# Chronicles of the Orrery



## Naathez (Jan 14, 2005)

*Prelude*​
All their eyes. 
She feels all their eyes on her, as she lets the hood fall around her neck and strides, slowly, purposefully, through the study room. Her booted feet softly clacking at every step on the marble floor, her cloak shifting at every movement, she takes her time.
"Let them look", she's thinking. "Let them know I did it."

Room after room she walks. The ceiling-high shelves, filled to the brim with books, muffle the impatient noise of her uncharacteristically undisciplined stride towards her goal. The smell of musty parchment is so well known to her nostrils, so commonplace in the Library, that she takes no notice as she speeds across the impressive collected knowledge.

Finally she reaches the door. Taking a moment to regain her composure, she straightens her robe, and softly knocks.

"Come in", says the soft-spoken voice she has heard countless times.

As she slowly walks inside the room, closing the door behind her, his eyes never leave the large tome on his bookrest. As so many times before, and with unchanged (and barely hidden) impatience, she quietly stands in a corner of the small study, waiting for his attention.

Finally he lifts his face from the yellowing pages, and his grey eyes shift their gaze to hers. His visage is serene, almost stern, as he asks "Has it been found?"

Silently she uncovers a smaller tome from the folds of her robe. The leather binding is almost pristine, and barely creaks as she respectfully hands him the book. She allows herself a small smile of satisfaction, seeing his fingers caress the book, tracing the sigil embossed on its cover. 

"Gaia." he states. "Where was it?"

Her heart almost bursts with emotion at recalling the countless times she dreamt of this moment. "Seventy-eight floors below. Over the Second Bestiaries of Alentur. And..." she hesitates.

His look is just slightly amazed, his eyes growing a fraction wider as he nods at her.

"...and beyond the Blue." she concludes.

And finally, he closes his eyes and smiles.

"It is the one we were looking for", he repeats a couple times. "Sit here, and read it to me. The disturbance has greatly worried the Watchers. Perhaps" here he hands her the book "we shall find its causes in here."

Her long fingers slowly open the cover even before she has fully seated at his desk. Her heartbeat completely out of control, she clears her throat.

And she begins reading.


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## Naathez (Jan 17, 2005)

*Introduction - Livia Cecilia Metella*

The sea breeze is more than cool on Livia Cecilia Metella's face as she leans over the rail on the ship's deck. There... that's Dresd. Her goal... or her starting point, she thinks with a little smile. The Phoenikan sailors are quickly working all around her and cheering - land's close, and so is some well-deserved rest. Bus as she wraps her cloak around herself tighter, shivering, Livia's thoughts are not of rest. Quite the opposite, after weeks on the ship, silently waiting, she'll finally begin her work as the first diplomat from Lian.


"More than a diplomat, Livia, you'll be an observer. The Senate has quite grudgingly accepted our plan of opening embassies in other countries... starting with Verlund. But they want...  reconnaissance, so to speak, before an official act like the opening of a formal Embassy." Her father's voice had been filled both with pride and with concern. "Those Northerners are ...barbarians. Not to mention...  not to mention The Woods, on their south border. Those, I believe I have no need to advise you to avoid if at all possible."


"The Woods", Livia had thought. No Lianer would EVER call them by their true name, would ever call them "Oiralassie". "You say we look like the "Elves" in your legends? Oh, they have pointed ears too? How queer." was the proper reply any member of the bold Republic of Lian would give to anyone mentioning the resemblance. And right after that, the Lianer would proceed to point out the differences, their lifespans being long, yes, but surely not lasting thousands of years as in the legends regarding "Elves", not to mention their living in well built, orderly, bustling cities and not in dark, damp woods. Coincidence, coincidence of no importance, and in any case better left alone.


"You will leave tonight, on a ship which is in port already. Yes, there has been a change of plans" her father had continued, lifting his palm in anticipation of her surprised questions. "Here, take this tube. You'll read the scroll within as soon as you are safe in Dresd. It contains your orders. May the Lares aid you in your journey, Livia."


"May they indeed, father" she mutters, looking around. The best advice the sailors she asked regarding inns and taverns have been able to give was "Well, the Two-handled Mug is quite good for a lady. Even has no rats!" to which another sailor replied "They ran outta rats? Wonder what they'll cook now, I do".
The ensuing general laughter was quite disturbing, but she managed to find someone who gave her broad directions to the city's centre. There she imagined she might find a respectable inn, or at least one where people washed more often than once... in a lifetime? and a safe place where to read and then destroy her orders.

"But I definitely should NOT have gone right" she mutters. Or at least, the wall in front of her, closing the narrow alley, stacked with refuse , seems to suggest so. "I'll turn back and see if i can get back to the decumanus... er, the main avenue." she thinks. 

But when she spins around, already growing quite tired with this city of barbarians and its cold, and its narrow alleys, and its smell, and its steepled ridiculous roofs, the four eyes staring at her suggest, even more strongly than the wall, that she has indeed taken a very, very wrong turn.


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## Naathez (Jan 18, 2005)

*Introduction - Viktor of the Clenchfist*

Why are they making all this noise?

Viktor of the Clenchfist sits up, immediately awake, his eyes blinking a little as he tries to see in the dark.

As he hurries out of the ship's hold, the merry laughing of the sailors all around him fills his ears. As he looks around to try and divine the source of such merry, one of the Phoenikan slaps him on the back with a broad smile. "Can you see that?"

"Can you see that?" The only light, and heat, were coming from the forge, as his father's hammer hit blow after careful blow on the red-hot rod of metal. "Can you see how it must be hit?"

Viktor was looking intently as he manned the bellows. "Yes, Father, I think I understand now." he'd said with a vigorous nod. Father's smile was more than enough reward for his toil, his time, his effort. Father knew of steel. And in the Hisjord Islands, among the proud Viknij, every warrior had his due respect, but none more than he who bent metal into blades. 
"You are smart, Victor. As smart as you are strong. I am proud to have you for a - Listen!"

Viktor's ears had been hearing nothing but the rhytmical, mesmerizing beating of metal on hot metal. But now he could hear.

He could hear the screams.

Grabbing his axe, he'd run out after Father, who had already grasped his own large sword and was charging with a bellowing scream. The painted talons on the attackers's shields, the black feathers on their armbands, it all swirled around him as he sprinted for another small group of assailants, crowded around another house.

"Ravens! No honor, no skill, no blood!" he kept screaming as his massive axe hacked an arm, clanged on a breastplate, wrested against a club. 
They'd surrounded him. And they may be cowards, and sackers; but they were too many... too many. He'd fought, and he'd fought well, and there had been no shame for him that night, when the last surviving Ravens had fled on their longboat, among the jeers and challenges of the Clenchfist. No shame for him. And none for his father.

He lit Father's pyre the following day, while the village watched and praised his bravery and skill. And that had been all. For a man need not fear his end, only HOW he ends. But first, he'd thought, he had to be a man. And as he planted Father's sword in the large rock (What incredible steel! Had pierced the rock for half its length, and now stood straight, planted like a deadly tree, on the mountaintop), he'd known. 

He must leave, earn a name. So that Viktor of the Clenchfist could be his own man, and no more his Father's son.

"Are you all right, Northerner?" The sailor looks amused at his dreamy gaze, as he snaps back to the present. "I asked, Can you see that? That's Dresd! We got here in just ten days, like I'd told you! Ain't this the swiftest piece of ship you've ever seen? Ain't it? Wasn't it worth your gold to get a ride like this?"

Viktor thanks him, if a little less enthusiastically. He knows little of that place, what little he's heard back at the village from men who've been mercenaries in Verlund. And most of that little was "It's hard to explain... you should see."

"Well", he thinks, with a small frown. "I'm about to see."


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## Black Bard (Jan 25, 2005)

Great intro, Naathez!!! 
I hope you plan for an update soon!!!


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## Naathez (Jan 26, 2005)

*Introduction - Lothar Von Wulfe*

"...and stir slowly, while keeping above the flame..."

The liquid in the glass alembic shifts slowly from its clear colour to a deepening red. Lothar's eyes widen, slightly alarmed, but he keeps stirring. "Please, please don't explode this time." he mutters. The mixture seems to respect his wishes as he settles the alembic down on a  small pedestal and starts observing the subtle changes in color. 
He notices the knocking at the door after enough noise has been made to alarm the whole castle. His eyes don't even move. "Yes?"
"Mein Furst Von Wulfe? Are you there? At last! I've been looking for you all over, Herr! I looked in your room but you weren't there..."

"And I better not" Lothar thinks. "After the last experiment blew up half the corridor and burned the tapestries to cinders, father's made it clear I better 'play' here in Meister Otto's quarters."

"So I went out and looked for your fencing instructor, since it was about time for your lesson, but he told me you hadn't shown up... oh, and he also added he was leaving... it's the third one this year, mein Herr..."

Lothar visibly winces. "Father's sure not to appreciate THAT... but who cares about three feet of sharpened metal when one has THIS" -and here he proudly allows himself a longing look at the special crossbow he  built, sitting on the shelf, as he slowly stand up, walking to the door.

"and then I thought 'Perhaps Herr Lothar might be in Meister Otto's quarters! So I hurried here and in fact -"

The door opens abruptly.  Still glancing at the alembic every few seconds, Lothar manages to smile as he asks "WHY are you looking for me?"

The servant shifts uneasily as he hands him a sealed scroll. A letter from the Academy of Elsinor, Mein Furst... for you. I think perhaps it could be your brother? Maybe?"

The door is closed before Lothar's exasperated "Thank you" reaches the servant's ears. With a sigh and a small shrug, the young boy races back to his other duties, convinced Herr Lothar is surely setting the scroll aside and continuing whatever weirdness he's at today.

Which is exactly the truth.

When he lifts his face from his notes, Lothar finds Meister Otto reading in his chair, in a corner of the small room. As usual, his heart fills with respect for this man, just a servant, of no high blood, but who has taught him so much over the years. "Meister Otto, I didn't hear you come in" he says with a smile.
"Worry not Herr... I saw you were engrossed in your experiment and did not want to disturb you. How's it coming?" the elderly man replies, his old and wise green eyes nodding at the alembic.
Lothar hardly resists puffing out his chest in pride. "Quite well up to now. It needs to rest a whole night before it's finished."
"Well, mein Herr, even in the worst case, a DELAYED explosion would be by all means an improvement would it not?" Meister Otto adds, with a broadening smile. They both laugh, as Lothar cannot but admit the fact.

"I imagine, mein Herr, that scroll is for you?" 
Lothar blushes, only now remembering about the message. He breaks the Academy Seal, muttering, as hope lights his eyes, "I do hope he's managed to arrange for that shipping of materials...  I need a composite distiller and the glassblower here at the castle can't seem to make one properly. And the filters, too."

But as his eyes scan his brother's familiar, orderly writing, it is quite a different message than what his hopes dictate.

"Lothar,
	I wish I could write to you in a far happier situation, and for greatly lighter motives. But the reasons you know keep me from writing what you're about to read to any of our brothers, and I do not want father to worry if it can be avoided. 

Something is happening, Lothar. Something dark. Something... evil. These are the words an esteemed colleague of mine here at the Academy, very well versed in the divinatory arts, has used to describe the situation at hand. He wouldn't - or, I believe, couldn't - be more precise. But of one thing more he was sure... It is happening close to Von Wulfe castle, or in any case in our lands. 

Were I in any way in the condition of investigating the matter myself, I would never give you this worry. But my duties at the Academy keep me here, and yet this nagging feeling of dread leaves me no other chance. 
I trust your intelligence more than I mistrust your young age, Lothar. I have told you more than once what a brilliant wizard you'd have made. And I believe this situation calls, more than anything else, for intelligence.

I do not trust this parchment to write what little more I know. I have sent one of my most brilliant apprentices to meet you in Dresd at the Bucking Foal Inn. His name is Andoric Von Dreele, and he has been instructed to wait for you. Don't tell anything to father, or our brothers; give them my respects, and tell them that I hope to visit soon.
Good luck, Lothar.

							Rudolf 

P.S. I am sorry, I can't send what you asked for."

"Bad news, mein Herr?" Meister Otto's voice is concerned, as he watches Lothar set fire to the parchment.
"No, it's my brother Rudolf writing he can't send me the materials I asked... a pity, but nothing serious. I have to go prepare for supper now, Meister. Be well." Lothar's mind is already spinning as he paces towards his room.


That night, at dinner, Lothar is late... as always. As his mother's smile and his older brother Godard's frown greet him, he sits in front of his father and proceeds to help himself to a generous serving of pork.
"Has there been word of Peter?" he asks casually.
His mother nods. "Yes, he sent a pigeon. He arrived safely at your sister Ella's side... it actually seems a grandson might be on the way for your Father and me!" The table cheers at the good news. 
"Rudolf sent me a letter, by the way" Lothar adds casually. "He sends his respects, and seems to have managed to get me that admission to visit the Academy Library I'd asked so long ago!"
Godard frowns immediately. "And I assume he took care of the fee too?"
Lothar does not even pause to think. "He mentioned no fee... I knew nothing of that. Probably it's his surprise for my birthday.. I won't spoil it. So I was planning to leave soon and make the most of it... if I am not needed here, that is."
Herr Elric, Lothar's father, finally speaks. "Your studies, if not perfectly suited to your status" (here both he and his wife Katrina share a small smile) "always have been very important to you, Lothar. If your brother thinks you can profit from perusing the tomes at the Academy, you may go with my blessing." And with this, supper being over, the young man hugs his mother and father for good fortune, and the room is quickly deserted. 
But Lothar stops Godard before he leaves for his rooms.
"So I'm leaving tomorrow." he starts, smiling.
His brother is quite puzzled. "... I wish you a safe journey...?"
"You wouldn't want a Von Wulfe to go around penniless like a beggar would you?" Lothar says with a frown. Godard may be a great accountant, and surely Peter did good in leaving that duty to the younger brother when Father left him in charge of the House, but since he's started taking care of the family's finances, getting money has grown harder by the day.
The older brother sighs. "How much were you thinking?" he says, taking a parchment from the small bag at his side.
"Well, since i'll be away for a couple months, and I'll have to take care of lodging and food probably, but I don't want to be too heavy on the house's trasure, and I- "
"HOW MUCH, Lothar?"
The young nobleman caresses his flowing moustache. "Well, a hundred Shields?"
Godard writes a small note and signs it. "Here is a note for fifty, for our treasurer. He should still be downstairs. I'll send a message to our representative in Elsinor, to keep fifty more ready for you .. in a month's time. Good night."
"Thank you and good dreams to you, Godard" says Lothar with a grateful smile. As the room is empty, he glances down at the parchment. He knows his brother, and he knows he always writes number in figures. "50", says the money order, in his brother's scribbled hand. Lothar figures adding a nice, slender "1" before that number can possibly do no harm, and taking out his own portable quill and inkwell, he complies.

A few minutes later, Lothar boldly steps in the treasurer's room. The sleepy, elderly man is just getting ready to close the strongbox and settle for bed, and his old knees shake a bit at seeing the young man stride inside.
"Good evening! My brother Godard sent me to you. He told me he needs a couple things ready for the morning. He mentioned a list of all the expenses in the last three months, in decreasing order, because he wants to check a few things, and an alphabetical listing of our debtors, oh and there's this money order to take, (here he hands the corrected parchment to the increasingly worried man), and he also mentioned something about inventoring the cellars, i think" Lothar closes with a perfect smile.
"I... I hadn't been warned, mein Furst... I... let me start with this" resolves the man, opening the steel strongbox and counting the Shields for Lothar, who happily lets them fall in his pouch. "And now please Herr, if you don't mind... I'll need all night for the duties you told me about, so I'd better start immediately..." the man's voice is crestfallen.
Lothar smiles paternally. "I'll tell you what, my good man. I see you're quite busy and tired... I'll put in a good word with my brother. Do the work tomorrow morning, I'm sure the thing can wait a few hours."
He leaves, the treasurer's thanks echoing in the hall behind him. 

He's got some packing up to do, and quick, and then a long, hard night ride. When Godard comes check with the treasurer tomorrow morning - and Lothar knows he will - he doesn't want to be around.


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## Naathez (Jan 26, 2005)

Black Bard! My first reader to come out and show himself!  My thanks... I hope you are the first of many. And you've had the update too  .


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## Naathez (Jan 27, 2005)

*Where not to go when in Dresd, or "What happens down dark alleys"*

Livia's eyes dart around quickly. Nobody else is in sight. No apparent way of escape. She has a dagger under her cloak, but she doubts she'd be up to challenge two men. 

Which amounts to remarkably bad news.

"Good day... May I help you?" She says with a smile.

The first of the two men approaches her with a limp. He's dressed in little better than rags; he has pasty, reddish hair, and is back is severely hunched. But the feature Livia's eyes are most drawn to is his malevolent, half-toothless sneer.

"On the contrary, young girl" he says, a chuckle from his friend accompanying his taunt " I believe a lady lost in such a seedy part of town needs ALL the help and assistance she can get. There are such dangerous people around."
"How very true" Livia starts replying, her mind racing to find a way out. "I just got lost, and being here, lost, defenseless, in a foreign city, worries me so... perhaps you could ...  help?"

As his taller friend, blondish long hair falling on his face, idly twirls a stout, short wooden club in his fingers, the hunchback steps yet closer. 

"This large leather bag here, for example. Far too heavy for you, certainly. Let me help you" he adds, moving to slip it from her shoulder. Livia instinctively clenches her fingers around the bag, but the taller thug's frown dissuades her.

His horrible sneer contorting in a parody of a smile, the hunchback starts rummaging through the bag. His eyes open a tad wider as he pulls out a short sword, with an evidently precious scabbard. 

"My friend, it would seem the lass here lied to us... not defenseless at all, see? Hmm... and there's good old gold in here too..." -his hand briefly weighs the small coin pouch before pocketing it- "and spare clothes, but a gentleman doesn't rummage through a lady's clothes does he?... and what is this, now?" he adds, pulling out a small wooden carved tube, its ends wrapped in leather.

Livia's breath catches. Her orders are in there.

"I see" she starts, her heart racing "I see I have found men of taste. That object comes from my land, Lian." She pauses to casually caress her hair,as if to settle it, the thugs' eyes only now noticing the queer shape of her ears. "Indeed it is of great value... if sold to the right person. Should you be so kind to give it back, I would be more than happy to share the profits with you." 
_-Weak-, _ she thinks, even as she speaks her piece.

The hunchback shares a knowing look with his friend, and sneers again, as he addresses her. 

"And how about my friend and I go find someone who could be 'the right person'? I don't see why we should trouble you any longer, lass..." The taller man starts walking slowly towards Livia, the club twirling dangerously. He looks FAR more used to slamming it into people's heads than what Livia would like.

"But you don't know what it is! And it's not an object for anyone... why lose out on some of the profit? Take... Take me with you. I'll be sure to get a decent price. We all are happy - we all win. Right?" Her reassuring smile seems to strike something in the mind of her robber.

"All right. Be a gallant man, and take the lady's arm" he concludes with an evil chuckle, as his friend's strong hand grips Livia's arm.

This time Livia's eyes are very intent in memorizing the way through this maze of alleys. She means to know where they're taking her. If she gets out alive, that is. Their "leisurely stroll" doesn't last too long, and at last they end up in a tiny alley, an old wooden door at its end. The hunchback opens it without knocking, and she's pulled through.

Her eyes can see quite well in the almost complete darkness inside; the candle on the tiny table gives off enough light for her. The room is cramped with crates, barrels and shelves, loaded with all kinds of objects. She sees fabric piled up in one of the crates, house objects, bottles, even cutlery. As the hunchback shouts out "Gaurad! Come out, we've got work!", the black curtain at the far end of the room parts slightly, letting the new man in.

Gaurad is quite tall, and very slim. He is dressed in a jerkin, and trousers (ridiculous habit they have in this Lares-forgotten land, of having men wear those impossibly uncomfortable things on their legs. Livia has noticed it all over the city.), and his shirt is black but spotless... his short hair, and moustache, are blonde. The man is more than passably handsome, for a Verlunder.

"What are you shouting about in my house, hunchback? Did nobody tell - My, my, my, what have we here! Let go of the lady you goof! Sit, darling, sit. And tell me why my impossibly rude associates have deemed it right to bring you to me" he says, sitting on a stool in front of Livia and starting to pour out red wine from a bottle he fished out of a crate.

"Well, it has to do with a certain object they found in my possession..." A simple gesture from Gaurad is enough for the sneering hunchback to hand him the tube, and set the short sword and its fine scabbard on one of the shelves. Gaurad examines the tube, carefully.

"A nice object... wonderful carving. Certainly the work of a skilled artisan , but... "
Livia catches her chance. "... but you cannot see any extraordinary value, right, my good sir? I thought as much. The object comes from my land, Lian."Gaurad's eye thin, growing more interested. "I was about to take it to a Lianer contact here in Dresd when I met your associates here... of course, due to your kind assistance to a foreigner like me, I would more than happily share any profit from the sale to you, were I  to have it back unharmed."

Gaurad yawns slightly. "I know of no Lianer, with the delightful exception of you, in the whole of Dresd. In any case, I am not a man to waste a good opportunity. I will not sell, or harm, this object" he lifts the tube, tantalizingly in reach of Livia's grasp, yet so impossible to grab "for three full days. You have my word. You may return in this time, with the money, and should I deem it sufficient for my trouble, I'll be more than happy to proceed with the sale." His voice is too definitive to let Livia hope to sway his opinion. 
"Of course, I value my privacy. Were you to come here, in my humble abode, with... unappreciated company...  I could not guarantee for the safety of this object, nor actually for yours.Now, if I know those beasts that brought you here, they probably even took your money", the man continues. "Give it back, you scoundrels." The hunchback obeys without a word.

Livia is quite puzzled, as she takes the money pouch back.  "There.. there was also a sword, good sir..."

Gaurad allows himself a tiny smile. "Ah, I fear it might have been sold already... you know, things enter and exit my shop like the flow of a river," he says, walking over to the shelf. "Yet, by incredible happenstance, I just seem to have a Lianer-made sword here in my stock... you may surely appreciate the intricate level of its decoration. Perhaps you might be interested in buying it?"

Livia walks out with a sigh a short while later, her sword safely tucked among her clothes in her bag, and her money pouch a lot lighter than an hour earlier. 

She has three days to regain her orders, or her mission might very well end before even starting. 
"That's plenty of time", she thinks, as she walks in what she hopes is the right direction for the docks.


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## Black Bard (Jan 27, 2005)

A real bastard this Gaurad fellow! But I liked...  
Can`t wait to see the group together...


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## Naathez (Jan 28, 2005)

*A Viknij in the City*

Viktor is still catching his breath. Yes, the man at the village HAD mentioned "lots and lots of people". But this is just too much. His back to a wall, he looks around the bustling activity of the docks. Just here, there's probably more people than he's ever seen before, let alone at one time. And nobody seems to have noticed him, though he's a newcomer... back at the village, someone would already have offered to take him to the chief. "Weird mainlanders", he concludes with a shrug. After consuming a brief breakfast of bread and beer - EXCELLENT beer -  at a place called "Two-handled Mug", which seems to be a great mainlander invention, a place where you give coins to be fed, Viktor steps out, quite unsure of where to go. He asks directions for one of the features his friend told him about, a certain "Temple of the Three" , and unhurriedly walks in that direction. 

Although the distractions are manifold, and every shop window, every passing cart, the noises and scents all conspire to steal his attention, Viktor manages not to get lost. He stares in awe at the large stone building, touching the sculpted portal in amazement. He's never seen a place like this: the majesty, the workmanship of the great temple are almost magical to his eyes. As he strolls in, the bas-reliefs at the altar catch his eyes, and he walks up to them. 

"May I help you, brother?" 
"Brother?" Viktor thinks, "I have no brothers..." He turns to see a young man, dressed in a long and simple blue tunic. "Who are you?" he asks, warily eyeing the stranger. 
"I am Brother Reinhold, an Acolyte of the Sage" the man says with a smile. 
"Acolyte?" Viktor is quite puzzled. "What's an Acolyte? and why in the world does he think he's my brother? I'd know if i had an Acolyte brother, whatever that is." His frown deepens.

"I noticed you were looking at the Icons of the Three...?"

Viktor steps back, looking over the great stone slabs again.

The first one depicts an old, bearded man. He carries a staff in his right hand and a large, heavy book in the right. "That must be the 'Sage'", he thinks. Opposite the Sage stands a second statue, depicting a large, muscular man. He wears what seems to be a blacksmith's leather apron, and in his hands he clutches a mighty maul. Viktor sees the image of his father for a moment.

And then, in the middle of the two slabs, stands a third stone figure.
A tall man, his face covered and hidden by a massive helm, a heavy chain mail covering his body, his hands joined on the hilt of a large, broad sword. The bas-relief is so realistic it seems the man might lift the sword and lunge at him at any moment. Speechless, Viktor  gestures at the statue, muttering "I'd... I think I'd be more interested in knowing of.. of him, I..."

Brother Reinhold smiles. "I should have known, had I looked more carefully at you and the large axe you have strapped to your back. You may want to talk to Brother Turam, then. He's an Acolyte of the Warrior; you may recognize him, he wears a tunic very like mine, only red. He should be around the temple somewhere."

Viktor nods, as the blue-robed man smiles again and silently leaves.
A few minutes later, after marveling at the wonderful stained-glass windows that let in streams of multicolored light, piercing the darkness of the temple, he leaves. These Acolythings may be polite, but he's not sure he likes someone who calls everyone "brother".

Munching on a sausage he bought from a cart in the large temple square,  Viktor heads for the docks again. The long stroll in the city has made him hungry, and he licks his lips at the thought of another mug of that delicious beer. He's so busy thinking of where else to go this afternoon that he cannot help bumping into the cloaked figure stepping into the Two-Handled Mug Inn. As he hurries to apologize, the figure's hood drops, and the figure turns to look at him.

She's a woman. She's pretty, he thinks. Oh, dark hair. Probably.

At the moment, he can't take his eyes off those pointed ears.


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## Black Bard (Feb 2, 2005)

I`ve found interesting the tripartite church (Sage, Warrior and the "Blacksmith"???)...
I`m really enjoying this story, Naathez! Keep it coming!!!


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## Funeris (Feb 2, 2005)

Just read what you've got so far...nice...can't wait for an update.


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## Naathez (Feb 3, 2005)

Thank you people... i'm working on a couple updates which should be ready soon: the introduction of the fourth member of the merry brigade, and the meeting between Viktor and Livia. Then, there's another one brewing.. slower. Keep in mind we're playing once every two weeks, and I'm writing as we go... and some things I need to wait before posting, at least until the whole group has met.

Keep that feedback coming! call friends over!


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## Syrio (Feb 3, 2005)

Naathez said:
			
		

> the introduction of the fourth member of the merry brigade




... that's me... you're talking about ME!!!!


(Remember Naathez: the horse did it!)


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## Naathez (Feb 4, 2005)

And let us welcome Syrio, our first brave character player to come out in the light and confess his part in the Chronicles. 

hoping to write something over the weekend... stay tuned.


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## Monstertruck (Feb 6, 2005)

*.... Yezzzzz..... Interezting...*

....Who haz zummoned me?!.... 
Oh... great... thatz you again....
Now... what do you want thiz time?....
Take a part in what? 
..................A ztory?
.... Well there iz zomething I need to now, before...

When?
Where?
... and the dinner iz included?
..................................... I mean, each time?

It'z a deal!

You've rented the bezt frog in the whole zwamp, you now?
Well, my character zhould be a common... son-of-god we zay, but he feel like the zimple Nazareth-born-boy that he az ever been... Why not? The idea waz already uzed, or iz one of your NPC?!
Well, let me think again...

.....All the rest iz hiztory......
Lothar von Wulfe


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## Naathez (Feb 7, 2005)

Editorial Disclaimer: Lothar's player is a good person when you catch him at a different time than the middle of the night.   

Plus, he's working on the miniatures for the group. So I kind of have to bear with him...   

Stay tuned, this lunch break should at LEAST see the introduction of Andoric Von Dreele!


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## Naathez (Feb 7, 2005)

*Introduction - Andoric Von Dreele*

When his eyelids threaten to close for the fifteenth time, the young man slowly shakes his head. "Time to call it a day" he thinks, carefully closing the three books he's working on and setting aside the parchment where he's been scribbling notes. Von Rummer's Third Fundamental of Transformation can definitely wait until tomorrow morning. He's just about to head over to his bed and snuff his lamp when he hears a soft knocking on the door.

Andoric quickly glances out of the window. It's the middle of the night; he has difficulties believing any of his fellow students could be up at this time just to pull a prank on him. "Who's there?" He cautiously asks.

Silence is the only reply. Andoric watches the door for a few seconds, then resolves to take a look. He slowly opens it, looks out in the dimly-lit corridor, and seeing nobody, puzzledly closes it again. He hasn't taken three steps towads his bed when the knocking sound is heard again.

This time he asks "Who's there, just as he opens the door... 

...only to be pushed back as the door itself is slammed in his face and then hastily closed. Slowly an outline takes shape and fills itself before his amazed eyes, taking the features of his Instructor in Transformations and Magical Alterations of Substance, Meister Rudolf.

"Meister?" he asks. His teacher's voice is uncharacteristically tense as he says "Take your things and come with me." But one of the first lessons Andoric has learnt at the Academy of Elsinor is never to question an Instructor without good reason. Finding none, he hastily stuffs his personal Grimoire, a couple other reference books, and his most valued notes in a leather bag, adding in a supply of ink and quills as he paces towards Meister Rudolf. The Instructor weaves a complicated pattern in the air, muttering arcane words which Andoric promptly recognizes as a powerful Illusion of Cloaking. A little envious - he never did manage to master Illusion Magic - he watches as his Meister's form seemingly melts into thin air, knowing the same must be happening to his own. Then he feels a hand grab his arm and pull him across the dark corridor of the Dormitory.

After finding certain proof that the tales of secret passages built into the very walls of the Academy are not just tales, Andoric emerges into a large circular room, at the center of which sits a large oaken table. Sitting at the table, in a large red leather armchair, is the perennially cloaked form of the Seer.

The Seer is the Academy's instructor in Divinatory Arts and Incantations. No-one can claim to ever has seen the Seer's true form, which is always covered in an ample hooded cloak, or heard the sound of the Seer's true voice, which is always evidently altered by some minor Magic. It is said that the final exam for the students the Seer deems worthy of being initiated to the deeper Mistery of Divination is discovering the very identity of the Seer. Andoric feels the magic drop off him as his Meister leads him closer to the desk.

The Seer doesn't even lift his (her? Andoric wonders for the umpteenth time) head. He seems to be intent on watching a weird device sitting on the desk. It is evidently magical: a large metallic C, tilted upright on a round steady basement, covered in intricate, minute carvings. In the space suggested by the metal arc, thirteen spheres of some strange polished metal spin around each other in triads, four triads orbiting a central, seemingly immobile, sphere. Andoric has time to notice some spheres have a small symbol carved into their surface before the Seer takes the whole object and sets it carefully inside a hidden drawer in the desk, where Andoric spies a large tome of some sort before it closes.

"Andoric Von Dreele" says the Seer's monotone, eery voice. "A brilliant student, Meister Rudolf; this I know for myself. But are you sure he is ... enough?" Andoric cannot say he appreciates the feelings awoken by this short analysis - not to mention he has no idea what the two mages are up to.
"He is my best student, Seer. I have recently initiated him to the second Valence of Incantations, which he is quickly mastering. And we have discussed this at length - you already know the motives which guide me."
"I don't need my arts" the Seer says, with what might pass for a chuckle if it were emitted in a human voice "to tell your young disciple is quite puzzled as to his reason for being here, Meister Rudolf. Would you perhaps enlighten him?"

Meister Rudolf sighs deeply, before turning to Andoric. He is tense, and looks worried - both are emotions the younger mage has never seen on his Instructor's face. "As the Seer shall explain to you in a moment, Andoric, dark events seem to be happening. Events still too... too small to justify my public attention, yet quite distressing. They seem to be centered in my Family's lands," here Meister Rudolf takes out a small locket and opens it, showing Andoric the Von Wulfe crest and an exquisite small painting of the while family "the ancestral lands of the Von Wulfe. I have already sent word of this to my youngest brother, Lothar. You and him will meet in Dresd, in an inn called "The Bucking Foal". I need you to investigate... these happenings. Pay the utmost attention - we fear darker magics, and the forbidden arts" Andoric shivers at the mention of necromancy, as the word itself is almost taboo in the Academy "might be at work. Once the Seer has told you what else you need to know, you will find a coach waiting for you. It shall take you out of the Academy. Once you have arrived, and the coach is out of sight, you may begin your journey to Dresd. I shall do my best to keep in contact with you, and cover your absence. I shall spread word you are working at a special experiment on my behalf, in my personal quarters. Could I, in any way, I would investigate this myself. Let it suffice to know I cannot... not yet. This is what I need your help for: to find suitable proof that my attention is justified, not to mention needed. Godspeed, Andoric." And with this, Meister Rudolf hurries away, leaving a quite bedazzled Andoric standing in front of the Seer.

"You have questions." says the Seer. 
"Yes I do, Meister," admits Andoric "What is happening? Why all this secrecy? And why ME? There are certainly students at the Academy far more expert, and better suited to this task..."
The Seer slowly stands up. "The last question is the one you most care about, young man.. and the first one I shall give an answer to. You were chosen - and against my opinion, I shall add - because of a simple fact: your absence, your part in this, your very knowledge of what i am about to reveal, can be kept secret. And this is safer, for all of us. Furthermore, choosing a more experienced student would have meant involving yet another party in the matter... something both Meister Rudolf and I have deemed better avoid. Which leads us to your second question, regarding secrecy; to which I shall answer that, if I could answer your question, then secrecy wouldn't be needed."

Andoric would love to object.

"As for your first question... I find myself wishing, for the first time in many years, that I could be more precise. What I HAVE discovered is a .. disturbance. There is evidence of Necromantic forces acting in the lands of the Von Wulfe, and further south. They seem to be...  subtle, soft in tone, slow in rhythm, yet steady and constant. The first effects are beginning to show already. The spring thaw is not as advanced as it should be; the river and channels are thinning. And there have been ... messages of worry and distress even from further south - from Oiralassie." the Seer concludes.
"The Elf Woods?" Andoric thinks, eyes blinking, unbelieving. "I had... no idea" he says "that there had been any human settlements, or even travellers, in Oiralassie, for centuries now." he states.
"There haven't." the Seer answers. 

Andoric softly clenches his fist. He could SWEAR the man, or WHATEVER, is smiling under that hood.

"Now, on to more practical matters, young man. You shall find travel clothes and food in the coach. And... I reckon you haven't been much out of the Academy in the last years. Take this ring... it bears a small protective enchantment. It will work but once...  then again, I do trust you won't be diving at every chance to have your throat slit. You may exit through this door" the Seer concludes, pulling a book on a shelf, revealing yet another hidden passage.

Andoric awakens in the coach, after a night's fitful but much needed sleep, as the coachman tells him they've arrived. He steps off the coach in his new travel clothes, hoisting his bag over his shoulder, and waits for the coach to disappear in the distance.

Only then he realizes two things.

He's at the crossroads, Elsinor on one side and Dresd on the other, still quite close to the Academy.
The second, and quite more distressing realization, is that it's more than a month's walk from here to Dresd. And he has no horse.
Elsinor has a port, though. And Meister Rudolf did recommend secrecy, but... a month is a month. Especially on one's own two feet. 
Andoric starts walking towards Elsinor.

That evening, at the docks, a short investigation reveals a ship is leaving for Dresd just an hour later. As he stands in line to talk to the captain and get a cabin, someone definitely reeking of cheap ale roughly bumps into him. Fingers clutching to brush against the ring in his pocket, he turns to see a man with pasty white hair, ragged clothes, and a white ill-healed scar on his left cheek, deforming his visage into a disturbing sneer.

"Yes?" he says, nerves standing on end.

The weird man smiles. "Meister Rudolf is glad he's chosen an intelligent man for this job. Only a fool would walk to Dresd when there's a ship nearby. You have a booked cabin on board, Herr. Have a safe journey."

Andoric smiles a lot, while walking up the plank which leads to the ship.

He's always loved passing surprise tests...


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## Naathez (Feb 10, 2005)

*At the Two-handled Mug Inn*

Livia politely smiles at the gaping-mouthed Viknij. 
Actually, her cheeks are aching with smiling at passersby looking at her ears. "Do you mind?" she asks, motioning to enter the inn.
Viktor nods, shakes his head, and follows her inside the building... immediately sitting at the first free table. Pointed ears, of all things.  After bringing him his lunch (fish soup, more bread and more beer, he's one of those customers who don't seem to fuss too much), the Innkeeper turns to see Livia sitting at another table, and walks towards her. "May I help you, lass?" she asks, with a hearty smile.
Livia's diplomatic training immediately kicks into action. "I.. I think you may, ma'am. I would... like, if it's possible.. something to eat... and... and..."
The innkeeper sits at Livia's table, lowering her voice. "Are you in trouble, my dear girl?" she asks, her tone immediately growing concerned. 
Livia nods. "... I am, my good ma'am. I am new to town...  just arrived this morning. And.. and I've just been robbed, in those alleys near the centre of the city! It was so terrible!"
Tears well up in the innkeeper's eyes, as she gently pats Livia's hand.  "My dear, don't you worry. i'll have something warm for you to eat in a moment, and don't you dare try look for some other place to sleep! You can have my spare room. Ah this city is SO dangerous for a girl like you, so innocent and naive and alone..." her voice disappears as she hustles into the kitchen.

Viktor's eyes and ears haven't left Livia. He stands and walks to her table. - Be polite, mainlanders are ALL fussy about being polite - he thinks as he clears his throat. "I couldn't help but hear of your accident, ma'am... perhaps you'd need help?"

Livia looks up at him, more than a little puzzled. He's clearly strong, and well armed. There might be use for him, should things get to blows.

"Maybe" she admits... "but the situation is so dangerous and weird and strange..."

Viktor sits. "Someone stole your things. You need them back. I'd say we need to find them and take your things back," he suggests, not quite seeing any particular complication.

Livia smiles. "Well , it's just that... I don't even know how many people you'd be up against..."

Viktor actually slows down talking, as if talking to a child. "Well, how many were there when you were robbed?" he asks. 
"Well, there were three in all...."
"Then" Viktor says with a triumphant smile "i'd say it's reasonable to think it's three people I'd be up against."

"Yes... the fact is, we'd have to find these people's house again, and I'm not completely sure I can..."
Viktor's eyes widen greatly. "YOU went to THEIR house to get robbed?"

Livia lets out a DEEP sigh. "Look, er..."
"Viktor."
"Livia. I was saying, look, Viktor. It's not that easy. It's hard even to explain. Anyway, if I can find a way for you to stay here tonight, would you be willing to help me tomorrow?"

Viktor grows increasingly puzzled. "I would say it's better to go after them now... who knows where they will be tomorrow?" he says.
Livia shakes her head. "Oh, no worry about that, we have three day's time" she reassures him. 
"They GAVE YOU TIME to get it back?! What EXACTLY is wrong with you mainlanders, don't even THIEVES do things right?" Viktor bursts out, quite outraged. This is even worse than those Acolythings.
Livia lifts her palms. "I told you, it's complicated. Now let me arrange your stay here." She walks to the kitchen, where she stays for a few minutes before coming out with a lovely smile.

"It's all settled. You can sleep here on a table tonight. I'm sorry, but they only have one room, and I have that. Anyway the lady'll give you a blanket or something. Now you should go with her."

Viktor shrugs. "Oh, any blanket will do, I don't need to choose one. It's quite warm in here anyway."

The innkeper walks out the kitchen, a hammer in her hand, her booming voice calling out. "So! Young man, thanks for offering to fix my leaking roof! Come with me, let's get the ladder and tools, over here."

Livia can only smile, as Viktor rolls his eyes and frowns at her.

"Yes, ma'am" he sighs, standing from the table and following the innkeeper.

"Good" Livia thinks. "Now, on to devise some plan where we don't get to people hitting others with sharp things and putting lives, like, say, mine, uselessly at stake."


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## Naathez (Feb 11, 2005)

*Merchants, Cons, and Fancy clothes, or "How to Get Out of Tight Spots"*

The following morning sees Livia walk out her room with a determined attitude. "We're going, Viktor. Are you ready?"

Viktor is considering making some snide remark, but limits himself to shrugging and stretching his arms, nodding.

"So are you sure" says the innkeeper as she bids livia farewell "you don't want to stay here? I could use help with the cleaning and everything, and you'd have a roof on your head."

Livia shudders a little. The youngest daughter of a Lianer Senator doing the dishes in an inn in some barbaric freezing cold city...  "Your offer is SO tempting, ma'am... but really, I'll better try and find a way to get back home. Thanks again." In a minute they're out, the bustle of the docks all around them.

Livia's looking for a merchant. Fortunately, those are abundantly present here... and she is attracted by a small crowd froming around a richly dressed man, yelling and gesticulating at several crestfallen sailors. Tugging on Viktor's arm, she approaches.

"You CRETINS!" the man is shouting at the top of his lungs. "LOOK! Look at my precious vases! Broken! Each of those is worth more than all of your silly empty wooden heads together!" 

Livia clears her throat. "Herr?"

"They come from CATHAY! CATHAY, only to be delivered in shards! What should I be telling my customers now? The Graf's second cousin's daughter-in-law was expecting hers for tomorrow!"

"Excuse me, Herr?" she repeats, lightly touching his shoulder. Viktor stands there, his arms crossed. He's trying to divine what can make three grown, strong men look that scared of a single, fat, quite ridiculous balding little man with a shrill voice, but then again mainlanders are strange.

"And now of COURSE she can't have it, since her precious Cathayin vase is STREWN all over the docks! You know what? You can start -"

"HERR?"

The exasperated man turns in mid-sentence. "What IS it?..." he starts, before seeing Livia's gentle features. "..mein Fraulein?"

"My name is Livia. I'm a trader myself. I can see you have suffered a loss...  and a loss of exotic, valuable merchandise. I have the great fortune of being able to offer you an alternate merchandise... as exotic, as rare, and utterly new. If we can find some private place to discuss, while these servants clean up the mess?" Her eyes are sincere and clear, her voice is perfectly charming, her tone never falters once. 

The man stands no chance.

"Ludwig Muttich, ma'am. At your service." He hooks her arm under his own and gestures for the three sailors to pick up the shattered vases, as he leads her to the "Gold Shield", a nearby tavern. They're soon sitting at a table, Viktor standing against a wall, drinking a beer. Livia just told this Muttich man he's her bodyguard. As long as that nets free beer, he's fine with the name.

"So, as I was telling you, Herr Muttich..."
"Ludwig. Please."
"Ludwig" livia concedes. "My superiors in Lian have decided to open far more to foreign commerce than ever before. We have luxury goods, works of art, precious objects, never been on your market before. I'm scouting for interested enterprisers to invest in this new trade avenue, and to form our first partners in this foreign beautiful land of yours."

Muttich is caressing his short beard as he listens, his eyes thin with interest. "And would you have any example of these goods, in storage somewhere?"

Livia shakes her head. "I am but a representative. I am here to..." her smile becomes one of complicity and understanding " ... to decide who, of tha many merchants in Dresd, is interesting for us to work with. We could say I am.. final judge on the matter."

Muttich gulps down the last of his ale. This is worth far more than a simple pass at...  this could put him ahead of the competition for years. "Well, perhaps, Fraulein Livia, we might better discuss this at a dinner table, tonight, at my palace?"

Livia stiffens. This wasn't in her plans. "Alas, I have to decline your tempting offer, mein Herr...  before hiring my bodyguard here, as a newcomer here, I was robbed of much of my luggage, including my more formal dresses. I am in no condition to attend a formal meeting... and know of no-one here to make a new set for me."

Muttich smiles. An opening! "Ah, but it is no problem at all! I shall take you to the best tailor in Dresd. He will make you a wonderful dress, in time for tonight. Here, follow me... you'll allow me, I hope, to let this be a small token, a gift, from a native to a visitor to our land." he concludes.

Livia accepts, and after a little talking, Muttich leaves them in the tailor's shop, with the agreement to meet that evening for dinner at his palace. As the tailor sets to measuring the fabric for Livia's dress, Viktor points out he has no intention of sitting the whole day there, watching a man cut some fabric. Livia and he agree to meet later, when the dress is ready.

His wanderings bring him once again to the Temple Square. He noticed a 
fabrics merchant's cart yesterday, and he is quite puzzled that a dress can be made in one afternoon. He approaches the merchant, a tiny slender man. 

"How long would it take to make some clothing?" he asks.
The merchant smiles. "Well, that would depend on the fabric you chose sir... and well, how fancy you wanted this clothing to be, and many many things, actually."
"Well, say it's for a woman? Imagine my sister. 'most tall as me, shoulders not as wide... well, a woman. With some fabric you already have here."
The merchant shrugs. "I'd say... perhaps a couple days?"
Viktor slams his hands on the cart. "A COUPLE?" No way he's waiting two full days for this Livia girl to get a dress!
The tiny man shivers visibly, stuttering "I-i-if you need it sooner sir, I am s-s-sure I can manage to do it f-faster" as he shrinks from Viktor's menacing figure.
Viktor realizes he's gone a LITTLE over the top. "Ah, good, good." He says, trying to smile and sound casual all at the same time. "I'll be back with .. with my sister so she can choose the color. Thank you." And he walks off towards the Temple, leaving the merchant to wonder if he shouldn't change the square he works in. Or maybe the -city- he works in.

The stone steps leading to the Temple of the Three's entrance are crowded with children. They're intently listening to a big, muscular man in a green tunic (another Acolything, Viktor thinks with a puzzled sigh) who seems to be telling a story while he works on fixing some kind of large three-legged wooden pedestal, the likes of which  Viktor remembers seeing in the Temple yesterday. Having nothing better to do, he stands there and listens. It's some kind of fairy tale about a mighty Warrior needing to slay some fearsome terrible beast wrecking a realm. The Warrior cannot overcome the Beast by his sheer strength, so he asks advice from an old Wise Man. The Sage tells him that only by blinding the Beast with forged steel can he hope to defeat it. So the Warrior searches the Realm and finally finds a skillful Blacksmith, who forges a great Sword of steel for him. Thanks to this formidable weapon, the Beast is slain and peace restored. The large man concludes telling the children that the story has a simple moral: Warrior's strength and Sage's wisdom were necessary to slay the Beast, but yet, had there been no Blacksmith to forge the blade, they wouldn't have been enough. The kids all happily nod in agreement.

"Er... excuse me, Herr?" Viktor says, approaching the man. He is greeted by a wide smile. "I'm Brother Mark, Acolyte (there we go again, think Viktor resignedly) of the Forger. Can I help you?"
Viktor smiles back. "It's nothing, really... I'm a traveler.. I'm looking for an inn , or a tavern, or something." 
Brother Mark scratches his chin. "Well, near here... an inn you say..."
One of the older kids eagerly chimes in, pulling on Viktor's cloak. "My father works in a BEAUTIFUL inn Herr, I can take you there if you want" he proudly states with an air or importance before skipping off, motioning for the Viknij to follow him.

Only a few crossroads later, the child stops in front of the painted sign of a quite nice inn. The large wooden plank depicts a black horse, rearing on its hind legs. In large painted characters, it says "The Bucking Foal Inn." A good place as any, Viktor thinks as he steps in, to spend the next long, boring, waiting hours.

Livia slowly turns around, admiring her new dress. The heavy green fabric wonderfully goes with her eyes and hair, and while definitely weird and a little too fitting for her habits, she can certainly say it's a wonderful piece of work. Furthermore, it is valuable... and should she actually need to BUY her scroll tube back, she needs evey coin she can scrape. 

As Viktor steps in, not deigning her with even a brief look, she smiles  at the tailor. "You did a wonderful job, my good man. I will mention your skill once more to Herr Luttich." The tailor bows respectfully. "My younger son will take you to Herr Luttich's palace... it is getting darker, and the city streets are like a maze" he adds, smiling sympathetically.

After convincing the guards at the rich mansion's doors that her bodyguard MUST accompany her inside, as it is a custom of Lian that an unmarried woman does not go alone in the house of a host, Livia and Viktor finally meet Ludwig. He's clearly not happy about Viktor's presence; the amount of perfume he's wearing, the particularly foppish outfit he's chosen for the evening, and the wonderful (and valuable, Livia notes with delight) gold necklace he offers Livia as a gift to "celebrate their fortunate meeting" definitely show how his plans included more than commercial transactions. Yet, he has a small table set up for the Viknij (who happily starts eating, wondering if life's always THIS easy on the mainland) and sits at the table with Livia.

Their talk goes on for the whole dinner. Livia skillfully evades every attempt on Muttich's part to better define the nature of the merchandise she can procure from Lian, still giving him the feeling the trade is more than interesting. In the end, as they are finishing a dessert of lovely baked apples and cinnamon, she decides the time has come to reel in her fish. "Anyway, Herr Muttich" she states "our pleasant conversation has definitely tilted the scales in your favor. I will be sure to mention you as the best choice for our market.. as soon as the other problem is solves, i'll immediately send a letter to ..."
"Other.. problem, Fraulein?" Ludwig stutters.
"Why, yes. Among the goods that I mentioned were stolen from my luggage, I have found out a very important object is missing. It's a wooden tube... carved, of no particular importance itself... were it not for the fact it is my writing set, and contains my signet ring. Without it, I have no way of confirming my identity on any official document..." she concludes with a sigh. 
Muttich is hard-pressed not to burst out in frustration. But he's learned that, once you've spent all this money on a deal, it's worth going to the end rather than admitting a loss. He manages to keep his cool. "You should... should have told me earlier, Fraulein. The robbers might have escaped already. I shall immediately put some of my personal guards to see to the matter... and I'm sure" he concludes, now matter-of-factly "that you won't forget my efforts in.. recovering this precious ring of yours."

Livia smiles appreciatively. "You may rest assured, Herr Muttich. I will be... very grateful."
Muttich seems to get his hopes up for a moment. "Maybe I could offer you a room here at my mansion to rest for the night? I'm sure we can find some room for your servant too, in the stables..."
For once Livia is at a loss for words. She definitely does NOT intend to spend the night in the house of this man... 
Viktor steps in smoothly. "I already procured two rooms for us at the Bucking Foal Inn, mistress. Actually, it is probably time we go." None of it is true, but no WAY he's sleeping in the stables. They'll surely have a room, it seemed a pretty nice place.

"So it is, Viktor, my good man. Herr Muttich, you have my undying gratitude. You may find me at the Bucking Foal, when you have news of my ring. Have a good night."

And they leave for the Bucking Foal Inn, Herr Ludwig Muttich already shouting for his captain of the guard.


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## Black Bard (Feb 11, 2005)

Great writin, Naathez! 
And poor Viktor, trying to understand the "big city"...


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## Naathez (Feb 21, 2005)

A man gets a broken tooth, he's slid down to third page before he can even notice...   

Shameless bump. If tooth stops screaming, I should manage to post an update later during lunch break.  

Stay tuned for "When the Inventor meets the Mage"! 
Same Orrery-Time! 
Same Orrery-Channel!


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## Naathez (Feb 21, 2005)

*When the Inventor meets the Mage*

It is well past lunchtime when Lothar hands his horse's and his mule's reins to the stable boy of the Bucking Foal and steps in, a large leather bag slung over his shoulder. Seeing his medallion, bearing the Von Wulfe insignia, the innkeeper hurries over. "How may I be of assistance, Herr?" he asks, rubbing his hands.
"I'm Lothar Von Wulfe. If there still is something to eat, I'll have that. And I'll need a room for a few days."He presses a few coins into the innkeeper's hand, and the man gives orders for some roast to be brought, while he prepares a room.

At his table, where he's spent most of the past two days, Andoric Von Dreele's ears perk. Focusing his eyes on the newcomer, he is about to walk over to his table when someone else steps closer to the eating nobleman. Andoric sits back, waiting.

"Mein Herr? Forgive me if I disturb... but I noticed you as soon as you came in. Might I have a little of your time?"

Lothar looks up from his dish. The man is soft-spoken, and quite well dressed, for a commoner. "Yes?" he says, setting down his fork as the man sits at his table. 
"My name is Gaurad, Herr. I am a merchant of rare and particular goods... as you came in, I couldn't help but notice your medallion. The Von Wulfe are a family of great importance in our lands, and i would be honored if you were to be interested in my merchandise. I have recently come into the possession or an object of wonderful manufacture... an object which would be a wonderful gift for a lady of your choosing, perhaps your Mother. It is an object of carved wood.. of excellent taste, truly. Would you be interested in seeing it?"
Lothar nods gruffly. "It might be interesting. I will grant you an hour of my time next morning, as I have a busy afternoon ahead." Gaurad bows and thanks him profusely before leaving.

Andoric hasn't dropped his attention, although Gaurad's voice was definitely too low to overhear. He pulls back his chair and slowly walks over to Lothar's table. "Herr?" he says.

Lothar's eyes roll for a second. He's about to look up when a boy comes skipping through the door, followed by a broad-shouldered man in a fur cloak. His pale blonde hair, fair skin, his attire, not to mention the large axe strapped to his back, instantly qualify him as a Viknij. The newcomer walks to the bar, where he sits, asking for "A mug of the wonderful beer you all have here, and something to eat maybe".

Andoric, momentarily distracted, snaps back to attention. "...Herr?"
"Yes?" Lothar replies, tearing his eyes from the weird newcomer.
"I am called Andoric. Andoric Von Dreele, Herr." 
Lothar immediately shuffles his chair, making room for Andoric to sit. "Do sit here with me. I am glad we managed to meet so soon. My brother told me I would find you here."

The barely muffled sounds of Viktor eating at the bar attract their attention once more. 
"Viknij" says Lothar, with a casual gesture. "They say they're as ferocious as boars. And, I'm told," he adds with a smile "just as difficult to wash." The two noblemen briefly laugh. "So, what can i do to assist my brother and the Academy?"

Andoric begins relaying his news. Everything the Seer told him, in detail, added to his own impressions. "And if the thaw isn't coming," he concludes "it means this nefarious influence is quite strong. It is definitely not a trifle to mess with forces as mighty as the coming of seasons." Lothar nods worriedly. As he rode through his lands towards Dresd, the peasants that offered him lodging for the night complained about the rivers thinning, too. What he had been tempted to take as simple complaints about a bad season is now starting to take a totally different face. "We shall have to investigate the matter most urgently" he replies. "I say we leave tomorrow: I'll need the afternoon to buy some supplies. I take it you are well versed in the alchemic arts, since my brother mentioned you are one of his most brilliant students. If you are new to the city, I can introduce you to a couple of very well stocked shopkeepers... and do you have a horse?" Andoric is forced to shake is head. 
"We shall provide you with one. Now do have a cup of spiced wine with me" Lothar says with a smile. They leave shortly afterwards.

They are already fast asleep in their respective rooms when, late that night, Livia and Viktor arrive at the Inn. Sadly, they find Viktor was far too optimistic: only one room is left, and it's the attic. After a brief talk, where Livia uselessly attempts to convice Lothar of how polite it would be to leave the room to her and sleep in the stables, they both settle for the attic. As Livia pulls the blankets up around her, trying to fight the cold, the Viknij stretches on the straw that the Innkeeper put down on the wooden floor for him. His last thoughts before drifting off to sleep are that, accommodations being what they are, perhaps he should have chosen the stables. At least, horses don't usually tell you a hundred times to behave like a gentleman when they're sleeping ten feet away.


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## Black Bard (Mar 8, 2005)

*Up we go!*

Back to the top, my friend!

And when will we be presented with a fine new update, Naathez???


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## Naathez (Apr 1, 2005)

And again, back to the top with me!

I almost managed to out-run real life long enough to write the two next updates. If Ol' good Life doesn't catch me, expect them soon.

Things get pretty bad pretty fast in Dresd...

Disclaimer : this was put up on April 1st, but is NOT a joke. Stay tuned!!!


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## Naathez (Apr 4, 2005)

*And then suddenly it all comes crashing down, or - Chases, Fires, and Night Rides*

Morning - to be fully honest, quite late morning - finds Livia extremely eager for a bath. She cringes when she realizes they probably don't have bath-houses in this frozen place they persevere in calling a city... so she dresses up, keeping an eye on the sleeping Viktor, and walks downstairs.

Lothar is sitting at a table, eating breakfast, when he feels, and then sees, all heads turn up to the stairs. Voices immediately fall silent, people nudge at each other, pointing at the stairs and then touching their ears. Quite puzzled, Lothar looks up, to see a pretty lady walk down the steps, and suddenly notices her pointed ears. Andoric (who is still upstairs, "studying" he said) did mention that the Elves had sent out distress messages, but Lothar had found it quite hard to believe - Elves are at the border between fairy tale and history. Now he's seeing one of them, he thinks...  only later, with a sudden memory Meister Otto would be proud of (or at least, so Lothar likes to think) he realizes the lady must be Lianer, and not an Elf or any other fancy. He quietly returns to his breakfast. Not so the other customers, who, in different variations of speed, hurry to finish their food and walk out. Soon Livia and Lothar are the only people left sitting in the room.

After calling a maid and gently asking her to prepare a hot bath -a request to which the woung girl sounds quite puzzled, as there's no festival coming up, but complies nonetheless - Livia studies the man carefully. His bearing, his composure, indicate a man of status, as does the medallion bearing what seems to be some kind of family crest. 
A nobleman. 
In other words, another possible source of a solution to her problem. She politely walked over to his table and smiled. "Greetings" she offered. "It seems everyone left and.. I was wondering whether I might sit here with you, Herr." She flashes him a winning smile. "I do believe a noblewoman can never find better company than a nobleman, even and especially when so far from her own country."
Lothar sighs very, very softly. A noblewoman. So he HAS to offer her a seat at his table. He stands up and politely pulls out the chair for her. 
"Do sit... a pleasure. My name is Lothar Von Wulfe."
"And mine Livia... Livia Cecilia Metella. From the Republic of Lian , in the South."
Lothar nods in approval at this confirmation of his deduction. "And you are here... accompanying your father? or a brother perhaps? we are very far from your nation..." he asks, a tinge of curiosity in his voice.
Livia shakes her head, a little puzzled at his assumptions. "No, not at all. I am here alone... on business. Well, alone but for my bodyguard... a Viknij." 
Lothar has a difficult time not making his eyes goggle. The woman is abroad ALONE. With a Viknij, of all things. Er, people. 
Livia senses his discomfort - barbarian! probably used to women being herded as cattle! - and offers another smile. "But let's not talk about me all this much... I'm but a guest here. How about you, what do you do, Herr - what brings you here in this fine city?"
Lothar can't help but puff out his chest a tad. "I am here on business myself I could say... as for what I do, besides the duties and occupations that befit my rank, I pride myself in being called a scholar and man of knowledge. You have heard, perhaps, of Alchemy?"
Livia's training saves her from rolling her eyes. "Of course! Some kind of... magic practice it is?"
Lothar paternally shakes his head. "Why, milady, that is what MANY think. But no - Alchemy can be studied, as I am, under a totally different point of view... I like to call it "Chemistry". Let me tell you of the mere basics... "
When the maid arrives, after more than an hour, whispering to Livia that her bath is ready, the Lianer is so grateful she could hug her then and there. She quickly excuses herself, waving up to Viktor as he walks down the stairs. The Viknij lets out an exasperated sigh - how's he supposed to protect her if she keeps not telling him where she's going - but he sits and orders some breakfast - bread and beer. 

About an hour later, Lothar's still sitting there, waiting for Andoric to finish his studying and come downstairs so they can discuss plans, and meanwhile half-cringing at the mere idea of drinking three mugs of beer for breakfast, when the man who approached him yesterday walks into the common room, sees him, and politely walks over and offers a small bow. "Herr? you promised me a little of your time yesterday... if I can dare..." Lothar nods, offering him a seat. "Let us see what you have brought me, good man" he says, as the man pulls out a wooden scroll tube with exquisite carvings.

Livia, who has been luxuriating in the feel of hot water cleaning dust and grime, has just dried and gotten dressed - thanking the maid on her way out for standing guard at the door - when, stepping back in the common room, her eyes scan the almost empty inn and take in the sight of Gaurad showing her precious order box to Lothar. She gasps, motioning for Viktor to come closer. "It's him! He's the one who stole my papers... er... my things!" Viktor cannot help but smile a little, as he turns and walks over to the table, an enraged Livia following close.

Meanwhile, Lothar's been examining the object. The workmanship is excellent; the carving is a work of art, and the leather details are seamlessly worked in. He believes the thing might even be waterproof - which makes it even more interesting. It's when he casually unscrews one of the ends and pulls out the piece of scroll contained in the tube that things start going downhill. The "merchant's" eyes goggle - it is clear he had no idea ANYTHING was in the tube. And Viktor steps in and glares at Gaurad. "You have something that isn't yours, little man. Now you'll give it back, so one day, when you recover, you may be able to tell someone this story." His hand casually grips the table so strong that the knuckles become white. "Yes, and you'll give it back to ME" Livia adds, fuming.
Lothar looks up at the two, then back to Gaurad, lifting an eyebrow, the tube in one hand, the scroll in the other.
Gaurad fidgets, as if looking for something to say. He tries a little smile, looks around...

and suddenly darts out the door. As Livia screams "No! Get him!" Lothar jumps up from his chair, grabbing his bag and starting to run after the man. Viktor is much more practical. Reacting quickly, he pulls out a broad dagger from his boot and throws it at Gaurad's leg. The man is hit, but he keeps running. With a muttered curse, Viktor sprints after him too.

The bustle from downstairs finally convincing him that this is no place to study, Andoric puts his books away and walks to the common room. He is on the stairs just in time to see the last of Viktor running out, and Livia still half-shocked in the middle of the room.

"What's happened?" he shouts, hurrying down. 
She looks up at him. "He's running! It's him! Lothar has it!" she screams in rage, and then runs out after the three.
Wondering why, recently, he can never seem to get easy answers to perfectly legitimate questions, Andoric sprints after her.

The chase through the alleys is frantic but short-lived - Gaurad's wounded, and he can't manage to outrun his pursuers. Finally Viktor is holding him by his neck, against a wall, when Lothar, and soon, the others, reach him. Gaurad seems to have fainted, probably when Viktor "retrieved" his dagger.

Lothar is half-enraged. "What were you trying to do, kill him? He's a thief, not some murderer! There's guards for these things - why in the world did you need to throw a dagger at him?"
Viktor seems quite puzzled. "Because he was running away?" he offers.
"That is NOT the way things are done! Didn't you even think what would happen, were you caught throwing daggers at people? You wouldn't have been any better off than him" he points at Gaurad " or perhaps even worse! I don't care how you do things in your islands, but here is a civil place. You'll do things PROPERLY while you're here."
Viktor manages to keep his anger under control. "Well, you catch him next time, then." He lets Gaurad drop to the ground, just as Livia and Andoric, quite breathless, catch up. 
"Will you give me my papers NOW!" an exasperated Livia exclaims, reaching for the scroll. Having obtained it, she slumps against a wall, catching her breath while she reads. It proves to be no easy task, and her face is paler as she reads the last lines and looks up.
Meanwhile, Andoric is heavily leaning agaisnt another wall, panting and breathlessly requesting, his voice a tad shriller than usual, that he be told WHAT is happening. Explanations are quickly made, as Livia tells them (without what she deems as unnecessary, and others would perhaps call embarassing, details) of the stealing of her papers - even as she shreds them, an act that makes Viktor's eyes bulge out in fury at all the effort he made for a piece of scroll so useless that she SHREDS it - and thanks them for their assistance in recovering them. 
The four let Gaurad go, not before promising him far less lenient treatment if they ever catch him again, and walk back to the Bucking Foal Inn. They have lunch together, a meal during which Livia seems to never stop asking questions about the state of the land, about people, and about magic especially. Lothar and Andoric discuss the matter and, while preferring not to let her in on any details, admit they are investigating certain grave matters, and agree to have Livia and Viktor along, since she seems so concerned. The afternoon is spent buying supplies, and horses, after which Lothar's purse is definitely not as heavy anymore. They resolve to leave in the early morning, and go to their separate rooms after a light dinner.

But their plans are not to see completion. In the middle of the night, they are awoken by screams of terror and sounds of running people. They  learn a fire has started and is burning through the city at an alarming rate. Lothar tries organizing a squad to fight the raging fire, but people seem far too terrified; he does learn though, to his dismay, that the fire seems to have originated, unexplainably, in the old graveyard, though there seems to be nothing there that could catch fire - or burn, at that. Puzzled, he climbs up to the inn's attic, and on the roof, his eyes opening wide as he sees the extent of the flames. Some guards seem to be doing their best to fight the fire with buckets of water. Then they run away, screaming in terror... Lothar sees people who have caught on fire, shambling out of the flames. He cringes in horror.

Then he notices. The burning people are he only ones NOT screaming. 
They walk slowly, awkwardly.
They don't seem to be in pain at all.
And they're going inside houses and setting them on fire.

His heart missing a heartbeat, he scrambles down and gathers his friends. They all ride for the city doors.
"If we hurry" he shouts over the din "we can make it out of the city before the flames cut our way -" A terrible noise covers the end of his words, as a house, attacked by the flames, collapses no more than thirty feet from them. The horses rear and neigh, momentarily out of control.

And the four see them coming. 

They're a dozen at least... their faces seem to be contorted in pain, but as they close in they notice it's simply the missing chunks of flesh from their  faces. Flames dance on their bodies, but they make no sound... mindlessly, slowly, relentlessly, they shamble towards the party.

Lothar manages to send off Livia's and Andoric's horses, who both dash towards the doors. Viktor's... Viktor's seem to be far worse. They both try to regain control of the mount, but to no avail.

And the burning dead approach.

Finally Lothar shakes his head, groaning in frustration. "Jump!" he shouts, and as soon as Viktor is on his horse, he dashes off. The neighs of pain as the horse is eaten alive by the burning horrors is not a sound they'll forget anytime soon.

Another ugly surprise is found at the city gates. The portcullis is down, and there are no guards at the doors - probably deployed, they all think, to fight the fire. Lothar dismounts, opening his leather bag and pulling out a large wooden object. He unfolds two metal bars that snap in place, and grabs what is now clear to be a large crossbow, snapping a wooden container in its underside. Motioning for Viktor to follow him, he enters the tower where he hopes the wheel for pulling up the portcullis rests.

Viktor immediately founds the large winching mechanism, and sets to work, his powerful muscles moving what is clearly meant for two men to operate. It'll definitely take some time. 

Meanwhile, Lothar steps up another flight of stairs, to find himself in the uppermost room. A trapdoor on the celing probably leads to the roof. The clanging of chains covering all other noise, he climbs the ladder and tries to push the trapdoor open. Something stops him, and he hears steps above.
With a deep breath, crossbow loaded and ready, he pushes harder, trapdoor slamming open as he emerges on the roof.
Nothing happens. Careful to remain behind the cover of the open trapdoor, he peers around the roof. Across from him is a figure cloaked in an ample cloak, standing perfectly still. "Don't move" Lothar threatens. The figure doesn't react in the least, but Lothar hears a soft whisper behind himself. He spins, feet precariously perched on the ladder rungs, cocking his crossbow as he moves. Just as he turns, he sees a man appear where noone was to be seen. His hair is long and white, braided; his face is old, and wrinkled, his eyes piercing even in the flame-lit darkness. He wears a long, dark robe, and his hands are like claws as he throws some kind of pellet to the floor, where it blossoms instantly in a bleached-white skeleton, a soft red lumiescence filling the empty sockets above its terrifying sneer. Totally taken aback, Lothar completely misses his first shot. Muttering a curse, even as the skeleton's claw leave a deep gash in his cheek, he pulls a lever on his weapon, and another bolt springs up in place. Taking careful aim now, even as he sees with the corner of his eye the white-haired man run and LEAP off the tower without a scream, he shoots. The bolt impacts with the skull and it bursts into shards. The unholy creature falls to the floor in a clatter of bones, which rapidly turn to fine dust. Andoric, who has heard Lothar's curse, and noticed the white-haired man appear on the tower's battlement, dashes up the stairs to find the weary nobleman on the roof, looking out in the distance, shaking his head. Somehow, the man has disappeared. 

Once again climbing on their saddles, the party sets off towards south. All they know is they want to be as far as possible, as soon as possible. Behind them, in the velvet blackness of the night, the proud city of Dresd burns red with raging flames.


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