Cults Are Troublesome (Drammor)

A town. A district. A tavern. Two men. One cup.

"Hey, man. Would ya mind a drink?" Naroh, a fairly young swordsman had been sitting in a local tavern for nearly an hour at the bar, next to a middle-aged man covered in a grey cloak. It was common in this place to offer a drink to those next to you, and an offence not to accept.

"Eh? What do you want?" The other man snapped at Naroh in a gruff tone.

"Hey hey now, man, just a common courtesy. You not from around here or something?"

"I live here. Leave me be!"

"Come now, that's just plain rude." The man slammed a fist into bar and stood up, leaving his seat in a huff. Naroh frowned in annoyance, paid for his drink, and left to follow the man. It was about mid-day making a man in such a grey cloak easy to locate. He followed the man while staying out of view, through streets, alley-ways, and behind buildings. Finally the man turned a corner, and when Naroh arrived, he seemed to have vanished.

"What the-? Yeesh... Where that guy go?" He slowly searched the dead-end alley for several minutes before a runic symbol on a crate caught his eye. Opening the crate revealed a hidden ladder that led several yards down. Figuring the man went through here, and beginning to become suspicious, Naroh cautiously climbed down the ladder, closing the crate's lid behind himself. At first it was just too dark to make out any details, but there was a larger room with two large candles to light it up. It was simple, and at the end was a door with the rune on it. Naroh sighed and carefully opened the door, trying to keep its hinges quiet.

The next room was much larger, and was supported by eight thick pillars. In-between the pillars was a single red rug that extended from one end of the room to the other, and at that other end was what appeared to be an alter. He looked around before going further, and started to tip-toe up to the alter. On it was a finely-crafted, sturdy suit of armour with runes like those he'd seen on the crate and door. He couldn't take his eyes off the armour... Something was attracting him to it... Eventually he just couldn't resist! He had to try it on! Without even taking off his hoodie, only unstrapping Aronade's sheath out of necessity, he took the armour right off the alter, and quickly slipped it all on. It first it seemed a little small, but after a moment, he felt as though the armour had changed its own shape to fit better... He quickly dismissed this.

On the inner side of each pillar was a tall mirror; Naroh assumed for some kind of security. He walked to the mirror closest to him, and looked at himself. He snatched up Aronade and pulled it out. "Eh... the colors look kinda weird... If the suit were dark red with some green, and maybe some orange... it'd match a lot better." Naroh sighed and turned around. So... I'm wearing it... Now what? Where's that one guy? What... is this place?

It took a little adjusting to fit around this new warrior's musculature and stature, but the changes weren't severe. Overall, the armor was happy to be worn by someone who was no stranger to the blade. Let's get started, Aevukepe thought to itself.

Color crept along its plates, changing the hue of everything but the copper runes that adorned some of its armoring. Most of Aevukepe turned dark red - the majority of its plates, the mink lining of its collar, the face of its shield, and its cape. The shield's trim, and the trim of its gauntlets turned forest green, as did the imbricated steel bands on Aevukepe's torso, and the lowermost plate of its spaulders. The chainmail that protected its wearer's joints, and the chains that connected from the armor to its swords, turned to a pleasing orange hue. Finally, the image of a steel-fanged viper with several fiery sigils along its back appeared in the center of Aevukepe's cape. The viper's artwork was exquisite enough than when it wasn't being directly looked at, the fiery glyphs on its back seemed to flicker and move.

As soon as the appropriate changes were made, a stern and masculine voice rung in the wearer's mind, Greetings, Naroh. My name is Aevukepe; I'm pleased to be in the ownership of a warrior again.

Naroh coughed abruptly and spun around. That was about the strangest thing he'd experienced... He'd talked to himself in his head before, but it was always his own voice, and he only 'heard' it when he chose to. This voice was nothing like his and came from nowhere.

Aevukepe? What that the voice's name? Naroh found it difficult to pronounce. His thoughts trailed away into deeper confusion after he realized the suit of armour had... changed colors. Similar even to what he thought just moments ago would look nicer. "Well," he said, keeping his voice was quiet. "Maybe there's some magic involved... But that doesn't explain the voice... Does it?" He froze. Hey, Avukoup-dude... Erm... heh, wow. He felt rather awkward trying to mentaly speak to a suit of armour. Um, yeah so... Who- No, what are you, exactly?

I am Aevukepe, I am armor. It has been my duty and enjoyment to serve and protect my owners for more than four hundred years. And you, Naroh, have just become my owner. The armor paused for a moment, trying to let that notion sink into the young man’s head.

I don’t want to rush us, Naroh, but I am afraid that once the followers of this upstart religion finds out that you’ve taken me, they aren’t going to be happy. In order to protect, I need to ask you to leave this place as soon as possible. I have some good news, though. As long as you’re wearing me, you shouldn’t tire out from anything as simple as being chased for a few hours, and I can keep an eye on what’s going on around you, where you cannot see. At Aevukepe’s hip, a series of metallic belt loops formed from out of nowhere. For Aronade, the armor told its wearer.

Outside the room and down the hallway, two men walked toward the altar room. They spoke casually to another, and their voices managed to carry easily to Naroh’s ears. The voices were familiar to Aevukepe, but he couldn’t quite recall the appearance of the owners. He knew that both were well-muscled, and that one of them had tried to get the armor to ‘work’ for him on four different occaisions. He wasn’t the sort of person that Aevukepe wanted to be worn by. I think you should hide, Naroh.