his voice in her head. Loudly she screamed in her mind, hoping the “noise” would cause him to flinch and drown him out. He didn’t move. She truly did not understand telepathy. She doubted that would’ve worked on the Ring Master either.   He reached a clawed hand up behind her, running it up her back. It sent chills down it, and not in a way that she welcomed. She was abruptly petrified. He gripped the back of her head, horns still locked with his and her hair all tangled and bunched up around his hand. He whispered, “I’ll steal your soul. They call me ‘devil.’ You should be afraid.”   She felt heat from the palm of his hand. “Please!” she exclaimed. “Please, if you help me get my mother out, I’ll do something to help you get out of Hell. If that’s what you want. I don’t know what.”   He lifted her up. “I am out of Hell. Don’t tempt me, devil!”   That snapped her out of her panic. “Don’t tell me ‘don’t!’” she yelled and wrapped legs around his waist. She used every ounce of strength she had to lean back into his hand, drawing him forward at the waist and toppling them over onto the bed. She expected his weight to topple with hers, but when she landed and opened her eyes, she saw a dark, empty room. She couldn’t even see the ceiling. The candle was out, the window was closed, and she casually glanced next to the bed to see her sword sitting in its proper spot.   “It was a night terror…” she murmured. “Never had one as an adult before… He… called me ‘devil.’” She paused slightly and made her way to a mirror on the other side of the room. “Me. Devil.” She forced a smarmy grin to see how much she looked like him, gasped at the likeness, and staggered back to sit on the bed. She buried her face in both hands and cried herself into morning.

Ire the Carnal Eviscerator (16 years old)

Ire the Carnal Eviscerator   This journal details the account and research done by Mamnen Marduk, son of Amnon and Jone Marduk, Moon-brother to Atka and older brother to Vereella. In it I hope to discover what I can about the missing and devil family to the Marduk family on the side of Jone, after the murder of Amnon and recapture of Jone on the 27th night of Winter. As of the start of this journal, I am 14 years old and living in a small village farm under the watch of a dwarf monk named Helja Daerdahk. Soon, I will travel to Waterdeep to work in a blacksmithing shop to learn a trade while I research in their reputed library. I have already been in contact with their head historian of Angel and Demon, Devil, and God lore, Castiel. I don’t know what to expect when meeting him. He says he is deeply knowledgeable as he is incredibly old, well-read, and experienced. I am simply happy to have help. I will not recount the events in this journal for fear of riling myself into a frenzy. It is still fresh in my mind. But the important details will most likely come to light as I learn more. For now, I will detail the two players needing research:   Jone   Ire   Why need I investigate my own mother? Her history has come into question in my eyes. I just found out that Ire, clearly a devil, is my half-uncle on the side of Jone. Jone had always shared stories of being a mercenary and taught me many things regarding how to fight melee and ranged with weapons (she left the hand-to-hand fighting to my father, who was less than finessed; I learned more from Helja). Just what would HER mother—who was Ire’s mother, so a devil, too—want her back for?   Which brings me to Ire… this was no unseasoned planeswalker. He did not just walk into my parent’s house without a fight, and there was hardly a struggle there. He ambushed them. Killed my father simply. Bound my mother. Talked to us briefly and walked the planes with her right before our eyes. I’m eager to find out more about the rest of my “family.”   I leave for Waterdeep and my new employer tomorrow morning. Helja is taking me since she is convinced that I will get hurt or lost. Unlikely, but I will appreciate the company.   ----------------------------------------------------------------------------   It is our first and only night of camping on the way to Waterdeep. Vereella is going to be living with me, apparently, because she isn’t cut out for farm living. It’ll be fine with her, I think. She wasn’t at home the night of the attack, so she shouldn’t be interested in my research. That and she is young yet—but ten years.   The travel has been good. Very wooded. No path. Reminds me of going hunting or something. I was expecting a trail at least, but Helja said the shortcuts are safer. My thoughts are excited. I have an appointment to see Castiel tomorrow afternoon, and because I don’t start work until next week, I’ll have time to dive into this research. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep tonight.   ----------------------------------------------------------------------------   I met with Castiel. Before I go into that blunder, he is an ANGEL. An actual angel. Well, I guess he’s fallen. Either way. I expected him to be prejudiced about how I looked, but he wasn’t. However, as soon as I mentioned the name Ire, he said that I was naïve, a joking child and that I shouldn’t have been wasting his time. Then he flew off from the library courtyard. I have no idea what he was getting on about, but it only further fuels my interest in this Ire, if the expert in the lore refuses to acknowledge or talk about him to me…   Tomorrow I’m going to go into the library and try to blind-search for some history. Or ask somebody in there, although now, I’m a little shy about doing that as I don’t want to get banned from the library or something.   ----------------------------------------------------------------------------   Name: Ire   Age: Unknown   Conquests: Many   Aliases: The Carnal Eviscerator, The Champion of Death, The Mild Assassin, Jester Dix, Mad Ire, Hyatt the Mumbler, The Nightmare, Reaper Scars, Gonomor, Zoken, Xollomud, Drirxaxon.   Contracts: Always lives in exchange for the soul. Will give gifts for a soul but prefers to torture for the soul to be willingly given—or released in the exchange for ten innocents, preferably child souls. Contracts are ruthless.   Family Name: MENNITH   Mennith is a ruling devil family in Hell. They are reputed for being one of the most ruthless and soul-profitable families. It is unknown how many devil figures make up this family, but Ire is a key player on this plane. Other players are Zur’in, Salros, and Aggal. The relationships they have between each other are unknown. It does not appear that devil familial systems are as close or built like tieflings, where father and mother head the household and the children learn and then disperse. It seems that devils work independently and mostly stay in Hell and influence the planes for their soul hunting. Ire’s reputation is an anomaly. He is well-known in Waterdeep due to the Eviscerating Conquest 40 years ago. Hundreds of dead at this devil’s hands.   The fact that I didn’t know that might be why I offended Castiel. Ire is probably the name he uses on this plane. The alias “Zoken” came up more under the family and it fits more into the Mennith naming pattern.   If my mother Jone is a half-sister to Ire, that means that she is partially devil and must fulfill the Mennith expectation: obtain souls for Hell. That is why Ire brought her back. It occurs to me now that my mother was never an altruistic mercenary for hire. She likely was grooming souls back to Hell until she found a life that she thought was better. She brought Dad and us into the risk of this world knowing full-well that they would come for her. And now, I stand here Dad-less, Mom-less, homeless.   My research is done for now. I have no interest in pursuing her at the moment. What I did know is this: devil worship is both present and frowned upon here in Waterdeep. I’m not about to continue asking questions and making a name for myself.   ***   Atka shut the small, barely filled journal and stared up at the ceiling from her cot on Vereella’s bedroom floor. Vereella was sleeping soundly still after a great reunion was had between the sisters. Atka wasn’t able to sleep after getting the book, even after all the walking and no sleep during most of the night. Now she was wide awake thinking about Ire.   Oddly, she still wanted to approach the Ring Master about all of this. Why would a devil have a child with a tiefling at all? And why would this Mennith family, if they ruled so haughtily in Hell, want a half-blood to harbor souls for them? Besides, that look of horror on their mother’s face when Ire mentioned her mother and going back told her that Mamnen’s conclusions were probably…wrong. Or at the very least unfinished.   Yes, she would still see the Ring Master. Or maybe pick up where Mamnen left off and find this Castiel? Interesting idea. Talk to an angel who may know something about their devilish family tree? Atka smiled a bit. She liked Waterdeep already… and that was without having seen any of it during its bustling daylight hours. She rolled onto her side, imagined what it must be like to live in the center of a mansion designed for challenges, tricks, and riddles like the Ring Master was rumored to, and drifted off peacefully.   “Atka, are you ever getting up?”   But hadn’t she just closed her eyes? She rolled over on the cot, definitively away from the voice. No, not getting up. She began to feel the ache in her legs. No, don’t wake up. It’s not real if one does not wake up. Before long, she felt herself snore and it caused her to snuggle into herself to try again.   “Atka, seriously, it’s almost a second day—”   “Mammy knew I was sleeping two, Vereella,” she murmured without opening her eyes or moving. She heard feet walking away. Mamnen knew that, right? She had thought about that a lot, but had she ever actually told him? Didn’t matter. He was probably working, and it wasn’t like anyone was expecting her. Then she remembered the book, Ire, the Ring Master, and her eyes then shot open.   She still wasn’t going to move fast, but she decided that yes, she was getting up. She stretched her arms high above her head, twisting at the waist and thumping her curled tail. She rolled off the cot on bent knees and stood up. Atka yawned as if she hadn’t just slept a day and a half. Vereella’s room was tiny. A bed, a desk with candles, and a window. And now a cot. Mamnen must not make much to afford such a small place…   Atka walked out of the bedroom and weaved down the hallway that led to the bathroom or veered to the kitchen/living area. Is that where Mamnen slept? There were folded blankets and pillows on the small couch. Maybe Waterdeep wasn’t going to be so great—Wait, what was that noise? She heard… bustle. A cacophony of voices and noises that felt like it was right outside walls. Beelining for the window, she peered out and down, surprised to remember they were high up in the building. It must have been a main street of Waterdeep! Her eyes widened. She had never seen so many different races, so many in numerical value! It was just a swelling of activity. There were carts set up for sales of wares and food, there were carts and animals traveling. There wasn’t a spot on the street that was really “open.” How did people live like that?   Atka turned around and saw a table before her and a small plate of fruit, bread, and cheese and a note laid out for her. She picked up the note and read:   Atka –   Please don’t go to the Ring Master before talking to me about my research. I’ll be home before dark.   – Mammy     She set it back on the table and sighed, turning her ear to the noise to the street outside again. Atka was almost, ALMOST prepared to give in, because if Waterdeep had more than one road like that, how was she going to find the Ring Master? How did Mamnen find anything at fourteen? What is Vereella doing here at twelve? In regards again to Mamnen’s note, Atka didn’t want to see the Ring Master before talking to him anyway. There were a lot of questions she had.   So, she took a grape and a cube of cheese, tossed them into her mouth, and found her way back to the cot. Mamnen would wake her when he arrived, and she was not going to listen to that anxiety provoking city shit. She was asleep as her head hit the makeshift pillow out of spare blankets.   ***   “Vereella is at any art show for the next few hours, so now is as good as any to talk about that research. Did you read it all?” Mamnen asked from his spot on the couch. Atka dropped beside him on the couch, nodding, but asked an unrelated question in return,   “Why is Vereella at an art show?”   “She’s a painter.”   “Why?” Atka knew she had no tact. She also knew she did not really treat or understand her sister all that well.   “Not everyone wants to be a glory seeker, I guess. She’s been bound for artisanship since she got here. And she’s good. Pays for this place.”   “This place is not great.”   “But it’s expensive. It’s in the heart of Waterdeep. It’s close to everything,” Mamnen explained, his eyes closing briefly. He folded his fingers between each other and brought his hands to his lips. “But that’s neither here nor there. What did you think?”   “About what exactly? What did you want me to take from that? That you’re an asshole who abandoned your love for mom simply because you think she actually partook in devilish activities,” Atka asked, and then continued before Mamnen could, “And even IF she did, did it ever occur to you that she would have had to at the threat of her or maybe even our lives, or by your own research’s admission of Ire’s method of operating—other innocent lives?”   “Are you suggesting that Mother is still the altruistic mercenary that she always touted she was? Seriously?”   “Seems just as likely as the fact that she might not be. The only way I’m going to find out is to go to the Ring Master, appeal to his ability to forgive devil contracts, and free mother.”   Mamnen was silent for a long, long time. His eyes bore into the abyss in front of his, his bluish skin was slightly singed pink in his anger. Atka knew to say nothing, but she couldn’t anticipate where he was, which worried her. They were twins. Usually she read him well. “Has it ever occurred to you, Atka, that she wasn’t under contract?” he whispered.   Haughtily, Atka wanted to scream at him in opposition, but instead a breath was stolen and caught in her throat. She released it and sunk into the couch, slouching, and hanging her head. “No, because I don’t want to.”   Mamnen rotated to face her on the cushion and placed a hand on her arched shoulder. “I didn’t either, but Atka, we weren’t even ten years old when this happened. We couldn’t begin to understand the subtle nuances of what happened that night, and now our trauma has tainted everything so much that perhaps we cannot see the entire story.” He paused and drew back his hand. “There’s a distinct possibility that the mother you find would not be the same we had here, or that she would even want to come back.”   “You don’t believe that. She loved us.”   “She loved making us ‘exceptional.’”   That breath phenomenon happened to Atka again when he used that word. Their mother had called all of her children ‘exceptional’ that night. Clearly, Mamnen had remembered and emphasized that too. On purpose. “You think she was grooming us for something?”   “Well, how about it?”   She was silent, looking around. Little bumps formed on her arms as she thought about that possibility. Devils scared her. Ire scared her. Up until two seconds ago, her mother did not scare her. She sort of changed the subject, “Did it bother you as much as it did me that in your research, he went for innocent children’s souls, but he had no interest in us?”   “No,” Mamnen said, “We’re family, so we’re not innocents.”   “How come you never followed up with Castiel?”   “Because of what I’m trying to tell you right now, devils don’t have families. Not really. Mother is gone because she is a devil, whether she’s happy about it or not, and we’d all be better off to just move on.” Mamnen drew his ankle onto the opposite knee and leaned into the back of the couch. He grabbed both of his small horns on his head. “I’m sorry, Atka. I know you still love her. But you ought not. It’ll get you killed. Nearly got me. Angelology, demonology and devilogy – Heavens, planeswalking, and Hell? They best stay at rest.”   Atka couldn’t help it. She hugged her goosebumped arms and wept. “I cannot believe you’re far gone from our family. I feel like you’re a devil right now—no familial system. Mom would’ve traveled the planes to find us and hurt anyone who dared to hurt us. She would take on the Ring Master, Castiel, a dragon, a demon, a devil, a GOD in a heartbeat, and you read a book about Ire the Carnal Eviscerator and your whole tone changes?” She sniffled and stood up. “Shame on you,” she whispered.   “You’re sentimental? Hormonal?”   “I’ll kill you if you write this sentiment off as hormones alone. It’s no more hormonal than the male hormones that made you side with the devil’s definition of true family roles—”   “I have not!”   “Everyone equal—no mother anymore. You referred to her more as ‘Jone’ in your journal. Her own identity. Very devilish, by your own admission.”   “Stop linking me to devils.”   “‘Well, how about it?’” she quoted, whipping around to face him. He rose slowly from the couch, took a step to stand horn to horn with her, granted he needed to bend over slightly as he was a foot taller, and his horns were a third the size of hers.   “Knock. It. Off.” Mamnen spoke through his clenched teeth. Atka turned her chin up and met his gaze.   “I will meet the Ring Master. And when I find Mom hurting, free her from her captives, I hope she sees how ‘unexceptional’ you truly have become in your trauma, Mamnen.” Then, she hissed loudly into his face, turning on her heels and stomping out of the flat, not knowing where to go, but knowing that if he could navigate the city at fourteen, she’d figure it out on her own at sixteen.
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Forgotten Realms
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AtkaMarduk
Publication Date
15 Oct, 2021
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15 Oct, 2021
Last Update Date
15 Oct, 2021
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