Zazel Rolls: 27
Of course Zazel attacks the guard and pulls him inside the door of the room where she and her brother are being held captive. Agiel is disappointed that most of the fish he brings them falls on the floor, but there is enough still on the tray that he climbs down from the bed and munches while he watches his sister make a grown man with fabulous wings weep.
“Who drugged us,” punch to the face, “who took us unconscious from our home,” strong grab to the bridge of his left wing on his back and a savage digging in of the short talons on each of her fingers, “who will die by my bare hands?”
The guard whimpers and Agiel yells at his sister, “How are you making him cry so much and he’s wearing all of that armor?”
“It’s shitty armor,” Zazel says and rips the metal plate from the guard’s apparently feathered chest. “Shitty aerphim armor. Talk, now. Or I will rip every wing from your body with my teeth.”
“Do what you will,” the guard says, wincing in pain at the sustained grip of Zazel on his wing. “But it’s not what you think. We mean you and Agiel no harm. We only had to take drastic measures to show you both who you are.”
“Where are we?” Zazel asks.
“We’re on Bromeran, and you can let me go. I am happy to tell you everything. We have only kept you here for everyone’s safety.”
Zazel knows that he is telling the truth. She lets go of his wing, but pushes him against the wall.
“We brought you both here to remind you where you come from. We brought you here to speak with your mothers.”
Zazel takes a step back from the man. Her mother was never supposed to matter. She and Agiel were the twins of Metatron, the perfect image of the Aerphim that everyone on the planet aspired to impress. Metatron was the unofficial leader of the planet, a figurehead, a king, and his children were the prize of the planet. No one ever spoke of their mothers, everyone assumed that Metatron managed to shape the two into existence with his awesomeness. Metatron didn’t need a partner to reproduce.
But Zazel knows that she and Agiel have mothers who are mmoatia from the same land that Lêgba, the glorious father of Metatron, hails from. She hasn’t thought too much about her mother, though as she got older and matured into adulthood when Metatron retired and left his duties to Zazel and Agiel, she wondered why Metatron never mentioned them. And then it became apparent that their mothers were enemies of the Aerphim, mmoatia who resented the glorious vision Lêgba had for the universe. No mmoatia had been to Endla in so long that most of the aerphim have never laid eyes on one, aside from Agiel and Zazel and the other third sphere Aerphim.
“Would you agree to meet with and speak with your mothers?” the guard asked when Zazel stood silent contemplating the news.
Agiel was mostly watching the scene in silence as he finished the last of the fish that hadn’t hit the floor and when he saw Zazal frozen in apparent shock, he answered the guards question for them both.
“We’re not interested in betraying Endla for them, so I imagine there’s not much for us all to discuss. If we had mothers, of course. It’s blasphemy to suggest that the almighty Metatron would need the womb of a female to produce offspring. Haven’t you heard the stories? I think there’s a really bad play about it, too. Metatron made us with sheer force of will with the leftovers of his own awesomeness. We have no mothers. So, in light of our refusal, I assume you’ll be taking us home now before the Aerphim authorities on this planet are alerted to our location. Thank you so much, you are starshine. Can I get some of that fish wrapped up to go? And what the hell, give me some of whatever you drugged us with to get us off of Endla; I haven’t slept that good in a while.”
Zazel was still reeling when Agiel was done. Agiel operated in a state of sustained irony and sarcasm, so much so that it was difficult sometimes to discern his true feelings, but he’d never shown any interest in his mother.
“We are happy to take you back to Endla,” the guard said humbly, “but I must beg for your patience. Your mothers insist that you speak to them, they have gone through so much to bring you both here. Speak to them and tell them directly of your allegiances and I’m sure they will have their guards return you to your home.”
Game Move:
GM: Zazel, are you ok? I can keep the narrative going and come back to you a little later.
Zazel: Just do your job, I’m fine.
GM: Cool, so do you think you want to talk to your mother? You have some options if you don’t…
Zazel: I want to talk to her. I want to see her. And I want to kill her.
GM: Seriously? You want to follow the guard and try to kill your mother?
Zazel: Are you hard of hearing? Maybe you are not properly equipped to do this job. Is there someone else that can coordinate these dumb dice rolls?
GM: Pardon me, I was just a little taken aback. I didn’t expect your move. If that’s what you want, to see and then kill your mother, then roll 2d10 for a combined score of 90 or more.
Tune in next week to see if Zazel kills her mother, whoever that is. And I guess Pultine will be there too! Haven’t seen her in the present day yet. You don’t want to miss that.
PRL Serials 