(( The previous post and the following posts are an edited recap of an in-game session. ))
His cheek still stung with the memory of her slap, but Nero could not help but take some satisfaction in it, even as the side of his face began to redden. She had struck him because some part of her knew he was right. It was an arrogant thought, egotistical, perhaps even narcissistic, but he could see his piercing barbs wearing down her idealism, her naive world view.
Yet within some part of him, there was some tiny regret. The smuggler was testing her. Roen had gone through some experiences she had only given hints or summaries to, but she was still sheltered in many ways. The smallest, most insignificant fragment of his conscience did not wish to see her idealism broken.
But it was far too late for that now.
Nero turned his attention back to unloading and inspecting the crates, moving to the other side to avoid the paladin's gaze. Some of the refugees could hear their argument echo in the caves, and the Hyur sheepishly distributed some supplies to them before shooing them off.
"I hope that day never comes, Mister Lazarov. For Ul'dah's sake." Roen's voice came from the other side of the crate pile. From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance at the refugees. After a long silence, she finally spoke. "We both want the same thing."
"Do we?" Nero said, his voice melancholic and doubtful. "Have you even thought about what it is you want? Do you even know?"
"I, too, want to end the suffering of the poor." The cavern rumbled a bit as the crate lids were peeled off and the contents shuffled. Nero couldn't see her face--he was avoiding looking at it--but he could guess at her expression. "I am not blind to the corruption of the Monetarists. I wish for their hold on the Jewel to end...but I do not wish for a bloody war to achieve such goals."
Nero's bitter smile returned. Hopelessly naive, the thought rang in his head. He stood up from his crouching position, occasionally casting a sideways glance at the paladin as the two of them worked.
"I do not wish for the bodies of my enemies to litter the streets, or for their blood to run over the stones." Roen shook her head. "I do not mean to keep the status quo. I know the status quo is warped. Twisted. Unbalanced. Else I'd have never agreed to this." She gestured between herself and the smuggler. "But I knew not how or where to begin. I had hoped you had the answers that I did not."
She turned her face to search his ice-coloured eyes. "Perhaps you still do. In some way."
Nero could not help but snort derisively. She wanted to correct Ul'dah and had absolutely no plan whatsoever. And when some parts of his plan contained elements that she didn't like, she complained. Typical.
"And so your plan is to stumble about aimlessly in the dark, hoping that your goal will come to fruition by itself." Nero roughly brushed past her to reach the other crates. "Hoping that the story books weren't lies, hoping beyond hope that no one will need to sacrifice." He turned his head to glare at her. His words from yesterday had ached to be said, and now they received their chance.
"You are nothing but arrogant, Miss Deneith. You sit from your pedestal of righteousness and indignation and simply watch the suffering. You convince yourself that you are helping, that you are 'changing' things, that you are making things better. You watch filth like me stain our hands with blood and destroy lives, and you turn your nose away in disdain. 'I am not like that', you say to yourself. 'I am changing things. I am doing things the right way.' And so the people continue to suffer, to live in squalor, to be chewed up and spat out by the city that despises them...and you just watch, chained by your own delusions." As Nero spoke, his words became more inflammatory, his tone smoldering with repressed anger.Â
He turned to face her. "What would you have them do? Raise their hands to the skies and pray for salvation from the Twelve? Have them watch their families starve and freeze in the night, their faith in the system so justly rewarded? What would you have them do, Roen Deneith?"
Roen slammed her hands on the box. "Stop that," she said, her voice hoarse. "Stop that!" The hoarse demand had turned into a growl. "I...I do not know! I did not have a plan! That is why I sought you out!" Her voice grew more infuriated.
"All I have known is the Order! I am trying to find a new way. A better way! You were my hope in finding it!"Â
What was she talking about, this simpering girl? She saw him as some kind of guardian angel, that he would provide magical answers to the problems she wished to solve? How foolish could she possibly be? Nero did his utmost to keep his lip from curling into a scowl. Her naivete--no, it was beyond naivete, it was now borderline stupidity--was incredible.
He did not look at her face, but he could hear the paladin's voice calm at least somewhat. "No, I never expected gratitude from you," the bitter voice said. "I thought one day, I would be expressing them to you, for helping me find a solution that I had no way of finding on my own!"
"But now..." Roen fumed. "Now I am not so sure of that at all. Now I think that all you seek is to prove yourself right, and everyone else wrong."
"Where I thought I saw hope...that you too wanted to belong in that world you would help create, I was imagining things." The bitterness in her tone deepened.
Nero looked away. "Yes, you were imagining things. I have no hope of that. I do not belong in the new world I seek to create. My very existence is contradictory to everything that world stands for. Honesty, peace, justice, virtue, kindness, generosity...hope." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "No one knows me better than myself. And I know for a fact, I know within my bones and my blood and in the depths of my soul...that there is no place for me there."
He turned his head--his glare sharpened like a spear point, and burned like a wildfire. The smuggler's voice became steely, hard, and relentless. "I will commit as much evil as I have to. I will kill whoever I must. I will destroy everything, if I have to. In a twisted inferno, I will reduce everything to ash."
"And if I am so wrong, if I am nothing more than the same evil I wish to destroy," he flicked a challenging finger at the sword at Roen's side. "Then do me a favour...and take my life now."
His gaze intensified. "I will not hesitate. I will not waver. With fire and smoke and steel and a shower of blood, I will correct that which is remorselessly broken."
The paladin paused, blinking at him. Her stare was one of disbelief.
Nero continued. "And when the dust clears, when the flames have burned out and died, when the bodies have been buried and when I have paid for every single sin with every single ilm of my life...the future will belong to you, and to the people like you. The people who believe in honesty. Who believe in justice. Who believe in virtue. Who believe that life in Ul'dah is not about who devours whom, but that it is about living, together, in peace and cooperation. You and your people will construct the brightest possible future."
Roen searched his eyes; the doubt regarding his words had evaporated. She had seen it first hand, the exacting nature with which he pursued his goals.
Nero's eyes lost their sheen, that sparkle of ambition. They were dull and flat. "To enact extreme change, one must take extreme action, and the only ones who should take lives are those who are prepared to give their own." His mind was blank; no thoughts ran in the smuggler's head. His mouth moved on their own, as if he were reciting lines from a script.
"I belong to Ul'dah. Every fibre of my being is devoted to cleansing her in the only way I know how." And again, the fire re-ignited. "I will not suffer interference. I will not allow anyone or anything to stand in my way. I will crush and destroy and maim and obliterate and burn and ravage everything and anything I must..for the opportunity of a better future."
Nero turned to face the paladin. "You call me cruel, and brutal. You think me evil. That is fine. That is nothing less than what I deserve. That is nothing less than what I desire. I will become evil incarnate, if I must." In a swift motion, he flicked the knife from his belt and held the pommel towards Roen. It was an offer, a challenge, a dare...and a plea.
"And if such a thing is unforgivable," he breathed in, his face taking on an expression of peaceful acceptance. "Then end me now."
His cheek still stung with the memory of her slap, but Nero could not help but take some satisfaction in it, even as the side of his face began to redden. She had struck him because some part of her knew he was right. It was an arrogant thought, egotistical, perhaps even narcissistic, but he could see his piercing barbs wearing down her idealism, her naive world view.
Yet within some part of him, there was some tiny regret. The smuggler was testing her. Roen had gone through some experiences she had only given hints or summaries to, but she was still sheltered in many ways. The smallest, most insignificant fragment of his conscience did not wish to see her idealism broken.
But it was far too late for that now.
Nero turned his attention back to unloading and inspecting the crates, moving to the other side to avoid the paladin's gaze. Some of the refugees could hear their argument echo in the caves, and the Hyur sheepishly distributed some supplies to them before shooing them off.
"I hope that day never comes, Mister Lazarov. For Ul'dah's sake." Roen's voice came from the other side of the crate pile. From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance at the refugees. After a long silence, she finally spoke. "We both want the same thing."
"Do we?" Nero said, his voice melancholic and doubtful. "Have you even thought about what it is you want? Do you even know?"
"I, too, want to end the suffering of the poor." The cavern rumbled a bit as the crate lids were peeled off and the contents shuffled. Nero couldn't see her face--he was avoiding looking at it--but he could guess at her expression. "I am not blind to the corruption of the Monetarists. I wish for their hold on the Jewel to end...but I do not wish for a bloody war to achieve such goals."
Nero's bitter smile returned. Hopelessly naive, the thought rang in his head. He stood up from his crouching position, occasionally casting a sideways glance at the paladin as the two of them worked.
"I do not wish for the bodies of my enemies to litter the streets, or for their blood to run over the stones." Roen shook her head. "I do not mean to keep the status quo. I know the status quo is warped. Twisted. Unbalanced. Else I'd have never agreed to this." She gestured between herself and the smuggler. "But I knew not how or where to begin. I had hoped you had the answers that I did not."
She turned her face to search his ice-coloured eyes. "Perhaps you still do. In some way."
Nero could not help but snort derisively. She wanted to correct Ul'dah and had absolutely no plan whatsoever. And when some parts of his plan contained elements that she didn't like, she complained. Typical.
"And so your plan is to stumble about aimlessly in the dark, hoping that your goal will come to fruition by itself." Nero roughly brushed past her to reach the other crates. "Hoping that the story books weren't lies, hoping beyond hope that no one will need to sacrifice." He turned his head to glare at her. His words from yesterday had ached to be said, and now they received their chance.
"You are nothing but arrogant, Miss Deneith. You sit from your pedestal of righteousness and indignation and simply watch the suffering. You convince yourself that you are helping, that you are 'changing' things, that you are making things better. You watch filth like me stain our hands with blood and destroy lives, and you turn your nose away in disdain. 'I am not like that', you say to yourself. 'I am changing things. I am doing things the right way.' And so the people continue to suffer, to live in squalor, to be chewed up and spat out by the city that despises them...and you just watch, chained by your own delusions." As Nero spoke, his words became more inflammatory, his tone smoldering with repressed anger.Â
He turned to face her. "What would you have them do? Raise their hands to the skies and pray for salvation from the Twelve? Have them watch their families starve and freeze in the night, their faith in the system so justly rewarded? What would you have them do, Roen Deneith?"
Roen slammed her hands on the box. "Stop that," she said, her voice hoarse. "Stop that!" The hoarse demand had turned into a growl. "I...I do not know! I did not have a plan! That is why I sought you out!" Her voice grew more infuriated.
"All I have known is the Order! I am trying to find a new way. A better way! You were my hope in finding it!"Â
What was she talking about, this simpering girl? She saw him as some kind of guardian angel, that he would provide magical answers to the problems she wished to solve? How foolish could she possibly be? Nero did his utmost to keep his lip from curling into a scowl. Her naivete--no, it was beyond naivete, it was now borderline stupidity--was incredible.
He did not look at her face, but he could hear the paladin's voice calm at least somewhat. "No, I never expected gratitude from you," the bitter voice said. "I thought one day, I would be expressing them to you, for helping me find a solution that I had no way of finding on my own!"
"But now..." Roen fumed. "Now I am not so sure of that at all. Now I think that all you seek is to prove yourself right, and everyone else wrong."
"Where I thought I saw hope...that you too wanted to belong in that world you would help create, I was imagining things." The bitterness in her tone deepened.
Nero looked away. "Yes, you were imagining things. I have no hope of that. I do not belong in the new world I seek to create. My very existence is contradictory to everything that world stands for. Honesty, peace, justice, virtue, kindness, generosity...hope." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "No one knows me better than myself. And I know for a fact, I know within my bones and my blood and in the depths of my soul...that there is no place for me there."
He turned his head--his glare sharpened like a spear point, and burned like a wildfire. The smuggler's voice became steely, hard, and relentless. "I will commit as much evil as I have to. I will kill whoever I must. I will destroy everything, if I have to. In a twisted inferno, I will reduce everything to ash."
"And if I am so wrong, if I am nothing more than the same evil I wish to destroy," he flicked a challenging finger at the sword at Roen's side. "Then do me a favour...and take my life now."
His gaze intensified. "I will not hesitate. I will not waver. With fire and smoke and steel and a shower of blood, I will correct that which is remorselessly broken."
The paladin paused, blinking at him. Her stare was one of disbelief.
Nero continued. "And when the dust clears, when the flames have burned out and died, when the bodies have been buried and when I have paid for every single sin with every single ilm of my life...the future will belong to you, and to the people like you. The people who believe in honesty. Who believe in justice. Who believe in virtue. Who believe that life in Ul'dah is not about who devours whom, but that it is about living, together, in peace and cooperation. You and your people will construct the brightest possible future."
Roen searched his eyes; the doubt regarding his words had evaporated. She had seen it first hand, the exacting nature with which he pursued his goals.
Nero's eyes lost their sheen, that sparkle of ambition. They were dull and flat. "To enact extreme change, one must take extreme action, and the only ones who should take lives are those who are prepared to give their own." His mind was blank; no thoughts ran in the smuggler's head. His mouth moved on their own, as if he were reciting lines from a script.
"I belong to Ul'dah. Every fibre of my being is devoted to cleansing her in the only way I know how." And again, the fire re-ignited. "I will not suffer interference. I will not allow anyone or anything to stand in my way. I will crush and destroy and maim and obliterate and burn and ravage everything and anything I must..for the opportunity of a better future."
Nero turned to face the paladin. "You call me cruel, and brutal. You think me evil. That is fine. That is nothing less than what I deserve. That is nothing less than what I desire. I will become evil incarnate, if I must." In a swift motion, he flicked the knife from his belt and held the pommel towards Roen. It was an offer, a challenge, a dare...and a plea.
"And if such a thing is unforgivable," he breathed in, his face taking on an expression of peaceful acceptance. "Then end me now."
