Scene #3424: The Tale of the Taken

Owner	Pose
Medusa Gorgon	Ward 17 is as The Lady should remember it from before. Bustling with activity, staffed by mostly nurses who are treating those injured and in need of the special treatment that combines regular medicine with witchcraft. It's effective, but not for the faint of heart or those who have an aversion to such things. It's not uncommon that the ward is full, and the staff has more than enough work on their hands as they go from room to room. The guests will not be stopped, and well... it should be easy to find Medusa's office, the door open and the pleasant scent of tea drifting through the air, as well as something sweet. The witch has prepared some cookies along with the tea it seems, and four tea cups have been placed on her desk as she waits for the Lady and her two guests to arrive. Might as well work some more while she waits.
The Lady	The familiar confines of Ward 17 do not appear to have changed much in the time between today's visit, and the last time that the Lady had been here. There are always injuries to be seen to in the Confederacy, and there are always nurses to see to their patients. In some ways, it almost resembles the mobile hospitals set up by the Black Company to treat their own; just as clockwork-orderly and attentive to detail, and just as meticulous about cleanliness, precision, and speed. Sweeping in with the elegance of a queen, the Lady is the kind of presence that fills a room without even trying. What few people do happen to be in her way move aside without her needing to say a word. Her face is a composed mask, remote and cool as ice, eyes fixed straight ahead towards the office that belongs to Medusa. Her attire is just as regal, with a red and gold brocade dress, a white lace tricorne trailing several ostrich feathers, and a net of pearls over her long, straight, glossy black hair. Her eyes are lidded as though she were unconcerned with the hubbub of activity around her. To the magically sensitive, it's as though a supercharged floodlight just walked by; a woman of power, to those who can sense it. Behind her trails a lone figure swathed in black, back straight, face concealed beneath black gauze. As they make their way further into the ward, the black-clothed figure reaches up and sweeps the hood and gauze aside with a little shake of the head, revealing an older woman's scarred, homely face, with short, tied-back brown hair and brown eyes. She looks every inch a tough old campaigner. There's absolutely nothing remarkable about her appearance in the least, which is at odds with the aura of power that surrounds her. She carries with her a longsword at her waist, but it stays in its scabbard. This must be Feather. Behind her trails a lone man, maybe in his late thirties. Croaker is obvious just by the process of elimination, because she had mentioned an Annalist, and he's lugging a big blank-paged tome, and quill; he wears a long knife at his belt, but it remains in its scabbard. He's managing to prop open the tome as he walks and write, which is a pretty handy trick considering the brisk pace the Lady's setting. Every so often he eyes the Taken in front of him almost nervously. Meanwhile, the Lady follows her nose, because the scent of tea stands out here like a beacon. The first indication she's arrived is the quiet clatter of gear as her followers come to a halt. The Taken eases in front of her to open the door and hold it. Croaker gives the Taken a harried look as he scoots past her; curiously, she winks at him, as though enjoying some kind of private joke. "Miss Gorgon," the Lady murmurs, ignoring her minions as she eases hrself into a seat. "My apologies. I would have been here sooner, but there were... matters... that required my attention. Regrettably, Feather could not attend. May I introduce you to Whisper--" She indicates the Taken with a dip of her chin, "--and Croaker." The man also earns a faint gesture. Whisper stands just behind and to one side of the Lady; the Lady glances back to her, and without a word, Whisper seats herself to one side. Croaker similarly finds himself a chair, and seems to want to sit as far from the Lady and Whisper both as he can get. To say he looks a little bit nervous is something of an understatement.
Medusa Gorgon	When the guests arrive the witch looks up from her paperwork, smiling as she pushes her chair back and rises to her feet. "It's been so long, dear," she responds, her tone warm and welcoming. "And do not worry, I have been busy myself." The introduction of the Lady's companions earn a soft nod, even though Medusa isn't as interested in them, it seems. But she has proper manners at least, welcoming them. "Please help yourself to the tea and cookies, I have tried a new fruit blend today." Once they are all seated Medusa too sits back down, picking up her tea cup as she studies Whisper and Croaker. For what reason were they brought along? Perhaps she will learn that. If not... she won't lose sleep over it. "To what do I owe the honour of you wishing to speak with me, dear?" she inquires, leaning back in her seat as she crosses one leg over the other.
The Lady	With murmured thanks, Whisper helps herself to a platter of those delightful cookies, munching on them thoughtfully. There's something creepy and unsettling about the Ten Who Were Taken to normal non-Elites; one almost wonders if they even need food. The Lady is more sedate in her acceptance, taking a moment to dispose of a delightful little fruit cookie before taking an unhurried sip of tea. Croaker says nothing, but his quill is scratching its way furiously across the page. He seems occupied with burying his nose in his blank book, possibly so he can industriously avoid attention from Powers Greater Than He. Just to be nice, though, he does stuff a cookie into his mouth between written words. "There are ten mortal sorcerors who serve me, taken into service by my husband, the Dominator." The Lady launches right into her explanation, looking Medusa in the eye. "There are eight who serve me now, five of which my husband compelled into service. They are masterful sorcerors, and their talents are valuable to me." "One of them, the Howler, suffered grievously at the hands of the Union the last time I actively served the Confederacy. He has not received proper treatment until now, because we simply lack the resources to set him right; we had not planned on Elites being capable of doing such damage to one of the Taken." "I have need of his skills, and so I turn now to my allies." The Lady fixes her blue, blue eyes on Medusa. They're almost luminant, but not quite; just a shade or two too bright to be explained by the lights of the office. Magic, maybe. She favours the nurse with a sweet smile. "May I impose upon your skills, Miss Gorgon? I do hate to ask. You would be compensated, of course. The Howler is quite useful in those occasions where his skills are necessary; he is unquestionably the best pilot of flying carpets in the Empire, and knows the secrets of their making even more intimately than I." Whisper glances up, scarred face an expression of indifference. "Maybe he could make you a carpet of your own. We've considered making those available to our Confederate allies. Of course, we can't mass-produce them. They're costly, and they're difficult to make, but if anyone would know how to enchant one tough for our allies, it would be the Howler." Whisper pauses to punctuate her statement with a sip of tea. "If, of course, you were interested."
Medusa Gorgon	For now Medusa sips her hot tea carefully as the Lady explains matters further, why she is here seeking the help of a witch. So these are some of her underlings, is that it? It's always invaluable to have somebody to assist you in matters, Medusa knows this better than many people. The right tool for the right job. It's not so strange that people come to her seeking medical attention, but it's not often it's on somebody else's behalf. Even so Medusa arches a fine eyebrow where she sits. "Oh really? What a shame... the Union never eases up, now do they?" she mock pouts. But she lets the Lady finish, sipping her tea some more as she watches the Lady's intense blue eyes. Such a humble request... "My dear, it's my job to tend to Confederate personnel and allies, isn't it?" Medusa points out with an amiable smile as she sets her tea cup own. When Whisper suggests payment in form of a rare flying carpet, it almost looks like Medusa is about to laugh. Instead she merely chuckles. "What kind of witch has a flying carpet...?" she asks, clearly teasing. "I have flown a broom centuries before you were born, and I see no need in changing to something that I consider to be less practical for me to use." She picks up a cookie for herself, breaking it in two. "I will tend to your servant, don't worry. You can owe me a favour in return if you wish. Now... what sort of injuries does he suffer from?" It would be easier if she could prepare beforehand.
The Lady	The Lady's head tilts, very faintly, as though she were pleasantly surprised by such a simple acquiesce. Of course, she's worked with the nurse before, and Medusa Gorgon has always been a reasonable enough woman within the confines of her work. Reasonable enough without, too. It's not like dealing with the politics and squabbling among the Taken; or the wearisome minutae of an extended war against the Rebel. When she's spoken to about carpets, though, Whisper just adopts a bland expression. Okay, so this is another old spook just like the Lady, hundreds of years old without looking a day over some indeterminate but lovely age. That doesn't seem to bother her very much, though, or maybe she's just good at hiding it. "Actually, 'carpet' is a misnomer. It's a foot-high chunk of wood with textile stretched over it, with so much enchantment layered on it that it can move by the will alone of a sufficiently powerful sorceror." Whisper drains her teacup and sets it aside. "It's faster than marching, anyway. No? Suit yourself." "A broom. How novel." The Lady seems amused by this. "However, I must agree to that logic. Carpets are tools of the Empire. Their ability to carry small amounts of cargo, and ferry small squadrons of men, makes them an invaluable asset. I believe I would find a broom most awkward, but perhaps I should like to try that someday." Whisper glances up, glances over to Croaker, shrugs, and goes back to toying with the crumbs of cookie left on her plate. For his part, Croaker ignores her, writing furiously. That leaves the Lady to answer, and answer she does. "His carpet was crashed into a mountaintop in a region I believe is known as the Caverns of Prophecy. The Howler and fragments of his carpet were found at the foot of the mountain." "Broken bones, physical trauma, blunt force impact. Gravity," Croaker adds, from behind his tome. "Gravity's a bitch." "Essentially, that," the Lady adds, tone one of faint amusement. "The thing to understand about the Taken is that they have been kept alive for several hundred years past their time. The grave has not treated them kindly. It makes treating their wounds somewhat labour- and time-intensive. Essentially, they are undying. They may fall in battle, as some have, but they cannot die of old age. Such sorceries have strange effects on the body."
Medusa Gorgon	"Brooms can carry heavy loads as well, and it's quite fast, I assure you," Medusa responds to Whisper. It's all right, why should she replace her fully functioning broom? "If you wish to give me though, perhaps I could offer it to somebody in medical. It might be useful to transport wounded," she says with a shrug. So, this man fell. And he's a man who's kept alive past his natural lifespan by magic. How... interesting. "I see... it's quite a challenge you offer me, dear. I can't say I'm not curious about it though. I will have to do some intensive testing in order to learn just how to treat him. I hope you have no objections...?" Medusa asks with a slight smirk.
The Lady	The Taken just eyes the nurse for a few seconds more, evidently thinking over the logistics. Medusa knows more about brooms, but carpets are what she's familiar with, having been immediately instructed in their use once she was Taken. Useful tools, those. "Brooms are probably faster," Whisper finally concedes. "They might be useful to us..." They certainly have merit and potential, though, and no doubt the Lady's still considering their utility. Carpets are wonderful for moving small squadrons of soldiers, but they're inherently fragile. They might have incredible enchantments laid over them but they're still just constructs of wood and textile. Setting them on fire is pretty laughably easy. The Lady's expression remains thoughtful. "You may keep the Howler here, if it would faciliate your work on him. I'm afraid he is in no shape to conduct anything himself," the Lady responds. "I will see that Whisper delivers him to your ward." "I'll see that he's taken over immediately," Whisper adds crisply. "I can't guarantee he won't be noisy, though. You may want to put him in isolation." His name, apparently, is a fitting one. "I will see that you are compensated, regardless," the Lady offers. "I am still taking you from the duties of your other allies." Rising to her feet with a hiss of fabric, the Lady turns her head, slightly. "Whisper. Croaker. Fetch my carpet and wait outside." The Taken files out, affording Medusa a last nod before she goes; Croaker stops and glances at her, as though about to say something, before filing meekly after Whisper. Once they've gone, the Lady glances back, and seems to relax just a little. "A pleasure doing business with you, as always, Miss Gorgon. I understand that the Confederacy takes an active interest in its members' well-being." She places her teacup back on its saucer, before raising her head. "I will be along for the next examination. And if you ever have need of personnel, Croaker is an excellent physician, as well as his understudy, One-Eye; should you find yourself in need of delegation, he will no doubt be more than capable."
Medusa Gorgon	"I'm afraid only witches can use brooms," Medusa points out calmly. "Give me any type of broom, and I can fly with it. Though I do prefer the ones I have made on my own as it's sturdier than most." Well, she has to make new ones on a regular basis, but that's just how it is working with the Confederacy as an Elite. So the man lives up to his name, huh? "I am used to noise, and I am certain I will be able to deal with him." Perhaps it would be wise to make him mute for the duration of his stay if it gets too bothersome. "I do thank you for the warning, however. If you do wish to compensate me, then perhaps books or resources from your world? It could become useful in my work and research." Medusa remains just as calm when the Taken exit the office, leaving her and the Lady on their own. "Oh, it's hard to fight if everybody is injured, isn't it?" Medusa points out with a soft chuckle. "You are always welcome here. I'm not sure whether I need new personnel, but I will keep that in mind. It never hurts having a few extra hands during the busier parts of the year," Medusa says, finishing up her cookie with soft smile. "I do wonder what sort of magic has been cast on them, however..."
The Lady	Most in the Lady's employ seem to sport interesting nicknames rather than given names. In many cases, they seem to be related to some knack about them or talent they have, such as Whisper's lovely voice, or the Limper and his eponymous shuffle. Only the Lady seems to bear such a plain honourific, although she's certainly made it her own -- love or hate her, most in the north of her world do /know/ of her, at the very least. As for the woman herself, she gives another one of those sweet smiles. "Very good. I'm afraid that was the work of my husband. The Howler has sought a cure ever since, but it's an unfortunate malady that even I cannot ease him of." Or she chooses not to. One never knows. "If that is your interest, you shall have what books and resources you desire from my personal library at Charm." The Lady inclines her head graciously. "That is a small price to pay for such expertise." To the manner of magic surrounding the Taken, the Lady only gives a small, almost teasing smile. "That would be a trade secret, Miss Gorgon, and no amount of examination will reveal all of those secrets." The smile widens a little. "You may examine the Howler as closely as you wish, but I do not think he will yield you any secrets. Even the Taken do not fully know what was done to them. What I can say is this: They are nothing like whatever they were once like in life. They are no more mortal now than I am, or many of my Elite allies. The old slaver made them into his creatures, body and soul; I, in turn, made them /mine/, body and soul." At least, that's the theory. It'd be nice if it actually stuck, but no, the bastards keep at their squabbling and power-plays. The Lady shakes her head, faintly. "I will answer what questions you may have about them, though, inasmuch as I can. The secrets of the Empire are not so fascinating any more, now that the gates have been flung open to the multiverse itself, no?"
Medusa Gorgon	"So your husband is the one who made them... I see. Most witches in my world are women, so magic is mostly a domain for women. It's an amusing change of pace to see men wielding magic in the multiverse if you ask me~" Medusa responds, pouring herself another cup of tea. Now that sounds like a treat. "I would love to inspect your library. Knowledge is always useful, and only fools reject any chance to learn and expand their view." Most witches learn that quickly lest they be killed off. Knowledge can be the difference between life and death in some cases. Literally. "Perhaps," Medusa shrugs when the Lady states that the chances of her learning anything about the magic used to create him are pretty much non-present. "But I would very much like to learn the effects it as on the body. And what happens in a body that's stayed alive for far longer than it should have." It might be a treat, who knows? "Perhaps it would be easier if you filed a report that Whisper could deliver when she delivers The Howler to me. I'm in no hurry," she assures the other woman.
The Lady	"The Dominator." The Lady's smile remains where it is, but it doesn't look like a particularly happy smile. There's something wintry in it. "Perhaps you wouldn't consider it so amusing if you knew him, but I suppose it also takes all types, in this place. Men or women may wield sorcery, in my domain; there seems to be no established slant towards men or women." After all, she is the next most powerful living thing in the north, shy of her husband. And he's the one still restless in his grave. She smiles, very faintly. "Perhaps I will eschew bringing you materials, and simply bring you to visit Charm? Yes? Charm is the seat of my Empire, and its resources in this regard are vast. To spend a day there would doubtless be more satisfactory for you than a few paltry materials borrowed." It must be one hell of a library, the way she talks about it. "To tell you the truth," she murmurs, "the original five Taken are the Dominator's creatures. Even I do not know fully what went into their making. I am capable of Taking mortal sorcerors myself, but my methods differ. Certainly, they're two methods to reach the same goal, but the devil is in the details, as the saying goes. My Taken and my husband's Taken are inherently different creatures." That faint smile touches her lips again. "As to that... I suppose I myself qualify for that. I have seen the rise and fall of several centuries, myself, though perhaps not so many as you," she states, honestly. Medusa's a canny one; surely she has a lot of experience on her side. "Of course, the time that I spent in my grave was not so severe as the Taken." The Lady affords a wink. "But that can be our little secret." Serious again, she tilts her head slightly. "Certainly. I will see to it that she does so." "In the meantime, if you have any more questions, I am in a generous mood." That faint hint of a smile again. Now that prying ears are gone, the expression seems to say. "After all, it's good to get to know our allies."
Medusa Gorgon	The witch smiles, her glance pensive. "I must say, paying a visit to Charm might be charming indeed. I will arrange a day where I can leave medical and get back to you on that," she assures the Lady. It's interesting with how the Lady talks about the Taken. And how she spent time in the grave as well. "You do seem to have lived longer than most humans. Experience is rather useful in the long run. I can imagine it was... interesting. I have no interest in sharing that information, and secrets are meant to be kept in my opinion~" She chuckles softly. "So Taken can be different according to who created them, is that so?" It does seem that Medusa has some questions indeed. "Just how much damage can a Taken withstand? Perhaps they could be useful for certain... tasks."
The Lady	"Good. I will see to it that the Tower is made presentable," the Lady murmurs, with a half-smile. The Tower is always presentable. Her subjects keep it orderly, because the Lady herself is orderly, almost to the point of obsession. Her comment seems to be in jest more than anything else. "It has been a long, long time since the Tower received any guests." She tilts her head again in that odd way she has, regarding Medusa through those blue, blue eyes. "Yes. However, I am on a different level entirely than the Taken. I am their master, just as the Dominator was before me. Their power is as nothing before ours." "That is why they look different. Whisper is new, and among the first that I have Taken myself, so she is not a creature of the Barrowlands. Those Taken of the Dominator wear masks, and conceal their faces; those Taken of mine have no need. In addition to Whisper, I have also Taken Feather and Journey." That smile touches her lips again, coy. "All three once belonged to the Circle of Eighteen, generals of the White Rose Rebellion. They now belong to me. So too does their knowledge of Rebel campaigns and tactics." How much damage can the Taken withstand? "Tremendous amounts. It is incredibly difficult for a normal person to dispatch one of the Ten Who Were Taken. Even the removal of limbs is not immediately fatal."
Medusa Gorgon	The witch looks amused at the comment, clearly understanding that it was a joke. After all, there is no way that the Lady would tolerate a mess. "So a Taken is a person you basically enlist to your service against their will?" Medusa inquires curiously. "Can you do this to most people, or are there limitations?" It could be useful.
The Lady	"A Taken is one who is Taken," the Lady states simply. "That is how they have always been known, and it is how they will always be known. Their will is overpowered and they are compelled to serve, and though their minds are not wholly dominated, the one who does the Taking is capable of unmaking them." "What makes them Taken may be revoked. If they are wounded... well. Made mortal in the grips of wounds that would kill a man, well, they will suffer their natural fate, then." She eyes the nurse sidelong. She smiles that faint smile, as though enjoying a private joke. "Very much against their will, yes. Whisper was a general of the Rebel. So too were Feather and Journey. Indeed, it is more complex even than that, but sufficed to say, they had less reason to follow me than even that White Rose silliness." Can she do that to most people? She smiles, sweetly. "I can do that to whomsoever I choose, within the bounds of my own world. If I wished, I could Take one of the Black Company's pet wizards. Perhaps even Croaker, although that would destroy his most useful properties, and he would make a poor sort of Taken. It is better served on those with sorcerous talents." "In truth, I do not know if it would be effective against those beyond the bounds of my own lands," the Lady admits. "And I do not think it would work at all against those considered 'Elite.' They are possessed of far too much will and strength, from what I understand. Perhaps the Dominator could succeed, but I would not care to try unless I were certain of victory." Hmm-mmm. A subtle sort of hint; one could infer that her husband is stronger than she is, or at least she views him that way. "Perhaps individuals of lesser powers, if you were thinking of those of your world. But even the most stalwart of sorcerors, within the bounds of my Empire, will shatter if enough pressure is applied--" The Lady pauses quite suddenly, tilting her head sharply, adopting a rigid pose -- Woman Listening. Listening intently, no less, as her eyes slip briefly out of focus. After a few seconds, she comes back to herself, inclining her head politely to Medusa. "I do so hate to cut things short, but if you will excuse me, it seems that there is trouble once more. My duties are never wholly finished. Thank you for the refreshments, Miss Gorgon." She pauses at the threshold, and offers a wink. "Charm's doors will remain open to you, as well, should you need anything. I should dearly like to speak again later." With that, the elegant woman is gone, vanishing easily into the hustle and bustle of Ward 17.
Medusa Gorgon	It's an interesting theory, and Medusa does nod in return. "Elites tend to be far stronger than most, and mind tricks and manipulation is never an easy task when it concerns the strong willed," she agrees. "I would very much like to see you take somebody from your world sometime. If that is permitted, of course~" Scientific curiousity is something the witch never bothers to hide. Not even when it's macabre like this. It's a shame things have to be cut short, though Medusa understands only too well. "Work is always calling, is it not?" she offers with a soft chuckle, rising from her chair to see her guest out. "I do thank you for the visit. I will prepare a room for Howler so he might be treated soon. It should be ready by tonight if need be, and I will keep you updated on his status throughout the treatment." Charm ought to be interesting, to say the least. "It's so rare that I'm welcome anywhere~" Why, Medusa can't help but let out a laugh. "Do take care, and we'll keep in touch. It's a treat to speak with likeminded people~"