# Living an Intrigue In The Island Empire: An Arcana Unearthed Story Hour



## Chasmodai (Oct 16, 2003)

Siegfried sat with his legs propped up on the table, the tankard of milk in front him drained to dryness. He was trying to hard to emulate the easy grace of his old Master Cervantes, the eccentric and footloose pirate-turned-Redboot-turned-savior-of-the-Empire, but it was hard going. All the armor plates in all the wrong places was going to make him topple of his chair. 

Siegfried was a Kossuth, like Cervantes, but he was different. He was an embarrassment to Kossuths Empire-wide. He was barely twenty, but he was already entertaining ideas of joining the Redboots. Why, Cervantes only saved the Empire when he was at the ripe old age of 36. Siegfried matured fast for a Kossuth, and he was to straight and narrow to be a full-blooded Kossuth. Must have some Lyorn blood in him somewhere. 

When Cervantes heard Siegfried's proposal to join the Redboots, he was so shocked he let the boy go. 

Siegfried snapped out of his reverie when a stray cloud of sawdust entered his nose and he sneezed loud and hard. The sneeze came so strongly and suddenly that one side of Siegfried's fake moustache (one he wore to emulate Cervantes' roguish charm) flew off, and dropped into his soup. Siegfried, of course, did not notice. 

"Hey kid," one giant sitting at a nearby table called out. "You just dropped a moustache," 

Siegfried's hand flew up to his face and his usually pale skin grew bright red. Thinking fast, he smiled stupidly. "OH! It's finally come off!" he exclaimed, in the sort of tone people use to say "I meant to do that". 

The giant shook his head and chuckled. "I'm sure it has, boy," 

"Excuse me sir giant! Are you implying that I'm lying?" Siegfried raised his voice in mock-anger. He didn't actually want to fight the giant, but he saw Cervantes do this a lot of times and he always got the chicks this way. The fact that this small little village had absolutley no women worth mentioning seemed lost on Siegfried's pretty blond head. 

"Not really, but that moustache was as real as... well, it wasn't real," the giant floundered for a while, but still managed to keep his good humor. 

"Sir, I challenge you to a duel!" Siegfried smashed his fist down on the table, sending tankards flying. 

The giant was certain only gentlemen and nobles participated in duels, but if this short blond man wanted a fight, he certainly got one. The giant flexed his prodiguous muscles and picked his sword and scabbard from the floor. It was too long to put anywhere else but lying down on the floor. 

He gestured at the door and the short blond man walked out imperiously, as if he was the Emperor himself. The giant smiled amusedly. There was a small crowd that followed them and one of them took a knife and drew the dueling square. Siegfried stepped into the square and drew his sword, holding it at rest until the giant was ready. 

The giant was surprised; the man's sword was almost as big as his own. How he managed to heft it was beyond him - scrawny human hands like those should have broken under the weight of the blade. This one was stronger than he looked. 

"Are you ready, sir?" Siegfried said, as dueling protocol demanded him to say. 

"Bring it on," said the giant, which went against all forms of propriety, but before Siegfried could protest, the giant rushed him. Now that was plain rude. 

Siegfried was no novice in the arts of war - he let the giant's initial, clumsy rush go past him, adroitly stepping to one side and he swung his blade in a mighty arc, meant to cleave the giant in half. 

The giant was faster than he looked; smoothly turning around, the giant raised his blade and blocked the other sword easily. 

Siegfried brought his sword back down to a guard position and grinned nastily at the giant. "It seems that you can dance, boy, but can you...ummm... what was it again?" 

"Huh?" the giant went, thoroughly confused. 

"No! No! Let me get this right!" Siegfried exclaimed to no one in particular, murmuring to himself. "You can dance boy.... fancy footwork... can you fence? No, no...." 

"Hey, somebody kill someone already!" a voice shouted from the sidelines.The voice came from someone dressed in voluminous black robes. He was tall, and the robes had a hood which he drew up to keep his face constantly shrouded in shadow. But despite the aura of mystery and menace, one couldn't help but think that deep down inside, all this one wanted was a good laugh. 

"Ahah! Fancy footwork, boy, but can you dance?" Siegfried finally said, his sword slicing forward, catching the confused giant by surprise. He got his blade up, but was a tad too slow, and was rewarded by a red line across his belly. The giant groaned, then took a step back, trying to get some space from this crazy human. 

The man advanced, closing in on the giant, but he had a way of dealing with pests; he raised his foot and stamped hard. The ground shook before him, like an earthquake was about to happen and the giant was the epicentre. Siegfried fell, and so did a few other men at the sidelines. Ignoring his injury, the giant rushed forward and slashed at the toppling human, opening up a long gash from his chest to his hip. Blood spilled and the crazy blond man fell to the floor with a crash. 

"What the hell was that?" he asked, in outrage and confusion. 

"I don't know, I was just dancing," replied the giant, looming over Siegfried, bloody blade at the ready. Siegfried raised his open palms in a gesture of defeat. 

"I yield. I give up. Just... don't dance again, will you?" he pleaded plaintively. The giant nodded. 

"Can do," he said, then stooped down, one massive hand reaching for Siegfried's face. The man squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to look. He felt the giant's fingertips on his face, strangely gentle and heard the giant gave a satisfied sigh. Opening his eyes, he saw the giant gingerly holding one half of a fake moustache in between two fingertips. As Siegfried turned crimson again, he heard someone laughing hysterically off in the distance.


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## Chasmodai (Oct 16, 2003)

*The Introductions Ensue*

The man laughing turned out to be Flynn, a magister in training. He stepped forward and threw back the hood of his robes, letting his thin, pale face be visible to the two heavily injured duelists. 

"That was hilarious," Flynn said, not bothering to introduce himself. "I've never seen a duel like that before," 

Siegfried hauled himself off the floor, graciously accepting the hand the giant offered him. Checking his over-sized blade for any chips, and finding none, he slid the sword back into the scabbard strapped to his back. 

"Duels are stupid," he remarked, as if he hadn't just participated in one. 

"If all of them are like that, they're funny as well as stupid," the magister said in agreement. "My name is Flynn. It's really great to meet you two," 

Siegfried turned a charming smile to the taller man and bowed perfunctorily, with a touch of flair. "My name is Siegfried Vannaheim. It is a pleasure to meet such an able warrior such as yourself," he said to the giant. 

The giant nodded back. "My name is Cor-Terra. It is a pleasure to meet you, Flynn, Siegfried, but I need to get myself patched up," 

"Oh don't worry. I've got some experience in such matters," said Flynn, extending his hands and letting them hover above the two warrior's wounds. Magic flowed from his open palms and into the wounds, speeding up the process of healing and closing the red, livid gashes, leaving nothing but pale scars. "There. Good as new," 

A man, short and dressed in simple clothes came over and tapped the magister on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir, but I couldn't help but noticing the way you cast that spell," 

Flynn turned around and looked at the newcomer, frowning. "What about it? And who are you?" 

The man bowed lightly. "Apologies. My name is Ryclef. I simply wondered where you received your training, for your methods seem to be different from mine," 

Flynn frowned, obviously suspicious. "I get around. Why are you asking such questions anyway? I don't see how it is of any concern to you," 

The man nodded his head again. "I merely was curious," he said deferentially. "If I offended you in any way, I apologize," 

"You'd better," Flynn retorted, voice rising dangerously. 

"Now, now, there's no need to get angry. Ryclef here was merely trying to make some small talk," Cor-Terra butted in, voice reasonable. He interposed himself in between Flynn and Ryclef, looking at the magister meaningfully. Flynn met his stare, craning his neck upwards, but finally nodded. 

"So, Cor-Terra, what are you doing around these parts?" Siegfried asked the giant, in a diplomatic changing of conversational subjects. He smiled, a big fake smile. 

"I'm just passing through. What about you?" 

"I'm going to the capital to join the Red Boots!" Siegfried said proudly. "I heard that it's really prestigious to sign up and be a member; plus you get to explore the Empire and help keep the peace!" 

"Very enthusiastic, aren't you?" Flynn asked wryly, a small smile on his face. Siegfried nodded. "I'm just walking around myself, trying to practice my magic," 

As the four talked to each other, each trying to figure out if the other three could make good companions, there was a sudden silence throughout the small village. The hustle and bustle in the background abruptly quietened and the people going about their business slowed and came to a stop, eyes fixed on the one walking down the dusty road. 

The four, of course, didn't notice, too busy were they exchanging words. In the sudden silence of the surroundings, the quiet footsteps of the newcomer were made audible, the still air almost allowing it to echo. The newcomer stopped in front of the four, they being the only ones to remain talking - as well as the only ones not staring. 

"Excuse me; but could you tell me why everyone is staring?" he asked. The four turned and looked at him - as one, their eyes bulged and their jaws dropped. 

The newcomer was tall, about 6'5. He was wiry, but solidly muscled and moved with a lithe, animal grace. His entire body was covered in soft, downy fur and his face was obviously feline, with a snout, a flat nose and big eyes. He wore simple boots made of cloth and fur, a long coat of hardboiled leather and carried a walking staff that was wrapped with leather strips in the center, like a sword hilt. A thong necklace of fangs and claws hung from his neck. 

The magister Flynn shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs. "Thats becasue you're.. different. The people here have not seen one of your kind before," he explained, recognizing the strange person as a Litorian, a nomadic, bestial people who lived far to the north. 

"How is that so? Don't these people travel?" the Litorian asked, confused etched across it's alien features. 

"We humans are too comfortable with civilization to travel far and wide, unlike your people," Flynn replied, shrugging. 

"What is this civilization?" the Litorian asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. "I have never heard of it before," 

"You've never heard of civilization?" Siegfried exclaimed in genuine shock. "What kind of place do you come from?" 

"I come from lands across the mountain, far to the north. My name is Valric and I am here to claim land for my people. Can any of you show me some land my people can live in?"


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## Chasmodai (Oct 26, 2003)

*The Wonders of Civilization and Being Caravan Guards.*

"I'm afraid - Valric was it? - that its not that simple," Flynn said, floundering a bit. "All this land you see before you, all the land in the Empire in fact, belongs to one man: The Emperor,"

The Litorian frowned, and scratched his snout with one clawed finger. He shifted his grip on the staff, obviously a weapon as well as a walking tool, and studied each of the four in turn. He peered upwards at the giant and let out a certainly un-cat-like snort.

"I do not understand. Who is this Emperor?"

Flynn sighed, as Siegfried stiffened in horror once more. "I think we should go inside and have a seat. This will take a long time,"
******

It turned out that the Litorian had no idea what a building was for, much less a bath. Siegfried nearly jumped out of his armor at that and was about to forcibly drag the Litorian off into the baths at the back of the inn, if not for the giant Cor-Terra clamping a huge hand on the man's arm and shaking his head. "If he doesn't want to bathe, don't make him," the giant said to the... knight.

"Tell me, Valric, why exactly do your people need land? The land byond the mountain is vast and expansive - surely your people can fit comfortably in there," Ryclef asked. The Litorian turned slightly in his chair to look at the witch, a characteristic of his that made each of them slightly nervous; Valric's stare was intense and his eyes were big and round, very unlike human eyes.

"Our tribes are growing larger, there is not enough space for us to roam freely. There is not enough for us to hunt. We have decided to... what was that word? Expand," he explained, with a sureness and certainty that worried Flynn. 

_'What if he doesn't get his land?'_ the magister wondered.

"So, can you bring me to this Emperor so I can talk to him and get my land? My people cannot wait for long," Valric continued, giving each and everyone of them that intense stare.

"We can bring you to the Emperor, can't we guys?" Cor-Terra said brightly, shifting slightly in his seat, causing the wood of the chair to creak onimously. There was nods from Siegfried and Ryclef, although Flynn merely kept silent, unobtrusively studying the Litorian.

"Sure we could. But the Fortress of Isles - that's where the Emperor stays, Valric - is nearly a months journey from here," Flynn said, his brain churning out information at a rapid rate.

Siegfried looked at the novice magister with slight surprise. "You know everything, don't you?"

Flynn shrugged. "Hey, it's what I do,"
******

The group finally decided to travel to the nearest town - about three days walk away - and hire themselves out as caravan guards, so they could earn some money.

"What is a caravan? And why does it need guards?" Valric asked. The Litorian was naturally curious, poking his head into every crevice he could find, trying to sniff out the essence of civilization.

As Siegfried explained, and Flynn tried to put it into a context the Litorian might understand, Cor-Terra kept a sharp eye out on their surroundings. He didn't know why, but he had the feeling that they were being watched. He couldn't see anything following them, or hiding in the bushes, but wasn't inclined to put it as mere paranoia; he'd been alive longer than that.

Half-listening to the chatter of his travelling companions, his eyes roaming the fields, the giant kept his stride even and sure, trusting in the earth to keep them safe.
******

They found a caravan that would take them as guards, although it would only go to a small town called Greyhill, which was about a three weeks away from the capital of the Empire, Dragaera City. Flynn however, said it was good enough. 

"We'll take this one as far as Greyhill and get on another one that will hopefully take us all the way there," he reasoned.

The rest of the party agreed, and for two gold pieces a day, excluding hazard pay, they traveled to Greyhill as caravan guards.

The journey was uneventful, except for a few wild animals that had to be chased off, and they finally reached the town of Greyhill, which was only a step above the village they had originally met.

"This is a town, Valric. Remember that village we met in? Well, a town is a group of villages put together. The place we're headed to, Dragaera City, is like a few hundred towns put together," Flynn explained to the Litorian as they explored the town, showing him the sights and wonders of civilization.

"That's a brothel," Siegfried said, when the catman pointed a furry hand at a building with half-naked women hanging out of it. 

"What's a brothel?" Valric asked, sincerely innocent. Cor-Terra snickered as Siegfried blushed, trying to find an answer that wouldn't offend his knightly sensitivities. If there was another Kossuth around with them, he would be extremely annoyed with Siegfried's behavior. Kossuth were _not_ genteel people. Or sensible, for that matter.

"A brothel is a place where you can buy... umm... where you can..." Siegfried began, but was unable to finish.

"A place where you can buy a f*ck," Flynn helped the armored man out, a wide grin on his face. As Siegfried blushed a bright crimson, Cor-Terra and Ryclef burst out laughing, unable to contain their mirth. Valric's cat-like features furrowed on concentration - he had barely been able to grasp the concept of money, and now these strange people were telling him that they could _buy_ mates. That was just plain wrong.

"Uhh... yes, if you want to put it bluntly. A brothel is a place where you can... uhm... satisfy your... needs, yes thats it!" Siegfried exclaimed in triumph, as he finally managed to explain without the use of four-letter words. 

Valric eyed the bright blue ribbon the wannabe knight had tied to his ponytail to keep it in place. He then turned to the whores that were waving at men who passed by and scrutinized their clothes and decorations on their hair. He took a sniff in their direction and recoiled in distaste as he caught a whiff of the heavy perfume.

"Are you trying to buy a f*ck?" Valric asked, pointing at the ribbon in Siegfried's hair, causing the entire group to burst into a new round of laughter. The former squire blushed again. "Amongst my people, when a male wants to attract a mate, he puts on the trophies he's taken from his fallen foes to prove his worth as a warrior," Valric said. "Is that blue thing some similar custom you have?"

"No, no," Siegfried protested whole-heartedly. "We... ummm... men who go to brothels don't buy mates. They simply have needs that have to be... satisfied and they go to... those women,"

"Yeah, its a strictly one time affair. You want another, you gotta pay again," Cor-Terra added, shrugging one massive shoulder when valric gave him a look of pure disbelief.

The Litorian turned to the sheepish-looking warmain and gave him a look of disapproval. "That is very... what is the word... pathetic, little man," he told Siegfried, who was actually an entire foot shorter than the rangy Litorian. "They have a name for your kind of people in my tribe: Sorry Bastard. I'm not sure if it translates all that well,"

Flynn burst ut into peals of hysterical laughter. "Oh it translates very well, Valric. Sorry bastard..." he said in between gasps of laughter. Sigfried shot him a dirty glare, but the magister was too far gone to notice.

"Let's just... move on!" said the blond, stalking off down the street. Valric looked at the others.

"What's wrong with him?" asked the Litorian. Flynn almost collapsed, laughing.
******


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